The Tortoise Shell Repeatedly Cracked, Presenting an Ominous Omen; Golden Radiance Reflected on the Wall, Revealing a Strange Shadow

What reassured the people most was this.

In the days since Zhao Cheng entered the city, Wang Bo had brought the county yamen's Registrar and County Commandant every day, bearing wine and meat as they sought an audience outside the workshop.

But every time, they were ignored.

The Blood Butcher of terrifying renown now seemed to turn a deaf ear to all that went on beyond his window, easing the anxiety everyone had been carrying.

"Looks like the Blood Butcher has no time to bother with us for now,"

someone speculated. "Maybe he's busy practicing that evil art!

As long as we don't provoke him, perhaps we can live in peace for a while."

Day after day passed. The workshop's rumbling still sounded on schedule, and clouds of steam continued to shroud the skies above the western part of the city.

Yet gradually, more peddlers and laborers began appearing in Wu'an City's streets and alleys.

The old man who sold flatbreads set up his stall again. His bread oven stood on a street corner not far from the workshop, and as he turned the breads, he kept stealing glances toward the workshop.

The hawkers who roamed the streets began shaking their rattle-drums. The drumbeats of "dong dong" intertwined with the workshop's thunderous rumble, forming a strange rhythm.

The people still guarded against Lord Wuwei in their hearts. At night, they were often jolted awake by the workshop's tremendous clamor, cold sweat soaking their bedding.

But by day, they still shouldered their hoes to work the fields and picked up needle and thread to weave cloth, keeping busy to make a living.

Life seemed to have returned to its old track, except that the "steam behemoth" entrenched in the west of the city had become a shadow no one could cast