Undercurrents

"Is it him?"

Qin Fang was slightly taken aback.

He saw several people whispering beside the line. They were all dressed like refugees, but after a closer look, Qin Fang sensed something was wrong.

These men were robust; while they appeared "thin," it was a "lean" thinness, completely different from the "gaunt" starvation seen in true refugees.

Their faces were covered in a thick layer of dirt, looking as if they had been traveling and sleeping in the open for days, but a careful inspection revealed it was a disguise—the yellow soil had been deliberately smeared on, unlike the natural grime of the refugees.

The reason Qin Fang was quite familiar with this man was...

He was the one who had first shouted, "Revolt!"

Clearly, the fact that True Martial County was distributing grain had shocked him, causing his first shout to be a bit too loud.

But he had immediately lowered his voice afterward, making it impossible for Qin Fang to hear clearly.

He only saw him whisper something to those around him, cast an unwilling glance at the city gate, and then lead a few people nearby into the refugee crowd, disappearing from sight.

Qin Fang's brows furrowed tightly...

His eyes flickered.

It seemed someone intended to stir up trouble while the refugees entered the city?

...Forcing the refugees to revolt?

His expression turned grim.

He was a refugee himself right now.

And just a moment ago, upon learning that True Martial County would not distribute grain, he had indeed harbored thoughts of revolt.

But in any dynasty, rebellion was clearly the greatest of crimes.

Forcing the refugees to revolt...

Wasn't that the same as forcing him, Qin Fang, to revolt?

However, after only a moment of hesitation, Qin Fang let out a breath and chose not to follow them...

He was starving to death.

Better to fill his stomach first.

But he kept this matter in his heart.

He would have to keep an eye on it later...

He thought to himself.

The line was very long; the number of refugees likely exceeded forty or fifty thousand.

Qin Fang was in the middle of the refugee line... After waiting for a full two hours, he finally reached the city gate.

The sky was already quite dark, but the city gate was brightly lit with torches.

Each iron pot was as wide as four or five people could embrace, filled with millet porridge that wasn't particularly thick. But for Qin Fang, who hadn't eaten in a long time, looking at that sticky millet porridge made his mouth water uncontrollably, and his stomach ached even more.

When it was his turn, an official took a bowl from the side... The bowl was not small, with a wide mouth, clearly a crudely fired defective piece. He scooped a bowlful and handed it to him.

"Just one bowl for now, to pad your stomach. There are others inside the city also distributing porridge. After eating, go to the city gate to register. Once registered, you may temporarily rest inside the city. We have already designated an area for you; you may only move within that zone. It is strictly forbidden to collide with other citizens in the city! And absolutely no causing trouble! Otherwise, you will be expelled from True Martial County! Do not say you were not warned!"

Someone was shouting loudly, explaining the rules for entering the city.

Holding the millet porridge, Qin Fang walked quickly toward the city gate.

Starving to the extreme, he didn't care that the stuff might burn his mouth and began gulping it down.

It was clearly just a bowl of the most ordinary millet porridge, even containing many husks that were rough and scratchy on the throat.

But to Qin Fang at this moment, it was like sweet dew; his throat, which had been almost stuck together, finally cleared...

In just a short while, the large bowl of millet porridge was swallowed into his belly.

He let out a long breath...

The intense hunger was temporarily suppressed, and his stomach finally stopped aching sharply.

But clearly, this little bit of food was nowhere near enough.

However, they had made it very clear: the gate was just to let everyone pad their stomachs a little. There were others distributing porridge inside the city, and those who weren't full could eat more once inside.

Moreover, True Martial County had clearly established a temporary controlled zone to house the refugees.

He followed the refugees in front, step by step, and finally arrived at the city gate.

At the gate, several clerks were registering the incoming refugees. Everyone had to be registered.

Soon, it was Qin Fang's turn.

"Name."

"Qin Fang."

"Place of origin."

"A native of Qin Family Village, Jingping County, Chixia Commandery, Yanfang Prefecture."

"Do you carry your identification?"

"I do."

Hearing Qin Fang say he had his identification, the scribe looked up, somewhat surprised.

"Bring it here for me to see."

Qin Fang rummaged through his tattered clothes for a long time before pulling out a bamboo-wood tablet.

This was the "identification," also known as a "residency tag," which served as an ID card in the Great Yu dynasty.

The scribe took it and examined it carefully.

"Great Yu Imperial Dynasty Identification"

"Name: Qin Fang"

"Native Place: Yanfang Prefecture, Chixia Commandery, Jingping County"

"Year of Birth: Born in the 9th year of Guangwu, in the month of Xiang"

"Physical Description: Height seven feet six inches, slightly plump, a two-finger-wide red birthmark on the right ribcage resembling a burn, both index fingers slightly longer than the ring fingers."

"Status: Commoner (Farmer)"

"Issued by: Jingping County Yamen, Chixia Commandery"

Although the Great Yu residency tag lacked a portrait, it recorded detailed and distinctive physical information.

For instance, it noted any birthmarks or features that set a person apart from the norm.

If someone had a scar on their face, the description would read something like, "A long-standing scar on the left cheek, four inches in length..."

In short, it aimed to capture the most recognizable traits of an individual to ensure that others could verify if the bearer was indeed the person described.

Of course, this thing could not compare to modern technology.

But it was the pinnacle of what could be achieved under ancient conditions.

According to the description on the tag, Qin Fang should have been slightly plump.

However, having starved for several months and lost fifty or sixty pounds, he was already so thin he might topple over in a strong breeze.

Still, his height was sufficient... seven feet six inches, which, in his past life, would be roughly one meter eighty.

In Great Yu, he stood head and shoulders above the rest.

Looking at the stick-thin Qin Fang, the scribe nodded, then compared him to the tag, having Qin Fang show his birthmark and hands. The scribe's expression visibly relaxed.

...Having an identification meant he was a law-abiding citizen.

Many of the refugees earlier had claimed their identification was lost during their flight.

Although they were allowed in, everyone knew that among them were likely some who had committed crimes...

Once someone committed a crime and was caught, their identification would be confiscated, and even if reissued, it would contain a detailed record of their offenses.

Normally, commoners were not allowed to leave their native place without cause.

Even if they did, they required travel permits issued by the authorities, and marks would even be left on the identification, such as reasons for travel or places visited...

The management of commoners in this world was far stricter than one might imagine.

Of course, Qin Fang was currently a refugee who had arrived in True Martial County to escape disaster, so he naturally lacked a "travel permit."

But since his identification matched his physical features, the probability of him being a law-abiding citizen increased significantly.

"Hmm, do not disturb the residents after entering the city. Go to the settlement area to be temporarily housed, and arrangements will be made after some time."

After recording Qin Fang's information, the scribe stamped the identification with a "Permit to Enter City" seal, handed it back, and gave him these instructions.

Qin Fang bowed to acknowledge the order, took back his identification, and walked into the gates of True Martial County.

A line of torches illuminated the way, forming a path. Qin Fang saw people on both sides of the street secretly opening their windows to peer at the refugees.

At regular intervals, he could see sturdy men; although their clothing was not uniform, they were clearly patrolling, likely to prevent the refugees from causing trouble.

He exhaled softly and quickened his pace.

The millet porridge from earlier seemed to have been fully digested, and there were still porridge-dispensing stations within the city; he needed to go eat some more...

Before long, he saw a porridge-dispensing station set up along the street.

A banner hung over the station, bearing the four large characters: "True Martial Fist Hall."

A martial arts hall, huh...

Qin Fang's eyes flickered.