In central Tiger State, along the edge of a densely wooded valley.
A chiliarch of the Fierce Tiger Army held his binoculars, staring dumbfounded toward the northern pass. A dense swarm of figures was trudging across a sprawling expanse of messy mud.
Those people moved nimbly and looked young—most likely the final wave.
It took a long time before he finally squeezed out a curse.
"Damn it... have these mud-legged hicks taken the wrong medicine?!"
The crowd fleeing northward in droves was, of course, the Moon Clan refugees hiding in the deep mountains and old forests.
Or, to put it another way, the sheep they kept penned in a fold.
Now, no one had expected that this herd of bark-gnawing sheep would actually kick open the pen's gate and trample the guard dogs underfoot.
As for what had actually happened here, it all went back to the torrential rain last night...
Last night, under heavy darkness, a century of the Fierce Tiger Army had set out to rotate the guard near the Moon Clan village.
In truth, calling it a guard rotation was merely a euphemism. It was just keeping watch beside the Moon Clan settlement: if they spotted anything good, they would swoop in and loot a basketful; if there was nothing worth taking, they would wait.
These Moon Clan refugees usually hid out in the desolate wilderness, where there was not even a proper village nearby, only the estates and farms of petty nobles scattered about. A few wretched dirt trails trampled out by human feet connected them, and those did not even lead directly to the Moon Clan settlement.
No one wanted to be stationed in such a wretched dump crawling with paupers, and the chiliarch in charge of bandit suppression certainly didn't either. Moreover, this wasteland was hard to supply and ill-suited for large garrisons.
Thus, he usually stayed in a nearby settlement enjoying fine food and drink, only sending men to keep an eye on the Moon Clan as his superior had ordered—preventing them from causing too much trouble, and occasionally giving them a few beatings so they could cry poor to the Alliance.
This rotation had been routine, just like any other. He had even dragged along some newly recruited lads to find an opportunity for target practice.
However, due to the torrential downpour and muddy paths midway, the bastards were delayed on the road for too long and blundered straight into an ambush by the Moon Clan, taking a vicious beating under a crackle of gunfire.
Hearing gunshots ringing through the rain, the century stationed near the Moon Clan village immediately realized something was wrong and rushed out from their position to provide support.
Yet those men faced the same problem. The storm delayed their march; by the time they arrived, the relief squad of greenhorns had already been driven off, and by the time they came to their senses, they found themselves trapped inside the ambush.
According to the centurion who escaped, in the middle of the fighting, a loud shout came through the rain:
"If you don't want to fight, throw your gear on the ground and run! We can all make money together!"
The soldiers figured there really was no need to risk their lives.
This was Tiger State, where the Tiger Clan made up the vast majority. Could a bunch of Moon Clan dogs ground into the dirt really turn the world upside down?
Forget winning once; even if they won a hundred times, bandits were still bandits.
Thinking that saving their own skins came first, they simply threw their gear onto the ground and fled through the gap left open in the encirclement.
In any case, that equipment had been looted from the Moon Clan to begin with. Losing it was no great loss.
Just like that, a gap opened in the perimeter enclosing the "sheepfold."
By daybreak the next morning, it was already too late.
Without giving them a chance to reclaim their honor, the Moon Clan seemed determined to go big this time and had already emptied the entire village...
The sheep had stopped eating grass and acquired a taste for meat!
His right hand clutched the binoculars tightly, his teeth grinding with an audible crunch.
The adjutant standing beside him was equally stunned. Only after quite a while did he swallow hard and break the silence.
"Sir... should we pursue?"
"Pursue... pursue my ass!" The chiliarch lowered his binoculars in fury.
As the saying went, mountains look close enough to run a horse to death, and he couldn't even see them clearly.
Besides, after another downpour last night, the already battered dirt tracks were even muddier. By the time they actually got over there, the people would have vanished without a trace!
Without a doubt.
It had to be that bastard whose mouth greeted everyone's mothers!
Regret chewed at him; he cursed himself for letting that guy through in the first place.
Yet it was too late for regrets...
"Then what do we do now?" The adjutant, realizing the gravity of the situation, asked his commander with a solemn expression.
"Withdraw. Head back and report to the Legion Commander. This is no longer something we can handle."
"Legion Commander" referred, of course, to the general of the Fierce Tiger Army. It wasn't an official title, but rather a colloquial term popular locally.
