Chapter 510

When the demon lord previously forced the three great demon kings to trigger the beast tide, the students at the rest stop, although forced into the front line of the Battle of Falling God Mountain,

but thanks to the efforts of the players and the noble armies, it was still a narrow escape, and even any minor losses remained within an acceptable range.

But after this incident, everyone ended up feeling tense, and the college was overwhelmed handling all kinds of complaints.

However, misfortunes never come singly, and the palace then threw together a perilous banquet, pouring oil on the fire of the already complicated situation.

Now things have really blown up—the public opinion situation exploded, and countless student parents rushed in a panic to apply for leave.

Especially those with guilty consciences, who feared that if the capital really fell into chaos, the emperor would settle scores, and wondered what to do if their own children were detained as hostages.

"I don't care! If you don't approve my child's leave, then we'll just go ahead and process their withdrawal!"

"Ah… this…"

At bottom, the college is a business, and they too are afraid of what would happen if the capital truly encountered trouble—how would they deal with so many children stranded here?

Since the arm can't twist the thigh, they simply went with the flow and postponed the so-called practical drills, including the upcoming exams.

As a result, right at the beginning of June, the various colleges in the capital coincidentally all declared summer vacation.

"Well then!"

Then Ji Ming, with the speed of thunder before one can cover one's ears, became the only teacher in the institute who left the campus earlier than the students.

Ancient wisdom: in this world, only one thing feels better than vacation—paid leave.

According to the contract of Saint Valentine's Academy, even during vacation salaries are still paid as usual, so he certainly had no objection.

Moreover, Ji Ming had originally planned to study more specialized knowledge during this period to push toward the advancement conditions of the Arcane Wizard.

Thus, a situation like this is practically someone handing him a pillow just as he wanted to sleep—so delightful he felt like firing hypersonic missiles in succession.

But……

Sometimes, some things really aren't something you can just decline if you want to, or avoid if you don't want to go.

Especially now, everyone knows Teacher Ji is on vacation, so there's no need to burn the midnight oil preparing lessons anymore.

Thus today a duke invited him, tomorrow a certain dignitary extended an invitation, and the day after tomorrow who knows which immortal wants to have a drink with him.

Ji Ming still needs to mix in the capital at this stage; people sincerely want to befriend him, so he can't go around with a sour little cat face.

So today he gave face to Duke A, tomorrow he gave an opportunity to Dean B.

Although he would only attend each out of politeness, the one plus one plus one plus one added up, leaving Ji Ming to shuttle back and forth at high intensity between various banquets.

But if one wants to pursue scholarship, where could one tolerate this clamor of strings and bamboo?

Furthermore, Ji Ming is no longer the wishy-washy, unimpressive little quack doctor he once was.

He simply gritted his teeth and stomped his foot!

"I'm off, I'm off~"

After relying on connections, merits, and even teaching points to borrow a large number of alchemy material copies from the school and Holy Mountain, he directly announced that he would leave the capital to study elsewhere in the kingdom.

What's more, including the Sun King and the Pope, he told no one in advance; he only announced it near noon and left before afternoon, dealing a blitz strike to the nobility of the capital.

By the time all the nobles, their ladies, the ladies' ladies, and even the distant relatives of those ladies arrived, Ji Ming had already ridden away on a heavenly horse, disappearing into the horizon.

Moreover, this time he had a flying horse as a mount, so his plan became bolder—he simply set out from the capital heading north, then made a large clockwise circuit around the metropolitan region.

That way he could pass through the Hui Guang Kingdom's most fertile land, where the nobility are most numerous, and get a good look at what the kingdom's "true" nobility are really like.

The result was that along this route the commotion was like the "three officials, three farewells," except this time it wasn't the common folk who were driven to desperation by conscription officers and tax collectors, but rather the bloated, pot-bellied noble lords.

Indeed, perhaps it was because he heeded the advice of those Pioneer Force representatives, or perhaps smart people truly share the same mind; after the Sun King proposed the "return to the western frontier" strategy, he keenly sensed the arrival of an opportunity period.

