The three- to five-story classical pavilions lining both sides of the street were packed with spectators.
Curtains fluttered in the light breeze as countless humans and demons leaned against the railings, pointing and talking about the dozens of great ships moored along the river. The well-trained Snake Demon Soldiers boarded in orderly ranks. Male or female, every Snake Demon Soldier was beautiful, cold-faced, sparing with words, and utterly motionless when standing still.
Though the residents had seen demon troops countless times, they still could not resist watching. Such a grand spectacle was rarely seen beneath the heavens. Looks might not matter, but who could truly claim not to care?
Iron Ball wore a set of undersized armor and stood high atop the dockside flagpole, surveying the surroundings. Every now and then, he shouted a few orders to direct the boarding.
It would still take some time for everyone to board. Iron Ball felt around in his pocket and pulled out an exquisite palm-sized brass case like a cigarette box. He carefully opened it, revealing several processed Ant Legs arranged neatly inside.
This was the spiritual food he had collected over the past two years. For the ecological balance Boss Bai had spoken of, he had painfully cut down on hunting. Ants rarely became spirits or demons, perhaps because they were insects. Excessive hunting could bring unforeseeable consequences, so Iron Ball could only eat ordinary ants to satisfy his cravings and rarely hunted Ant Monsters.
"Six left. They should last until we return to the Southern Wasteland."
One Ant Leg could be savored for a month. Six would be enough.
The flagpole had a crossbeam. Iron Ball sat on it, his face full of heartache as he took out an Ant Leg. He counted the remaining ones again, then snapped the