The Bait

Porter and Du Chen emerged from the Lord's Manor, each carrying a stack of dossiers.

The Lord's Manor was situated in the heart of Newin Port. In front of it lay a vast, open plaza, now densely packed with no less than ten thousand people. Under the joint organization of the Holy Church and the port's guards, they had gathered, all awaiting their Lord's first address since his return to the city.

"The Lord has appeared! Look, the Lord has appeared!" As Du Chen stepped out from the manor, the carpet beneath his feet emitted a faint, almost imperceptible glow. He ascended the already prepared podium, standing over ten meters high. The common folk's emotions immediately soared.

"The benevolent and wise Lord Francis! Praise be to the Lord!" Someone's strained voice pierced the air, and instantly, a chorus of "Praise the Lord!" erupted, wave after wave, unstoppable. The moment Du Chen opened his mouth to greet them, the commoners became intensely agitated. Most were flushed with excitement, and a few even began to wildly wave their arms and cheer, their expressions fervent!

Seeing this spectacle, Du Chen's heart gave a sudden tremor. What was happening? How could he possess such immense charismatic appeal!?

Looking back at the podium, a subtle mist emanated silently, its splendor understated yet solemn. The spot where he stood shone even brighter, allowing the commoners below to only vaguely discern his figure…

Porter, standing beside Du Chen, chuckled softly. "The Holy Church's Spiritual Power experts have already embedded numerous small spiritual sacred artifacts nearby, to help you stir and inflame emotions. We've also placed people among the commoners to assist you, and this podium itself is custom-made. As long as you utter a few words that can move the commoners, these measures guarantee your speech's impact will multiply tenfold, even a hundredfold, thereby enhancing the effect of pacifying the people's hearts by ten or a hundred times… These are the Holy Church's specialties!"

Du Chen scoffed inwardly. "Indeed, specialists in their fields!" he thought. But this was good too; being vaguely seen certainly saved him a lot of unnecessary trouble. He stretched his hands out flat, signaling for quiet, and slowly began, "As everyone knows, our Newin River basin has been a land fraught with disasters…"

In a tall building on the outskirts of the plaza, several individuals dressed as clerics whispered to each other, relaying orders. "Quick, we need to evoke sorrowful emotions now! Start immediately, in coordination with His Eminence, the White-Robed Archbishop!"

Before long, faint sobs began to ripple through the common folk.

At the edge of the plaza, however, the dense crowd seemed somewhat sparse, for here gathered a large group of no fewer than a hundred beggars. The air was thick with an unpleasant stench, naturally making people unwilling to approach them. And with the Lord delivering his speech just ahead, even the guards paid no mind to these beggars, meaning no one dared to drive them away!

This group of beggars, like everyone else, was emotionally stirred by Du Chen's inherently charismatic speech and the Holy Church's special measures. Yet, among them, a small beggar boy, paralyzed and seated on a makeshift cart, propelling himself forward with his hands on the wheels, stared resentfully at the podium. Though shrouded in a shimmering mist, the Lord's figure was completely indistinguishable.

"Damn you, Francis, you… you utterly bastard! You're a scoundrel! A complete scoundrel! Gods, those wretched beggars made me, Cassian, the Crown Prince, impersonate an old man's grandson, a quadriplegic child at that! Begging in the streets with utter ignominy! This is all your fault!!"

But what was Senior Brother saying? Why did even he feel like crying upon hearing it? No, I, Cassian, know Francis's true colors; he's a thorough scoundrel! His words are all lies!

"Gods, did you hear that? The Lord plans to build a dam upstream on the Newin River to control floods! Even we beggars can sign up as laborers!" A one-armed beggar in his fifties beside Cassian roared excitedly, his sole remaining hand slapping Cassian hard on the back. He grinned, "Heh, crippled beggars like us can also go to the construction site, help distribute food, do simple tasks. Haha, I tell you, Little Basang, you won't have to worry about starving to death anymore!"

"Little Basang" was a Southern Lanning slang, specifically referring to a contemptible and annoying little brat!

And now, it was the name the beggars had given Cassian! Because this little brat was truly annoying, yet the kind-hearted beggars couldn't bear to completely ignore the pathetic child.

Cassian forcefully pushed away the large hand on his shoulder, his lips trembling as he pointed towards the podium, yet he couldn't utter a single word!

"Ha, Little Basang, you're not still fantasizing about being some kingdom's Crown Prince, are you? Enough. There are at least a thousand 'Little Basangs' dreaming such dreams every day. You'd better just honestly follow Uncle Feli here to beg for food!" Feli recalled the scene not long ago when a ragged Cassian, using his finger, had written in the mud that he was a Crown Prince. His laughter grew louder.

Back then, a few companions had brought Little Basang back to their rundown shack built of rubble. The kid was unruly, throwing tantrums, so Feli had disciplined him. But seeing that he was also crippled and truly pitiful, he let him stay. "Heh, who knew this kid was literate, could write in the dirt. Good thing I learned to read and write for two years with the captain in the barracks before I became crippled, otherwise, this kid really would have looked down on me."

"Hmph hmph, even a 'Little Basang' with the biggest temper has been mostly tamed by me, right? At least, the kid can beg for food now!"

Feli looked triumphantly at Cassian!

