Ten thousand breathless, dirty Outer Disciples came to a sudden halt right outside the fifty-foot golden archway of the Ten-Mile Border Job Fair Plaza.
For three miles down the rocky mountain trails, they had been running blindly with their noses following the heavenly smell of honey-roasted spirit-ox. Now that they actually stood in front of the gleaming white marble flagstones, red silk recruitment booths, and shining brass ovens of Great Yan, their years of being beaten and tricked by sect elders made them freeze in fear.
At the front of the crowd, Scar-Face Wang held Little Six behind his broad back, his calloused fingers gripping his worn mining pick. His bare toes stuck out of the front of his shredded straw sandals, bleeding slightly from the sharp mountain rocks.
“Brother Wang...” Little Six swallowed hard, staring at the rows of turning golden-brown spirit-oxen only fifty yards away. “Look at the guards by the gate. Every single one of them is wearing black spirit-iron armor and radiating Rank 4 Qi! And that big one-armed old man by the tea table—his aura feels like a Rank 5 Foundation Establishment Grand Elder! Why would a kingdom this rich give free meat to dirty miners like us? What if they fatten us up and use us as blood sacrifices to refine demonic pills?!”
