Real Mount and Blade Game

The morning light shone through the towering stained-glass windows of the council chamber, casting dappled shadows on the polished stone floor.

The air was filled with the scents of freshly felled timber, stone dust, and a faint aroma of toasted bread and stewed meat emanating from the kitchen deep within the castle.

Shen Mu sat on the lord's chair, carved from a single piece of ancient obsidian and inlaid with dark silver metallic patterns. His back was straight, but he could not hide the deep weariness between his brows and the hidden pain in his soul.

The chair is large, heavy, cold, and sturdy, symbolizing power, but also like a shackle.

He had just sipped half a cup of warm goat's milk, mixed with wild honey and vanilla. The warmth slid down his throat, slightly soothing the weariness of the long journey and the pain of the divine backlash that clung to him like a leech—the curse of Yenogu's lingering regret, like tiny ice needles, would occasionally pierce his shattered yet barely mended sea of ​​spirit, reminding him of the price of forcibly retaining divinity.

“My lord,” a steady voice broke the silence of the hall. Fatis, the old Swadian knight, dressed in a gleaming breastplate, bowed meticulously. “General Manid is waiting outside with important news. Also, Rezarit is in the training grounds supervising the newly formed heavy infantry phalanx.”

Shen Mu nodded slightly, his fingertips unconsciously tracing the smooth, cold obsidian armrest, feeling the solidified power of this land contained within it. "Let him in." His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a peculiar penetrating power, echoing clearly in the empty hall.

The door hinges turned, making a slight creak. The short, stout, yet exceptionally capable-looking Manid strode in. He wore a well-tailored dark blue cotton coat, stained with warehouse dust and ink, and his face bore the weariness of a traveler, yet retained the shrewdness characteristic of a merchant. He bowed deeply, speaking quickly and clearly:
"Greetings, Lord Shen Mu! The reconstruction and resettlement work in Deherim is progressing smoothly. The third phase of resettlement housing in the western outer city has been completed, and the three hundred newly arrived Blue Star immigrants have been basically settled, with land and living supplies allocated to them. Seven new blacksmith shops and five new leather workshops have been added to the commercial district, and the supply of raw materials is stable. The No. 3 blast furnace in the metallurgical district has been successfully ignited, and the first batch of refined iron ingots is of excellent quality. The granaries are well-stocked, and the winter wheat in the newly reclaimed farmland is growing well, which, according to your plan, is enough to support the current military and civilians until next summer's harvest."

Shen Mu listened quietly, his gaze deep. Manid's report was like a finely crafted network, outlining the pulse of this war fortress that was recovering.

He didn't need to handle every little detail; Manid's efficiency and loyalty had already proven themselves.

What he was more concerned with was the invisible force generated by the operation of this massive machine—the "power of faith" that gathered around the core of his spirit, growing stronger and stronger.

He could sense that, with the stability and prosperity of Deherim, the power of dependence, gratitude and awe from its inhabitants was slowly but steadily nourishing his wounded soul, becoming a weak but indispensable barrier against the backlash of divinity.

“Well done, Manid.” Shen Mu’s voice carried a hint of barely perceptible approval. “You and your team are the cornerstone of Deherm. Logistics are the lifeblood and cannot be compromised.”

Manid smiled with flattery and bowed quickly, saying, "It is all thanks to your guidance and power, sir. We were just doing our duty." He paused, a complicated expression on his face, and lowered his voice, "Sir, there are two more things I need to report to you."

Shen Mu looked up, gesturing for him to continue.

“The first matter concerns the brothers Zhang Song and Zhang Bo,” Manid said, choosing his words carefully. “Following your previous orders and the clues we had, our men found them in a collapsed cellar while clearing the ruins outside Long City. Both were severely injured; Zhang Song had lost a leg, and Zhang Bo had a punctured lung and a persistent high fever, teetering on the brink of death. Our priests and the wood elf druids worked together, expending a considerable amount of precious healing scrolls and herbs, and finally managed to pull them back from the brink of death.”

Shen Mu's brows furrowed almost imperceptibly.

The Zhang brothers and Zhang Caidong? His memory was pulled back to that chaotic and bloody night, the faces of the traitors and the cold blades. He had no good feelings towards these two men, even harboring a primal aversion. Their survival was both an accident and a problem.

"He's alive?" Shen Mu's voice was devoid of emotion, as calm as if he were asking about the weather.

“Yes, sir. Although they are all crippled, their lives are no longer in danger.” Manid carefully observed Shen Mu’s expression. “However… after they woke up, they were agitated and repeatedly demanded to see you, to explain themselves, and even… uttered insults and abuse against you and… Zhang Caidong.” He paused, then added, “Considering their sensitive identities and the precedent, I have ordered them to be imprisoned together with Zhang Caidong in the deepest part of the inner city dungeon, under strict guard, with all internal and external communication severed. They await your final judgment.”

The air seemed to freeze for a moment. Shen Mu's fingers tapped lightly on the armrest, producing a crisp "tap." His eyes were as cold as the winter stars. Explanation? Insults? How ridiculous. Faced with absolute power and irrefutable evidence of betrayal, any words were utterly futile.

They were nothing more than ants, overestimating their own abilities, born from the chaos of a chaotic world. Their lives and deaths did not stir the slightest ripple in Shen Mu's heart. If it weren't for the fact that their identity as Earthlings might be involved in some subtle connection regarding the transmission of the power of faith that he did not want to delve into for the time being, he might have already let them disappear silently into some corner of the world.

