145: Chapter 146 Different

Pain.

It was more painful than that knife strike from his father in his memory.

But he didn't utter a sound.

He didn't know how long the pain lasted.

Perhaps a long time, or perhaps only a few breaths.

As the sharp pain receded bit by bit, he felt something.

Light.

Not color, not good or evil, not gray, black, or warmth.

It was light.

True light, the light of dusk shining in through the cracks in the window.

His breathing stopped for a moment.

Then he slowly opened his eyes.

The outline of the treehouse emerged from the blur.

Wooden walls, a water cup on the windowsill, neatly folded bedding at the head of the bed—every single thing was bathed in the soft twilight, resting quietly there.

He could see.

Truly see.

Tears welled up without warning.

He didn't wipe them away.

He just sat on the edge of the bed, tears falling one by one onto the back of his hand, looking at this treehouse he had lived in for days but never truly seen.

After a long while, he stood up and walked to the window.

Outside the window was the evening of Flower City.

Cooking smoke rose from afar; people walked on the streets, someone called out for dinner, children chased each other, and laughter drifted from a courtyard.

He saw it all.

But he didn't just see these things.

Every person had color on them.

Just like before.

Warm, bright, clean colors, like wheat ears dried in the sun.

That layer of gray was much fainter than a few days ago.

He looked for a long time, then lowered his head and glanced at the water cup resting on the windowsill.

A pair of eyes was reflected on the surface of the cup.

Left eye, azure blue.

Right eye, crimson red.

Shang Youjun stared at those eyes for a long time.

Then he smiled.

Tears still hung on his face, but he smiled.

...

The next day.

The psychic small jianmu in the East District had been renovated overnight by the people of Iron Mountain; its branches were interwoven into a bright, spacious hall, and a newly carved wooden sign hung above the lintel.

Flower City Mercenary Guild.

The hall was large, much more spacious than the Council Hall.

But today, this hall seemed small.

People were packed from the hall all the way to the door, and from outside the door, they were packed into the street.

Some stood on stone piers at the street corner, tiptoeing to look inside, while others simply climbed the nearby trees.

Several people hung from the branches of the psychic small jianmu, the branches swaying under their weight.

People were pressed against people, shoulder to shoulder.

But no one spoke.

With so many people gathered together, it was unbelievably quiet.

Because Lei Lie stood in the center of the hall.

He wore no armor, carried no sword, just casual clothes, arms crossed, standing there.

The aura of a Silver Rank expert pressed out silently; it wasn't heavy, but it covered the entire hall.

Like a giant rock submerged at the bottom of a lake, the surface remained calm, but everyone could feel its weight.

Lei Lie's gaze swept slowly over the crowd.

From left to right, missing no one.

He didn't speak when looking at people, and those he looked at didn't speak either.

After sweeping the circle, he spoke.

The voice wasn't loud, but in this silence, every word could be heard clearly.

"From today on, the Flower City Mercenary Guild is officially established."

No one answered.

"Among you, some have farmed, some have worked, and some have fought. No matter who you were before, once you enter this door, there is only one identity—a Flower City Mercenary."

He paused.

"The first mission is very simple: wipe out the Demonic Beasts!"

Everyone held their breath subconsciously.

Lei Lie extended a finger, pointing outside the hall, toward the direction of the East City Gate.

"Within a ten-mile radius of Flower City, I do not want to see even a single living Demonic Beast!"

It was quiet for a breath.

Two breaths.

Then, the hall was as if set on fire.

"Yes!!"

No one knew who shouted first, but the sound shook the leaves of the psychic small jianmu, making them rustle.

Then came the second shout, the third, countless voices merging together, surging from the hall to the door, from the door to the street, and from the street to the entire Flower City.

Lei Lie stood in place, watching this group of howling people before him, the corners of his mouth slowly curling up.

It had been a long time since he had smiled like this.

...

The first batch of Mercenaries completed their formation within half an hour.

No one dawdled.

Some went home before leaving, taking down the weapons hanging on the wall—that was the Crimson series equipment uniformly distributed by Flower City, Black Iron Rank, which most people didn't usually use, but today it finally had a place to be used.

A dark, thin man stood at his doorway, buckled his sword to his waist, turned around, and said to his wife sitting on the threshold:

"I told you long ago, your man isn't cut out for farming!"

The wife still held a shoe sole in her hand, her needlework half-finished. She looked up at him, pursed her lips, and said testily:

"Alright, alright, stop bragging. Just remember to come back for dinner."

The man chuckled, and just as he was about to step away, a childish voice came from behind him.

"Dad!"

He turned back.

His son stood in the yard, head tilted, face full of confusion.

"Isn't the City Lord going to give us meat to eat? Why do you still have to go out and hunt?"

The man paused, stunned.

Then he walked back, squatted down, and reached out to ruffle his son's hair.

He thought for a moment, then smiled and said:

"Son, remember—what others give you and what you earn yourself are different."

...

When the East City Gate opened, the two city guards at the gate were stunned.

They had seen the formations of the Flower City army marching out—neat ranks, silent footsteps, Lei Lie standing at the very front, and with one command, thousands of troops filing out.

What was before them was different.

People surged from the other end of the street like water from an opened sluice, a vast, dark mass with no end in sight.

Some carried Crimson greatswords, some held magic staffs, some had short knives tucked at their waists—all were Black Iron Rank Crimson series equipment uniformly distributed by Flower City, identical in style, but worn on different people, they looked completely different.

A fat man strapped his sword to his back, swaying as he walked, the scabbard knocking against the back of his head, completely unaware. People beside him laughed at him, and he retorted righteously:

"It's handy to carry this way! Mind your own business!"

A tall, thin woman held a magic staff in her left hand and a bamboo basket in her right, with two steamed buns inside the basket.

Someone beside her asked why she was bringing steamed buns, and she rolled her eyes:

"What if we're still fighting by noon? How can we fight on an empty stomach?"

Someone realized they had put their shoes on the wrong feet only after leaving the house and squatted by the roadside to change them; the person behind almost tripped over him, cursed, and then both laughed together.

The city guards watched this group of people pass by in droves, looking at each other in dismay.

One of them asked in a low voice:

"Is this... the Mercenary Guild?"

The other nodded, his expression complex.

"Why does it look like they're going to a market fair?"