Surviving In A Martial Arts World To Become A Saint

July 7th, the River God Festival.

Today was Gaolin County's annual grand event.

Every household hung wormwood and calamus in front of their doors to ward off evil and pray for blessings.

The cries of vendors and the faint sounds of gongs, drums, and stringed instruments from distant opera stages continued without end.

Temporary stalls sprouted like mushrooms after rain, densely packed along both sides of the streets.

The crowds surged like floodwaters through an opened gate, pouring from the riverbank into the narrow alleys of the city, creating extraordinary liveliness.

As a river patrol guard, Chen Qing naturally couldn't be idle. At this moment, he was patrolling along South River Dock with his saber at his side.

He was on guard against possible stampedes or troublemaking that the surging crowds might cause.

Patrolling to an old teahouse by the river, the clamorous noise seemed somewhat muffled by the bamboo shed.