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A group of fiends stood alongside a group of immortal-looking Daoists. The scene was indescribably bizarre.
Clearly, even the fiends, Zi Shu among them, were wary of the Daoists. Their bodies were tense, not daring to relax in the slightest.
After a moment's thought, Zi Shu Mo gave a casual laugh and quietly stepped back a few paces. "The Daoist priest represents the imperial court, after all. So... faced with these displaced commoners, shouldn't you be worried sick for them? Why isn't the court offering help?"
The Daoist wasn't angered. He merely said unhurriedly, "We are offering help. How could we not? It's just that the displaced people here in the Great Wasteland would rather put their faith in Dragon-Raising Temple. The court is powerless to do anything about that."
"I meant to give my heart to the bright moon, but the bright moon shines on the filthy ditch instead. What a pity, what a pity, for these foolish commoners!"
After saying this, the Daoist looked toward Zi Shu Mo and the others and continued, "Keep your underlings on a tight leash. These displaced people are not to be touched by any fiends! The more of them who reach Dragon-Raising Temple, the better."
"Our dynasty has secretly set up several food depots, placed in these locations... If large groups of displaced people can't make it all the way to Dragon-Raising Temple, lead them to these spots. Let them eat and drink their fill, then urge them back onto the road. In short, make sure most of them reach Dragon-Raising Temple."
"I refuse to believe Dragon-Raising Temple can be so stubborn that it won't ask the court