Chapter 162: Handover

Chapter 162: Chapter 162: Handover

Luo led his group of government officers on their return journey. Looking at their backs as they talked and laughed, one could easily sense their cheerful mood. Upon arriving at the handover point, they had immediately purchased horses and ridden off at top speed. They did not want to stay here a single moment longer. Previously, they had horses and carts, but after passing through that drought-stricken land, humans could barely survive, let alone animals. Even walking was a struggle, so naturally, no one pushed the carts anymore. They threw away as much luggage as possible. Aside from truly valuable or life-saving items, they had abandoned everything else. Now, the exiles stood empty-handed at the city gates of Lingnan, watching Luo and the others leave until they were completely out of sight.

The government officers in charge of the handover in Lingnan did not rush them. Instead, they sized up each person, their gazes eventually landing on Ling Qianjun. They had heard many different versions of the legends surrounding Ling Qianjun, knowing him only as the Guardian God of the Northern Land, the War God of the north. However, the south also had its own Guardian God and War God. These officers did not feel much toward Ling Qianjun, who came from the distant Northern Land, though they did harbor a sincere admiration for the victorious battles he had fought in the past. Still, they felt their southern General was more impressive—a man capable of fighting both on land and on water.

Only when Luo was far away did they step forward. "Alright, alright, everyone follow us. It’s still early, so we can make it to a village to rest. Let’s go."

The lead government officer waved his large hand and rode his horse to the front to lead the way. Behind him, eleven government officers maintained order. They carried small leather whips in their hands and tridents on their backs. Though their eyes seemed to casually scan the surroundings, the moment anyone stepped out of line, those eyes would lock onto them with pinpoint accuracy, and the leather whips would be lightly raised.

The path just inside the city gates opened onto the most bustling and lively street. As the group passed through, the people on the road quieted down. The street was lined with shops and peddlers, filled with the endless sounds of hawking and bargaining. The teahouses, taverns, and eateries wafted mouth-watering aromas of food. Just standing by the roadside and smelling it was enough to make anyone drool, not to mention the variety of snacks sold by the stalls on both sides. Chicken soup wontons, candied hawthorn skewers, steamed buns, and dim sum, all woven together with the joyful laughter of the people, formed an incredibly vibrant scene.

The prisoners looked around curiously, their eyes revealing both anxiety and a yearning for the unknown future. They walked slowly along the street, taking in the lively, everyday atmosphere. Suddenly, the melodious sound of a zither drifted into their ears. Following the sound, they saw a veiled woman playing an ancient zither on the second-floor balcony of a teahouse. Her music was so moving that it attracted many passersby to stop and listen. Beside her, two little girls were dancing gracefully. Their movements were as light and beautiful as fluttering butterflies, and bright, happy smiles radiated from their faces. Looking up into the sky, one would spot numerous kites flying freely, completing a picturesque scene.

Many people poked their heads out from the second-floor windows of the other shops, curiously scrutinizing the government officers and prisoners below. Even the people on the first floor put down whatever they were doing upon hearing the commotion, hurrying out to watch the spectacle. Gossip was human nature, after all, whether one was three or eighty years old.