Downstream on the Nine-Bend River.
Li Jing was grateful for the benefits wheat and rice had brought, because the arrival of these two crops had solved the livelihood problems of countless fishermen who could not fish because of ****.
But even before that, Chentang Pass had weathered many storms.
People in ancient times revered Heaven, because a single gust of wind or a crashing wave could capsize their boats and leave them unable to survive.
Chentang Pass had no surplus grain to provide relief to those left destitute by natural disasters, either.
It could only make rudimentary arrangements for them downstream on the Nine-Bend River.
There were no grand residences here, only a sprawling mass of low, dilapidated thatched huts. It was also the greatest cesspit of filth and vice in Chentang Pass.
Li Jing wanted to clean it up, but his strength fell short of his will.
Inside one shabby hut.
A burly man whose clothing stood in stark contrast to that of the destitute residents held a wooden club, pointing it at a figure huddled in the corner as he sneered. "Heh, trash like you only has one way to survive-submit to my young master!"
The figure braced both hands against the floor and struggled to move. The door stood open, and the man had even left enough room to pass. All he needed to do was stand up, and he could have fled.
"Stand up, then! Useless trash who can't even stand-you got me a thorough tongue-lashing from the young master!" The man tightened his grip on the club and pointed at the boy struggling helplessly on the floor. Advancing, he shouted, "I'll break your crippled hands too! Let's see what you can do then!"
After a few more curses, he reached the corner, raised his club,