Spirit Hall Empire, Spirit City.
Weathered by over a thousand years of wind and rain, the walls of this ancient city were slightly mottled. A thin layer of moss grew in the corners, lending them a sense of history's weight. Its heavy iron gates stood open to either side, traveling merchants and pedestrians passing in and out. Everything looked remarkably peaceful, as though the Sky-Blasting Gang's meteoric rise had barely affected this place.
However, anyone observant would have noticed that Spirit City had far fewer residents. The streets no longer teemed with Spirit Masters as they once had, carrying instead a hint of decline and desolation.
After all, ever since Qian Daoliu, the god among men, had fallen at Yang Ming's hands, Spirit Masters across the continent had clearly understood that Yang Ming would wage war against Spirit Hall in the near future.
From the moment people entered this world, they were never isolated individuals. They formed close bonds with those around them. Family, friendship, love, and the ties between teachers and students all connected people to one another. No matter how glorious Spirit Hall had once been, when faced with a crisis of life and death, many considered not only themselves but also the safety of their friends and loved ones. Naturally, they chose to leave Spirit Hall.
Of course, where some withdrew, others stood firm.
Whatever else might be said, in its earliest days, Spirit Hall had led humanity out of the tribal age of eating raw flesh and drinking blood, all the way to the present age of empires and slash-and-burn farming. It had hacked through thorns and brambles throughout that journey and still enjoyed great prestige among the common people. Many Spirit Masters would fight to the death for Spirit Hall's ideals, even at the cost