Having absorbed a portion of officers from the Gray Wolf Army, the Fierce Tiger Army had not only adopted some of the "new Wilante military doctrine" brought by General MacLaren, but had also picked up some of the Legion's "filth." Consequently, many Fierce Tiger Army soldiers fancied themselves the Eastern Legion.
As for the Black Panther Army, they could barely pass for a Southern Legion, if at all.
Thinking of the money that had just sprouted wings and flown away, the chiliarch felt a pang of heartache and couldn't help muttering a curse at someone's mother.
The Fierce Tiger Army was usually able to take a "cut" of the weapons and coin shipped in from Golden Gallon Port.
Hearing that the Moon Clan resistance was active in Tiger State, Wutuo had been scared out of his wits, shipping boatloads of Xilan coins straight into the Legion Commander's pockets.
Now that this herd of two-legged sheep had escaped, both fat streams of revenue were likely gone.
The more the chiliarch thought about it, the angrier he became, itching to vent his fury on the man who had bribed him.
Seeing the military officer turn to leave, the small crowd of petty nobles standing nearby instantly panicked.
The highest-ranking among them was merely a baron, and some "baronets" were hardly nobility at all—merely holders of non-hereditary titles bought from the governor. Their family farms covered a mere fifty or sixty mu of land, their serfs could be counted on one hand, and their private security force consisted of a single misfiring rifle.
No matter how pathetic the Moon Clan had been, rolling over minor nobodies like them would be child's play.
A down-and-out baron was pushed forward, trembling as he blocked the officer's path and pleaded piteously,
"My Lord, you cannot abandon us! Those Moon Clan rebels were personally branded traitors by His Majesty! You are His Majesty's vassal—isn't putting down rebels for His Majesty your bounden duty? You can't just take our money... and ignore all your obligations."
"My bounden duty?" The chiliarch burst out laughing as though he had heard the greatest joke in the world. He actually stopped in his tracks, reached out, and patted the baron's cheek.
"You dare talk to me about obligation? You've got some nerve. My pay is issued by the Legion Commander. Sharing the Legion Commander's burdens and solving his problems is my bounden duty. What the hell do you think you are?"
The soldiers all grinned as they looked on, and the adjutant beside the chiliarch wore the amused smirk of someone watching a dead man make a fool of himself.
In a godforsaken wilderness like this, even if a couple of people ended up dead, it could easily be pinned on the Moon Clan. Where did these bastards get the nerve to speak up?
The petty nobles panicked at once, shuffling their feet backward to abandon the unlucky wretch they had shoved forward, desperately drawing a line between him and themselves.
Yet it was too late to flee; a squad of soldiers had already blocked their rear, shoving them back forward.
The baron stared blankly at the chiliarch, his eyes filled with terror, his face cycling through pale shades as he shuddered violently.
The chiliarch narrowed his eyes. "Obligation... That's not my imagination. Why does that word reek of the Alliance? You wouldn't happen to be an Alliance spy, would you?"
"H-How could that be..." Sweat poured down the baron's face, his expression on the verge of tears.
In a desolate backwater like this, did the Alliance have so much money to burn that they would send spies here?
What would they even gain?
Patting the baron's cheek with a calloused hand, the chiliarch watched the man, who dared not even breathe, thoroughly enjoying the cowering look on his face.
So what if he was a baron conferred by His Majesty?
So what if he was a noble lord?
Before real power over life and death, wasn't he still just like a dog?
The chiliarch's eyes suddenly darted, and he gave a sly chuckle. "Then again, what you said makes some sense. I just remembered—a portion of the Fierce Tiger Army's funds does come from the imperial court, and that money ultimately comes from you. We truly ought to ensure your safety... what was it again, our 'obligation'?"
Cold sweat was practically streaming down the baron's body like a brook. Seeing that this demon seemed willing to spare him, he hurriedly voiced his thanks in relief.
"M-My Lord speaks the truth... No, no, no, my Lord handles tens of thousands of matters every day. How could we dare trouble you with such a trivial thing? We can endure it ourselves."
He didn't dare bring up the Moon Clan again, hoping only to survive the present predicament.
After all, the Moon Clan merely looted money and grain without taking lives, but the men standing before him might actually vent their wrath on them or slaughter them to claim credit.
The governor had no fondness for petty nobles carving out wilderness estates; the merchants arriving from Golden Gallon Port to set up factories and workshops were the new darlings of his lordship.
Yet it was too late to change his tune. The chiliarch laughed heartily and clapped him on the shoulder.
"...How about this? It's getting late, so I'll bring some brothers over to stay the night at your manor, lest those Moon bandits come knocking to steal your coin, grain, and woman."
