I Can See Your Combat Power

: Chapter Four Hundred Eighty-Two: Plea

Tang Luo turned around, looking puzzled at the man who scolded him loudly. The man, who looked like a middle-aged scholar, was dressed in a neatly tidied dark cyan robe, a far cry from the rags usually worn by common people. NôvelDrama.Org © content.

It was evident that this was a fairly respected individual, and his words stirred up commotion among the crowd.

Seeing Tang Luo turn towards him, the middle-aged man put his hands behind his back and loudly said, “Since we heeded the Chosen One’s advice and took refuge in Red Cloud Mountain, the Chosen One should be responsible for us. But two full months have passed, and you have not shown your face, let alone distributed any resources, leaving us to fend for ourselves. The harsh winter is upon us, the people lack adequate clothing and food, have no roof over their heads, and now plague is rampant. We thought the appearance of the Chosen One was a sign of a saviour, but you not only fail to provide any help, you even sent street thugs to force free citizens into servitude! Master Luo, do you think you deserve the praise of the people of Xiling, the title of ‘Savior of Thousands of Families’!?”

His voice, amplified by spiritual power, covered hundreds of meters, causing an uproar within the crowd. Many of the populace seemed instantly convinced by the scholar, chiming in with their comments.

“Yes, Chosen One, save us, we’ve run out of food and can’t go on.”

“Please, Chosen One, give us some meds, my daughter has been vomiting and having diarrhea for two or three days, she’s only five, please show mercy.”

Suddenly, the previously quiet crowd began to make noise once again. Everyone turned to Tang Luo to plead for help, asking for food, medicine, bedding, and shelter.

From dozens to hundreds of people, the cry for help began to swell. Observing the noisy crowd, Tang Luo’s brows furrowed in frustration.

The middle-aged man felt a surge of power from the excited crowd behind him. Pointing at Tang Luo, he proclaimed loudly, “Listen! The plight of the people is solely due to your indifference. If you have any conscience left, provide food and medicine, suppress the plague, and feed the victims!”

“Suppress the plague, feed the victims!”

“Suppress the plague, feed the victims!!”

The mantra caught on like magic; the people began to repeat it loudly, as if doing so would provide them with medicine and food.

Tang Luo listened to the crowd’s unified slogan, and looked at the smug middle-aged man, feeling both annoyed and amused.

In his philosophy of life, helping the weak held a relatively high position.

Why would he sympathize with the weak? Because in them, Tang Luo saw a reflection of his once powerless self.

Therefore, he was empathetic towards the suffering of the common folk, understood the hardships of the young warriors in the Martial Hall, and even showed concern for the servants at home.

But this empathy would only appear when facing true weaklings.

What qualified as a true weakling? In Tang Luo’s eyes, true weaklings had a basic understanding of their plight and cherished the help of others, expressing gratitude. They weren’t those pseudo-weaklings who used moral coercion to pressure the strong into providing more assistance.

These “pseudo-weaklings” were characterized by their self-centered demands for more help, with no hint of gratitude, behaving as though everything was their due.

Among the tens of thousands gathered at the Du Clan’s land, the majority were truly needy, incapable of facing this natural disaster on their own. Hence, Tang Luo’s current actions were for their benefit. But within the crowd, there were those who were not as weak.

Like the scholar in front of him who, despite his pretensions, was actually a peak Transcendent cultivator. He was stirring up the crowd because he didn’t want to give up his freedom. Those who supported him earliest were mostly “refugees” with some level of cultivation.

These people were exploiting the desperation of the refugees to pressure Tang Luo. The roar of tens of thousands, like a sledgehammer, struck at the hearts of the people on the Du Clan’s land.

But after over a decade of martial arts training, Tang Luo was not about to back down. With the Undying Battle Body activated once more, a giant figure appeared on the ground. He knelt down quietly and allowed the amazed crowd to continue shouting their slogans. His gaze remained tranquil, unfazed by the commotion.

He wanted to see how long they would waste on this foolish act, and how many believed they could force him into submission with their chants.

Even seated cross-legged, this giant seemed as tall as a building. Even from a distance, people could clearly see his face, which strongly resembled Tang Luo’s – expressionless and cold.

The sight of the giant’s face caused a hitch in the crowd’s rhythm. The previously unified chanting suddenly fell silent and then steadily weakened. Even the most oblivious commoners fell silent as others around them tugged at their sleeves.

The middle-aged man watched as Tang Luo, merely by sitting down, quelled the crowd’s excitement. His heart raced as he quickly formulated a new tactic. However, just as he was about to speak, the giant’s voice rang out.

“Since you’ve stopped chanting, I’ll repeat myself.” The silver giant, despite sitting cross-legged, towered three meters high. His amplified vision allowed him to see to the very end of the crowd. In a cold voice, he said, “Become my followers, and you will receive food, medicine, and shelter, free from hunger and cold. Have I made myself clear?”

As a mature man who had already undergone his coming-of-age ceremony, he needed to establish his own local power. Unlike most young lords who picked their followers carefully, he planned to recruit all 1.6 million free citizens under his command.

For most people, being under the command of a powerful lord was far preferable to being a free citizen, especially when that lord was widely known as the Chosen One of Xiling. But in the logic of the weak, the idea of losing their freedom and becoming servants was intolerable, even if their current living conditions were worse than those of clan servants.

“Those willing, tie a piece of cloth around your forehead and wait here. Those unwilling to become my followers, leave.” The giant spoke coldly. “Now, choose!”

The crowd turned to each other, lowering their heads in resignation. For the majority of the ragged disaster victims, their clothes were tattered. To signify their acceptance, all they needed to do was tear a piece off and tie it around their forehead.

For a moment, the sound of cloth tearing filled the air, and many among the crowd now had strips of cloth tied around their heads. Upon hearing this, the middle-aged man’s heart filled with anger. Trying to suppress the crowd accepting Tang Luo’s offer, he shouted, “Hold on! As soon as you tie this cloth, you become Tang Luo’s property, never to see freedom again. Even if you survive today, your children and grandchildren will be enslaved.. Can you truly accept this!?”