Chapter Fifty-One: Triumph

Lang Sheng continued to fight for a while longer. Noticing that many of his subordinates were growing weary, he ordered them back to camp to rest in shifts, while he himself pressed on relentlessly.

In the darkness, a temporary camp had been set up in the distance, its flickering bonfire illuminating seven or eight bronze-armored figures who had just returned. They gathered around the fire, warming themselves and resting. Each wore a uniquely shaped bronze mask to distinguish one another, and they whispered quietly among themselves.

"Big Brother has been really industrious today," one remarked.

"Yes, usually he just stays in camp and lets us handle the cleanup. He rarely steps in unless we face something truly formidable. It seems Mr. Sun's guidance is having real effect," another replied.

"By the way, can any of you summon Mr. Sun? I've tried everything but couldn't manage it," someone asked upon overhearing the conversation.

"I couldn't either," came the reply.

"Don't mention it. I'm just like you," another chimed in.

Their voices overlapped in confusion, and soon they realized not a single person among them could do it. The best attempt resulted in little more than uttering two words before a splitting headache rendered him unconscious.

"Could it be a fraud? Maybe there's no mystical power at all, so he can't respond to our summons," one said in frustration.

"Impossible! Big Brother's strength has clearly soared compared to last month. That demon-expelling punch he used earlier was leagues more powerful than before. He used to have to test several blows just to gauge those massive creatures—even if their rank was low. Now, he obliterates them in a single strike. That's too rapid an improvement," another immediately refuted.

"Yes, no one could advance so quickly without help," another agreed.

Hearing this, everyone nodded. Everything else could be faked, but power could not. Those untouchable, incomprehensible evil spirits would never cooperate with people. When facing them, you either fled or fought.

"Maybe we're just not the chosen ones. The Buddha aids those with destiny; perhaps Mr. Sun has no fate with us, so he never bestowed us with power," someone lamented.

The camp fell silent. The flames danced in the fire, like little monsters swaying, and the crowd, sunk in disappointment, failed to notice a faint, grayish-white mist silently seeping into the camp.

"Why should Wolf Wei get to converse with Mr. Sun while we can't?" After a long pause, a man wearing a wolf-head bronze mask suddenly spat out angrily. "It's all lies—he's still as ruthless and cunning as ever, hasn't changed a bit!"

The others kept their heads down. They weren't NPCs; loyalty to a leader was never absolute. In fact, complaints outweighed satisfaction—this was the normal state of most organizations.

Days had passed and none had received so much as a word from Mr. Sun, let alone any benefit. Naturally, doubts resurfaced.

After another bout of silence, someone speculated, "Maybe Mr. Sun wants us to be good people first before he'll speak with us?"

"Damn it, how slow would that be? Couldn't he just give us some benefits first? Wouldn't it be easier to do good once we're stronger?" someone protested.

"No, I think our cultivation and mental strength are simply lacking, which is why we can't communicate with Mr. Sun," the wolf-head mask man spoke again, "How about this—since Big Brother says he wants to be a good man, we should ask him to share his cultivation method with us so everyone can grow stronger together. If he refuses, then we know he's deceiving us!"

The others' eyes brightened instantly, understanding his true intention. Four words flashed through their minds: moral coercion.

"What if Big Brother finds an excuse? Like saying he can't support freeloaders?" someone countered.

"If that happens, we'll pay. Since he's selling to people from other refuges, there's no reason not to sell to us," the wolf-head mask man said resolutely. "I'm willing to put up all my savings—1,300 silver coins. Last time, someone bought it for twenty kilos of gold. At current rates, I can exchange for about half a kilo."

The seven or eight bronze-armored figures glanced at their leader fighting fiercely in the distance. Someone hesitated, "What if this angers him?"

"In the past, I wouldn't even dare to think about it, let alone ask. But now, although we don't know exactly what changed him, as long as we have reason and don't openly oppose him, he has no excuse to act against us," the wolf-head mask man encouraged them. "If he did strike, would the compassionate 'Mr. Sun' tolerate it?"

---

Everyone nodded and began to declare their contributions.

"I'll put in a thousand."

"One thousand eight hundred from me."

...

Soon, eight people pooled together twelve thousand silver coins, enough to exchange for only four kilos of gold at market rates.

"This is still far from enough," someone sighed. "Should we recruit more?"

"Remember, last time that guy bought a lot of things. If we only buy Big Brother's meditation method, it should cost much less."

"But even then, it would need at least ten kilos," someone objected.

