On the thirty-sixth day after the War of the Shifting Sands ended, Silithus's scorching air cooled in the vast darkness. Yet it was also at this moment of dusk, when night truly fell, that the desert's temperature would plunge below 10 degrees. The drastic temperature difference was one reason this land had remained uninhabited for tens of thousands of years.
Such an environment really was unfit for ordinary people to survive in.
Of course, it posed little obstacle to adventurers, those people who danced on a knife's edge. In fact, whenever night fell, they held lively parties or trading fairs in the square of the Ruins Battlefield, which had now become the South Kalimdor Mercenary Guild.
Although the soldiers had scoured the Aqir Kingdom, the adventurers, like treasure-hunting rats, could still find valuables in those dark tunnels. A week earlier, for example, a lucky human lad had dug up a military supply chest left by the elven alliance forces a thousand years ago in a pit on the edge of the Ruins Battlefield. He had obtained several advanced spellbooks, which the Druids of the Cenarion Circle had bought at high prices almost immediately.
The penniless lad had returned to his hometown of Lakeshire in the Kingdom of Stormwind the next day with four large chests of gold, never to worry about food or clothing for the rest of his life.
This incident had greatly stirred the other adventurers. Over the past few days, all sorts of Aqir ornaments, weapons, and even living larvae had been delivered to the Mercenary Guild's exchange. Goblin merchants had flocked there at the news, and for a time, all of Silithus had come alive.
But this prosperity had nothing to do with many people: the guards of various races patrolling Silithus beneath the night sky,