Chapter 30: Different Classes, Two Worlds
What a great man! His noble character shone like a gemstone.
He was an outsider, forcibly summoned to the Heavenly Continent. Whether this world lived or died shouldn’t matter to him.
Yet, the Hero didn’t rest, didn’t seek pleasure. Upon arriving in this world, he immediately exhausted himself, locating the Demons lurking within the city. Despite his fatigue, he insisted on personally confronting these Demons on the front lines.
What kind of spirit was this?
Everyone’s eyes reddened, some even discreetly wiping away tears.
Angelica and Lena Martithes were especially worried.
Super-tier Abilities, while powerful, seemed to take a heavy toll on the Hero. He could barely stand, his legs trembling, his body clearly drained.
He needed rest.
“Master, please rest for a while,” Angelica pleaded, unable to bear the sight of his exhaustion.
Lena Martithes nodded vigorously, her respect for the Hero growing with each passing moment.
He truly was a good man.
“Leave the Demons to us,” she said, her hand gripping her greatsword. “Just tell us where those filthy creatures are hiding.”
Lena Martithes’s greatest joy was cleaving the ugly bodies of Demons in two with her greatsword.
“Even if I tell you where they are, there are many people there. How will you know which ones are Demons? I must go myself,” Qin Chu said resolutely.
Of course, he had to go personally. He was planning to devour their power.
As Qin Chu prepared to depart, Angelica grabbed his arm.
“My Master,” she asked, looking at him, “are you planning to go out dressed like that?”
Qin Chu glanced down at his clothes, confused. He didn’t particularly like this outfit, but what was wrong with it?
“Is there a problem?”
“You can’t wear the same outfit twice,” Angelica said, her hand covering her forehead in exasperation.
“Even ordinary nobles never wear the same outfit twice in public or for formal occasions, let alone you, the Hero, a being more esteemed than any noble.”
“People will mock you if you wear this again.”
Qin Chu’s body trembled slightly. What kind of ridiculous rule was that?
In his previous life, he hadn’t had a maid.
Loseweisse and the others had never mentioned this rule, so he often wore the same outfit for days.
Now, looking back, he realized they must have ridiculed him behind his back. They probably called him a country bumpkin.
Damn them!
…
Even during the day, the slums remained shrouded in a gloomy darkness, the hazy sunlight obscured by polluted air. The air itself felt heavy, filled with dust.
It was September, autumn had arrived, but the Heavenly Continent was located in the southern hemisphere. Even in thin clothing, the weather was pleasantly warm.
Sewage flowed freely through the uneven streets, garbage piled haphazardly, emitting a pungent stench.
A fisherman, his back bent with age, his face etched with the hardships of life, returned from the nearby sea, his voice hoarse as he hawked his freshly caught fish. The air was thick with the smell of the sea, mingled with the stench of poverty. He had to turn these fish into Mana, to pay for his son’s schooling.
A hunter, his arm wrapped in a dirty, blood-soaked bandage, sat beside a few rabbits and pheasants.
Venturing outside the city was dangerous, especially with the Demon Beast threat. Every hunting trip was a gamble, a risk he had to take to survive.
“Freshly baked rye bread! One to fill your belly, two to make you burst! Only one and a half Gri each…”
“Flatbreads! Flatbreads for sale…”
“Crisp pears! Fresh, juicy pears…”
“Potatoes, pumpkins, fresh cabbage…”
“Hey, mister, two Gri per pound is already cheap! You’re cutting the price in half? That’s not cutting it in half, that’s cutting it to the bone…”
This was the marketplace, a bustling hub of activity where vendors hawked their wares, their voices competing with the constant haggling of customers.
Qin Chu did some quick calculations. What idiot had set the exchange rate? One Mana equaled sixty-six Gri.
At this rate, the goods sold here were incredibly cheap.
A head-sized rye bread, one was enough to fill even the hungriest stomach. Even for the miners who toiled in the depths of the earth, two loaves would suffice for a day’s worth of food.
It was whole wheat bread, dark and coarse, with visible traces of bran and chaff. On Earth, it would be considered healthy, nutritious, high in fiber, and sold at exorbitant prices.
Here, it was a cheap, filling staple, its taste an acquired one. It was rough on the throat, like swallowing thorns and knives.
Even the nobles’ pets wouldn’t touch it.
A single pastry enjoyed by the nobles, costing ten Mana, could buy almost five hundred rye breads, enough to feed a miner for several months.
The outfit Qin Chu had worn, the one he could only wear once, cost over a thousand Mana.
The class divide in this world was stark, two distinct worlds separated by an unbridgeable chasm.
In reality, the commoners’ lives had improved slightly. Things had been even worse before.
The nobles’ ruthless exploitation had made the commoners’ lives unbearable. Almost all their hard-earned income was seized as taxes, filling the coffers of the empire and the aristocracy.
Coupled with the constant threat of Demon Beast attacks, it was a living hell.
Though most commoners were numb to their plight, a few brave souls, driven to desperation, had begun to resist, uniting their fellow sufferers in rebellion.
To quell the unrest, and to replenish the ranks of soldiers decimated by the Demon Beast hordes, the empire had slightly reduced taxes, offering a meager concession to appease the commoners.
Qin Chu’s presence was a novelty. Knights rarely ventured into the slums. The people here didn’t recognize him as the Hero.
Lena Martithes and Angelica flanked him, their eyes scanning the crowd, their vigilance unwavering. In this chaotic environment, anyone could be a Demon in disguise.
Qin Chu, his nostrils assaulted by the mingled scents of the marketplace, walked towards a fruit stall piled high with watermelons. A short, stout man with a pockmarked face sat behind the stall, his skin rough and weathered.
“Hey, mister, how much are these watermelons?” Qin Chu asked.
The vendor looked up, his eyes cloudy with age. “Two Gri each…”
Qin Chu almost blurted out, “What? Are these watermelons made of gold?” He restrained himself. Two Gri each was ridiculously cheap.
He had been ready to find fault, to haggle, but the price had disarmed him.
He sighed, then placed a hand on the vendor’s shoulder.
“Sir, what are you doing?”
The vendor eyed him suspiciously. He didn’t know Qin Chu’s identity, but his expensive clothes and the retinue of knights flanking him clearly marked him as a noble.
A noble in the slums was strange enough. Now this noble was placing a hand on his shoulder. He had no idea what he had done wrong. He cowered slightly, feigning fear.
“Don’t pretend, Demon. I can see through your disguise. Reveal your true form…”
In the next instant, he activated Devourer. Invisible energy enveloped the vendor.
As Qin Chu’s power increased, so did the potency of Devourer. The vendor felt his Mana draining away, like a dam bursting its floodgates.
He struggled, but Qin Chu’s hand was like a vise, impossible to break free from.
His face contorted in horror, his voice a panicked shriek. “Help! Murder! He’s killing me!”
This was a clever Demon.
“A noble is murdering someone in broad daylight…”
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