Chapter 532 Yet, it still lost to true arrogance.
Roland City, the capital of the Kingdom of Ryan.
Since the beginning of spring, the sky here has always been overcast, as if it were holding back a torrential downpour that was reluctant to fall.
Newcastle, drunk, returned to his apartment in the city center.
He casually tossed the top hat, a symbol of respectability, onto the coat rack, loosened the collar that was almost suffocating him, and plopped down into the leather sofa.
Just a few days ago, the Summer Palace held another meeting. Seemingly in order to demonstrate the power of the citizens, Baron Wickton expanded the number of seats from six to twelve.
However, he was not optimistic about Baron Wickton's reforms.
Because the only sensible person had also resigned, and Professor Ferguson, who was quite famous in the cultural world, had completely left the city, those left behind were either people like me who were just watching the show, or clowns who were putting on a great show.
While the common people were fighting tooth and nail over a piece of moldy black bread, these so-called citizens were arguing all afternoon about whether to stew pigeon in a thick broth or a clear broth.
Some have even cited classical texts to argue that roasted pigeon is the only cooking method that embodies chivalry, while other cooking methods are blasphemous.
Newcastle must clarify that this is not his issue. Campbell may be humorous, but that humor is private; he wouldn't actually bring that kind of joke into the Summer Palace.
Reflecting on what he had just witnessed, he couldn't help but feel a pang of regret; Professor Ferguson had indeed caused this city far too much harm.
On the surface, his departure had no impact on the city, after all, the man didn't have a single soldier under his command.
However, after his criticisms ceased, the moral standards of the twelve members of parliament almost immediately plummeted.
Including himself.
Although he didn't say anything, he couldn't help but laugh.
But despite the laughter, Newcastle genuinely felt that these people were probably crazy.
Even someone like him could see that Roland City had become a secret chamber filled with gunpowder. If it weren't for the need to make money and pay off loans... he probably would have already run away.
Just as he was rubbing his throbbing temples, pondering how to handle the social engagements that evening, the male servant tiptoed in, carrying an exquisite letter on a silver tray.
The envelope was not only printed with sealing wax with a subtle pattern, but also exuded a strong rose fragrance, which clashed with the stale tobacco smell that filled the room.
"Sir, your letter."
"Put it in my drawer."
“But… this is a letter sent by Miss Marie Lambane.” The valet subtly reminded him, implying that the letter was not sent by the citizens, nor written by the peasants.
"Lambana?"
Newcastle raised an eyebrow, quickly searching his mind for the surname.
Soon, a family with a baronial title and territory not far from the outskirts of Roland came to mind—
That was the treasure he had been longing for but could not obtain!
Thinking of this, Newcastle immediately perked up, all his dejected air vanished, he sat up straight, took the envelope, and carefully opened it.
A fragrant breeze wafted over, and then the delicate handwriting came into view.
"Dear Mr. Newcastle:
I am writing to you with great difficulty. I have just returned to Roland from my trip to Thunder City, which was a truly unforgettable experience. Especially the night I watched "The Bells" at the Collins Theatre, I was deeply moved by the poignant story..."
The Newcastle MP read line by line without the slightest impatience.
Unlike those penniless bastards who are sparing with words, this letter with its delicate handwriting begins without any focus, and is almost entirely Miss Marie Lambane's travelogue of Thunder City and a summary of the story of "The Bell".
Although he had been too busy to return to Thunder City or watch the show, thanks to the generous Miss Lambane, he watched the whole thing in a minute.
Simply put, it's a love story. There are quite a few similar things at the Roland City Grand Theatre, although he didn't have time to watch them either.
After reading the whole story in a rush, Newcastle finally found the "but" he had been searching for behind the long opening remarks.
Normally, this is the end of the babble.
"...But! I still have to say, what moved me more than the bells ringing on the stage was the gentlemanly demeanor of Campbell. They were not only punctual, but also dignified and extremely polite."
