Yunhua County lay more than two hundred and thirty li northwest of Kunnan Prefecture City. It was a small county town with few people, a stagnant economy, little cultural prosperity, and weak martial traditions—truly the lowliest among lowly counties.
It was also Meng Zhao's first time seeing a city whose overall atmosphere and state of mind were so hushed and depressed.
As they entered the city, they could see the mottled marks of time upon the gates. Great stretches of wall had crumbled away, bearing slashes from blades and swords, holes left by powerful arrows and crossbow bolts, even deep crimson stains soaked in blood. Though weathered by countless trials, it had seen little repair. For a county town that regarded its gates as its face, this was almost unimaginable.
No matter how wretched things were beneath the surface, one ought to put up at least a semblance of outward splendor. Yet Yunhua County had not even the desire to pretend, laying bare the county's poverty and hardship.
After entering the city, they saw beggars in ragged clothing scattered throughout the streets and alleys, clutching bamboo poles or chipped porcelain bowls.
There were indeed many people on what should have been bustling streets, but the overwhelming majority wore plain or even tattered clothes. They hurried along, their faces full of the marks of lives crushed beneath hardship. The very few who were finely dressed were either Jianghu Martial Arts World figures carrying blades and swords, or servants from wealthy and powerful households. They strutted arrogantly, yet gave off the feeling of monkeys crowned with hats.
These scant few who looked so splendid were mixed into the surging flow of people like a mighty river, utterly inconspicuous. From time to time, they even drew jealous and venomous looks from others.
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