First, why did the Sun King of several generations ago personally nurture the two noble factions known as the "Moneybag" and the "Sword and Shield" in the capital?

Thereafter, successive Sun Kings, regardless of their level of knowledge, unanimously and persistently allowed, even encouraged, their internal strife.

Because Hui Guang is not a city-state but a rather vast kingdom, the king cannot possibly govern the whole realm alone; to maintain his rule, royal authority must necessarily delegate a portion of power.

And to prevent this delegated power from running rampant, overstepping, or even devouring the sovereign, the best approach is to guide rather than block—letting them pour more energy into their mutual struggles.

This sounds quite good, but the reality is that although the Sun King had previously allied with these two noble factions, he still nearly got toppled by the two out-of-power dukes.

Indeed, with the changing times, a new enemy emerged that the former king could not have anticipated.

The strength of these out-of-power nobles has swollen to the point where they can rival the capital's nobility, and the development of their fiefs is so formidable as to be called a state within a state.

But a ruler is a ruler, a subject is a subject; Hui Guang has no concept of duchies, and the Sun King could not tolerate such overreach.

Faced with subjects who are overly powerful and likely to threaten his own rule, he could only……

Kill them?

No, only a fool would kill them; those two dukes now dare to wrangle with the king, and if you keep pressing them like this, aren't you just forcing them to rebel?

And the correct answer, in fact, already appeared in the Han dynasty of Huaxia—namely, to weaken the fiefdoms!

But weakening the fiefdoms is also a technical matter; if you want to stand and chop them down, you need to devise pretexts and win over the wealthy gentry.

When the time comes to act, you still need a swift blade, slow slicing of the meat, and a measured approach.

Best to wait until the fat pig reacts and flares up in anger, by which time you'll have already cut it down to just bones, leaving it beyond recovery.

As for the "wealthy gentry," the Sun King has surely already won them over, after all the two major noble factions of the capital—including Duke Jueqiao and the Holy Light Church—are his supporters.

As for this contrived pretext……

"Your Viscountship, this is the conscription quota you need to fulfill this year."

Whether from heat or worry, the viscount with a goat beard was already drenched in sweat first thing in the morning.

Taking the list with his sweaty palm from the conscription officer, he glanced at it once and his eyes widened as he exclaimed.

"Impossible! I've already contacted my fellow viscount friends—why does the list you gave me demand so much?!"

Then came.

"What, you even want me to pay for and build catapults, and then transport them myself?!"

"This… this is normal?! What's the point of doing this? Consuming food and fodder—how much would it devour?!"

"My heart, my wallet! Oh, dear heavens……"

The list, only a few hundred characters long, he stubbornly took three minutes to finish reading, and the first thing he said after finishing was.

"Too many, that's just too many, I can't afford it!"

But the recruitment officer was unswervingly impartial, offering no further chatter, and directly produced a copy of the royal decree signed by the King.

"Apologies, Viscount, this list bears His Majesty the King's signature as guarantee; according to kingdom law, you must execute it without the slightest deviation."

If this had been a few days earlier, the Viscount would have swaggered and insulted the other as a mere commoner, daring to be so rude to a noble lord; "Guards, drag him out and strangle him!"

But his earlier tension and shrinkage showed that he didn't dare.

There's no way around it; a few days ago similar troublemakers appeared, and under the instigation of two Grand Dukes, several sprang up at once.

In the end, regardless of whether you're a Viscount or a Baron, even the leading Count was personally dealt with by the King, his head forced down, and who knows when he'll be reckoned with.

Alas, so we little nobles should refrain from meddling in the fierce struggles of the great lords and obediently heed the heavenly command.

But when he finally managed to muster a thousand infantry and two hundred cavalry, ready to hand over the troops and equipment listed, the recruitment officer stopped him.

"Viscount, are these the soldiers you conscripted?"

"Yes, tally them; the numbers are absolutely correct!"

"Fine, I'll do it right now."

