The Demon Lords

Blind Bei picked up his chopsticks and began to scoop up noodles.

"Why aren't you using your mental force?" Siniang asked curiously.

"Noodles picked up with mental force have no soul."

"Alright, alright, I can't outtalk you. My lord, please take your time eating. I'll bring some to them."

"Hey, don't leave. Is there garlic? It's only half as good eating noodles without garlic."

"Blind man, I remember you never had a penchant for this before."

"I suddenly feel like eating it."

"Wait here, I'll get you some."

Siniang promptly fetched a bowl of peeled garlic.

Zheng Fan and Blind Bei sat opposite each other. Zheng Fan was genuinely hungry, so he picked up his chopsticks and took several bites.

"My Lord, have some garlic."

Blind Bei picked up two cloves of garlic and passed them to Zheng Fan.

"I'm not used to it." Zheng Fan shook his head.

"You should at least try it."

Zheng Fan hesitated, then accepted the garlic. He put one clove in his mouth and began to chew.

"My lord, would you like another one?" Blind Bei offered another clove.

Zheng Fan shook his head, saying, "You eat it; I can't get used to this."

"I won't eat it; it would make my mouth smell."

Zheng Fan was speechless.

"Life is like this, my lord," Blind Bei continued. "You don't have to force yourself to get used to things you're not accustomed to, nor compel yourself to do things you don't want to, or feel burdened by any of it. Perhaps in your past life, your existence was too ordinary, burdened by too many expectations and pressures. But in this life, in this world, all that matters is being happy."

"I understand."

"Actually, I'm not worried about your ability to handle psychological stress. After all, you are the one who created characters like us."

"Are you praising me?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Okay."

"My lord, you can always share your feelings with someone, like me. This can help relieve your emotional stress significantly."

"I will."

"Hmm."

"By the way, we lost some men this time out."

"I had already counted them when you returned, my lord."

"Can we replenish them?"

"As for immediate combat power, it will be difficult to replenish quickly."

The original barbarian soldiers were all born in penal colonies and were skilled horsemen and archers. After some ideological education and being equipped with excellent armor, warhorses, and weapons, they became outstanding cavalrymen. However, securing a constant supply of such high-quality soldiers would clearly be a significant struggle for the current Green Willow Fortress.

"However, I believe our current priority is not to recruit more soldiers and purchase horses. Firstly, we have already done what was necessary. I am confident that Lord Jingnan now has a profound impression of you, my lord. It is no longer suitable for us to draw too much attention. Otherwise, we will cease to be seen as 'genuinely interesting' and instead become 'genuinely troublesome.' Moreover, it won't be long before large numbers of convicts from the Yan State are exiled to our borderlands. When that time comes, we will likely find ourselves with too many, rather than too few."

"Are you referring to the noble clans?"

"My lord, you are perceptive."

Once the Yan Emperor deems the time ripe and, in a coordinated display with the Earl of North Border, begins to move against the noble clans within the state, blood will undoubtedly flow among those families. Indeed, many will die, but killing all of them is impractical. Consequently, numerous families will be declared guilty and exiled. Waves of these convicts are destined to be sent to the southern border, becoming 'fuel' for the war against the Qian people. These convicts inherently possess high-level skills. Moreover, they harbor an intense desire to atone for their crimes through meritorious service, thereby freeing themselves and their families from the status of convicts.

Blind Bei set down his chopsticks, saying, "My lord, I need to go and discuss some details of the engineering drawings with the craftsmen. I will take my leave now, so as not to disturb your rest."

"Thank you for your hard work."

"My lord is too kind."

After Blind Bei left, Zheng Fan also set his chopsticks down and sat quietly for a moment.

Presently, he rose, rounded a corner, and walked towards the doorway of a very cramped room diagonally opposite. He pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Inside lay a coffin. What surprised Zheng Fan was the sight of an incense burner on the floor in front of it. The burner still contained some incense ash, and beside it, a bowl bore the faint red imprint of lips around its rim.

Zheng Fan walked over to the coffin and sat down with his back against it.

"I led troops into battle for the first time. I was a little nervous and a little excited. But you know, the Qian people are even more incompetent than I thought..."

Often, when you want to confide in someone, it's difficult to find the right person. You don't want to reveal your vulnerabilities or true emotions to others, yet you yearn to share them. It's a contradiction, and human beings are, by nature, creatures of contradiction.

Perhaps it was a habit formed during meals back in Mei Village—Zheng Fan felt Shatuo Queshi was an excellent confidant. He was dead, yet not entirely so; it seemed he could hear every word spoken, yet he would apparently never speak again.

Leaning against the coffin, Zheng Fan talked for a long time, rambling on about many people and various matters.

When he had talked himself out and grown weary, Zheng Fan heaved a long sigh. He figured that after a good night's sleep, he would wake up the next morning feeling completely refreshed.

He rose.

As Zheng Fan prepared to leave the room, he hesitated for a moment. Out of a sense of courtesy, he felt he should see Shatuo Queshi and bid him goodnight.

He reached out and pushed open the coffin lid. When Zheng Fan's gaze fell upon the interior, his entire expression instantly darkened:

"Why are you in here?"

Lying in the coffin was A Ming, impeccably dressed in a formal nightshirt, with a red paper flower, fashioned into the shape of a rose, resting on his chest.

The air suddenly went silent, and the atmosphere became awkward.

The sensation was akin to entering a confessional to pour out your deepest secrets to the priest, only to discover that the person listening in the shadowy booth was your own father.

"My Lord, I also sleep in a coffin," A Ming began to explain.

Zheng Fan just looked at A Ming, saying nothing.

"My lord, you entered the wrong room. Shatuo Queshi is next door."

"Why didn't you say something at first?"

A Ming tapped the side of the coffin, saying somewhat helplessly, "This blasted soundproofing."

"Oh."

"My lord, I actually just woke up."

"It's okay, I believe you."

"My lord, you are wise."

"Starting tomorrow, accompany me in archery practice."

"It would be my honor. I am indeed familiar with some Western fencing techniques."

"It's archery."

"Hmm?"

A Ming suddenly felt a sense of foreboding.

"I asked those barbarian soldiers who are good at archery. They said using live targets is the most effective way to practice."

"I understand, my lord. Tomorrow, I shall go and capture some animals for you to..."

"I'm a soft-hearted person. The small animals are too pitiful; I couldn't bring myself to do it."

A Ming: "..."