"I didn't know that nobles needed to make reservations to go to their boxes. Just when the servants at the Collin Theatre were making me feel awkward, a member of Parliament Campbell, like yourself, gladly invited me to his box to watch the show together. And when I was moved to tears by the touching love story on stage, he thoughtfully handed me a clean, soft tissue. Oh, Saint Sis above... No wonder the Duchy of Campbell is a model of chivalry."
"For a fleeting moment, I almost fell in love. His eyes seemed to hold an entire starry sky, and I didn't even care that he didn't have a noble title. But then he told me he was already married. It was such a pity. I was jealous of his wife. Why should a commoner have such an enviable love?"
"Returning to Roland City felt like returning to a primeval forest; the contrast brought me to tears. The actors at the Saint Laurent Grand Theatre knew absolutely nothing about acting, and our gentlemen were incredibly rude. I don't want to criticize them for not controlling their snot, but... you can't just blow your nose on your sleeve, can you? What's the difference between that and a goblin?"
"I've heard you're a member of the Third Estate. I have a small, albeit imperfect, suggestion. Could you propose a bill in Parliament requiring all gentlemen in Ryan to carry a fine tissue or handkerchief in their pockets? This is not only a matter of hygiene, but also a basic requirement for maintaining social etiquette, and above all, the dignity of our Kingdom of Ryan..."
Newcastle almost burst out laughing when he saw this.
"Ha ha."
Saint Sith, he originally thought that all the funniest actors in all of Ryan were sitting in His Majesty's summer palace, but he didn't expect there to be one who slipped through the net.
In an era where people haggle over every piece of bread, this elegant lady is actually concerned about the tissues in their pockets.
She should thank the gunsmiths of Roland for not being able to make a musket that could be stuffed into a pocket, otherwise the irritable citizens would have certainly stuffed it into their pockets.
Just as he expected, the knights of the Knights' Village were seriously joking.
Of course, as a "model of the land of knights," he's not bad either.
“Give me a piece of paper and a pen,” Newcastle straightened up, looked at his valet, and handed him the letter.
"Also, please frame this letter and place it in the living room. In particular, the wax seal on the envelope must face forward so that guests can see it without it looking deliberate."
The servant bowed slightly and then quickly brought out paper and pen.
Newcastle picked up his quill, pondered for a moment, and quickly wrote lines of elegant and proper cursive script.
“Dear Miss Marie Lambane—”
"Your letter is like a spring breeze, dispelling the oppressive smog of Roland City. Your advice is full of tenderness and compassion, reminding me of our esteemed Princess Eileen. You possess much of her elegance, yet also lack her sense of humor. Although we have never met, I believe you must be a princess no less than her. You are the most ladylike Lady Ryan I have ever met..."
Newcastle paused here, a playful smile playing on his lips, before continuing to write at a leisurely pace.
"I believe you made this proposal very seriously, but please allow me to explain a small dilemma. Your Majesty's people are currently on a diet, and they may not have the extra energy to appreciate the beauty of art."
"However, I don't think it's undignified. There are many kinds of dignity in this world. For example, Thunder City doesn't have as many magnificent churches and palaces as Roland City, nor does it have as many fire extinguishers and gardens as Roland City."
"But His Majesty's people are the true gentlemen; they are willing to become firewood and use their meager wallets to protect our nights."
He tactfully persuaded Ms. Lambane to abandon her far-fetched petition, saying the timing was terrible.
Although he wasn't a good person, he still had to take care of his own windows, lest one day while he was sound asleep, a stone suddenly flew in.
Then he shifted his focus, revealing his true intentions after the transitional phrase "in addition."
"Also, I didn't expect you to be a theater enthusiast as well. What a coincidence! When I was in Thunder City, my favorite place to go was the Collins Grand Theatre right near my house! We must have a lot in common to discuss."
“I heard that there’s a new play going on at the Saint Laurent Grand Theatre. If you don’t mind, we can go see it together. Theatres aren’t only in Thunder City. I mean, we don’t have to go far away. Maybe good things are right here with us.”
