The morning sun rose, and the weather at the end of September had gradually turned cold.
However, in front of the Black Obsidian Martial Arts Hall in the Human Race Abandoned Area, it was already crowded with undocumented vagabonds repairing the hall, each one as joyful as if they were celebrating a festival.
The repair of the martial arts hall's outer walls was done with utmost care, as if fearing it wouldn't be perfect enough, they were even more meticulous compared to when repairing their own houses.
