Lin Gui went downstairs.
His boots stepped on the wooden stairs, making a "creak, creak" sound.
Not fast, not slow.
Elvia followed behind.
She had changed into a clean set of clothes, and her hair had been re-tied.
However, a hint of a flush still lingered on her face.
She followed behind Lin Gui with very light footsteps.
Like a wary cat.
Lin Gui walked to the entrance and pulled back the latch.
A squad of knights stood outside.
They wore standard-issue armor with an emblem of a spread-winged eagle on their chest.
They were not knights of the Dalton family.
They were... the City Lord's private guards.
Lin Gui had seen this style of armor in the noble district while handling the deed procedures.
The leading knight was tall. His chin was tilted up slightly as his gaze swept over Lin Gui.
He did not linger.
It was as if he were looking at a servant.
Elvia stood in the shadows of the stairwell, shrinking her body back slightly.
Her hands gripped her skirt.
She was no longer some Seventh Princess of the Carter Kingdom.
She was now a rebel associated with the remnants of the Spark.
With the knights blocking the door so early in the morning... maybe I should hide.
Elvia's foot, which had been stepping down the stairs, retracted.
On the other side, Lin Gui stood in the doorway, scanning the pattern of the armor before him.
Then he spoke, his voice flat.
"Is there something I can help you with?"
The leading knight did not look at him.
His gaze passed over Lin Gui's shoulder, scanning the interior of the post office.
It was as if he were looking for someone.
Only then did he speak slowly, his tone carrying a condescending casualness.
"The Lord City Lord wishes to invite the true master of this post office..."
"The Legendary mage who swept away the scum of the Hyena's Fang for Whitecliff City."
"To head to the execution grounds together."
He paused.
"To witness the fire trial of the hundred captured last night..."
"Rebels who attempted to endanger the security of the city-state."
His tone was flat, but his expression was extremely arrogant.
He was so arrogant that he looked down on Lin Gui with his head tilted back, peering through his nostrils.
Lin Gui looked at his haughty face without expression.
However, the word "rebels" caught his attention.
He thought back to last night, to the person who had handed him the flyer.
He knew that person was likely someone lurking in the city who wanted to resist.
But he hadn't expected them to be caught in just one night.
Lin Gui's gaze shifted to the space behind the knights.
On the main street, prisoner carts were slowly passing by.
They were iron cages with wooden wheels.
As they rolled over the stone road, they made a "clank, clank" sound.
Each cart was packed with people.
Men, women, the elderly.
Their clothes were tattered, and their faces were covered in wounds.
Some were crying, some were shouting, and some were lowering their heads in silence.
But those cries were hoarse and muddled.
It was as if something had been stuffed into their throats.
Lin Gui's gaze swept over their faces.
He saw several familiar faces.
They were the refugees who had hunkered down at the door of the labor center waiting for work.
They were the poor people living in shanties who couldn't even afford black bread.
There were even some customers who had come to the post office to mail letters.
On both sides of the prisoner carts, crowds of onlookers surrounded them.
They squeezed along the sides of the street, standing on their tiptoes to look in.
Some were discussing it, their voices hushed.
"I heard they were going to revolt..."
"Heavens, that's Molder. He's such a good person, how could he..."
"It's them, sigh, how could it be them?"
"Those damned nobles..."
"Sigh..."
Some sighed, some shook their heads, and some watched with expressionless faces.
Some of those in the carts had already given up struggling.
Leaning against the iron bars, their eyes were hollow.
Others were still desperately reaching their hands out of the cages as if pleading for help.
But no one reached out.
No one dared to reach out.
Lin Gui withdrew his gaze.
He looked at the haughty knight in front of him and said flatly.
"I will relay the message to my captain."
He paused.
"But with his personality, he probably won't be willing to waste his time watching some rebel execution."
His tone was very calm.
"Of course, if the City Lord has anything to say to my captain..."
"I can relay it for him."
The knight's expression darkened.
He lowered his head, looking at Lin Gui directly for the first time.
A hint of coldness dwelled in his eyes.
"Are you rejecting on behalf of your captain?"
Lin Gui did not answer; he just looked at him.
The knight looked at Lin Gui with ill intent—this man who was only a High-tier High Rank and was likely just an errand boy for a transport team.
He shouldn't have such an attitude when facing a noble Transcendent knight, and he certainly shouldn't respond over his own master.
An invisible pressure spread from him.
It was the pressure of the Transcendent Rank.
It was like a stone pressing down on Lin Gui's shoulders.