But Cassian's heart was slowly sinking, sinking, all the way to rock bottom…

Gods, his home was on another continent far away. No one here knew him except Francis. If Francis truly hardened his heart and abandoned him, wouldn't he really be a crippled, mute beggar for life?

That's it! No wonder someone had suddenly forced a large dose of "antidote" into his mouth a few days ago, implying he wouldn't need to take it for another six months. Now, it seemed Senior Brother was clearly indicating he wouldn't care for him for at least half a year! Or perhaps even longer!?

Cassian was still just a child, after all. He couldn't think too much, fixating on the idea of being a beggar for life. The more he thought, the more terrified he became. Before long, his small face turned deathly pale, filled with panic…

A beggar for life. It's over, I'm completely finished!

I… I don't want to huddle in a freezing cold corner, gnawing on black bread on a night of pouring rain. I… I don't want to squat on the street, calling out "Noble sir, beautiful madam" to everyone for a paltry one or two copper coins… Uncle Feli said that in winter, if we can't find warmth, we might even freeze to death!

As he thought this, Cassian's stomach, which hadn't been full in days, rumbled "gurgle-gurgle" once more.

"Before, the three uncles back home told me that beggars and vagrants were the lowest and most despicable! To deal with them, you used a whip. They were the kingdom's shame, deserving no pity… But now I *am* a beggar. Damn it, will Senior Brother's soldiers whip me!?" Cassian asked himself inwardly, then reassured himself, "Damn it, those three uncles lied! Who says beggars are the most despicable? At least Uncle Feli is a good person. He's a bit fierce, but his heart is truly kind. Yesterday, he gave me half a piece of bread he'd gotten, and he went hungry all night!"

"Damn it, I think I used to beat a lot of beggars like Uncle Feli. Did I hit the wrong people? It must have been a mistake; I was tricked by those three bastards! Those three scoundrels, just like Francis!"

If Du Chen, standing on the podium, knew Cassian's thoughts, he might have smiled with satisfaction. This utter rascal of a kid actually learned to admit his mistakes!? Not bad!

But Du Chen was currently busy with his speech, and the people of Newin below were being collectively stirred by him and the Holy Church's operatives, fluctuating between joy and sorrow, yet filled with hope.

Just as Du Chen reached a poignant part of his speech, suddenly, a voice imbued with battle qi rang out from the crowd below. Over ten thousand people heard it clearly, "Well said, Francis, my friend! You truly compel me to praise you! Oh, please, may I pass through? I am Divine Grant Earl Brockman, His Excellency Francis's dearest friend!"

Brockman, alone, ascended the podium with Du Chen's permission. Standing shoulder to shoulder with Du Chen, he explained his actions: "I truly apologize, but I simply couldn't restrain myself, Francis, my friend. These past few days, I have personally witnessed the tragic state of Newin Port, and my heart could not bear it. And you, my dearest friend, have aided me numerous times. If I were to make no gesture now, I would truly be unworthy of the noble title bestowed upon me by my ancestors!"

From his belt, he produced several scrolls. "Please allow me to contribute a humble sum of aid to your territory. Here are notes for three thousand Gold Coins, to help the commoners here rebuild their homes!" He handed the scrolls to Du Chen; they were indeed notes fully redeemable for three thousand Gold Coins.

The crowd below erupted in an uproar, and the commoners' gazes towards Brockman immediately shifted.

What was Brockman trying to do? Du Chen was utterly astonished. But one thing was certain: Brockman definitely had an agenda, and his actions were spurred by Du Chen himself. Therefore, Du Chen would also share in the merit of these charitable donations! "I'll accept them first and think later!" Besides, with all the commoners watching, he couldn't refuse donations ostensibly given to the people of Newin!

"I am most grateful to you, Divine Grant Earl! My dearest friend, on behalf of the three hundred thousand people along the Newin River, I thank your benevolence!" Du Chen expressed his thanks repeatedly, thinking, "This absolute sucker, he dug into his own pockets before I even had to make a move. This time, I'll make an exception and *not* strip you bare!"

"My friend, you are too kind!" Brockman's smile was elegant and humble, yet in his mind, he mused, "Poor little friend, you're still so gullible. I'll make an exception this time and *not* exploit you. I merely want to use the setting of your speech to introduce myself to everyone in the port. That way, my brother will surely see me appear and will undoubtedly rush over without hesitation… Otherwise, if I had to search for him or simply wait at my residence, how exhausting would that be!"

"My brainless brother, who only knows how to kill and burn, should appear soon!"

"Heh heh, if Adams were to burst onto this podium right now, that would be even better. Francis would surely help! This time, I'm using myself as bait. My brother shouldn't know my current identity, and the half of the Star of Turaam in my possession has already been entrusted to Tendon-Severing for safekeeping, not exposed. So, even if a chaotic battle breaks out, I can completely find an excuse to mislead Francis! My adorable little friend!"

"And if the Star of Turaam falls into Francis's hands during the chaos? Heh, that's easy too. What do I do, after all!? Haha!"

"Just three thousand Gold Coins, buying me this setting and deepening our 'friendship' along the way – it's practically a steal!"

Meanwhile, on the outskirts of the plaza, in a hidden attic, the *other* Brockman – Adams – clenched his fist. "Damn it, I'm going to kill Brockman!"