Capítulo 2280: Chapter 27: Profiting from the Coffin
“Have you heard about the famine in Sixteen Cities?”
“Oh, how dated is your news? Lord Zhao Che has long gone there to provide relief. He has distributed rice and flour to every household. I heard that when the national treasury wouldn’t allocate funds, Lord Zhao Che paid out of his own pocket and even sold his precious sword!”
“Lord Zhao Che is truly kind-hearted; he genuinely cares about us common folk.”
“Exactly, rember the infamous bandit from Twenty-One Cities who committed murder? It was Young Master Zhao Che who personally hunted him down!”
“He has a Bodhisattva’s compassion and a thunderous hand indeed.”
“If only Lord Zhao Che could be our Emperor…”
“What nonsense are you talking! Are you looking to lose your head!?”
Voices from all directions continuously resonated in his ears, as Jiang Wang silently collected intelligence, adjusting his perception of the city,
Zhao Che…
He almost imdiately recalled the ti when he first ca to Twenty-Seven Cities and saw that slick young lord trying to snatch a maiden in broad daylight.
Three years have passed, and his reputation has undergone a radical transformation.
Is it a reformation, an epiphany?
Or is it an important detail in Zhao Cang’s narrative?
This city is expressing its voice.
The people are quite satisfied with their current lives and full of confidence about the future.
Three years ago, when Yin Guan fled, he unleashed the Thousand Jue Curse, and nearly a hundred plus of resentnt arose in the city—a reflection of families with deep hatred. Mothers lost their sons, wives lost their husbands. It was a grievance against injustice, a hatred of unrighteousness. These were spirits transford into fierce ghosts, intent on biting the Upper City residents.
At that ti, the numbers of those who loathed the Upper City and wished to flay and drink the blood were countless.
Yet three years later, the people of this city are all singing praises of happiness.
The incident of snatching maidens has been forgotten.
The young City Lord who left in hatred has been forgotten.
The old woman who lost her beloved son to a Giant Turtle, laying curses with her life, has been forgotten.
Suffering will eventually be forgotten, and sins can be buried by ti.
Like the hymn just sung by the teacher in the academy.
“Isn’t it delightful.”
Years later, when the events of those tis are ntioned again, people might only rember—Zhao Che stood up in tis of chaos caused by demons, risking his life, fighting against the vile, saving a damsel in distress.
In those seemingly legitimate stories, perhaps there’d also be a half-bald wicked scholar, and a white-haired evil swordsman.
In these three years, both the ones determined to avenge and those striving for self-preservation have not been idle.
Yin Guan indeed, with his own power, established the fearso Hell Has No Door and developed it to its current scale.
Zhao Cang, nevertheless, did not give up waiting for death due to insufficient cultivation talent.
Though there was no way forward in cultivation, the world is not solely about cultivation.
In the bounties and manhunts against Hell Has No Door, Zhao Cang, of course, secretly added his efforts more than once. But most of his energy was invested in gaining popular trust.
The Confucianist says, “Where righteousness lies, even if there are ten thousand I shall go.”
But how is this “righteousness” defined?
What if this “righteousness” gets extracted?
Thirty-Nine Lower Cities, one from the Upper City, what is known as Heaven Blessed Nation.
Thirty-Nine Lower Cities have been renewed, and under Zhao Cang’s relentless embellishnts, public sentint is more stable than ever.
Especially the Twenty-Seven City from which Yin Guan hailed, into which Zhao Cang has poured the most effort.
All these voices, everything the city now displays, is questioning Yin Guan, expressing to him—
Whom are you here to save?
Whom are you here to help?
For whom do you seek revenge?
No one, no one.
There is no one.
You are rely a passerby of the Twenty-Seven Cities, an infamous vilified rogue; you no longer belong to this place.
This nation, these people, never needed you.
Zhao Cang wrote this narrative with three years of effort.
And how will Yin Guan respond?
At this mont, Jiang Wang and Yin Guan sat facing each other in a private room on the second floor of the tavern. A table, a pot of wine, two cups, and a few small dishes.
If one were to ignore the tightly closed door and the Yama Mask placed on the table.
It’s just like two ordinary old friends, having a small gathering after a long absence.
But no idle chatter, just a silent commune.
Contrary to these two,
The openly Guangming Wang the Coroner displayed a pale young man’s face, holding a full bowl of food, sitting alone on the tavern’s doorstep. Continuously moving chopsticks, continuously feeding his mouth. Yet without chewing, just swallowing mouthful after mouthful.
His actions were monotonous, and his face remained expressionless throughout.
He sat silently, as though rust had grown upon him.
It was rely eating, but it created a profoundly eerie atmosphere.
Passersby saw him and all retreated. Inside the vast tavern, it was silent.
The shopkeeper had long gone to report to the authorities secretly, but the governnt dared not deal with it, urgently contacting Upper City cultivators—given Wang the Coroner’s capabilities, he was evidently a fitting bait.
Jiang Wang perceived every subtle change in the city, listening to the voices drifting up from the Lower City citizens, his mood sowhat complex.
Now with the perspective of an Overlord Country’s high echelon, pondering upon You Nation, he feels differently.
Under the so-called “City Lord Assessnt System,” those with the highest talent in this nation would be consud by the Giant Turtle. As for the rule of the You Court…? Firstly, it retains the Giant Turtle, secondly, it vents the dissatisfaction among the Lower City’s populace, and thirdly, it weakens the forces of rebellion.
Those with lesser talents, upon demonstrating loyalty, are permitted to ascend to Upper City and beco profit-consurs.
Thus, the fish will always be fish, and the at-eaters will forever be at-eaters.
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