The baron panicked on the spot and blurted out, "N-No need, my Lord! I'll lock the doors tight tonight..."
"No need?" The chiliarch's eyes narrowed, sweeping over him from head to toe. "Could it be... that you're hiding Moon bandits in your home?"
Seeing the soldiers place their hands on their holsters, the baron's legs gave out, and he nearly collapsed to his knees.
What a spineless coward!
To think this guy was even considered a Tiger!
And a nobleman at that!
Gazing coldly at the useless piece of trash, the chiliarch waved a hand with a mirthless grin.
Two soldiers immediately caught the drift, stepping forward with leering chuckles to seize the baron under both arms just as he was about to collapse.
They knew their chief's nature well: when he ate meat, there would certainly be some broth left for them.
"You two, help him up! We're following the baron home to pay our respects to his lady."
"Yes, boss!"
"Hahaha!"
The two soldiers hauled the baron off the ground, barking out their replies with wide grins.
The other nobles were as quiet as cicadas in winter. Not a single person dared utter a word, watching numbly as the man wept, wailed, and kicked his legs like a piglet bound for slaughter.
When the Moon Clan first attacked, they had harbored hopes that His Majesty would save them, never anticipating that the first knife in the back would come from their own people.
The soldiers felt the same way: devoid of the slightest reverence for noble titles or imperial authority, they were already leering and wondering what noble wives and young ladies tasted like.
Almost in unison, in the minds of both the lash-wielders and the lash-bearers, Wutuo was already dead...
Though the chief of the Fierce Tiger Army had not declared himself king, northern Rowell State and indeed the whole of Tiger State had already become his domain...
...
On the other side, north of the nameless valley, a group of people who had escaped the jaws of death wept tears of joy as they burst into song, throwing themselves beside a stream to splash handfuls of water onto their faces.
Thanks to the heavy rain last night, their pursuers couldn't even catch a glimpse of their backs.
And of course!
More than anything, it was thanks to their great general!
Before Laxi arrived, they hadn't won a single battle; last night alone, they had won two.
Even the veterans of the resistance had to admit that the fellow really had some tricks up his sleeve. While his mind lacked grand vision and lofty ideology, his style was autocratic and overbearing, and he had even uttered outrageous blasphemies like "I am equality," he was undeniably a formidable fighter.
Before reaching Mammoth State, there was no harm in letting him lead everyone; they could always replace him later.
Yet those veterans failed to notice that the young men they had rescued from the farms looked at Laxi as if gazing upon the Moon God reincarnated into the mortal realm, their fervent eyes blazing with brilliant light.
That included the boy who had been kicked in the ass by Laxi when they first met, and the raw recruit who had practically welded his rifle sling to his shoulder.
The resistance folks had rescued them from the farms, and they were naturally grateful. Yet in the end, they still had to farm, starve, and endure... nothing seemed to have truly changed.
Moreover, deep in those untamed mountains and ancient forests far from civilization, there was no red soil, only felled trees, weeds, and brush; they were so hungry they even had to gnaw on tree bark and eat indigestible kaolin clay.
Had they rebelled just to starve?
Of course not!
It was because the people who took their hands had promised that if they rose in rebellion, once they succeeded, they would be granted land of their own and endless grain to eat!
Their Moon Clan elders had also told them that one day, everyone would be able to afford a wife, just like the freemen.
As things stood, only Laxi offered any hope of realizing this far-off dream.
After all, such a dream could never be achieved through farming—not even if they farmed until the end of the Wasteland Era.
They had to take it by force!
Plunder the farms and estates of the nobility!
Seize the most fertile land and the fullest granaries, take back the coin and grain His Majesty had stolen from them, and reclaim everything that was rightfully theirs—
Just like a boiling wildfire in midsummer!
Looking at the high-spirited lads, Laxi narrowed his eyes slightly, a faint smile curling at the corner of his mouth.
This was the first time he had seen a glimmer of hope in them, rather than the pathetic incompetence described in the battle reports.
Over four thousand people had escaped with him. Roughly half were "veterans" who had run wild through Golden Gallon Port alongside the White Bear Knights back then, while the majority of the rest were people the resistance had rescued from nearby farms.
Among the latter were men, women, and half-grown children.
The elderly were rare; after all, unless an old-timer possessed a specialized skill, slave owners rarely kept livestock that could no longer work. Plenty were simply buried straight into the red soil.
"You did well! But it's not enough!"
