A Stirring

On the broad, straight avenue, Xiang Yang strolled leisurely with the Demon Suppressing Blade Casket on his back. He watched children playing innocently, old people trembling as they walked, and young men hurrying along with urgent steps.

The growth of the Spiritual Energy Flux and the emergence of experts throughout the martial world seemed not to have truly affected the lives of ordinary people at the bottom. Everything remained as it had been.

Yet in less than a moment, Xiang Yang saw two burly men carrying weapons cornering a rather attractive woman against the wall beside a pastry stall on the left side of the street. Their hands roamed over her from time to time, their lewd laughter fouling the ears.

The woman's face was full of shame and fury. Tears shimmered in her eyes and dampened her cheeks, yet she bit her lips hard and dared not make a sound, enduring the humiliation brought upon her by the two men.

Beside the stall stood a man who seemed to be her husband, his back to the woman and his face toward Xiang Yang. His face twisted with agony and savagery, his teeth nearly crushed from clenching. The pastry in his hand had already been kneaded into a clump of sticky flour, yet he still lacked the courage to stop them.

It was not only the suspected husband who did not dare act. Passing pedestrians and the owners of the shops on either side all shook their heads and avoided the scene, not daring to look again. If they provoked such vicious men, their own days would not be peaceful either.

It was understandable that bystanders and passersby did not dare intervene. Their abilities were limited, and most people sought only to preserve themselves rather than invite trouble.

But for