"We'll gather more people," another suggested.

Suddenly, someone asked, "What if Big Brother only sells it to one person at a time, forbids reselling or sharing? The Silver Guild has copyrights for such things."

At that, the group fell silent. It seemed an unsolvable problem.

But soon, the wolf-head mask man presented a solution, and after much debate, the proposal passed.

Afterward, none could sleep. The wood crackling in the fire seemed to ridicule their ambitions.

...

The night passed swiftly.

At dawn, the evil tide had receded, lacking yesterday's ferocity. Many gray-white entities even began to withdraw in all directions.

"It seems to be weakening—maybe in a few years, people can farm the land again."

"Yes, by then, we should be able to enjoy life."

Lang Sheng had awakened early. Seeing the situation, a flicker of disappointment crossed his face before he forcibly suppressed it.

No, as a good man, how could I show disappointment at the retreat of the evil tide?

He took out his walkie-talkie and began summoning everyone, preparing to venture further out to hunt more large monsters and collect more spirit cores.

Thirty or forty bronze-armored figures, each with a different mask, hurried over from tents or watch posts, forming two neat lines.

"Alright, after breakfast, we'll press on. The city is short of spirit cores—let's work harder, and when we return, I'll treat you all to a feast!"

"Yes!"

"Thank you, Big Brother!"

Cheers erupted, but just then, a man with a wolf-head mask stepped forward from the ranks.

"Hey, Wang Kui, what is it?" Lang Sheng asked with a smile.

"Well, um..." Wang Kui's voice was timid, "Big Brother, there's something I'm not sure I should say."

"We're brothers—what can't be said?" Lang Sheng smiled outwardly, but inwardly calculated: there must be trouble.

---

Wang Kui, looking meek and hesitant, spoke:

"Big Brother, we all want to collect more spirit cores, but unfortunately our cultivation is lacking. This is the pooled money from last night—we want to buy your cultivation method. That way, we can all grow stronger and help you collect more spirit cores..."

He respectfully handed over a slip of paper listing the contributions.

A collective gasp swept through the group.

Wang Kui, where did you find the courage?

To dare ask Big Brother for his cultivation method—have you lost your mind?

Lang Sheng's face was hidden beneath his golden mask, his expression unreadable, but everyone could well imagine the fury that must be boiling beneath.

He had sold the method to another refuge, likely to win Mr. Sun's favor. Now you want to buy it too?

What are you planning—hoping to out-cultivate Big Brother and seize his position?

Have you forgotten how the deputy leader died?

Did you really think Big Brother's talk of "being a good man" meant his heart softened and his fists lost their weight?

"Ha—ha ha ha!" Lang Sheng suddenly burst into laughter, hearty and loud, but many trembled in fear, unable to stand firm.

Wang Kui recoiled, terrified but also a bit relieved—thank goodness he hadn't resorted to moral coercion, or he'd be a dead man now.

"Don't be afraid, thank you, Old Kui," Lang Sheng stepped forward, clapping his shoulder. "If you hadn't reminded me, I'd have forgotten!"

He spoke loudly, "Everyone working with me deserves to grow strong together! Isn't that how heroes in novels do it? It's not enough to grow strong yourself—you must bring your companions along! Even if betrayed, you grit your teeth, repay evil with virtue, and forgive them!"

"What use is money? Today, I'll teach everyone. Sharpening your blade does not delay chopping wood! Once you learn and grow stronger, you'll pay the city the equivalent in spirit cores. Fair price: fifteen kilos of gold per person. It's not that I won't give it to you for free, but teaching you to fish is better than giving you a fish."

"Yes, yes, thank you, Big Brother." The group, though still fearful, were overcome with joy.

Such a price was truly generous—and with payment in installments, goods delivered in advance. In the wasteland, only a fool would do such a thing!

Wang Kui was ecstatic—he had gambled correctly!

That voice hadn't lied—this leader could indeed be handled with the same tactics used against gentlemen!

The other seven who had schemed with him were equally delighted—this outcome was beyond anything they had hoped for.

Had they known, yesterday's worries and debates would have been unnecessary.

Lang Sheng looked at his men. None knew that beneath his mask, his face was twisted beyond recognition.

Excellent. Excellent. Once I fully understand this "good man" system and discover its loopholes, I'll see how I can destroy you all one by one.

For now, I'll let you bask in your triumph, help me, and raise your strength.

A bronze-level cultivation manual—what does it matter? Compared to my system, it's not even a drop in the ocean.