Facing the pairs of eyes turned toward him, Laxi threw back his head and roared at the top of his lungs.
"On the battlefield, time is your life! You have to be faster than your enemy, and strike harder than them—then you'll be the ones who survive!"
"Remember! If you want to crawl out of a pit of corpses, you have to be ruthless to yourselves first! If you want to live, don't fucking treat yourselves like humans!"
"Today I teach you the skills to survive, and in the future, you will teach them to your soldiers! Today there are only a few thousand of us; tomorrow there will be tens of thousands, and down the road, millions upon millions!"
"Our breakout is not over! We must cross Tiger State, then cross Mammoth State, until the Empire's dogs can never catch up with us!"
"Follow me north! Pack your gear and move out!!"
...
...
"...Today I teach you the skills to survive, and in the future, you will teach them to your soldiers! Keep your eyes peeled and your ears wide open!"
"...Damn it all, mimicking me again!"
"...'Bullshit, bullshit!' All you know all day is 'bullshit!' I say bullshit because I'm your fucking instructor, and you say it too? Is 'bullshit' for you to say?! Shout 'Sir, yes, sir!'"
In Golden Gallon Port, on the open ground of Rowell Camp, abrasive roars echoed.
A squad of young men in military uniform stood in a neat rank, chests thrust out, backs straight enough to be measured with a ruler.
They were reserve officers promoted from the grassroots—future company commanders, battalion commanders, and even regiment commanders of the Golden Gallon Port militia.
Standing before them at this moment was an instructor from the Burning Corps, the Alliance's elite rapid reaction force: Ling Chong.
Though the guy wasn't exactly a straight-laced sort, he took his duties seriously when it counted, applying standard real-world training methods to these recruits.
The officer being dressed down didn't dare breathe heavily, craning his neck and shouting at the top of his lungs,
"Sir, yes, sir!"
"No spirit! I can't hear you!"
"SIR! YES! SIR!"
"Very good!"
That roar used up nearly all the man's strength. Ling Chong finally nodded in satisfaction, reached out to pat the young fellow's shoulder, and gave it an encouraging shake.
"Not bad, not bad. Very spirited!"
He was normally a rather civilized, polite person, but when conducting military drills, one couldn't be too polite—it was simply impossible.
These men only had one life; they couldn't respawn like players. Naturally, he couldn't treat their training like a joke. When ruthlessness was needed, he had to be ruthless.
Besides, judging by their gazes, the young fellows were actually quite grateful to him.
No one was an idiot.
Suffering a bit more and sweating a bit more now meant shedding less blood on the battlefield.
Beyond the settlements lay the wasteland; they would eventually have to face reality on their own.
"Training is done for today. Good work, everyone. Go eat and drink..."
Returning to the front of the rank, Ling Chong rolled his shoulders, paced a short circle, and glanced casually over the group.
No one moved.
Unlike three days ago when he first arrived, these knuckleheads finally had an inkling of discipline drilled into them. His breath hadn't been wasted.
Ling Chong finally gave an approving nod and flicked his right hand.
"All teammates, fall out!"
Almost the instant the words left his mouth, the group surged toward the mess hall like a tornado ripping through a parking lot.
After drilling the entire day, they were all ravenous, eager to shovel food down by the bucket.
Watching the vigorous lads, Ling Chong smiled faintly and headed over to the mess hall, joining the three teammates who had already sat down.
Looking at the lads wolfing down their meal across the cafeteria, Erliang Yueguang sighed and said,
"Not gonna lie, I feel like I'm an instructor sent to Africa... Teaching these guys is ridiculously hard!"
Shanhe Rumeng chuckled. "Haha, what a coincidence! Me too!"
Banben Chusheng was reading the newspaper, not participating in their chatter, when a flicker of surprise suddenly appeared in his eyes.
"'Three days ago, Laxi and a cohort of retired militia officers rendezvoused with the resistance. Currently breaking through the Fierce Tiger Army's encirclement, advancing northeast...' Damn, the guy's actually doing great in combat!"
He had misjudged the man.
He had assumed Laxi was just an incompetent, cynical hothead. Who could have guessed that when push came to shove, he actually dared to smash his wine bottle, grab a weapon, and charge out, instead of just running his mouth in the newspapers like the intellectuals in this city?
As expected of Brother Fang Chang—his eye for people was razor-sharp!
Frankly, he admired Brother Fang Chang quite a bit, and even felt that the trash dev had gone a bit overboard targeting him.
Why was it that no one else got called back for a hearing to give a debriefing, yet he alone was summoned back by Xiao Yu for discipline?
