The cultivation master

They hadn't accounted for this. With the death of Gold Tooth, the other mercenaries hesitated for a moment, then fled. Cyrus walked to the counter and sheathed his sword.

He tossed three coins onto the counter and picked up an unopened bottle of drink.

"Consider this payment for miscellaneous services."

He said this and headed to the stable behind the inn.

The innkeeper looked around in horror. Blood was splattered on the floor. A headless corpse and several broken bottles were scattered here and there.

But what scared him was something else.

"He… he's dead… here… in my inn… right in front of me… they won't leave me alone."

Everyone knew that mercenaries wouldn't dare do such things without the backing of a stronger force. In fact, they weren't afraid of the mercenaries. You could hire another mercenary to deal with them, but there was no way to deal with the masterminds behind these events. The corrupt system, the thieving officials, the bribe-takers, the liars, and in a word, the bastards had bottled the people's blood. They were afraid of the officials whose share had been cut off.

Unlike him, Cyrus didn't care about these matters. He was a god, and a god meant absolute power. If someone had absolute power, they would never fear conspiracies. However, power brought loneliness, and loneliness brought madness; a person who was alone feared everyone, and this fear led to a bloodbath.

As Cyrus left the town, a group of soldiers stormed the inn.

What do people fear that makes them endure tyranny?

Suddenly, he remembered Lucian.

Why do people flee from oppression at all?

Cyrus stroked his horse's mane. He didn't understand people. But half of his being had wandered among mortals for years. Zou Fan, he had a better understanding of this world.

Fear!

His answer was just one word.

People feared death, and tyranny was death itself. The tyrant killed to avoid being killed. The sapling of tyranny was watered with the blood of brave people. People waited behind closed doors for a savior. Someone who would eradicate tyranny and restore freedom to them.

Their beliefs had given them the savior.

Without a promised savior, they would die in emptiness and fear. Without a savior, they would revolt. Rebellious people didn't need a savior. They became their own savior, and that meant the end of tyranny.

"Hahaha!!! What an interesting policy!!! The tyrant who taught the people anti-tyranny teachings considers eradicating tyranny the duty of a false prophesied savior… really interesting… really clever!!!"

Cyrus didn't want to play the role of a savior. The existence of a savior might destroy tyranny, but savior worshipers would always be enslaved. Those who saw freedom as dependent on a savior were not worth saving.

He spent that night at the foot of the mountain. The cool night breeze blew, and the dark night sky was filled with twinkling stars. A purple halo, like a raisin cake containing thousands of stars, was cylindrical beyond the scattered clouds.

Cyrus took a burning piece of wood and threw it into the dry grass. Soon, a large tree caught fire, and thick smoke filled the plain. Three groups of soldiers who were ambushed nearby became alert and immediately emerged from their hiding spots. However, they did not survive to report this to the city.

The flames got out of control.

The heat of the fire and the smell of smoke suffocated everyone.

Cyrus sheathed his sword and wrapped himself in the blanket of smoke, becoming part of it so that no one could recognize him.

"Ugh…"

A soldier fell to the ground.

"He's here…"

Three more fell.

A few moments later, Cyrus stood alone in the cloud of smoke, stretching his arms in all directions. Gradually, the sky turned to absolute darkness. Clouds appeared, and heavy rain began to fall. Cyrus didn't want the entire forest to burn, so he used a spell to create rainy weather.

Now he knew what he had to do; but he still hadn't solved the Whisperer problem. The runaway memories from his realm were wandering the earth; he had to address this issue immediately.

"What choice will you make, Cyrus?"

Ammonia's voice echoed in his head.

"Save the people or catch the Whisperer?"

Cyrus sheathed his sword. The rain created a thin veil between him and the bodies on the ground, as if separating them. The blood on his face mixed with the rainwater and dripped from his cheek. His clothes became heavier. White smoke rose from the burnt tree trunk. The air was now a bit more bearable.

He looked at the city.

Even the flames hadn't awakened the sleeping people.

A lightning bolt crawled across the clouds and shattered into thousands of pieces. The sound of its explosion was heard for miles. The rain intensified. Now the sound of the wild rain filled the air. It pounded on the tiled roofs and battered the brick walls.

He was sure the guards saw everything in the distance. But it was strange that the city's bell hadn't rung yet. He was thinking about this when suddenly the city's great bell rang.

More lights turned on.

Cyrus smirked and headed towards the mountain.