Divine Capital.
Tianzhen Workshop.
A grand avenue here led directly to the Imperial City.
From the magnificent Zhengyang Gate, the road stretched for dozens of miles straight to Chaoyang Gate. It was paved with hard bluestone slabs, wide enough for eight horse-drawn carriages to travel side-by-side.
All sorts of buildings lined both sides of the street in dense rows—commercial towers and guild halls were everywhere, and naturally, there was no shortage of various taverns.
In an elegant private room upstairs.
Hai Pig Jiaoru, one of the Twelve Unscrupulous Marshals, lounged on a large, tiger-skin-draped chair. He toyed with two massive iron balls in his large hands, his gaze drifting thoughtfully toward the long street below.
"Daoist."
The voice of one of his Unscrupulous People sounded from outside the door:
"Lord Jiao is inside."
CREAK...
The door opened, and a Daoist holding a duster with a transcendent air walked in slowly. He casually picked a seat and sat down.