A few nearby passersby were forced back several steps by this aura.
Their faces turned pale.
But Lin Gui did not move.
He didn't even blink.
Then...
He took a step forward.
That step was very light. His boot landed on the stone, making a soft "thud."
However, amidst that pressure, this sound was exceptionally clear.
A cold aura carrying the scent of blood rose from Lin Gui's body.
It was killing intent.
Not thick, not heavy.
But it was pure.
Like an extremely fine blade held against the throat.
Lin Gui looked the knight in the eye, his voice very soft.
"If you want to die..."
"You are more than welcome to try."
He paused.
"Is it because you've stayed in this tiny broken city-state for too long..."
"That you think you, a mere City Lord's lackey..."
"Can put on airs before a member of a transport team led by a Mid-tier Legendary mage?"
"I am only a High Rank, true, but the relationship within a transport team is not something a servant-master relationship like yours and the City Lord's can compare to."
"If my comrade decided to kill you, do you think your master would seek justice for you?"
"No. He would say 'good riddance' in order to gain the friendship of a Legendary mage."
His voice wasn't loud.
But every word was like a nail driven into the knight's ears.
The knight's pupils shrank slightly.
That pressure was cut off as if by something.
His hand pressed against the hilt of his sword, his knuckles turning white.
But he did not draw it.
He stared at Lin Gui for a long time.
Then... he retreated.
He didn't turn to leave; he retreated.
He took a step back.
His hand relaxed from the sword hilt.
The haughtiness on his face turned into a sort of inexplicable stiffness.
He opened his mouth, wanting to say something.
But in the end, he said nothing.
He simply stepped to the side, clearing the path.
The knights behind him followed suit.
Lin Gui looked at them and finally said coldly.
"Get lost."
The knights' faces were ashen, but none of them dared to erupt.
They turned and left quickly.
Their iron boots stepped on the stone road, producing rapid "clatter, clatter" sounds.
Lin Gui stood in the doorway, watching their retreating backs.
There was no expression in his black eyes.
Behind him, Elvia walked out from the shadows of the stairwell.
She looked at Lin Gui's back with a complex gaze.
She had seen that entire scene from start to finish.
That killing intent, that aura, and that ruthless "get lost"...
She couldn't help but sigh.
"Your acting is getting better and better."
Lin Gui did not look back.
Elvia walked to his side and asked in a hushed voice.
"Don't tell me... there really is a transport team that fought its way up from the bottom?"
Lin Gui closed the door, turned around to look at her, and admitted bluntly.
"No."
"I made that up."
Elvia's mouth twitched.
She took a deep breath.
"Every transport team can be looked up in the Transport Guild."
"Aren't you afraid they'll check you at the guild?"
Lin Gui said flatly.
"I didn't give them the name of the fictional transport team."
"Nor did I reveal any related information."
"Even if they check, it will take time."
He paused.
"And..."
"Even if they find out, they won't do anything to me."
Elvia frowned.
"Why?"
Lin Gui looked at her, his black eyes devoid of ripples.
"Because while the transport team might be fake..."
"The fact that a Mid-tier Transcendent and two Low-tier Transcendent members of a Gold Rank adventure group were killed in an instant... is real."
"That is something even their strongest Knight Commander cannot achieve."
"Based on the traces I left at the scene, their conservative estimate would be that I'm at the Legendary rank."
His voice was very calm.
"And Whitecliff City does not have a Legendary rank."
"If we really have a falling out..."
"I'll just head to the castle at night, knock that City Lord out with a brick..."
"And feed him to the demons."
Elvia stared at him for several seconds.
Then she let out a sigh.
"You're ruthless."
Lin Gui didn't reply.
He pulled open the door and walked out.
Elvia followed him.
"Where are we going?"
"To have a look."
Lin Gui followed the direction of the crowd.
Elvia followed behind him without asking further.
The execution grounds were in the large central square of the city.
Normally, it was a market where people selling vegetables, cloth, and ironware all crowded together.
Today, the stalls had been completely cleared away.
Rows of wooden stakes had been erected in the center of the square.
They were thick and tall, with people tied to them.
Hundreds of people.
Men, women, the elderly.
Their clothes were tattered, and their faces were covered in wounds.
Some lowered their heads, their hair covering their faces.
Some tilted their heads back, eyes staring at the sky. Their lips were moving, but they made no sound.
Others were struggling desperately, the ropes digging into their flesh while blood flowed down their arms.
Piles of firewood were at the base of the stakes.
