When Yang Ling and Wu Xiaochen returned to the Red Gold Mine, they happened to see Old Zhao arriving with a group of refugees.
There were about three or four hundred of them.
Yang Ling glanced over from a distance. About half of them were Players.
The Players looked bewildered. Some were dressed in rags and had pale faces, clearly having gone hungry for a while.
"Old Zhao."
Yang Ling called out to him from afar.
Old Zhao's eyes lit up when he saw Yang Ling, and he hurried over.
"Lord Yang!"
"Old Zhao, there's no need to be so formal."
Yang Ling smiled.
Old Zhao said solemnly, "Lord Yang, you're a Ninth-Rank Iron Clothes Constable, while we're all unranked. Of course we have to call you 'sir.'
"Besides... Captain Lin has been saying that once he gets promoted, you'll become Constable of Qingshan City.
"One day, you might even become an Eighth-Rank Iron Clothes Constable. That would make you a truly important figure!"
Those words made the expressions of the stewards who had come out to receive the refugees shift.
The refugees present all looked toward Yang Ling, the Players among them included, their eyes filled with awe.
The dozen or so Constables Old Zhao had brought also gathered around to offer their praise. There was a hint of flattery in their voices, but even more awe.
Yang Ling had first killed Wu Man of the Giant Spirit Sect, then killed more than a dozen of the sect's spies.
With such methods and achievements, ordinary Constables could only look up to him.
This was Wu Xiaochen's first time leaving Mountain River Sect. He hadn't interacted with these people in Qingshan City before, and his eyes were full of curiosity. He said nothing, quietly listening.
"Old Zhao, were these refugees