Praise be to that never-before-seen City Councilor, Thunder City Councilor! Praise be to Mr. Colin's bells!
And those respectable citizens of Thunder City!
Mr. Newcastle, who had never loved them for a single minute, had never been so excited to be a Campbell’s man!
After all, even if a guy like him was rich, he would never have had the chance to connect with ladies who weren't at his level.
But now, he might actually be able to get a knighthood!
Doing business in Roland City is extremely difficult these days; even with powerful backers, he still has to manage every aspect meticulously.
A prestigious noble title would greatly increase his sense of security, and his wife's surname could serve as a strong support for him.
This is much more useful than the title of a member of parliament.
Those guys are practically becoming gourmets.
After signing the envelope, Newcastle blew on the ink to dry it and then carefully sprayed some of his own perfume onto the envelope.
Looking at the neat handwriting, he was in a good mood and suddenly had another inspiration.
Miss Lambane offered him an idea: instead of discussing the cooking methods of the Ryan people—or rather, pigeons—at the meeting, he could become a friend of the ladies of the Ryan Kingdom.
In any case, this title sounds much better than "chef".
Moreover, this can be considered as him making a tiny contribution to Roland City with his title that he can't do anything about.
Newcastle hummed an off-key tune, stuffed the perfumed letter into the inside pocket of his coat, and picked up his cane hanging on the hanger.
While he was writing the letter, the household servants went to the market to buy supplies.
Since no one was available to run errands, he had no choice but to go to the post office himself.
However, just as he opened the heavy oak door of the apartment and was about to take a step out, two dark figures blocked the doorway like two walls.
Before Newcastle could even see the other person's face clearly, two rough, large hands pressed against his chest, and a tremendous force shoved him back into the entryway.
With a loud bang, the door slammed shut behind him.
The knight, who was completely at ease just a second ago, was so frightened that he almost wet his pants and let out a pig-like scream.
"Don't kill me! The money is in the drawer of the study, about two hundred silver pounds. Take it all!"
A gloved hand covered his mouth, silencing the pleas for mercy that were about to escape his lips.
"Quiet, Mr. Newcastle, we're begging you."
The man standing on the left lowered his voice, took off the felt hat that was pulled low on his head, revealing a weathered face with a resolute look in his eyes.
“We are not robbers or thugs. My name is Baal, and I am a stonemason. His name is Nat, and he is also a stonemason.”
Newcastle's eyes darted around in alarm for a moment, and only after confirming that the other person did not intend to pull out a knife did he signal the other person to let go.
He straightened his wrinkled collar, his heart still pounding, but the businessman's rationality quickly returned.
He sized up the two men in front of him, both wearing heavy, old coats that still carried a chill and a lingering smell of coal smoke. They looked like foremen in any factory or teachers in a middle school.
"You...are citizens of Roland City?"
"Yes!"
"Then you should write to Shalter, the president of the Stonemasons' Guild. I remember he's your councilor, and he's obligated to reply to your letter... You've got the wrong person!"
"obligation……"
Nat gave a cold laugh, as if he had heard a joke.
However, Newcastle couldn't laugh this time, because this rude Ryan was even ruder than Miss Lombard had described in her letter.
He swallowed hard and tried to negotiate.
“Listen, gentlemen, whatever the injustice you may have, I am just a member of parliament and there is nothing I can do to help you. But since you have come all this way, I can give you some money, which can at least solve your current difficulties... I swear to Saint Sis, I will never expose you to the guards.”
Mr. Barr, who spoke first, coughed, interrupting him.
Seeing that he seemed easier to talk to than the guy named Nat, Newcastle quickly turned to him with a pleading look.
However, Mr. Barr ultimately disappointed Newcastle.
“Mr. Newcastle, we know you are very rich, but money can’t solve our problems.”
Newcastle groaned in pain.
Saint Sith above...
Has this day finally come?
