Could this plan actually work?
That sounded like a one-way ticket to the executioner’s block!
In just eight words, every four words carried a capital offense worthy of the execution of nine generations.
Combined, that was eighteen generations, averaging two and a quarter generations per word.
Joen stood there, mouth agape.
His intense gaze held a pool of shock so thick it wouldn’t dissipate.
He couldn’t help but ask, “Old man, has the social atmosphere of our village… always been this lawless?”
“Which do you choose? Following the law, or 3,000 lives?” the Village Chief asked in return.
Joen actually furrowed his brows and lowered his head, resting his hand on the tip of his chin as he began to think seriously.
After a long while, he looked up, his expression turning firm.
“I believe laws are meant to serve people. We follow the law to make the world a better place. Therefore, human lives are more important.”
“Then isn’t that enough?”
“But, but…”
Joen hurriedly pressed, his brows twisting like a tangled rope.
“Will this actually work? Arson, I understand. Stealing the Military Grain back, I also understand. But are you sure our 3,000 Doom Victims won’t just turn into 3,000 rebels and get wiped out by the nearby field infantry that hasn’t retreated yet?”
“That is why it is the Resale of Military Grain, not the robbery of Military Grain,” the Village Chief explained.
“What does that mean?”
At this stage, Joen was completely lost.
In Liya’s eyes, his confusion made him look as adorable as a Teletubby.
Acting as Liya’s spokesperson, the Village Chief patiently explained her plan.
“Brave One, we aren’t ransacking the grain. We are bribing a military officer. Using the ‘Dragonfire Warehouse Arson’ as a cover, we will make a portion of the Military Grain ‘vanish into thin air.’ In reality, it will be sold to us at a low price.”
“But who would be willing to cooperate and sell it to us?” Joen asked, puzzled.
“The Military Grain for the troops stationed around Rossi City is currently provided by Rossi. However, the granaries are guarded in rotation by the field army, the Long-life Army, and the local City Defense Force. Our target for bribery is the highest commander of the Long-life Army, General Folco.”
Fearing Joen might not understand, the Village Chief added, “He and the Rossi City Lord have always been at odds. Furthermore, he is about to withdraw his troops soon. He will definitely be happy to make one last fortune from the grain and screw over the Rossi City Lord while he’s at it.”
“This… that’s impossible. Even if it’s an accidental fire, losing that much grain would still make him somewhat responsible. Would he agree?”
Joen still felt this was inappropriate.
He didn’t know much about local politics, but he knew the military.
General Folco was still young, only in his forties, and he was extremely capable.
A man like him had a very bright military future.
He shouldn’t be willing to stain his record for just a few gold coins.
Moreover…
Joen knew his own situation.
It wasn’t humility; as the Hero, he truly could only produce “a few gold coins.”
“What if the warehouse the ‘Dragonfire’ burns isn’t the military’s granary?”
The Village Chief pointed out the most critical part of the plan.
Joen was stunned again.
“What do you mean?”
“Do you know that the Rossi City Lord has been embezzling the Military Grain and disaster relief grain sent down by the Empire for years?”
“What? He’s doing that?”
“Which City Lord doesn’t do that?”
The Village Chief grumbled helplessly.
He continued, “The Rossi City Lord keeps that grain in a private castle outside the city, waiting for a major disaster to sell it off. Usually, it’s guarded by elite soldiers. The castle is right near the Norda River. Everyone knows this deep down.”
“As it turns out—the Norda River Dam collapsed. The flood soaked the grain, and now he’s worrying about how to get rid of it.”
The Hero suddenly realized what was happening.
His mouth slowly drifted open, and a spark of anger and intelligence flashed in his bright eyes.
“So his so-called ‘connection’ is actually the disaster relief grain he embezzled himself?”
“Exactly!”
The Village Chief slapped his thigh and explained, “We will pose as General Folco’s subordinates and use the ‘Dragonfire’ to burn his warehouse. Then, while General Folco’s men are guarding the official granary, we swap the grain.”
“The military granary won’t be short on stock, so General Folco can report his duties. The City Lord’s warehouse for embezzled grain was ‘burned,’ so he won’t dare to make a fuss or cause trouble for General Folco. He’ll just have to suffer in silence. Meanwhile, we get the grain to survive the winter.”
“It’s a win-win.”
