Chapter 120

Chapter 120: Chapter 120 After the city government finished registering everyone, they instructed the crowd to return home. Gradually, the people began to disperse. Clayton, however, didn’t rush to leave. He lingered for a while, hoping to find a higher-ranking officer to negotiate with. Unfortunately, all the officers looked extremely busy, and Clayton didn’t get the chance to speak to any of them. Even if they hadn’t been so occupied, it probably still wasn’t the right time to approach them. After all, Clayton wasn’t the only clever one—many others were waiting too, occasionally casting hopeful glances at the officers. Seeing there was nothing more he could do, Clayton returned home, feeling utterly powerless. When he arrived, he saw a group of people gossiping animatedly. Even from a distance, Clayton could already guess what they were talking about. Uninterested, he went straight inside. ... A few days later, a group of city officials arrived in the farming district carrying several scrolls of announcements. As soon as they were spotted, the residents rushed over and swarmed the officers. But one of the officials—looking completely indifferent—quickly shooed them away. "Alright, back off! I’ve got a job to finish, and there are still plenty of other places I have to go!" The crowd clearly didn’t appreciate his tone, but they held back, unwilling to risk offending a government official. Once the officer finished posting the scrolls, he left the area. The moment he was gone, the crowd surged forward again, cramming around the bulletin board with renewed excitement. The situation quickly devolved into chaos as people shoved and jostled each other for a better look. Meanwhile, Clayton stood back, filled with anxiety, watching the board from a distance—hoping, praying his name wouldn’t be listed among those required to enter the dungeon. But his hope was shattered the moment he spotted it. His knees nearly gave out. All the strength drained from his body, but still, he forced himself to keep reading. From the announcement, he learned the requirements for dungeon entry: all immigrants from outside the city were required to go—no exceptions. As for native Sunlight City residents, only one person per household had to enter. Clayton didn’t know how to react. There seemed to be no way to avoid this fate. With heavy steps, he returned home. Once there, he sat in silence, paralyzed by the weight of it all. The thought of being forced into something he had no desire for filled him with dread. He began to consider how he might escape it. The more he thought about it, the more desperate his ideas became. At first, he just wanted to find someone with connections. But eventually, a bolder thought crossed his mind: "What if I just leave the city? If I’m no longer a resident, I won’t be obligated to enter the dungeon, right?" Once that idea took root, it wouldn’t go away. Every time he considered it, his anxiety deepened. The entire day passed without rest. Clayton lay awake that night, tossing and turning as he weighed the idea of fleeing. Finally, after hours of soul-searching, he decided not to run. He sighed deeply, realizing that—true to his nature—he still longed for stability. With that decision made, he was finally able to sleep peacefully. ... A few days later, tensions in the city worsened. One morning, while heading out to train, Clayton suddenly heard a loud commotion nearby. Curious, he followed the noise. He arrived to find a group of uniformed officers subduing a group of ragged, malnourished-looking people. At first, he didn’t understand what was happening. But after asking around, he learned the truth. The ragged people were immigrants who had tried to flee the city to avoid being sent into the dungeon. But the city government wasn’t tolerating it. Officials questioned how these outsiders could believe they had the freedom to come and go as they pleased. In response, they issued a strict policy: anyone caught trying to escape would be captured—or even executed. Hearing that, Clayton was seized by fear. "If I’d listened to that impulsive voice and tried to run... would I be dead right now?" Even though he hadn’t been directly involved, the news left him shaken. He returned home, anxiety gnawing at him. He paced around the house, occasionally pausing to stare at the wall in silence. At last, he came to a decision: "Whatever happens outside, I can’t control. But I can control myself. If I want to survive that dungeon... I have to get stronger." With renewed determination, Clayton threw himself into training—focusing on anything that might help him survive in battle. Now that he had a clear goal, he wasted no time putting his plan into action. ... Two days later, he ran out of supplies—both daily necessities and training materials. He headed to the city’s outer ring to restock. After buying a few items from his usual vendors, he couldn’t help but feel bitter about how much prices had gone up. Not wanting to linger in the crowded marketplace, he prepared to head home. But before he could, a loud explosion echoed in the distance. Clayton instantly went on alert, scanning the area for danger. Once he was sure there was no immediate threat, he sighed in relief. Still, curiosity pushed him to investigate. He arrived at a scene that had become disturbingly familiar—city officers in uniform suppressing another group of ragged citizens. At a glance, it looked like corrupt officials abusing the poor. But Clayton knew better. "If someone posted this online back on Earth, people would be screaming about human rights violations." But this was a world of swords and magic. Things worked differently here. Clayton approached a group of locals who were discussing the event, hoping to gather more information. After listening in, he pieced together the story. Despite the earlier crackdown, many immigrants were still trying to escape. This sparked more resistance and chaos. Eventually, the government had enough—and declared a full lockdown. No one could enter or leave the city without special permission. Security at the gates was tightened significantly. Unable to escape through the gates, immigrants got creative—digging tunnels, tossing ropes over the walls, and more. Hearing all this, Clayton could only shake his head in disbelief. After picking up a few more rumors, he lost interest and returned home. ... Back in the farming district, he once again saw a group of people gossiping. He wasn’t surprised. Ever since the dungeon policy was announced, residents had been gathering more frequently to trade rumors. Clayton wasn’t interested in joining them. He planned to resume training. But as he passed the crowd, something he overheard made him stop in his tracks. "Hey, did you hear? Old Man Wood doesn’t have to go into the dungeon!" "Seriously? Why not?" "They say it’s because he’s lived in the city a long time. Maybe he’s got connections." The people nearby nodded in agreement, including Clayton. Without sticking around, he quietly turned and went home. Once inside, he began unpacking the supplies he had bought in the city. ... That night, instead of training, Clayton spent his time preparing a variety of goods—tea, milk, sorghum, and more. Once he was ready, he set out. It didn’t take him long to reach a well-kept old house. He knocked on the door, and an elderly man opened it, looking slightly annoyed. But the moment he saw Clayton, his expression brightened with warmth and excitement. "Ah, Clayton! What brings you here so late at night? Come in, come in!" "Haha, it’s nothing, Old Man Wood. Just a friendly neighborhood visit," Clayton replied with a slightly awkward smile. He followed Old Man Wood inside. But as the door opened, Clayton couldn’t hide his shock. "Ah... this?!"