Chapter 552: The World Should Not Be Like This!

Night had deepened.

A cool wind blew across the open ground outside the manor.

It carried the scent of earth and a faint hint of blood.

Thousands of Qi State civilians were summoned here by a single order from Chen Yan.

They clustered densely under the moonlight, and uneasy whispers rippled through the crowd like tides.

"What do these Zhou State soldiers want by gathering us here?" a young man in a coarse short jacket, clutching his hem tightly, whispered to his friend.

His gaze was full of doubt, occasionally stealing glances at the upright Xuan Armor troops not far away, his body trembling slightly.

His friend scratched his head, his face blank, and shook his head: "I don't know!"

He paused, his eyes scanning the ragged villagers around, and thoughtfully added, "We common folk, penniless and destitute, have no profit to seek."

After a moment of contemplation, as if recalling something, he lowered his voice further: "Perhaps they intend to conscript us for labor?"

"I've heard that during wars, armies often seize civilians to work..."

When those words were spoken, a few nearby listeners' faces changed slightly, showing worry.

"In my view, it probably isn't that simple..."

At that moment, a middle‑aged man with graying hair in the crowd spoke slowly.

His face was lined with wrinkles, his eyes cloudy yet sharp, scanning the surrounding troops whose bodies exuded a bloody scent; the fresh blood on their armor glimmered dimly in the moonlight.

Then, taking a deep breath, he made a bold guess: "They don't intend to slaughter us all together, do they?!"

The word "massacre" cracked like thunder, exploding through the crowd.

The surrounding villagers were instantly chilled; the already tense atmosphere was instantly shrouded in fear, and the whispers turned into suppressed cries.

"It can't be that bad!" an elderly woman clasped her hands, praying continuously, her voice trembling, "The Zhou Army shouldn't be so cruel!"

"Hard to say..." a man beside her said, his face pallid, lips quivering, "In times of chaos, the army has no sense of reason."

"We are Qi people, they are the Zhou Army, if..."

Before he could finish, his own speculation had made him shiver all over.

Fear spread rapidly like Plague, and the whispers turned into low sobs.

Someone clutched the child beside them, shielding their family with their body.

Someone instinctively stepped back, seeking a sliver of safety among the crowd.

Another looked up at the cold moon, eyes filled with despair.

At that moment, a sharp‑eyed villager at the front of the crowd stretched his neck toward the manor, suddenly shouting, "Hey, look!"

"Those soldiers have already set up pots and are lighting a fire over there!"

His voice broke the oppressive atmosphere, and everyone turned to look where he pointed.

In the nearby open ground, dozens of large iron pots were steadily placed on a brick‑stone stove.

Armored soldiers were adding firewood to the stove, and fierce flames leapt up, reddening half the night sky.

The villager paused, thought briefly, then shouted loudly, "Looks like they're making porridge!"

"It really is!" a middle‑aged woman quickly nodded, then twitched her nose, her face showing surprise, "I smell a fragrance..."

"A faint wheat aroma!"

A villager nearer the stove inhaled forcefully, swallowed hard, a glint of yearning flashing in his eyes.

As the fire crackled, the porridge scent gradually spread, carrying wheat's rich aroma, drifting in the cool wind and entering everyone's nostrils.

Many villagers instantly licked their fingers, echoing, "Me too!"

"The scent can't be wrong; it's still wheat!"

"So fragrant!"

One must know that ordinary peasants subsist on coarse grain year after year, often still hungry; wheat porridge is a rare delicacy for them.

The porridge aroma heightened everyone's hunger, stomachs rumbling in waves through the crowd.

Yet what followed was deeper doubt: "What exactly are they after?"

The villagers who had just speculated about conscription or even massacre, now stared at the iron pots and drifting porridge scent, their faces full of confusion.

The Zhou Army's actions were so abnormal that they couldn't read the other's intentions; both hopeful and uneasy, they momentarily forgot their fear.

Amid the bustling discussion, Feng Muye, clad in Xuan Armor, strode forward.

He raised a simple megaphone, stepped onto the Gaotai at the center of the clearing, and bellowed, "Silence! The Grand General has words!"

The shout thundered, instantly drowning all whispers.

The villagers simultaneously fell silent, and the vast clearing fell mute.

Everyone's gaze fixed on Feng Muye on the Gaotai, not daring to even breathe.

Moonlight fell on Feng Muye's stern face and illuminated the villagers' hopeful yet uneasy faces.

They began murmuring, "Grand General? That sounds like a high official!"

As soon as Feng Muye finished speaking, a tall figure stepped forward.

Chen Yan wore Xuan Armor, its metal gleaming cold and solemn in the moonlight; a sword at his waist swayed lightly with each step, each stride steady and powerful, exuding an aura of authority.

