Hello, is this a letter addressed to Demon Fortress?

The next morning.

The refugee area was like a pot of water being stirred up, churning from the deepest part.

The news spread faster than the wind.

In less than half an hour, the entire refugee area was in an uproar.

In the alleys, beside the shacks, and by the wells, everyone was talking about the same topic.

"Have you heard? That post office is reopening."

Which post office?

"Who else? It's that mail carrier that costs seven copper coins, the one that got vandalized and a lot of people died."

An old man with a hunched back squatted against the wall, clutching a piece of dry, hard black bread in his hand, and shook his head.

"Isn't that just asking for death? Last time, the blood was everywhere."

"you do not say."

A middle-aged woman in patched clothes next to him lowered her voice.

"I heard that young master said that anyone who dares to deliver a message there again will face more than just murder next time."

"Then why did you still dare to drive it?"

"Who knows... that blonde woman is probably crazy."

The conversation among them subsided, like a flame weakened by the wind.

More people stood on street corners and sat on doorsteps, chatting in twos and threes.

The topic went around in circles, but ultimately it all came back to the same point.

That post office should not be open anymore.

"Those who delivered the mail were all dragged out of their homes."

"They didn't spare the elderly, children, or even infants in swaddling clothes..."

"I saw that the entire Maca family was harassed by those thugs and dragged away by the adventurers."

"It's so pitiful. He saved up for so many years just to send a letter to his parents. He finally had this opportunity, but the whole family..."

"Maka worked hard all his life in the copper mine. He was honest and kind, and yet he suffered such an undeserved disaster."

"They shouldn't have believed in free lunches."

Someone whispered this, and the people around fell silent.

In the distance, a thin figure peered out from the alley entrance for a moment, then retreated back inside.

Across the street, a woman stood at her door, clutching a faded apron, looking around anxiously.

A neighbor standing next to her tugged at her sleeve.

"What are you looking at? You don't mean you're thinking of going there to deliver a letter too, do you?"

The woman's body trembled violently, and she withdrew her gaze as if she had been burned.

"No, no!"

Her voice rose a few octaves, carrying an almost panicked denial.

"What letter do I have to deliver... My whole family died in the wilderness, not a single one is left, what letter could I possibly deliver..."

"That day I was just showing people the way! Just showing them the way!"

"I've never even stepped inside that post office!"

"I haven't even seen that beautiful woman!"

She spoke faster and faster, her voice becoming increasingly shrill, as if she were trying to persuade others, but even more so as to persuade herself.

The neighbor glanced at her, didn't ask any further questions, and turned back to continue chatting with the person next to her.

The woman breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing this.

Just then, a dusty, dirty figure rushed over from the other end of the alley.

He was a homeless child.

He looked to be no more than twelve or thirteen years old, his clothes were tattered, he was panting heavily from running, and he even kicked over a pottery jar.

But he didn't stop. He ran and shouted, his voice sharp and bright, with an excitement that made him want to see more excitement.

"They're fighting! They're fighting!!"

People on the street all turned their heads.

"What's going on? A fight broke out?"

The homeless child ran to the center of the crowd, bent over and gasped for breath, then suddenly straightened up and waved his hands.

"That young master led a troop of knights out of the city gate and started fighting with the blonde woman who ran the post office!"

"So many people died! Right there at the city gate!"

"The post office is right at the city gate!"

The crowd was stunned.

Some people had their mouths open, some had their brows furrowed, and some didn't even notice when something fell from their hands to the ground.

This sparked a heated discussion.

"Good heavens, even the knights have come!"

"That's the dignity of the nobility; I've only ever seen them in the city."

"That woman at the post office dared to confront the knight; did she know what she was doing?"

"Another person is going to die."

Seeing that they didn't move, the homeless children urged them on.

"Come quick! Look! Lots of refugees are watching from the roof of Amu's big wooden hut!"

"That young master even had the city guards help block her way, waiting to see that pretty woman make a fool of herself!"

"If we don't get there soon, we might not even see the body anymore."

The people around them exchanged glances.

The initial hesitation, like a thin layer of ice, cracked with a snap at the urging of the homeless child.

Someone stood up and dusted off their bottom.

Some people put down their work and started walking.

Someone followed behind, their pace gradually increasing, eventually reaching a running pace.

More and more people are flocking in the same direction.

The crowd surged out from the depths of the refugee district like a gray-black river, flowing through narrow alleys, merging into the main street, and heading towards the city gate.

Only the woman remained standing in the same spot.

Her fingers gripped the edge of the apron, her knuckles turning white, her nails digging into the fabric.

Someone ran past her and bumped into her, causing her to stumble.

Looking at the surging crowd of people, and the curiosity and excitement on their faces as they rushed to see the spectacle.

She gritted her teeth.

Then he started walking.

They followed.