Dry branches and split logs were stacked layer upon layer, quite high.
A high platform had been built on the northern side of the square.
Tables and chairs were set on the platform, covered in red velvet cloth.
City Lord Adams sat right in the center.
He wore a gorgeous brocade robe and was paunchy; his stomach made his belt look taut.
He wore several rings on his fingers—gold, gems—which sparkled in the sunlight.
He held a wine glass and was talking to the person beside him.
His smile was very broad, and his eyes were narrowed into slits.
Several nobles sat beside him, both men and women.
The men were dressed meticulously, while the women were elaborately adorned.
They were laughing, talking, and clinking glasses.
It was as if they were attending a banquet.
Rather than watching hundreds of people about to be burned alive.
Below the high platform, commoners who had been forced to watch were packed together.
Their clothes were old and worn, and their faces were full of exhaustion.
Some lowered their heads, not daring to look at the platform.
Some stared at those tied to the stakes with hollow eyes.
Some were shivering, their lips pale.
No one spoke.
No one dared to speak.
Lin Gui squeezed into the middle of the crowd.
He wasn't particularly tall, and the people around him obscured much of his view.
He didn't look at those nobles.
He looked at those tied to the wooden stakes.
He had seen some of those people.
They had queued at the post office yesterday to mail letters.
Some had even spoken to him, chatting for a few words.
Asking him, "Mage Lord, can this letter really be delivered?"
He had said "Yes" at the time.
Now, those people were tied to wooden stakes.
Their mouths were open, roaring.
But no sound came out.
Their vocal cords had been destroyed.
They could only gape, cry, and stare with wide eyes.
Some were furious.
With red eyes and gritted teeth, they struggled desperately.
The ropes dug into their flesh, and blood flowed down.
He was cursing someone.
Perhaps it was those nobles laughing on the platform.
Perhaps it was the expressionless onlookers.
Or perhaps someone specific.
But no one could hear him.
More people were crying.
Crying silently.
Tears welled up in their eyes and flowed down their cheeks.
Dripping onto their clothes, dripping onto the firewood.
More and more people flocked over to watch.
Not to watch for fun.
They were driven here by the Defense Force.
They stood at the edge of the square, huddled together.
Some turned their faces away, not daring to look.
Some lowered their heads, staring at their toes.
Some were expressionless, like stone statues.
No one spoke.
The square was very quiet.
There was only the rustling of the wind blowing through the piles of firewood.
And the muddled, hoarse "ah, ah" sounds from those tied to the stakes.
On the platform, an Inquisitor stood up.
He wore a black robe and held a scroll of parchment in his hand.
Clearing his throat, he began to read.
His voice was very loud, carrying across the entire square.
"Upon investigation, Edgar Morton, Grace White, Tom Watt..."
He read a long list of names.
"Colluded with the remnants of the Spark, planned a rebellion, attempted to subvert the order of the city-state, and endangered city-state security."
"The evidence is conclusive and irrefutable."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over those tied to the stakes.
"Do you have any objections?"
No one answered.
Those tied to the stakes had their mouths open.
They could only produce muddled "ah, ah" sounds.
Their vocal cords had been destroyed.
How could they speak?
The commoners below remained silent.
No one spoke.
No one looked up.
No one looked at those tied to the wooden stakes.
They only lowered their heads, staring at the ground.
As if something on the ground was more important than those living people.
The Inquisitor waited for a moment.
Then he tucked away the parchment and said coldly.
"Since there are no objections..."
"This official hereby announces..."
"The aforementioned individuals are sentenced to..."
"Trial by fire."
"To be executed immediately."
The nobles on the platform began to laugh.
Someone raised a glass and clinked it.
Someone said something that caused several others to burst out laughing.
They looked at those tied to the wooden stakes.
At those crying, roaring, and struggling people.
At the fear of the commoners watching below.
It was as if they were watching a performance.
A performance prepared specifically for them.
The commoners below, urged by the Defense Force, began to move forward.
One person, two people, ten people, a hundred people.
With lowered heads, they walked to the firewood piles.
They bent down, picked up the logs from the ground.
Then they threw the wood at the feet of those who were tied up.
The logs landed on the firewood piles with a "thud."
One after another.
"Thud."
"Thud."
"Thud."
Like some kind of metronome.
No one looked up.
No one looked into the eyes of those who were tied up.
They only mechanically bent down, picked up the logs, and threw them.
Then they turned and walked back.
Bent down again, picked again, threw again.
Logs were thrown on one by one, piling higher and higher.
Rate on N.U.