Having said that, the recruitment officer walked toward the unusually dense formation, signaling the fully armed knights to make way.

"……"

The young lords forming the backbone of the noble army were instantly stunned, yet they said nothing or moved, and simultaneously looked at the Viscount.

The Viscount's expression immediately collapsed, and he stepped forward to try to pull the recruitment officer away.

"Sir, you really don't need to count them one by one. See, each row has twenty people, fifty rows in total; you can do the multiplication, right? Doesn't that give exactly one thousand?"

What he got in return was the recruitment officer's sternness.

"Viscount, I am the recruitment officer sent by the King; I bear the royal command and execute orders! Please do not interfere with my work."

The Viscount hadn't expected the other to speak so bluntly and was startled into stammering.

"Ah, um… sorry, I just…"

Seeing this, the recruitment officer's eyes showed a hint of well‑concealed contempt, while his mouth politely urged.

"I don't need your apology, Viscount, please separate them; I need to inspect them carefully."

The Viscount's complexion instantly turned terribly pale, but he could only nod to his knights.

Thus the few fully armored iron cans stepped aside, revealing the "soldiers" behind them, or rather at the center of the formation.

The recruitment officer immediately clenched his fists, veins popping on his temples.

"Viscount, these are the troops you brought for His Majesty the King!?"

Indeed, at first glance this might appear to be a heavily armed, impressively mighty iron‑armored thousand‑man unit.

But in fact, once you peel off the thin outer wrapping, you'll find it's entirely a product illustration for reference only.

Because what met everyone's eyes were several farmers who wore not even leather armor, let alone iron—just a simple shirt and a pitchfork!

"Um, recruitment officer, this… these are militia, militia… why aren't they soldiers?"

The Viscount was still forcing himself to make excuses, but the recruitment officer didn't argue; he simply produced the royal command.

"Viscount, I think the list is already clear: you need to provide a thousand individuals who have undergone at least three months of formal military training and possess basic armament!"

Glancing again at that pitiful crowd who still hadn't figured out what was happening but were already trembling and kowtowing, the recruitment officer loudly demanded,

"Viscount, do you think they meet the requirements!?"

"I think… um, barely, they satisfy, right?"

"Then I think they absolutely do not meet the criteria! They are plainly a bunch of ordinary old farmers, not even eligible civilian conscripts under kingdom standards!"

Viscount: "I…"

"They are going to fight for the country, and you? You won't even provide them with decent equipment! What, are you planning to have them wear their own clothes, wield farming tools, and fight the cunning, treacherous Deep Forest people?"

Viscount: "I…"

The recruitment officer grew more agitated, his jawline especially pronounced, his neck flushed red, as if he were about to speak his true feelings.

"And they are farmers, right? I'm a farmer too, and it's right now the summer harvest season, when fields can't afford to be short of hands; you dragged them away?"

Even three outbursts per second didn't let him vent enough, so the recruitment officer took a few deep breaths and shouted.

"You… you are destabilizing the foundation of the nation, you know that!?"

Viscount: "I…"

One can't blame the Viscount for saying nothing but "I, I, I".

This is a downright death‑sentence question; how is anyone supposed to answer? The Viscount simply had no way to reply.

Moreover, in a sense the Viscount's actions were "correct", because for the past several hundred years everyone has done it this way.

For example, when the King decides to launch an expedition and demands each household provide a thousand people, everyone tacitly sends only five hundred.

And among those five hundred, having a hundred who can actually fight is already good.

As for the remaining four hundred, they are all rural residents who would die without much compensation, even forcibly taken beggars and idle men.

So this year, the Viscount actually went out of his way to save face for the King by rounding up the full thousand.

How could he possibly be so diligent as to assemble a full regular army and equip them with armor and helmets for you?

If you really did that, how much would the lord have to spend?

How could he still indulge in fine food and drink?

How could he still wear gold and silver?

How could he still marry the 18th household's daughter… ah no, keep a 18th mistress?

(End of chapter)