Yang Qing must have sighed over a dozen times in deep, languid satisfaction as he allowed his body and mind to adapt to the state they usually settled into the moment he stepped foot in his abode. He was relaxed, content, and at peace. He felt safe, and proud too, as he looked around, taking stock of what he had built.
The nostalgic person that he was, and vindictive too, when he looked around, he saw the ghost of what this place once looked like when it was first assigned to him. Wild grass had grown everywhere. The abode looked like the main headquarters of the beggar's sect, given how rustic and aged it appeared. There were no trees. Aside from the lesser dragon vein that ran beneath it, the place looked like some wilderness, or a spot where undesirables were banished.
