Beauty Hidden Beneath the Statue (2)

Whether by the common knowledge of the Battle God world or Du Chen’s own impressions, Headmaster Zigurd was, just as the rumors claimed, a righteous old man. His captive ought to be a villain, perhaps even a veritable fiendess!

But if that lass truly were an evildoer, why would the Precious Lotus Scripture still prompt him to save her? Rescuing a wicked person was certainly no good deed; this was basic moral common sense. Du Chen also trusted that the Scripture wouldn’t compel him to rescue an evildoer, thereby inviting greater calamity.

Yet, the Precious Lotus Scripture could not be wrong!

Du Chen’s mind churned with a chaotic knot of thoughts.

"Indeed, many are silenced for uncovering secrets! But I will not stoop to such acts, the preserve of mere politicians!"

Zigurd gazed at the Shieb, speaking in a measured tone. "Your nose is keen, and that is no fault. Discovering the fiendess's whereabouts is certainly no sin! However, because of the two brothers of the Saint Sigurd Cain family, many have already witnessed that fiendess entering the city. I cannot allow any more people to learn that she is imprisoned within the Lord's Manor! Can you keep this a secret?"

"Yes!" the Shieb cried out.

Norton's brow furrowed. "Your Excellency, he is a Shieb! He cannot be trusted!"

"What of it, if he is a Shieb? He has committed no wrong; he cannot be punished simply for his identity as a Shieb!"

"But what if this Shieb leaks the information...?" Norton grew anxious, but then he instantly recalled Harry's other identity and hastily added, "Your Excellency, this Shieb is also a brigand, a captive of the two young masters!"

"Oh? A brigand, you say? Then, by the Holy Church's Code, his fate is to be decided by his captor. Francis, this Shieb is your property; I must consult your opinion on how to deal with him!"

With that, Zigurd turned his gaze to Du Chen.

Harry crawled before Du Chen, embracing his legs and weeping, "Merciful Young Master, benevolent Lord, I beg you, forgive your humble servant, Harry! Believe me, a Shieb can be useful to you, and I will never betray you!"

Should he save him, or not?

Harry's nose was undeniably too useful, a living radar for the Battle God world. Yet, the Shiebs' reputation as a race of betrayers sent shivers down one's spine. After a moment of contemplation, Du Chen made up his mind: save him, but guard against him when using him in the future, never allowing him access to classified matters!

Du Chen wouldn't act rashly, but that didn't mean he shied from risk. Great rewards often stemmed from great risks! And what was Harry, a mere Shieb, anyway? A wretch who could be crushed with a single finger, at worst, a dog that might bite its master!

"Headmaster Zigurd, Uncle Norton," Du Chen began, "I wish to take this Shieb as my thrall. However, he now knows things he shouldn't. I propose he be temporarily imprisoned, to be released only after the Headmaster's affairs are concluded! This way, he won't be able to leak any secrets!" As he spoke, Du Chen tugged at Steve's sleeve, and the two brothers bowed in unison. "Of course, though we do not know the woman's identity, we too shall uphold secrecy, by the honor of our ancestor, Sigurd!"

"That is indeed a viable solution!" Zigurd nodded with a faint smile, then added, "City Lord Norton, this Shieb has reminded me of something. I wish for you to immediately seek out substances capable of masking scent, to conceal her unique fragrance!"

Clad in his robes, Norton thumped his right fist against his chest in a military salute, declaring gravely, "At once, Your Excellency! Seablue Grass can disrupt the sense of smell in almost all creatures! I shall see to it immediately!"

A chuckle escaped Zigurd. "Hmph, do not say 'At once' to me; I am not your superior! Very well, let us conclude for today. I require rest."

After speaking merely these few short sentences, a weariness once again etched itself onto Zigurd's face. It seemed his injuries were still quite severe.

Norton arranged for the two brothers to stay in a secluded courtyard. After settling the trivialities of tomorrow's disaster relief efforts, he departed to carry out his duties. Poor Harry was led away by soldiers to be imprisoned, while Steve, after settling the mercenaries' pay, vanished. From his lecherous grin as he departed, Du Chen knew well that the ladies of Antwerp Port were in for a "struggle."

Throughout the entire night, Du Chen pondered whether he should rescue the fiendess. Judging by the persistent tingling sensation in his backside, saving her would undoubtedly be a tremendous good deed. But the question was, could Du Chen even manage it? What kind of defenses would a prisoner in the Lord's Manor have? Could someone of his caliber, merely a Two-Star Fighter, possibly rescue her?

To attempt a rescue in his current state would be nothing short of rash bravado, so Du Chen temporarily set this thought aside.

The next day, Steve and Du Chen, escorting the disaster relief funds, headed towards the disaster-stricken eastern district of the city under the protection of Norton and his soldiers.

The eastern side of Antwerp Port was starkly different from the western side from which Du Chen and his companions had arrived. Twenty li outside the city, the yellow earth beneath their feet began to appear mired and treacherous, as if recently scoured by a great flood. Du Chen, riding beside Norton, inquired, "Uncle, how severe is this flood disaster?"

"Very severe," Norton sighed. "There are at least a hundred thousand displaced citizens along the Newin River, most of whom I've settled in the open grounds ahead. Alas, the Imperial Ministry of Finance is stretched thin these days; the relief funds are far too meager!"

Du Chen silently calculated. Even with a hundred thousand refugees, if his relief funds were distributed equally, each person would receive a mere few silver coins—equivalent to a few hundred yuan in his previous life—utterly insufficient to truly alleviate the plight of the refugees. A sigh escaped Du Chen as he considered this.

After another dozen li of travel, the refugee camp unfolded before Du Chen's eyes. Seeing the scene, his heart lurched. A hundred thousand refugees; the camp, formed entirely of military tents, stretched for over ten li. Every li or so, several enormous cooking hearths stood. Before each, gaunt, tattered refugees queued to receive hard, black bread. Within the camp, whether faltering old folk, disheveled, grimy adults, or even children old enough to understand, all wore expressions of utter bewilderment. Besides the cries of infants and the shouts of soldiers, the vast camp remained eerily silent. The entire refugee camp was steeped in an atmosphere of near-despair, a deathly silence.

Norton spurred his horse forward, ordering the camp's soldiers to gather a portion of the refugees, then he boomed, "Listen, everyone! The two young masters from the Imperial Capital's Saint Sigurd Cain family have come to deliver aid!"

A ripple of life stirred within the refugee camp. People turned their gaze towards Du Chen and Steve, following Norton's directive. Yet, their eyes still held nothing but despair. Relief? The Imperial government itself could barely spare any funds. What could two young masters possibly offer?

The refugees' nearly numb reaction left Norton visibly discomfited. He beckoned to the two brothers. "Perhaps you two should say a few words!"

Steve nudged Du Chen, muttering, "The Charitable Foundation is yours; you speak!" With that, he gave a slap to the rump of Du Chen's mount.

Du Chen spurred his horse forward, scanning the refugees' indifferent responses, a sigh escaping his lips. Then, abruptly, he bellowed, "DO YOU WISH TO DIE!?"