Joen sat there in a daze, blinking for a long time.
“You people who play with conspiracies… your hearts are truly filthy,” he couldn’t help but remark.
“But I like it,” he added.
Having found a seemingly viable solution, Joen became excited and full of energy again.
He immediately got up.
“I understand. I’ll go find General Folco right now.”
“Wait a minute!”
The Village Chief quickly pulled the Hero back.
“What are you going to see him for? Who are you? Are you close with him? Trying to discuss such a private business so openly…”
“Then what should I do?”
The Village Chief tapped the table, his tone becoming serious.
“Brave One, you need a… succubus.”
“A succubus?”
“Yes. Succubus Shops are spread across the country. They possess a vast amount of accurate and private intelligence. They are the best intelligence brokers and mediators. You can trust their ability, but you must never trust their loyalty.”
The Village Chief explained, though his voice wavered with a hint of guilt.
He wasn’t familiar with succubi either; all of this was what the letter had told him to say.
“Succubi are accustomed to clinging to the strong. And now… Demon King Lia is dead. They all feel very insecure and desperately need a new, tall tree to cling to. You, Brave One, are undoubtedly the best choice.”
“You only need to show an attitude of accepting and protecting those succubi, and they will naturally come to pay their respects. You can easily take over the entire Intelligence System left behind by Demon King Lia.”
“But I’ll say it again: absolutely, definitely do not trust their loyalty.”
The Village Chief didn’t know why the mysterious person who left the letter emphasized this sentence twice.
It almost sounded like they had been betrayed by a succubus before.
“Brilliant, truly brilliant.”
Joen’s eyes grew brighter as he listened.
He gripped the Village Chief’s hand tightly, his attitude incredibly sincere.
“Old man, I didn’t realize you knew so much! Could you be my Mastermind? Could you teach me how to read and write in your spare time? I want to take you as my Teacher!”
“Er…” The Village Chief felt awkward.
Beside them, the Village Chief’s three sons looked like they had seen a ghost.
Their expressions seemed to say: ‘Dad, if you’re this capable, how did you end up as just a Village Chief?’
“Brave One, let’s talk about that later. The priority right now is for you to head to the Succubus Shop and establish a connection.”
“I understand!”
He was about to step into a Succubus Shop for the first time in his life—the legendary “Forbidden Zone for Honest Men,” the most corrupt and debauched place in the Empire.
The Hero’s face turned beet red, a mix of shy embarrassment and curiosity toward the unknown.
His cheeks flushed like the hidden sunlight outside the window.
***
Dark clouds came and went, and as the midday sun was covered once more, rain began to fall again in drops as large as soybeans.
Inside the City Lord’s Mansion, where the sunlight couldn’t reach, Margaret was leisurely listening to the most popular musical play performed by the top troupe in Rossi.
Everyone on stage was diligent and full of emotion, but the Princess below was drowsy and bored.
“Too vulgar. If this were in the Empire Capital, you wouldn’t even be fit to carry a stool for the lead actor.”
Margaret’s sudden voice interrupted the music.
Reclining on a Rococo-style wolf-fur sofa, she lazily sentenced the performance to death.
She didn’t care if the troupe’s business plummeted after today.
She only cared that the actress playing the “Princess” was tacky and worldly, failing to portray even a fraction of the royal family’s nobility.
Dismissing the terrified and despairing actors, she called for her handmaiden.
A long, silver spoon circled elegantly inside a glazed crystal cup.
“Ananna, how is the Hero doing?”
She asked with calm composure.
The clock was ticking minute by minute.
If a person had no food, they could last four or five days at most.
In another one or two days, many Doom Victims would begin to starve to death.
Dead people… when you see one or two, they seem important.
But when you see many, they just become a number.
If those numbers could help the Hero realize the reality of the situation, then those commoners would have died for a cause, and their lives wouldn’t have been in vain.
Margaret imagined Joen must be scurrying around like an ant on a hot pan right now, feeling the utter helplessness of an individual against the massive, precise machine known as “power.”
“Pri… Princess…”
The handmaiden, Ananna, stammered, answering cautiously.
“The Hero… he…”
“Has he bowed his head yet?”
Margaret supported her chin, asking with great interest.
“No, he went to a Succubus Shop.”
The handmaiden lowered her eyes nervously.
“???”