All Things, All Spirits

Looking at the abandoned bastion before him, Jiang Yan could still imagine how prosperous it must have been in its heyday, judging by its broad, straight stone roads, densely packed rooms, and one medium-sized warehouse after another.

Carriages had once crowded the streets, people had bustled everywhere, and even the air had carried the scent of wealth.

But now, it had all become a thing of the past.

Only fire and blood remained, silently bearing witness to the scars left by some disaster.

Jiang Yan closed his eyes, then shook off his sorrow. Forcing himself not to dwell on it, he shot into the air and skimmed low over the area.

He was searching for the White Crane Merchant Association's secret markings, hoping to confirm whether any other survivors remained at its Night Locust outpost.

If there were any, and they had left a mark, Jiang Yan had no qualms about rescuing them.

Besides, this would help him uncover more details.

Whoosh!

Suddenly, Jiang Yan stopped at the corner of an alley. He reached out, pulled a square blue-gray brick free, and held it close to inspect.

The brick had also been scorched by flames. Its exposed surface had turned somewhat black, and a deep, conspicuous dent marked its lower left side.

Jiang Yan ran his palm carefully over the brick's grain, rubbing the soot from one spot to reveal its original color.

At that spot, someone had secretly carved an image:

Clouds curled like waves, and behind them loomed a giant claw reaching for the sky.

To an ordinary person, the image would have looked crude and abstract—even more so than a child's scribble. But anyone from the White Crane Merchant Association would recognize it at a glance.

"There are survivors."

Jiang Yan clenched his hand, crushing the brick