「Dongcheng District.」
Wang Ping was in a private room on the second floor of a teahouse, listening to a storyteller. He had, of course, heard the rumbling from the West City District, but unlike Jiangcun, he couldn't get a bird's-eye view.
However, teahouses were natural hubs for news, and he soon learned what had happened from the jests of the other patrons.
At that moment, Wang Ping suddenly recalled the Foundation Establishment Stage cultivator he had met at Bin Pass. That man had possessed a resolute, do-or-die attitude that fit perfectly with the descriptions of the cultivators throwing their lives away in the stories people were jokingly telling.
Listening to the idle chatter of the common folk, hearing their indifferent tones, and sensing their moods, Wang Ping gained a new understanding of Shangjing City. The people here weren't all fanatics. In the teahouse, for instance, they could joke about the Emperor.
