The mining camps became increasingly concentrated the closer he flew to the city. Unlike the other cities and towns he’d seen in the South, Bastion was actually built on a place that was rich in resources. Strong body cultivators dug from deep quarries just outside the city’s tall concrete wall. The smooth rune-inscribed structure represented strength and might; it also bore witness to the instability inherent in Southern countries. Many sections of the wall were slightly off color, and anyone with the slightest cultivation talent could clearly see that they’d been built at different times.
Wall aside, Cha Ming could see inside the city due to the shallow but steady incline it was built on. The city snaked through broken mountains, using sheer cliff walls as natural enclosures to the east and west. The buildings in Bastion were as gray as the walls themselves. Despite the incline, the layout of the city was grid-like, allowing no deviations from the norm no matter what building. This was likely a product of the kingdom’s rigid administration, along with its near-religious zeal in following the rules.
What was most surprising about the city, however, was an oddity at the back. A wall stood tall at the end of the city, blocking off the mountain pass toward the North. According to all the maps Cha Ming had seen, the pass didn’t lead anywhere—it ended abruptly. Yet this wall was three times taller than the walls protecting the city from human invaders. It also predated the city, which had evidently been built near it out of convenience. True to its name, it was a bastion that protected civilization from the demons infesting the mountains. Without it, the demons of the Shattered Lands would roam as they wish, sowing chaos in the Ji Kingdom and all Southern lands.
“Identification and purpose of visit?” a guard asked gruffly as Cha Ming landed in front of the city’s large blacksteel gates. He wore a drab brown uniform complete with tunic and magic-grade mail. He wore a peak-magic-grade sword, above-average gear for a Ji Kingdom soldier.
Cha Ming handed the guard a jade slip listing Pai Xiao’s fictional information. Then he handed the man another scroll—his employment contract. “I’ve come to report for duty with the Blackthorn Conglomerate,” he said. The guard eyed the scroll and opened it reverently. He reviewed it, nodding as he did, before bowing.
“My apologies, Grandmaster,” the guard said. “You are most welcome in this city. Still, you know as well as I that the spirits watch and remember. Procedures must be adhered to at all times.”
“The spirits watch and remember,” Cha Ming echoed. He’d met men like these before, devotees of the Spirit Temple. Their members made for the most fervent of administrators and the fiercest lawyers and accountants.
The guard handed his employment contract back and gestured for him to step through a small doorway. The black door was an opening on the larger main gate. It was just wide enough to accommodate two wagons, one passing in each direction. Cha Ming entered it and followed the crush of people into the city. As he passed, he felt a shimmer of light that pushed against his soul ever so slightly. It left as soon as it came, taking note of his arrival.
Like the people lined up to enter the city, the streets were orderly and clean. Common folk walked or rode through the streets at a steady pace, the only exception being core-formation cultivators like Cha Ming. They flew to their destinations instead, though none dared fly higher than twenty feet above the ground. There were rules here, and rules were made to be followed.
The streets in Bastion were clean and free of beggars. For a second, Cha Ming wondered how they’d achieved such a miracle. Then he remembered where he was. They’d likely either been forced into slavery or sacrificed to the blood masters. Either that or society’s wretches didn’t dare show their face out in the open. There was no pity for those who didn’t earn their keep in the South. He’d seen many painful examples during his stay in Ashes.
It took barely any time at all for Cha Ming to traverse the first twenty miles of the crowded streets and reach the inner city. There, he flew past the checkpoint without any questions. As a core-formation cultivator, he belonged there. Other, weaker men were questioned at the entrance. Without exception, all of them were cultivators. The average person walking the streets was a foundation-establishment cultivator, and those who weren’t kept their heads bowed low as they milled about to perform their duties.
“Where can I find the Blackthorn Conglomerate’s headquarters?” Cha Ming asked as he landed on the gray cobblestone streets.
The man he’d asked, an early-foundation-establishment cultivator in black cultivation robes, bowed hurriedly, then spoke with averted eyes. “This one thanks you for the attention. The Blackthorn Pavilion is located on Twentieth West Street and Tenth Avenue.”
“Many thanks,” Cha Ming said, flicking the man a mid-grade spirit stone.
The man took it and bowed deeply, then ran off, likely in case Cha Ming changed his mind. Cha Ming ignored him and looked toward the north, where Bastion Wall stood tall. In front of it was a large gray stone castle surrounded by black walls. The center line, he discovered, was named Palace Street. Street numbers increased symmetrically to the east and west, bearing directional designations. Horizontal roads were called avenues. They started from the palace with Castle Avenue, then increased in number with each block southward. There were no named streets in Bastion save these two and Bastion Avenue, the narrow street between the palace and the
