Inside the city walls, the smell of gunpowder permeates the air, and plumes of smoke rise into the sky.
However, armed conflicts rarely broke out outside the city.
The ultimate goal of both sides in the conflict was to drive the other out of the city, so the fighting naturally took place inside the city.
Today it might be the Council of Elders' private army raiding an explorer's weapons workshop; tomorrow it might be a fearless explorer throwing a homemade explosive charge into an elder's camp.
This brutal street fighting lasted for months, turning many areas of the city into ruins.
To escape this power struggle that had nothing to do with them, explorers, workers, merchants, and a large number of innocent residents from the lower classes were forced to flee the city gates with their families, forming this chaotic shantytown.
Now, the city gates open and close intermittently. The war is nearing its end, and everyone is waiting for the final news, wondering when they can return to the city walls, which are ravaged but are still called "home".
At this delicate moment, a seemingly absurd rumor began to circulate in the northern part of the shantytown.
"Brother, have you heard of the Golden Order?"
"What's that new thing, a merchant guild that sells Faith Coins?"
"No, I heard it's a group of followers of a famous deity called the Erdtree ' who are offering free medical treatments. Whether you're missing an arm or a leg, they can cure you, and they even give out food!"
"Free? Healing? That's a scam, right? I'm not going to go for those weird schemes that give you a little something extra and then trick you into paying membership fees."
"Look at what you're saying! I saw Tongzi go in with my own eyes and walk out. What good would it do me to lie to you? Believe it or not."
"Don't go, brother! Can my broken leg be healed?"
"Yes, they can! Come on, come on, I'll take you there to see. I heard they're setting up tents near the Northwest Gate today."
Similar conversations were repeated throughout the shantytown.
At first, it was just homeless "refugees" or down-on-their-luck "mercenaries" talking in hushed tones.
But the power of word of mouth is astonishing, especially in this land of despair, where a glimmer of hope is enough to ignite a patch of barren grass.
Soon, many Dorok People had indeed been cured and given a new life spread the news like wildfire.
The content also began to become increasingly exaggerated, quickly escalating from "treating minor injuries and illnesses" to "limb regeneration" and "terminal diseases curable."
This was exactly Mu En's plan; here, nothing touches people's hearts more directly than truly curing their illnesses.
Healthcare is a scarcer and more precious form of hard currency than food and water.
After a brief investigation, Kamlin and his colleagues obtained data that was truly alarming.
In the northern region where they live alone, the disability rate is as high as 40%!
On average, one in three people suffers a lifelong disability due to Sea of Corruption Disease, insect infestation, or injuries sustained in the civil war.
If you're lucky, losing a finger is commonplace; if you're unlucky, hemiplegia is also quite common.
This is also a major reason for the gradual decline in the population of the countries in the Sea of Corruption, besides neonatal deaths. These small countries with tens of thousands of people simply do not have the capacity to create a complete public healthcare system, and injuries and illnesses here often mean death.
However, as Kamlin had previously worried, "A common man is innocent, but possessing a treasure is a crime."
The shantytown was not entirely a mess. After several months of chaos and friction, a system of self-governance was gradually established, and an order was maintained autonomously by a powerful group.
Controlling this area in the north of the shantytown is a massive mercenary group with over several hundred members.
Coincidentally, this mercenary group is called the " Mercenary Corps of the Wind," perhaps inspired by the name Valley of the Valley of the Wind.
In order to gain fame, Kamlin and his team did not deliberately keep a low profile, and their free and remarkably effective medical practices inevitably attracted the attention of this "uncrowned king."
Outside the North Gate, several white, semi-circular buildings resembling orange segments stand, serving as the temporary stronghold of the Mercenary Corps of the Wind.
The building's surface features patterns and spikes that mimic the shells of living organisms, and even includes several specially designed convex observation windows.
An experienced explorer would immediately recognize it as a simple, rigid tent made to resemble the shell of Ohmu.
People who make a living on the edge of the Sea of Corruption believe that this shape can deter certain insects and reduce the risk of being suddenly attacked.
Of course, there are also versions made with the shells of real Ohmu, but those are luxuries that mercenary groups can't afford.
( The Dorok's Ohmu Shell Tent can withstand the crushing force of Ohmu swarm)
The largest "shell," which served as the regimental commander's office, had someone sitting behind a heavy desk.
He wore a black leather soft armor, reinforced shoulder guards, a wide leather belt around his waist, and a sheathed scimitar.
Compared to typical mercenaries, this outfit makes him look more like a low-ranking military officer.
"--Does such a trivial matter require you to report to me?" The man raised his head, his voice slightly hoarse. "On the territory of the Mercenary Corps of the Wind, there are no charlatans or swindlers allowed. Do I need to teach you that rule?"
His face came into view; he was a young man with short, black hair.
His high cheekbones, deep-set eyes, and bandages wrapped around his forehead made his gray eyes appear exceptionally sharp.
"No, no, Commander—" Standing in front of the table was a burly man in a vest.
The Zhuang man spoke with a respectful tone that belied his physique, "I've already sent people to check on him, and I've also interviewed several people who actually received treatment there—"
"Those people don't seem to be ordinary herbalists or swindlers. The mercenary who was hit in the spine by a stray bullet was carried in, but he came out on his own a few moments later!"
The man referred to as the regimental commander's pupils contracted slightly.
The burly man stole a glance at the regimental commander's expression, then mustered his courage and said, "Boss, if it's true, your illness—maybe—"
"Shut up!" The regimental commander suddenly stood up from his chair.
Only now can it be seen that the man's left sleeve is empty; he only has one right arm.
I told you, don't mention this again.
"Your subordinate wouldn't dare! Please calm down, sir!" The burly man turned pale with fright and immediately knelt on one knee.
But a few seconds later, he gritted his teeth, raised his head again, and pleaded with a desperate look on his face, "Boss! Punish me, beat me, whatever! But what if—what if he's different from those other scammers?"
The regimental commander remained silent.
He had spent all his savings on medical treatment and almost couldn't even pay his brothers' wages.
But, as a living, breathing human being, who doesn't want to live?
He finally spoke slowly after a full half minute.
"Good."
He raised his only remaining right hand and brushed it against the curved sword at his waist.
"Let me go and see for myself—if they're frauds, I'll chop them into mincemeat and smear it on the city walls!"
"Yes, boss!"