ZeroWing City looked calm in the morning light.
From a distance, its walls still stood. Smoke rose from kitchens. Guards changed shifts at the gates with practiced routine. To an outsider passing by, it might even seem functional.
Fang Yun knew better.
He stood on the inner wall walkway, overlooking the city as the sun climbed higher. He had spent years doing this—observing, calculating, comparing today to yesterday.
The city was not collapsing.
It was rotting.
Slowly. Quietly. From the inside.
The noble district was the most obvious sign.
More than half of the mansions stood empty now, their gates sealed with official marks bearing Fang Yun's authority. The corrupt nobles had fled days ago, abandoning the city the moment monster attacks became frequent enough to threaten their comfort.
They took gold.
They took private guards.
They took information.
What they left behind were hollow buildings and broken chains of responsibility.
In the short term, their escape had reduced internal conflict. No more obstruction in council meetings. No more deliberate delays in supply distribution. No more secret messages leaking to outside forces.
But in the long term, the damage remained.
Those nobles had controlled trade routes, warehouses, and external contacts. With them gone, ZeroWing City was isolated more than ever.
Fang Yun turned his gaze toward the civilian districts.
The streets were crowded.
Too crowded.
Refugees from nearby villages had poured into the city over the past two months. Monster activity in the wild had risen steadily as the War of All Races raged elsewhere, pushing low-level creatures outward like ripples from a stone dropped into water.
Werewolves hunted at night.
Goblins attacked in groups.
Mutated beasts wandered closer to human settlements.
ZeroWing City, barren and unattractive to major powers, had become an unintended shelter.
The people were thin. Their clothes worn. Their eyes cautious.
They still obeyed the city lord.
That alone was a fragile miracle.
Food distribution remained stable—for now. Fang Yun had ordered strict rationing months ago, ignoring protests and accusations of cruelty. If he had waited until shortages became obvious, riots would already have torn the city apart.
Still, supplies were shrinking.
The farmland outside the walls was unsafe.
Each attempt to reclaim fields resulted in injuries or deaths. Soldiers could escort farmers only during daylight, and even then, losses were inevitable.
Which led to the next problem.
The army.
Fang Yun shifted his attention toward the training grounds near the eastern wall.
The soldiers were disciplined. That much could not be denied.
ZeroWing City's army had been forged by constant pressure—small battles, defensive skirmishes, endless patrols. They were not elite, but they were experienced.
And tired.
Most were stuck at Realm 1, Body Tempering, Levels 3 to 6. A handful had reached Level 7 or higher. Cultivation resources were too scarce to push them further.
The strongest among them—the general—stood at Realm 2, Qi Awakening, Level 7.
In another city, she would be considered mediocre.
Here, she was irreplaceable.
Without her, the army would fracture.
Without the army, the city would fall within weeks.
Fang Yun clenched his fingers slightly.
ZeroWing City could not win a real war.
If a force above Realm 2 appeared—if even a small sect decided to intervene—the city would be erased in a single night.
Which was why the city's location mattered.
Barren land.
Low Qi density.
No valuable resources.
ZeroWing City offered no benefit to conquerors.
That neglect was its shield.
The War of All Races raged far away, tearing apart fertile lands and strategic cities. Compared to those prizes, ZeroWing City was an inconvenience—something to deal with later, if at all.
Fang Yun intended to use that time.
He walked down from the wall and made his way toward the administrative hall. Along the way, he passed craftsmen repairing weapons with salvaged metal, children carrying water, and soldiers resting between shifts.
They bowed when they saw him.
Not out of fear.
Out of habit—and trust.
Inside the hall, several loyal nobles were already waiting. They represented the remaining third who had stayed when others fled. Old families. Minor houses. People with little power, but deep roots in the city.
"City Lord," one of them said. "We've finished counting the remaining supplies."
"And?" Fang Yun asked.
The noble hesitated. "If consumption continues at the current rate… we have enough grain for four months. Less if refugee numbers increase."
Fang Yun nodded.
"As expected."
Another noble spoke. "Monster attacks are increasing, but they remain low-level. Goblins, wolves, mutated beasts. No signs of higher-realm creatures."
"That's because of the war," Fang Yun said calmly. "Stronger monsters are being drawn elsewhere. What reaches us are leftovers."
Leftovers could still kill people.
But leftovers could also be managed.
The nobles waited, watching him carefully.
They had followed Fang Yun not because he promised salvation—but because he had never lied about reality.
"We cannot expand outward yet," Fang Yun continued. "But we can stabilize inward."
He raised a hand, stopping further discussion.
"I am aware of the city's condition," he said. "And I am aware of its limits."
The hall fell silent.
ZeroWing City was poor. Weak. Isolated.
But it was not chaotic.
That was the difference.
Fang Yun dismissed the nobles and returned to his study.
The system interface appeared instantly, as if it had been waiting.
Energy remained at three points—unstable, insufficient for meaningful repair.
He looked at it without frustration.
In simulation games, early phases were always the slowest. You didn't rush expansion when your base could barely sustain itself.
You built loops.
Monster attacks were increasing.
That meant corpses.
Materials.
Energy.
And once energy stabilized—
Infrastructure could follow.
Walls repaired.
Workshops restored.
Safe zones expanded.
ZeroWing City did not need to fight the War of All Races.
It needed to survive beside it.
Fang Yun stood by the window once more, watching soldiers escort civilians back inside the walls as dusk approached.
"This city is weak," he said quietly.
"But weakness isn't failure."
Behind his eyes, the system remained silent.
In another world, players waited on a forum—unaware that their future battlefield was a city on the brink.
And ZeroWing City waited too.
Not for salvation.
But for the moment when its slow decay would finally reverse.
---