"You-you people, who are you?!" Zhao Kui frowned, shocked and furious, and demanded sharply.
The surrounding cultivators from the Rogue Cultivator Association also eyed the two people who had appeared out of thin air like tigers watching their prey.
Song Yan tucked the old man's blanket neatly around him and stood up.
"My name is Song Yan, a mere rogue cultivator."
In truth, the Abandoned City was still within the Tang Court's territory. If he invoked Jun Mountain's name, he could probably spare himself a great deal of trouble.
But-
Hadn't I crossed mountains and rivers, endured a thousand hardships to reach Luohou Abyss, precisely to look for trouble?
He flicked a finger. Sharp Sword Qi sliced past, severing the ropes behind the boy.
Lian Shichen emerged from his daze and stumbled to the bedside. Only after seeing that his grandfather's condition was stable did he feel reassured.
"Thank you for saving us, Senior!"
In fact, Song Yan felt little sympathy for anyone in the Abandoned City, cultivators and mortals alike.
He knew perfectly well what had brought the people here.
Among them were fugitives laden with crimes who could no longer live under the Tang Court, as well as cultivators blinded by obsession, dreaming of picking up an immortal's legacy and ascending to heaven in a single step.
Those among their descendants who did not want to continue living this way would find ways to leave.
Anyone still here at this very moment, whichever sort they were, understood one thing perfectly well.
In the Abandoned City, the strong devoured the weak. That was the only rule, and death accepted no excuses.
Thus, he felt no sympathy whatsoever for anyone here. They all lived in tacit acceptance of such a rule; there was no need to play the indiscriminate do-gooder.