Six people entered from outside, each of a different race, but not one of them human. The man said, "These six are my guards. I'll lend them to you for two months. Your first order of business should be finding a storefront. Don't worry, there are plenty here, and you'll find one easily. I'll have them show you around."
A first-class Saint Market was even more prosperous than a second-class one. Without seeing it for yourself, you could never imagine the spectacle. Besides Saints of every cultivation level, there were all manner of races. Most were slaves or servants to Saints of standing.
Buildings of every style stood packed together, even more tightly than on the streets of Manhattan. Luo Qian had always thought Landy was being overly cautious in assigning him six men. This was a business rivalry, after all; surely they did not need bodyguards. One of the six was of the same race as Landy. He led the group, and his name was Aldton. In his three-fingered hand, he always gripped an iron ball the size of an egg. Luo Qian could tell all six were capable fighters. For most Saints, Seventh Rank was as far as they could go. Some who wanted to advance entered the service of powerful households as guards, hoping to earn their masters' favor and take another step forward. Others had no ambition, or refused to sell themselves into servitude. People like Wei Shandong lived freely, drifting through their days in a haze.
Saints could, for all practical purposes, live forever. As long as a Seventh Rank Saint did not provoke anyone formidable, he could lead a perfectly comfortable life.
Luo Qian had assumed storefronts in a first-class Saint Market would be fiercely sought after. Who would willingly leave a place where