Their furious souls were so enraged that money couldn't buy them; all they wanted was to set off an even bigger fire.
Just as he had expected, this seemingly most rational man was speaking in a calm tone, saying things that even the devil would probably find blasphemous.
"The king treats us like livestock, and the nobles treat us like air. First it was iron sheets, now it's scraps of dirt to fool us—you know what I mean, those copper coins. I tried to petition the summer palace, but they almost broke my legs. Later I found out they were discussing how to cook pigeons inside—that wasn't cooking pigeons, it was clearly about boiling us all!"
"Who... leaked it to you?"
"A cook."
Newcastle closed his eyes in despair, regretting his careless joke at the banquet and wishing he could slap himself.
That wasn't his suggestion; he just mentioned it casually in the banquet hall. But who would have thought that someone even crazier than him would actually bring that thing to the conference table?
However, those gossipy chefs didn't seem to reveal his name, only telling outsiders about it in a joking tone.
The man named Barr didn't laugh; he just spoke seriously.
“I went to St. Laurent Fitz Church School to find Professor Ferguson, but I learned that he had been invited to Thunder City University to compile the Encyclopedia and was no longer in this city. You are the only person we can trust. The cook told us that only you treat us like human beings.”
Newcastle wanted to say that this must be a misunderstanding; rather than saying that he considered the Ryan people to be human, it would be more accurate to say that the Ryan people were human.
He was just speaking from a human perspective, saying what a human being should say. How did he get tied to the flagpole by this group of lunatics?
Do they even know who's backing them?!
If he had just mentioned it to Sir Skedkin, the Royal Guard would have hanged all the trespassers the very next day.
But judging from the way these two brothers look, they don't seem to care whether they die today or tomorrow... He should just shut up.
Seeing the Newcastle MP remain silent, Barr was not discouraged. Instead, he pulled out a pamphlet from his pocket, the first volume of the Encyclopedia.
The entry about the king was clearly written above, and he turned to that page. Newcastle could clearly see that the page was covered in emphasis marks.
Well, His Majesty Theodore is a genius; he actually forced a bunch of guys who should be sitting in beer halls drinking beer and singing to learn things that have nothing to do with them.
"...This is an encyclopedia that Professor Ferguson helped compile. After reading what he said, we realized what the nobles had taken from us."
Newcastle: "The first volume doesn't bear Professor Ferguson's signature, so strictly speaking, it's not his work—"
"What matters is not the signature, but the content. We finally know where our suffering comes from."
Nat, who had been silent, interrupted the stunned Newcastle. Ignoring the latter's astonishment, he continued speaking in a low, hoarse voice.
“Professor Ferguson is right. When the old roof no longer keeps us out of the wind and rain, we should build our own. Since they won’t let the Third Class play, we’ll play by ourselves!”
A fire burned in the man's eyes, a fire that terrified Newcastle, even though it wasn't burning his backside.
Barr continued, picking up where he left off.
“That’s right! Just as Nat said, we need to form our own ‘National Assembly’! Mr. Newcastle, you are a member of the Third Estate and the only good person we can trust. We need your support, and we need your wisdom. Please… give us all a chance to survive!”
Newcastle's eyelid twitched violently.
National Assembly.
Are these lunatics trying to establish a separate royal court?!
This is treason!
He almost instinctively took a step back, his face quickly plastered with that kind of aloof, polite smile.
“Sorry, guys. I think you might have misunderstood something. I got into this mess purely because Baron Wickton insisted on dragging me into it. You might have forgotten that I’m a Campbellian, and this is a matter for you Ryan people.”
Looking at the two guys who showed signs of disappointment.
He turned to the side and made an extremely polite yet firm gesture to see the guest out.
"I'm just a businessman who sells fire-fighting equipment and does import and export trade. I know absolutely nothing about how to hold a meeting. Please leave, I'll pretend I never saw you today... I swear to Saint Sis, if I report you, may lightning strike me dead!"
