Chapter 14: They Robbed Me!

He had previously heard Boge explain that all white text was called the Mortal Tier, and above the Mortal Tier lay the Transcendent Tier, where the text above one’s head turned emerald green.

Upon reaching this tier, regardless of occupation, even a farmer could gain wondrous abilities beyond comprehension, and Transcendent Tier individuals could conceal their occupational blessings.

The Clayman trader they had ambushed earlier, who had no occupational blessing above his head, must have been a Transcendent Tier practitioner.

Fortunately, he was merely a merchant; if this knight before them were a Transcendent Tier practitioner, Xia Mingyu had no doubt that even he and Boge together couldn’t withstand a single slash from him.

Status and occupation tiers are distinct; it’s entirely possible for someone to have a white status blessing but a green occupational blessing.

Boge had long hoped to elevate his Hunter blessing to the Transcendent Tier, but unfortunately, with no one to teach him and no knowledge of advancement, he had made zero progress over three full years.

“This chainmail looks truly excellent—if worn in battle with a helmet, one could easily hold off ten opponents.”

Xia Mingyu adjusted his straw hat, thinking to himself.

At this moment, he wore a huge, comically oversized round straw hat; though ugly, it effectively concealed the label above his head.

Without it, Xia Mingyu would never have risked exposing his status to the nobility by coming here to watch.

In addition, he wore a linen robe over his modern clothing.

“The village chief of Fruit Basket Village, come forward at once!” Seeing the crowd’s size stop growing, the knight shouted.

Moments later, Robert emerged from the crowd, clad in a sheepskin robe, and walked slowly toward the knight.

“Respected Knight Solin, I am Chief Robert, representing all villagers in welcoming your arrival.”

Robert bowed deeply, speaking respectfully.

“Are all present?” Solin asked coldly.

His expression was stern, his voice like cold metal clashing.

“My lord, every villager of Fruit Basket Village is here.”

Robert glanced around, then bowed again.

“According to my lord’s decree—your great lord, Viscount Hughes—you are required to pay a combined agricultural and hunting tax of twenty-one silver Sol and seventy-four copper Sol. Have you prepared it all?” Solin asked gravely.

“My lord, it is all prepared,” Robert said with a beaming smile.

He gestured behind him, and a villager carried a bulging money bag to the base of the old oak tree.

“You, count it.”

Solin pointed casually at one of his attendants and ordered.

The attendant dismounted and carefully counted the coins in the bag.

The sound of coins being handled echoed continuously; the villagers watched with tense eyes.

For the outcome would decide their fate.

Whether they could continue living peacefully as farmers—or be reduced to slaves, spending the rest of their lives in endless humiliation and crushing labor, slowly waiting to die.

“Knight Solin, the count is complete: twenty-one silver Sol and eighty copper Sol.”

After a long while, the attendant looked up, a hint of delight on his face.

“Well done. You have perfectly fulfilled your duty as subjects.”

Hearing this, Knight Solin’s furrowed brow eased slightly, and he praised Robert in an approving tone.

“It is our honor, my lord. May the gods bless the great Viscount Hughes,” Robert replied quickly with another bow.

He didn’t know how many times he’d bowed today.

“Good. If other villages were as loyal as yours,” Knight Solin nodded slightly.

“This year, for some reason, several villages failed to pay their taxes, forcing me to haul them off to slave traders.”

“My merciful lord has set the lowest taxes in the entire Sosia Kingdom, yet these serfs still can’t gather enough—truly foolish, utterly wasting the lord’s kindness!”

Remembering his failure to fulfill his lord’s orders, Knight Solin couldn’t help complaining, his face flushed with indignation.

“Yes, yes, those people are truly ungrateful.”

Robert’s face wore a wide smile, but inside he felt deep sympathy and sorrow for the villagers destined for the Slave Capital.

If not for their village being blessed by a noble and generous prince, they too might have met this fate.

“Very well. I must proceed to the next village to collect taxes. For your timely payment, I will petition my lord to grant you a spiritual commendation.”

After ordering his attendant to place the money bag into the cart, Solin turned his horse around to leave.

“Wait! Wait!”

Just as Knight Solin was about to depart with his attendants, a merchant rode up from afar, shouting loudly.

This sight tightened the expressions of Xia Mingyu and Boge in the crowd.

For the man was Mills, the Clayman trader they had ambushed days ago.

“Merchant, what do you want?”

Looking at the panting Mills, Knight Solin frowned slightly, his hand brushing the hilt of his sword.

His time was precious; he had no interest in wasting it on a merchant.

“I denounce it! The tax money these villagers paid was stolen from me!” Mills shouted angrily.

Hearing this, Knight Solin’s eyes turned icy.

“Enough! Merchant, this land is under my lord’s rule. If you dare slander his subjects, I will cut out your tongue!”

Solin drew his sword—a gleaming steel blade that shimmered in the sunlight, its sharp tip pointed directly at the merchant’s head.

This sight turned Mills pale; he knew one thrust would split him in two, and even his occupational blessing as a Liar Merchant wouldn’t protect him.

For the knight killing him to defend his subjects was unquestionably justified.

In that instant, Mills was so terrified of death he nearly fled—but the craving for his lost gold and the bitterness in his heart kept him rooted in place.

“Knight… Knight Lord, I am the merchant Mills. As you see, this is my occupational blessing.”

Mills swallowed hard, trembling.

Beside his commoner label, a new one appeared—emerald green text reading “Liar Merchant.”

Seeing the green label, Knight Solin’s demeanor softened considerably; he even sheathed his drawn sword.

For though Mills was merely a merchant, having ascended to the Transcendent Tier meant he deserved due respect.

This was an unspoken understanding among nearly all Transcendent practitioners.

“Mills, what proof do you have that the villagers’ tax money is your stolen coins?” Knight Solin asked coldly.

Happy New Year, readers! Wishing you all greater joy and happiness in the coming year (*^▽^*)





(End of Chapter)