He also raised a simple megaphone, stood in the center, his gaze slowly sweeping the dense crowd below, then spoke loudly:

"Esteemed villagers and elders, I am Chen Yan, leading the Great Zhou King's Army, and we bear no ill will toward you!"

"We will not harm a single iota of you!"

"Rest assured!"

The voice projected through the megaphone, loud and clear, piercing the night's stillness and echoing across the clearing.

"Chen Yan?" the villagers whispered the name, their eyes full of doubt, momentarily unable to react.

The name sounded familiar, yet they could not recall where they had heard it.

At that moment, a young man in a long robe who seemed rather learned widened his eyes suddenly, his face showing an expression of disbelief, and exclaimed excitedly, "Could it be Lord Chen Yan, the benevolent official of the Zhou State?!"

His shout rippled through the crowd like a stone tossed into a lake, instantly stirring countless waves.

An elderly man with graying hair, hearing this, squinted and examined Chen Yan on the Gaotai, and after a moment of contemplation spoke in a deep voice, "I have heard that the Zhou State's young man, not yet twenty, already boasts great battle achievements and has always cared for the common folk…"

"You see, his age does match!"

The elder's words made everyone nod, and another civilian, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, blurted out, "They are the Zhou Army, and this high official happens to be named Chen Yan; all signs point to him being the legendary Lord Chen Yan!"

"If it truly is Lord Chen Yan, then we are saved!" someone in the crowd immediately replied, their face gradually showing delight.

"I have heard of his deeds; it is said that within the Zhou State he has overturned many wrongful cases for the people and reduced taxes—a rare good official!"

"Indeed, indeed!" more and more civilians joined the discussion, their tone full of anticipation, "If it's truly Lord Chen Yan, we will no longer fear for our lives!"

The atmosphere that had been tense with fear quietly dissipated at that moment.

The people's lingering anxieties eased, bewilderment on their faces gave way to surprise, and the previously restless crowd gradually calmed.

Everyone looked up, their eyes burning with expectation and trust as they gazed at Chen Yan on the Gaotai.

Chen Yan, holding a megaphone, scanned the hopeful crowd below; his voice rose and fell with a penetrating force, "This Duke knows the villagers and elders have long suffered under the exploitation of these treacherous nobles, their anguish unbearable!"

"By the decree of the Great Zhou Emperor, I have come to rescue you!"

As soon as the words fell, a low murmur of assent rose from the crowd.

The people recalled past oppression, and tears welled in their eyes.

Chen Yan shifted his tone, softening slightly, "I suppose you are all hungry, aren't you?"

Then, raising his other hand toward the blazing stove nearby, he said, "This Duke has already prepared wheat porridge for you!"

"What?!" the villagers exclaimed, faces full of astonishment, unable to believe it, glancing at each other and whispering.

"We are gathered here just to distribute wheat porridge?" a middle‑aged man widened his eyes, his face full of disbelief.

In their minds, when an army summons civilians it is either conscripting labor or demanding supplies…

Such a proactive act of cooking porridge for the people is unheard of!

"He must truly be Lord Chen Yan!" a villager exclaimed excitedly, his tone full of certainty.

"Only the reputedly benevolent Lord Chen Yan could be so kind to us humble folk!"

"Treat us ants as humans!"

"Exactly!" other villagers echoed, thrilled, and the lingering doubt in their hearts vanished.

Everyone looked at Chen Yan on the Gaotai, their eyes filled with gratitude and reverence.

Chen Yan gave a calm smile, waved toward the crowd below, and loudly instructed, "Everyone line up!"

"Everyone gets a share; no fighting!"

As soon as the words ended, the villagers instinctively formed a long queue, the line winding like a dragon.

The Xuan Armor soldiers, holding wooden ladles, served porridge to the people in orderly fashion.

When the first villager received a steaming bowl scented with rich wheat aroma, they stood frozen, feeling dazed, hardly daring to believe their eyes.

He lowered his head to the bowl, feeling the warm touch through the coarse porcelain, the wheat porridge aroma hitting his nose, and couldn't help shouting, "Wheat porridge! Hot wheat porridge!"

"It's truly hot wheat porridge!"

The exclamation spread to those nearby; after receiving their bowls, everyone showed delighted expressions.

Many villagers, already famished to the point of ribs touching, lifted their bowls and devoured the porridge ravenously.

The scalding porridge made them grimace, yet they were reluctant to stop.

"Delicious!"

"Too delicious!"

Praises rose one after another.

The simple wheat porridge tasted even better than mountain delicacies and exotic meats.

After all, in today's inflationary times, being able to eat wheat porridge is already a tremendous blessing!

