Chapter 14: World Affairs
Only when enough guards died would anyone realize not to cause trouble at the city gates.
After so many times entering Pingcheng, he had never once managed to get in unharmed.
Maybe next time he should break their bones without killing them; that might send a stronger warning?
Yan Qing watched Gai Louxian approach as he pondered whether the game system would allow an attack that stopped just short.
Faced with a second‑stage messenger, an un‑promoted alt had virtually no chance to resist—but waiting to be killed wasn’t Yan Qing’s style, so “Ye Si” picked up the fallen guard’s spear.
Seeing Ye Si’s movement, the knights behind Gai Louxian tried to charge forward, but with a lift of his hand from the veteran, they obediently stayed put.
Gai Louxian seemed completely unconcerned that Ye Si might attack him, letting the old horse carry him into spear‑striking range.
“Why insist on killing him?” he asked with mild curiosity. “Charging a bit more to enter the city isn’t a crime worthy of death, is it?”
“He recognized that woman,” Yan Qing replied. “Because I started this trouble, I can’t leave others with added trouble.”
“That makes sense.”
Gai Louxian nodded as if it did, then pulled the reins toward the city. “Follow me—if you dare run, they’ll catch and kill you.”
Yan Qing had a vague sense of déjà vu about the scene.
Seriously, you Northerners—do all of you love this approach?
Yet Gai Louxian didn’t head for the military camp, but to a roadside tavern.
He sat at one table, four knights at another, and Yan Qing, unbothered, latched onto the seat across from him.
Every dish served went straight to Ye Si eating one portion and tossing the rest into the public storage—the evening meal was sorted!
“Are you Dingling? Or Kusait?” Gai Louxian asked.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I asked where you came from.”
“I’m from an outside‑the‑city village, that abandoned one. I returned after years away to find the village gone.”
“So why come into the city?”
“To find a way into the military camp.”
Yan Qing answered honestly, though his intent was clearly different from Louxian’s assumption.
“I could recruit you into the Hundred‑Ward.”
“I want to clear dungeons daily.”
Gai Louxian wasn’t surprised. “You want to job‑change to messenger?”
“Who doesn’t?” Yan Qing replied.
“Then you’d better temper your temper. You can bully the lowborn, but if you treat nobles that way, you might as well be a grunt soldier.”
“I won’t change—if I cause trouble, just kill me afterward.” Yan Qing thought that as long as he could play in dungeons for a few days, it was worth it.
“Tsk‑tsk, you brat—never seen such arrogance. How are you alive at this age without being beaten to death?” Gai Louxian smiled scoldingly. “Goddamn attitude! Fine—if you stir up big trouble, I’ll be the first to kill you!”
“Deal.”
“Deal!”
Just then, a few guards entered the tavern, shouting at the owner for better wine and dishes—they were clearly military rowdies.
Noticing Ye Si’s gaze, Gai Louxian said, “Frankly, life for these gate guards isn’t great. Without milking a little perk off the job, they couldn’t even feed their families. You better go easy on them from now on.”
Yan Qing didn’t buy it. “Why isn’t their life good?”
“Because their monthly salary is small.”
“Then why is their pay low? Just from dungeons, the Hundred‑Ward could let the whole city live worry‑free. The Hundred‑Ward is dripping with wealth—don’t they share any of it with Pingcheng?”
If the Hundred‑Ward camp was a grand mansion, Pingcheng was nothing more than a latrine.
Yan Qing had witnessed their method of sweeping dungeons, raiding the Zheng family once a day, 360 times a year—three hundred sixty Zheng families equated to several Pingchengs!
Even if the Hundred‑Ward had to funnel many resources upward, logs, bricks, pigs, sheep, cattle, and grain couldn’t all be sent off—they leaked out, enough to feed all of Pingcheng.
Generous pay didn’t guarantee integrity, but low pay drove people to pocket a few coins from the entry fee.
Gai Louxian paused midsentence. “You know quite a bit about dungeons. Were your elders in the Hundred‑Ward—or the Thousand‑Rank?”
Actually, Yan Qing was just testing him.
If Great Qi only had one or two secret realms, then Gai Louxian would definitely have righteously complained about all its shortcomings.
But Gai Louxian’s attitude showed that Great Qi controlled more than a few secret realms, and their output alone could sustain the entire nation without issue.
Seeing “Ye Si” remain silent, Gai Louxian pondered for a moment, then sighed softly.
“Very few nationals think like you. They can’t wait to keep all the secret realm knowledge hidden... Do you know how vast the gap is between messengers and ordinary people?”
Before Yan Qing could say “I know,” Gai Louxian drew the dagger at his waist.
With a twist of his palm, the dagger was crushed into a small lump of metal.
“My token, Bronze Skin Garment.” Gai Louxian showed him the bronze‑colored underlayer he wore. “With this token, I alone could wipe out bandits and quell rebellions.”
“And even if an ordinary person obtained my token, they couldn’t wield the effects of Bronze Skin.”
“As long as there are messengers, whether the common folk rebel or evade taxes, they can’t stir up any real waves.”
“We still levy taxes, but even if they don’t farm, we can still feast on fish and meat.”
“The government conscripts them for corvée labor, but that’s the civil officials’ business—many military nobles don’t care.”
“To us, aside from serving as our servants, the common folk are nearly worthless. They’re like wild grass—nice to have, but not essential.”
Yan Qing was puzzled. “If their output doesn’t matter, why bother taxing them?”
Gai Louxian pointed at the meat, eggs, and milk on the table.
“To become a messenger, you either need to be educated or have a strong body,” Gai Louxian said calmly. “We must make sure the people don’t starve to death.”
Not starve to death.
But merely not starving—don’t even think about being well fed.
To promote job changes, one needed to train skills.
So, let the commoners have no time or energy to hone their skills.
Squeeze the civilians.
Encourage internal strife among low‑level officials.
Keep them busy with constant conscription and hard labor—this was the most effective way to minimize the birth of “wild messengers.”
This world clearly possessed the nearly limitless resources of instances and the superhuman power of messengers.
Yet, commoners in this world lived even more miserably, because the elite held even greater, absolute violence, yet had no use for ordinary people.
Yan Qing pointed at the shopkeeper with a Central Plains face. “Is it just because they’re from the Central Plains?”
Gai Louxian laughed. “What kind of talk is that? Weren’t you a poor man once too? Central Plains people, Northerners—as long as they’re poor, they must obediently pay taxes.”
“And our Great Qi is already doing quite well. At least we still have many farmers.”
“Look at Liang to the south. If commoners there aren’t tenant farmers or servants of noble clans, they don’t even get to plant fields.”
“There are almost no civilians in the south—only slaves.”
“If you want to change this world even a little, then rein in your temper and climb your way up.”
“Like the Prince of Pengcheng governing Cangzhou—no bandits within his borders, and no officials dare deceive the people.”
...
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What followed was the boring skill‑training period in the military camp.
Yan Qing handed it over to the system to manage.
He had more important things to do.
Gai Louxian’s mention of Liang to the south helped Yan Qing seize a flash of inspiration just now.
That’s right—he didn’t have to keep hammering away at Buye Tian’s affiliated region.
He could head to Jiangnan or Chang’an to unlock a new map.
More importantly, he could create an alt account to scout intel in Chang’an.
And even help him steal from the Bingzi Pepper Forest four days later!