A few days later.
Xia Dong had just arrived at the Centurion's Office when Zhao Ting summoned him to the inner hall.
"Brother Xia, I've managed to get you what you asked for." Zhao Ting drew a small gray cloth pouch from his sleeve and pushed it across the table. "It's got some low-grade spirit rice seeds and a few hardy spirit herb seeds. There isn't much, but take them and plant them wherever you like. They'll give you something to do."
Xia Dong took the pouch. Feeling the faint yet pure vitality within, he was quietly pleased. He cupped his hands and said, "Thank you for going to the trouble, Brother Zhao. I'll remember this favor."
"We're brothers. No need to be so polite." Zhao Ting waved a hand, then picked up a document bearing a large seal from his desk and handed it to Xia Dong. "Here's the document you wanted. It's an assisting assignment, so you can report back whenever you return."
Xia Dong glanced over the document, put it away, and thanked him again.
After exchanging pleasantries, the two sat down and took a sip of tea. Zhao Ting's expression gradually turned solemn. He sighed and lowered his voice. "Brother, you must be extra careful on this trip to the Yin Spirit Mine. Things haven't been peaceful lately."
"Is it because of the Unborn Cult?" Xia Dong asked.
Over the past few years, he had read plenty of files in the Eagle-Wolf Guard. He knew the Unborn Cult was a sprawling heretical sect, brutal in its methods and skilled at beguiling people. Its ravages extended far beyond Linyuan Prefecture.
Zhao Ting snorted, a flash of savagery in his eyes. "What else? These past few years, how many times have our Eagle-Wolf Guard and the Qixia Immortal