Bowl after bowl of hot porridge chased away the night chill and warmed the scarred hearts of the people.

The previous vigilance and fear toward the Zhou Army vanished completely, leaving only abundant gratitude.

While eating, everyone looked toward Chen Yan ahead, their eyes full of respect.

The dancing firelight by the stove reflected Yuwen Ze in his military attire.

He held a wooden ladle, methodically serving wheat porridge to the queuing villagers; the scalding broth steamed, reddening his handsome face.

His gaze occasionally drifted toward A Xiong on the Gaotai, his movements slowing a beat, thinking silently, "A Xiong is starting the porridge again…"

"This time, what is he scheming now?"

In one day, he has served porridge twice…

Not far away, Yu Jian paced back and forth maintaining order, his military uniform accentuating his upright bearing.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he scanned the grateful villagers, then looked at the composed Chen Yan, continuously analyzing in his mind, "The Grand General's move is far from merely seeking a benevolent reputation."

As for this elder, Yu Jian knew him fairly well; he always plans before acting, never making rash moves…

Behind each bowl of wheat porridge must lie some deeper meaning!

As time passed, most villagers drank heartily, their faces beaming with satisfied smiles.

Chen Yan raised the megaphone again, proclaiming, "Villagers and elders! Is the wheat porridge still fragrant and sweet?"

"Fragrant and sweet!" the villagers answered in unison, their voices loud and sincere, echoing through the night sky.

"And does it fill your stomach?" Chen Yan asked again.

"Full!" the crowd replied, still uniform, their tone full of gratitude.

Immediately, villagers chattered, "Thanks to Lord Chen Yan's blessing, we common folk can now drink wheat porridge heartily!"

"Indeed, indeed, we never dared to hope for such fine food in ordinary days!"

Chen Yan heard the words, the smile on his face gradually faded, his eyes narrowed slightly, and his expression became serious.

He cleared his throat, and his tone suddenly shifted: "But the world should not be like this!"

As the words fell, the open ground fell silent for a moment.

Chen Yan's emotions began to surge, and raising his voice he continued: "Everyone should have food to eat! Clothes to wear! Land to farm!"

"To be able to live a stable, happy life together with parents, wife, and children!"

"This is the life that should be ours!"

These words, like a thunderclap, struck the hearts of the common folk hard.

For a long time they had become accustomed to the hunger and cold under harsh rule, never daring to hope for such a life.

At this moment, Chen Yan's words pierced their hidden longing, which erupted instantly, and they excitedly echoed: "Right! Lord Chen Yan is absolutely right!"

"We should live like this!"

The cries rose and fell.

Chen Yan's voice grew even more fervent, like thunder exploding in the night sky: "But those royal nobles, corrupt officials, and local tyrants, they lie there every day doing nothing, yet can brazenly take away everyone's labor earnings!"

"On what grounds should we swallow our grievances in silence?"

"We must take back everything that belongs to us!"

Each word rang like a bell, precisely striking the long‑suppressed resentment in the people's hearts.

The exploitation and oppression they had endured for ages was ignited completely at that moment; the crowd clenched their fists and shouted in unison: "Right! Well said! We will take back what is ours!"

Chen Yan's gaze, sharp as a sword, slowly swept over the crowd, and he asked loudly, striking their hearts: "Gentlemen, you are upright men of the world—are you willing to take up arms to protect your parents, wives, children, and your homeland?"

"Willing!"

"Willing!"

"Willing!"

The people's emotions boiled over completely, and the blood that had been suppressed for years was awakened.

They rose one by one, raising the empty bowls in their hands, their voices echoing to the heavens, filled with a resolve to burn the boats.

The eyes that had once been gentle and patient now blazed with fierce fire, and their gaze toward Chen Yan was full of determination.

Seeing this, Chen Yan's mouth twitched upward, and he turned to Feng Muyi beside him, commanding in a deep voice: "Come! Distribute all the weapons seized this time, as well as most of the grain, to the people!"

"In Xianzhou, officials and gentry ran rampant, plundering the people's fat and oil; the common folk were pressed, suffering beyond words, trapped in fire and water, with no remedy."

Fortunately, the Founding Emperor's divine troops arrived swiftly, rescuing the people from peril.

Thus, the nobles and household slaves outside Xianzhou City were executed, their hoarded wealth confiscated and returned to the people; the captured women were all released from bondage and restored to freedom.

Grain and millet were distributed, porridge cooked and given, so that the wandering, starving people all could fill their bellies.

The Founding Emperor's benevolent heart was universal; he loved the people as his own children, his grace spread over the land, and ten thousand peoples praised him.

—《Wei History》·Chronicle of the Founding Emperor Wen Emperor