The two citizens exchanged a glance, their eyes dimming slightly.
Nat wanted to say something more, but was stopped by Baal beside him. The latter shook his head, put the hat he was holding back on his chest again, and turned to pull the doorknob.
"In that case, we won't bother you any longer."
Newcastle breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the two people walk out the door.
However, just as the cold wind blew in from outside the door, a voice suppressing anger drifted in from outside.
“Mr. Newcastle, you sell fire-fighting equipment, so you should know better than us that no house can survive a fire. Today it’s our house burning, tomorrow it’ll be your apartment. You can sit on your balcony and watch the show, but I just ask that you remember… it’s best to keep a fire extinguisher at home.”
"Enough, Nat, shut up!" Baal scolded his angry stonemason friend, pulling him back from the doorway.
It's already a great favor that the Newcastle MPs listened to them finish speaking; they shouldn't curse truly good people and disappoint everyone.
Just as the two were about to leave, Newcastle, who had been silent, suddenly called out to them.
"Wait a moment, gentlemen."
The two stopped and turned back to look at him in surprise.
Newcastle hesitated for two seconds before speaking.
"I think... there might be some misunderstanding between us, so I came in to talk."
Mr. Nate's words struck a nerve with him, touching the most sensitive and tender spot in his heart. As a businessman, he abhorred being chased by risk more than pursuing profits.
He decided to "bet on both sides".
Although his boss was Baron Wickton, he didn't mind throwing a chip into the Grand Duke's casino as well... after all, what if the Grand Duke won again?
As for why he concluded that the Grand Duke was behind this...
On the one hand, it was because of that encyclopedia, and on the other hand, it was because what the stonemason named Nate said didn't seem like something he could have come up with himself.
As a mortal walking in the fog, with no one to discuss tomorrow's plans with, he could only rely on yesterday's experience to act according to circumstances.
In short, let's take it one step at a time.
The two exchanged a glance, their hearts filled with trepidation and anticipation, and returned to the entrance hall.
The oak door closed again.
Newcastle stood at the door, a deep sense of helplessness on his face, and sighed, as if he had made some difficult compromise.
"Honestly, you shouldn't have bothered me. I am a Campbellian, but not every Campbellian is a knight."
"And to be honest, I just rejected a lady's outlandish proposal, and now you're trying to force me to comply with an even more outlandish proposal. I think that's really undignified."
He paused, then changed the subject.
"However, I am, after all, a member of parliament, and I know the procedures for holding meetings and how to draft the meeting's bylaws. I won't do this for you, but if you encounter any procedural or legal difficulties in the future, you can write to me for consultation..."
He blinked and gave a sly smile.
"This is what Baron Wickton instructed me to do, and I don't think there is any law in Roland City that prohibits members of parliament from replying to letters."
The two stonemasons standing at the door were stunned, then their faces broke into a look of wild joy.
They rushed back and gripped Newcastle's hand tightly, so tightly that it almost contorted his expression.
"Thank you, Mr. Newcastle!"
"We knew it! The Campbells who defeated Earl Derek in the Winter Moon Incident were supporters of the republican cause!"
Seeing their tearful expressions of gratitude, Newcastle smiled and shook their hands, but the smile on his face gradually became somewhat strange, and he began to have some doubts in his heart.
He thought they had powerful connections.
But look at how unsophisticated they are...
Surely that person can't be myself, right?
...
In Thunder City, at Colin Manor, the afternoon sun shone through the curtains of the drawing room, and the faint screams of little Campbell could be heard.
Vivian is playing a very avant-garde game where she plays Matthew, while Miss Padridge plays the lord standing in the shadows.
As for who will play Miss Eloise?
unimportant.
She never acts cute!
At least that's what she thinks.
Then, the script was completely rewritten.
Richard, the clock tower steward, was instantly sent flying, while Alfred, who played the "butler," cried from beginning to end, and was also forced to the brink of awakening.