Without the trash dev interfering, he would surely be running wild in the Southern Sea by now.
Erliang Yueguang turned curiously toward the newly seated Ling Chong and asked, "Was that foul-mouthed Laxi trained by you?"
Ling Chong shook his head.
"Fuck no, how could I have that kind of skill? Probably trained by one of our brothers who used to be in the military."
Including Lao Bai, there were several retired veterans in the Burning Corps who had transitioned to civilian careers; it wasn't some dark secret. It was just a tacit understanding established early in the server that players rarely brought real-life identities into the game.
Unless they already knew each other in the real world.
"True," Shanhe Rumeng nodded in agreement. "After all, someone who actually cares about discipline would—"
"If you mention that damn fellow villager one more time, I'm seriously gonna lose it!"
Ling Chong flared his nostrils and was about to jump up when a recruit came jogging over, placing his right fist to his chest in a salute.
"Report! Sir! Your family has arrived to see you!"
"Pfft—!"
Midway through sipping his seaweed egg soup, Erliang Yueguang sprayed it across the table, coughing up seaweed through his nose.
The reserved Banben Chusheng hadn't reacted at first, but seeing the strip of seaweed dangling from Brother Yueguang's nostril sent him collapsing onto the table, pounding it uncontrollably with his right fist.
"Bwahahaha!"
Nearby "trainees" glanced over in curiosity.
Shanhe Rumeng shook his head and cursed with a grin, "Damn it! You guys are such animals!"
Ling Chong leaped out of his chair with a start and clamped a hand over the recruit's mouth in a panic.
"Don't fucking spout nonsense! What family... I've barely been here a few days, how the hell could I have family here?!"
The recruit looked bewildered.
The main reason was that an old man kept bringing a young girl to the barracks gate, asking everyone who passed if there was a blue coat named [Ling Chong].
Even though the recruit thought it was absurd—the girl was far too young, and trying to latch onto someone like that was pushing it—there really was an instructor by that name.
What if it were true?
Wouldn't that be like the waters of the Everflowing River flooding the City of a Thousand Pillars?
Ordinarily, a matter like this would have been handled by Laxi; he used to deal with such things, and rumor had it he'd chased the old man off with a couple of steamed buns, warning him never to return.
Now that Laxi had resigned, even if the old man were half-deaf, he couldn't have missed what the whole city was talking about. So he had seized the opportunity to show up again.
Seeing the instructor looking anxious, the recruit asked tentatively, "Then... should I chase the old man away?"
"Don't! Wait... Ugh! Damn it, I'll go myself." Facing the malicious smirks of the three degenerates, Ling Chong gritted his teeth, threw down his chopsticks, and stormed outside.
He had to settle this himself. Otherwise, the rumors would get more and more absurd, and things he had never done would end up pinned on him.
Taking advantage of the fact that everyone in the camp was eating, he hurried to the gate of Rowell Camp. Sure enough, an old man stood there holding the hand of a little girl.
It was obvious that the earth-shaking changes in Golden Gallon Port had left a significant mark on them both—
Both materially and spiritually.
Both for better and for worse.
The "old man" wasn't actually that old; middle-aged at most. It was just that time had etched deep lines into his face, aging him prematurely like many wastelanders. Now, however, he looked invigorated, his face ruddy and his back straight, truly resembling a middle-aged man.
He seemed to believe he had some backing, paying little heed to the guards at the gate, though he still complied with rules and made no move to push past them.
The guards, for their part, seemed afraid to offend him, politely barring him from entering without getting rough.
The little girl didn't harbor such schemes. Pure and innocent, she understood little of adult affairs; seeing the big brother who had given her candy return, delight lit up her face.
"Brother Chong!" she cried out.
The old man heard her and looked over joyfully at the approaching Ling Chong, waving his hand toward him.
"My Lord! You're finally back!"
Feeling all eyes turning in his direction, Ling Chong felt as though ants were crawling all over his skin, but he braced himself and walked over.
The little girl named Anuo had grown prettier and more lively.
Perhaps thanks to the booming import and export trade, she had been eating well lately; the contours of her cheeks were rounder, looking rosy and plump, while her jet-black eyes were remarkably bright, glistening with light.
Yet the more adorable she looked, the more Ling Chong felt a dull pang of heartache and guilt.
Innocent eyes untouched by education were truly nothing to celebrate.
Just because of a piece of candy, just because of unrealistic hopes, this family—who should have boarded the carriage—had instead missed the train bound for a new era, cast aside in the rush of time.
