The morning sun had just risen, and by late September, the weather had gradually turned chilly.
Yet in front of the Obsidian Martial Arts Hall in the human abandoned district, undocumented drifters repairing the hall had already gathered in droves. Every one of them was beaming as though celebrating a festival.
They repaired the outer walls with exceptional care, afraid that even the slightest imperfection might remain. They were several times more serious than when fixing their own homes.
"Old Luo, your luck is really good. Today is the last day of work, yet Obsidian Martial Arts Hall picked you to become a permanent worker. From now on, you'll be handling renovations for the hall." A middle-aged man in his forties looked enviously at a brawny man around fifty. "The permanent workers at Obsidian Martial Arts Hall earn a thousand bits a month. Because of those benefits, several thousand people came to apply over the past two days, but only fifty were selected."
"Old Wang, I'm only good at handicraft work. The Dojo Master thought my handiwork was decent, so he kept me on to make all kinds of furniture for the hall in the future." The brawny man called Old Luo chuckled.
"Look how happy you are." The middle-aged man glanced at the busy players inside the hall and sighed. "Still, who could have imagined it? Two days ago, Obsidian Martial Arts Hall became famous in a single battle at Crimson Moon Mountain. Now all the major gangs in the wilderness have to give Obsidian Martial Arts Hall some face. Even us undocumented drifters have had a lot less trouble when going out into the wilderness. It's a pity Obsidian Martial Arts Hall isn't recruiting disciples right now. Otherwise, I'd really like my daughter, who works in the suburbs,