In the end, little Campbell huddled in a corner of the hedge, licking his wounds alone. Nanfu, feeling both amused and exasperated, came over to tend to their wounds.
The battle turned into a showdown between the Lord in the shadows and Miss Eloise, and it was a truly evenly matched contest.
Vivian's supernatural powers were sealed by the Demon King's collar, and the succubus happened to be skilled in mental magic, which is most effective against physical strength.
Pink hearts appeared in his scarlet pupils.
Vivian was horrified as she watched the wickedly grinning Padridge close in, but no matter how hard she struggled, she couldn't move.
"You...you're cheating!"
"Hehehe, Miss Vivian, I advise you to accept your fate. I will take very gentle care of you~"
It's truly a case of a tiger fallen to the plains being bullied by dogs; a platinum-level expert was actually suppressed by a gold-level succubus!
However, Miss Padridge is a very gentle succubus, especially towards the obedient "Demon King's sister," and she just can't bring herself to hate her.
It's hard to say whether this was fortunate or unfortunate for Vivian, because it would be another kind of "torture"...
While Vivian was enduring this "humiliation," Prince Colin was having a friendly conversation with Grand Duke Edward, who had come to visit, in the manor's drawing room.
"Haha, my friend, you really should go see that movie!"
Setting down his teacup, Duke Edward spoke in a humorous tone about the new play he and his wife had seen on Queen Street the day before.
"...In order to counter your ringing of the bells at the Collin Grand Theater, the dedicated priests of Thunder City have finally done something generous, raising a large sum of money to rehearse a stage play called 'The Sacred Crown' overnight!"
Luo Yan wore a kind and gentle smile.
"Oh? How was the reaction?"
“Disastrous”.
Edward's face showed a gloating expression. This noble family of holy light, born into a family of heroes, is becoming more and more "despicable".
He's even more like a villain than the Demon King.
"...The play consists of six acts, and the plot is both tedious and long. For most of the time, there is only an old priest in a white robe standing under the holy light on stage dealing with the trivial matters of the temple, nagging at a group of 'troublemakers,' making it impossible for you to cry or laugh."
"What's even more ridiculous is that all the villains are troublemakers. Their problems are either unreasonable or short-sighted and unable to distinguish right from wrong. Moreover, they are made to look old and ugly by the makeup. When the holy light from the magic crystal lamp shines over them, they look even darker, like devils, standing in the shadows."
He cleared his throat and even imitated the arrogant tone of those pastors, giving a very lifelike imitation.
"'You are lost sheep, and you will be satisfied only by believing in the glory of my Lord'... Listen to what they say! Even Earl Derek wouldn't be so arrogant, yet they've built an entire stage for this statement!"
"Oh, right, if I had to add one more thing, it would be, 'Although we collect a chastity tax, it's all to protect your chastity.'"
Upon hearing this, Luo Yan couldn't help but laugh out loud.
"Who wrote this script? Are you sure that guy isn't a demon?"
The Demon King swore an oath.
He didn't actually do that, because there was no need to teach that move to his opponent; those moves were far too advanced for this era.
"Who knows? Whether that guy is a demon or not, the script has been tested by the Holy Light. I'm too lazy to worry about the church. Let them have their own headaches."
Edward shrugged, a smile on his face.
"As you can imagine, the few audience members were mostly asleep. Those who weren't asleep were probably so angry because they were too caught up in the drama that they didn't dare throw anything at the audience, so they could only express their dissatisfaction with their eyes."
Edward couldn't help but sigh as he spoke, his smile fading, his eyes filled with a complex mix of emotions and regret.
"To be honest, I am heartbroken."
Me too.
Luo Yan nodded slightly, and the Royal Railway Company's train came running right up.
“I am also a devout believer, but when I walk on the land of Os, I find that our priests have long forgotten gentlemanly manners and decency.”
The poor can live without these things, but if those who are bathed in holy light also lack them, something terrible will happen.
This is not the corruption of the Demon King.