He could hardly fathom it.
An old man who, months ago, had said to him, "Anuo is too young... pick another," was now relentlessly trying to shove his daughter's hand into his own.
As if doing so would rescue him from some sea of misery—the bitter sea in his own heart.
Seeing Ling Chong arrive before him, the old man squeezed out a fawning smile and said,
"My Lord... my daughter isn't small anymore. It's time she—"
"Time she went to school."
Cutting him off without hesitation, Ling Chong reached into his pocket and, disregarding the stares of the onlookers, shoved a banknote into the old man's hand.
The fortune had come so suddenly that the old man's eyes went wide. Ecstatic, he sputtered his thanks:
"T-Thank you!"
Anuo stared fixatedly at that pocket, which seemed to hold endless wondrous treasures.
She wasn't interested in the colorful slips of paper, but she still craved that candy she had tasted before.
Her father said that if she followed this big brother, she would have all the candy she could ever eat. She thought that sounded wonderful; if she really couldn't finish it, she could even share some with her brothers and sisters.
Looking at the old man, who seemed about to say more, Ling Chong stared into his eyes and spoke strictly:
"Don't thank me. This money isn't for you—it's for her tuition! I was reckless back then... I don't deny that it was my mistake, but you can't just cling to me forever, can you? I'll find someone to keep an eye on you. If you don't send her to school, I'll... I'll tear your motherfucking house down!"
The old man's face shifted repeatedly through fear and surprise, but dread ultimately won out. He nodded submissively.
"I'll send her, definitely..."
He could not afford to offend big figures like these.
The events of that day were still vivid in his mind: Master Fang's subordinate had merely furrowed his brow, and that fierce, ruthless Laxi hadn't hesitated for a second before executing the brothers who had offended the Alliance.
Without asking a single question, an entire ten-man squad had been shot dead.
Ling Chong's face cracked into a faint, comforting smile, but unexpectedly, disappointment washed over Anuo's face.
"Does Big Brother not want Anuo?"
Her mother had specially washed her hair clean and pinned a pretty hairpin into it.
Ling Chong crouched down and comforted her softly,
"It's not that I don't want you. More accurately... what you need isn't any one person, but school and books."
He had gradually come to realize that there were no shortcuts in what they were doing.
They had given the survivors of this wasteland certain things, but in the end, there were things those people had to accomplish on their own.
Otherwise, they would turn into black boxes.
Black boxes in another sense.
Once they left, everything would revert to the way it had been—in fact, even before they left, it would end up just like the Federation in the Southern Sea.
"But... then there won't be any candy," Anuo murmured, lowering her head timidly.
"Study hard and gain knowledge, and you'll have plenty of candy in the future. You can buy it yourself, and you can even give it to crying kids who don't have candy to eat, just like me."
Ling Chong instinctively reached out to pat her little head, but suddenly remembered himself and pulled his hand back in embarrassment.
This time, he didn't soften.
No matter how pitifully those large eyes gazed up at him in longing, he didn't reach into his pocket for candy. He simply waved his hand, watching the father and daughter walk away into the distance.
Once the two disappeared from sight, he exhaled in relief and turned back toward the mess hall, only to find his three rotten friends standing not far behind him, carrying takeout plastic bags.
"We knew a glutton like you wouldn't get full," Erliang Yueguang said with a grin, waving a bag of steamed buns. "Chusheng is taking me out to broaden my horizons. Want to come?"
"We're just going to the theater to watch a stage play," Chusheng complained, glaring irritably at the degenerate beside him. "Can you stop phrasing things in such misleading ways? You make it sound like I'm actually an animal."
Erliang Yueguang looked at him in mock astonishment, his eyes practically screaming, "Aren't you?"
Shanhe Rumeng stepped up and clapped Ling Chong on the shoulder, grinning broadly.
"Now you know why we told you not to give people candy? In the end, no matter how you explain it, it always ends up like this."
Simple kindness wasn't a mistake, but doing the right thing didn't always yield a good result.
Because those were two entirely different dimensions—one might even say completely parallel, never intersecting.
Ling Chong let out a long sigh.
"I get it... Aren't I fucking changing my ways now?"
Surely the butterfly effect of a piece of candy wouldn't be as big as a pistol, right?
He believed that under his mix of threats and incentives, the old father would indeed send the child to school.
And at that very moment, he suddenly began to understand why Brother Fang Chang always told them to do fewer unnecessary things...
Chapter 770