Chapter 62: The road is difficult to travel.

The princess’s surrender was exactly as Lya had predicted.

Her blushing cheeks and the strange ripples in her amber eyes were all seen clearly by Lya, as if she could see through her soul.

Lya understood this type of person very well.

After all, in her former rule, the First Demon Realm’s [Bloodflesh Arena] was filled with demons of this exact nature.

“Those who bully the weak will fawn over the strong”—this was the best annotation for the princess’s kind.

When Margaret openly trampled, humiliated, and oppressed the weak, always trying to force others into submission—

She also silently acknowledged her willingness to yield to a stronger being she could neither control nor resist, allowing herself to be bullied, humiliated, and trampled, and even finding “pleasure” in the role of a slave.

Either a “master” or a “slave”.

There was no middle ground in Princess Margaret’s eyes; every relationship was distorted into a master-slave dynamic, just like those Terrormaw, Blood Demons, and Ghoul Demons of the First Demon Realm.

—

Was the First Demon Realm powerful?

Very.

Overwhelmingly strong in reputation.

But in Lya’s eyes, their overall strength was the weakest.

Disobedient, arrogant, blindly foolish—beneath the surface of power was a deep-rooted cowardice.

When Lya conquered the First Demon Realm, all she saw were kneeling slaves—hardly a warrior to be found.

But still, as always, there was no choice.

Demons each had their flaws.

If she couldn’t tolerate even a speck of dust, she’d be left with no demons to use.

What to do?

She could only “endure for the sake of the country.”

Sometimes, Lya even felt her true talent wasn’t in being a Demon King, but in recycling waste and repurposing trash.

—

“Thanks, Lily.”

When he relayed the news of the two choices, Jon did not remove his armor.

He sat by the steps, his iron-clad fingers gently pressing down on Lya’s small head.

Thinking back to just now, Jon felt a wave of melancholy.

Thank goodness—thank goodness Lily had helped him out of that situation…

Actually, it was normal for everyone to fear the princess.

Wanting to “compromise” was a common mindset too.

Three gold coins— for dustborn people scraping by from the earth, it was a huge sum.

Jon understood this.

He just felt a slight bitterness and disappointment.

If possible, of course, he would rather everyone stood with him, never bowing to the nobility.

But he was just one man, alone and unaided.

What right did he have to ask others to risk losing their families and lives just to stand by his side?

If they could live in peace, of course everyone wanted to live in peace.

—

“Thud.”

The first person stepped before Jon, suddenly knelt, and kowtowed several times, the sound echoing.

Jon hated that sound.

He wanted to stand and help, but exhaustion suddenly overwhelmed him.

The once-invincible hero was now so tired he could barely hold up his heavy armor.

“Honorable Hero…”

The man raised his head, tears streaming down his face, a weathered, ordinary face no longer young.

His dull, timid eyes were like the old ox at the village gate of Jon’s hometown.

“What are you doing! Have some decency!”

Jonathan rushed over, as if wishing to kick his fellow countryman.

Jon quickly waved his hand, stopping Jonathan.

He looked at the man, his voice gentle.

“It’s fine. I understand… Do you have somewhere to stay outside?”

“Can… can find…”

The man’s eyes turned red, tears streaming down, unable to speak further.

He kowtowed harder.

The “thump thump” sound was loud, echoing in Jon’s bones like needles piercing in.

“Teacher, take him to get the money, and the ones behind too. Record the amount used; the princess will reimburse.”

Jon arranged calmly.

With the first one taking the lead, the rest who shared the same intention no longer hesitated.

—

The second was an elderly woman.

She was forthright.

After a single kowtow, she clapped her knees and stood up with ease, facing Jon directly.

“Honorable Hero, don’t blame us. Our lives are cheap; we can’t bear Her Highness the Princess’s apology.”

Jon said nothing.

Those who came to say goodbye afterward gave similar reasons.

They dared not accept the princess’s apology.

Or, compared to an uncertain future, they longed more for the three gold coins at hand.

Some had witnessed Jon behead the city lord and had grown especially afraid of him.

Many of them had just been assigned by Jonathan to administrative posts in town.

With no real power yet, they started sympathizing with Lord Ross, subtly expressing that the city lord was not entirely to blame and that the hero was too ruthless.

They stalled and hesitated.

Lya saw it all clearly—these were people hoping the hero would give in, promising not to “kill indiscriminately” in the future and to keep them all.

Unfortunately, Jon was a hero with no sense for such subtleties.

—

And more people simply left silently, as quietly as they had come.

They wanted to say goodbye but were too shy.

They wanted to stay but were lost about the future.

In a haze, as if in a dream, the only real thing was the weight of three gold coins—the sole golden light in their lives.

These, Lya could still understand.

But the last kind of person, she truly could not.

On the contrary, Jon didn’t seem surprised at all, as if he were used to it.

—

“Honorable Hero, you were born in the Empire, raised in the Empire, granted the title of Hero and your current office by the Empire.

How can you betray the principles of ruler and subject, humiliating Her Highness the Princess?”

Seizing a pause in the proceedings, a bearded old man charged onto the stage.

He wore long robes and was robust, face flushed with anger, confronting Jon.

Jon waved at the old man.

“Old man, please sit and calm down. Don’t hurt your health.”

“I will not sit! Honorable Hero! You are gravely mistaken! Her Highness is a person of noble birth! How could she apologize to a group of dustborn?”

Jon was taken aback.

“Old man, aren’t you a dustborn?”

“Dustborn?!”

The old man’s face reddened, furious.

“Honorable Hero! If I’m wrong, you can refute me! But why shame me?

I am an Honorable Knight personally bestowed by the Empire in the year of Hengli 1377!

Now the village chief of Lunya Village! Do not compare me to that rabble!”

Jon let out a dry laugh.

He lowered his head, feeling a touch of irony.

—

“Honorable Hero, you live by the lord’s favor and the Empire’s great benevolence.

By humiliating Her Highness the Princess and defying the state, are you not afraid that loyal men like us will curse your name for generations?”

The old man pretended to speak with heartfelt concern, but every word pressed in.

Lya couldn’t help but speak up.

“Your friend saved you, and you still scold him?”

At this, the old man straightened his back with pride.

“A mere meal cannot bend my spine! Besides, even without the hero, I would not starve. How is that a favor?”

“Stupid pig!”

Lya rolled her eyes at him.

“Lily, don’t use foul language.”

Jon lost the desire to speak further, weakly gesturing for the old man to leave.

—

But the old man stood firm, like a flagpole, occasionally sneaking glances at Princess Margaret.

Time ticked by.

Sweat beaded on his back.

Old York grew more uneasy.

Honorable Knight— it was his proudest title, his proof that he had risen above the dustborn.

But sadly, while the name was glorious, it brought neither high office nor wealth.

Even the village chief post was earned step by step, driving out all rivals through effort.

He wanted to advance so badly!

Sixty years old—still the prime of struggle.

Never mind being an old servant; even serving as a watchdog for the imperial family would count as fulfilling his ideals!

For over twenty seconds he held his posture, but as the princess didn’t react, Old York knew he couldn’t wait any longer.

He suddenly spun and slid to his knees before the princess, shouting righteously:

“Your Highness! Rest assured! There are many loyal and upright men in the world like this old servant! If the hero dares to humiliate you! Even if blood flows three feet, I will swear to protect Your Highness with my life!”

—

Margaret finally snapped out of it.

She turned toward the voice, puzzled.

Seeing it was a filthy old man speaking to her, she glared with disgust.

“So ugly.

Who wants your protection?

Get lost.”