After all, even gods cannot change the laws governing the movement of stars or determine when it is dark or light.
He can only turn on the light for those who want it to turn on, turn off the light for those who want it to turn off, and respond to the believers' wishes according to their contributions, within the limits of His power.
"This is probably the greatest comfort I've heard today. It's not just the citizens of Thunder City who are being desecrated; it's the entire continent of Os."
Looking at Prince Colin, who seemed to share his feelings, Edward made a self-deprecating remark, his gloomy expression softening.
“Those priests always say that I corrupted the citizens of Thunder City. By Saint Sith, I don’t have that kind of power.”
Although his kindness towards the poor was not as pure as Eileen's, he would never trample on the dignity of the poor.
After all, those people had no money; dignity was the only thing left in their pockets.
In any case, this wave of reverse publicity not only failed to salvage the priests' reputation, but also disappointed even the most conservative citizens of Thunder City.
They could only console themselves that perhaps these servants of the gods had been mingling with adventurers for too long and had been corrupted by them.
"...What's even more interesting is that yesterday, a pastor wrote to me angrily condemning the Collins Theatre for discriminatory scheduling, placing the glory of God in the dark of midnight."
“That’s a huge slander,” Luo Yan said innocently, looking at Edward who was mocking him. “There’s more than one Colin Grand Theatre in Thunder City, and I was clearly encouraging them to make their own stories.”
"That's what I said too."
Edward chuckled, picked up his teacup, took a sip, and a cunning smile spread across his face.
"So, to show the Campbell family's support for the sacred cause, I sincerely invite that pastor and his crew to take their script and the Iris Theatre Company on the first train for a national tour."
"I guess they refused."
"It wasn't that simple. They not only angrily refused, but also accused me of selling my soul to the devil... To be honest, I was very regretful. The Holy Light is the source of the Campbell family's power, and I never thought I would be on the opposite side of them."
Edward sighed regretfully, as if he truly felt sorry for it.
"In any case, they brought the image of the pastor, which was inconvenient to portray directly in 'The Bells,' to life in 'The Sacred Crown.' It's a pity they were too concerned about their image; if they had been willing to tour with the production, the contrast would have been far more exciting than any comedy."
After the joke, Edward's expression turned serious, his eyes revealing undisguised gratitude and appreciation.
“Colin, although you may be tired of hearing this, I still have to thank you and your family. You have expressed the sentiments of the citizens of Thunder City.”
Luo Yan smiled modestly.
"I'm not as amazing as you say. It was just a fleeting inspiration I caught during a quiet afternoon. I believe there are many people on this land who are more talented than me, and they certainly understand the meaning of a bell better than I do."
Edward pondered for a long time before speaking earnestly.
"So, how can I get those talented people to work for me?"
Upon hearing this, Luo Yan smiled slightly, indicating that his old friend had realized the power of the gun.
However, he is still on the first floor.
Limited by the times, like those priests, his first thought was "how to bribe them".
However, the priests had already demonstrated this to Edward. Without exception, all those bribed with money were clowns; the only difference was between those who feigned ignorance and those who were genuinely ignorant.
When the conservative clergy tried to uphold the feudal "bells" in opposition to the republican "bells," the humorous citizens of Thunder City immediately pushed a cannon loaded with gunpowder towards them and thoughtfully handed them matches.
The Demon King must speak up for Saint Sith's servants. "The Sacred Crown" is even bolder and more realistic than Prince Colin's "The Bells"!
Despite their lack of humor, they successfully portrayed the arrogance of the priests.
“...I think that truly talented people don’t need you to personally recruit them; those with a long-term vision can naturally see the long-term future.”
Luo Yan picked up his teacup, took a sip, and looked at the thoughtful Grand Duke with a smile, continuing in a casual tone.
“When you choose to stand with them, they are already at your service.”
Although the Demon King had never been to Roland City and did not know the people there, he was absolutely certain that an unprecedentedly intense bell was ringing out there...
(End of this chapter)
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