The Garrison

The old man at the head of the group approached Chen Cheng with a longsword forged from armor-piercing steel in his hand. Up close, a flush of excitement showed through his aged face.

Chen Cheng knew what the old general wanted to ask before he even opened his mouth.

"Were you sent by the Empire?"

Chen Cheng did not tell him outright that the Empire had fallen apart. Instead, he asked:

"Why do you think that? Couldn't we just be ordinary people who wandered in from outside?"

The old general grinned, revealing a mouthful of teeth on the verge of falling out. "Young man, you do have a sense of humor. This is the Great Desert. His Imperial Majesty ordered the entire desert sealed off long ago. The only people who could come here—and arrive alive—are people of the Empire."

Chen Cheng looked at the smile on the old general's face, then at the excitement on the faces of the elderly, the weak, the sick, and the injured behind him. He smiled too.

"Yes. We've brought His Imperial Majesty's highest orders. He's deeply grateful that you've stood guard here."

At Chen Cheng's words, the old general immediately straightened, put on the helmet in his hand, and raised his sword in salute.

"Salute!"

The old general was aged, but his command rang out with force. Behind him, the others straightened one by one and saluted Chen Cheng as well.

When the salute was done, the old general sheathed his sword. Chen Cheng bowed in return, then waved a hand and brought out a great quantity of supplies from his Spatial Ring.

At the sight of sack after sack of grain on the ground, the old general broke into a delighted smile.

"What are you waiting for? Get this grain into storage."