Spirit City
Ever since His Holiness the Pope announced that the Seven Great Sects would be selected anew, Spirit City had become a hive of activity.
Following the Continental Elite Soul Master Tournament, the upcoming competition to select the Seven Great Sects would set the city boiling once more. Everyone in the city was busy. Spirit Hall's people were preparing to host the gathering; merchants were rushing to stock up, hoping to make a tidy profit; even ordinary citizens were discussing who would become the new Seven Great Sects.
Yet in Spirit City's West District, where the poor lived, a group of people sat in a smithy, unable to share in the excitement.
"It's already been three days. Why haven't we heard anything? Has His Holiness forgotten us?"
"Exactly. Would their operations have gone so smoothly if we hadn't worked day and night making parts for them?"
"Enough of that. Ever since Tai Tan, the Strength Clan's patriarch, lost us to Spirit Hall in a wager, we've belonged to Spirit Hall, not the Strength Clan. Making Hidden Weapon parts for Spirit Hall is simply our duty."
Inside a small wooden room, five men sat at a table with gloomy faces. They might as well have had "unhappy" written across their foreheads.
"Captain Ren, I heard His Holiness the Pope has secretly conferred titles on quite a few people. Why haven't we received any credit?"
"I don't know either."
"Captain Ren, why don't we captains go demand an explanation from Archbishop Bull Demon?"
"No. If His Holiness intends to reward us, he will. If he doesn't, even begging won't get us anything."
"At the end of the day, they still look down on us blacksmiths."
The five middle-aged men in the room aired their grievances, each more indignant than the last.