"Understood." Shen Mu's voice was devoid of warmth. "Keep a close watch on them. They're of no use for now, but there's no need to torture them. Let them reflect on what they've done in the darkness." He made his decision as casually as crushing an insect. His mind was no longer on these petty traitors. The curse of Yenogu, the vortex in the direction of the ancestral tomb, the rising black clouds from the Corruption Swamp, and the ever-spreading shadow of spiritual erosion were the true sword of Damocles hanging over his head. The Zhang family? Nothing but dust.

"Yes, sir!" Manid breathed a sigh of relief. Shen Mu's nonchalant tone had clearly put his worries at ease. He immediately reported on the second matter: "The second matter concerns the current status and management of the Blue Star immigrants. Currently, all Blue Star immigrants, totaling approximately 1,500, have been properly settled in the West Outer City immigrant district. Their food, clothing, housing, and transportation are uniformly allocated by the government affairs office, with standards comparable to, or even slightly better than, those of newly arrived local residents. Winter clothing has been distributed, food rations are stable, and their living environment is relatively clean and orderly. The person in charge of their daily management is Sun Zhiru, whom you recommended."

Sun Zhiru? An image flashed through Shen Mu's mind: a middle-aged man in a faded long gown, with a lean face and eyes that held a mixture of scholarly air and unease. After Zhang Caidong's downfall, this seemingly unambitious, stability-seeking impoverished scholar was thrust into the limelight. A relatively harmless and easily controlled agent.

“Sun Zhiru requested an audience this morning and has been waiting in the side hall for quite some time,” Manid continued. “He seems… somewhat uneasy and hopes to report to you in person on the situation of the Blue Star immigrants and… ask for instructions on some management issues.”

A subtle, enigmatic smile played on Shen Mu's lips. Unease? Seeking instructions? He could almost guess what Sun Zhiru was thinking. Having witnessed Zhang Caidong's downfall and his son's tragic fate, this newly appointed "manager" was probably trembling with fear, terrified of following in his footsteps and becoming the next target of purges. Power? In Shen Mu's eyes, these Blue Star people's so-called "management" was nothing more than a necessary tool to maintain a stable and efficient output of "faith power." He had no interest in their internal strife, as long as the tool was useful and didn't cause trouble.

"Let him in," Shen Mu said calmly, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes, seemingly to rest or perhaps to feel the warm current of faith gathering around him. He needed this strength as a traveler in the desert needs water. As for who was the tool of control? As long as he obeyed, it didn't matter who it was.

The heavy hall doors were pushed open again. A figure dressed in a clean but clearly local coarse cloth robe walked in, head bowed, his steps unsteady, under the watchful eyes of the guards at the door. It was Sun Zhiru. He was thinner than before, his eyes sunken, his face pale from prolonged tension. As soon as he stepped into the solemn and imposing council hall, filled with an invisible pressure, his body visibly tensed, his hands unconsciously clasped together in front of him, his knuckles white from the force. He walked to the center of the hall, still a dozen steps away from Shen Mu's throne, and then knelt down with a thud, his forehead almost touching the cold floor.

"Sun Zhiru pays his respects to Lord Shen Mu!" His voice trembled noticeably, filled with awe and fear.

Shen Mu slowly opened his eyes, his gaze falling on the figure lying on the ground, calm and expressionless: "Get up and speak."

"Thank you... thank you, sir!" Sun Zhiru felt as if he had been granted a pardon and hurriedly stood up, but he still kept his head down, not daring to look Shen Mu in the eye, and his body shrank slightly.

"Steward Manid said you have something to report?" Shen Mu's voice was emotionless, yet it made Sun Zhiru tremble again.

"Yes! Yes! My lord!" Sun Zhiru hurriedly responded, his voice filled with rapid breathing. "I... I have been granted the privilege of temporarily managing the daily affairs of my fellow citizens on Blue Star by your grace, and I dare not slacken in the slightest. Today I risk my life to request an audience, firstly to report on the current situation, and secondly... secondly, I am filled with fear and humbly request your instructions!"

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, and began his report, speaking quickly as if afraid of missing anything:
"Your Excellency! Thanks to your great blessings, all 1,473 of my fellow citizens of Blue Star have been properly settled! The lodgings are spacious, though a bit crowded, but they provide adequate shelter from the wind and rain. The government office has distributed ample food, with daily grain cakes and millet porridge, and a small amount of pickled meat and vegetables every other day, so no one is hungry. With winter approaching, thick cotton-padded clothes and quilts have also been distributed to each household, and I have personally checked them to ensure there are no shortages or deductions! Those who are sick can go to the clinic, where local doctors and elderly people knowledgeable in herbal medicine will take care of them. Although the medicines are not expensive, they can alleviate common ailments. The streets are swept daily, and the wells are maintained by dedicated personnel, so the order is fairly good..." He went on and on, describing the Blue Star people's daily life in great detail, his tone carrying an almost humble flattery and an eagerness to prove his work.

Shen Mu listened quietly, his gaze fixed on Sun Zhiru's nervously clenched fingers. He could clearly sense a faint but distinct feeling of gratitude and awe emanating from Sun Zhiru as he recounted his report, merging into the invisible torrent of faith. Simultaneously, there was an even stronger, almost overflowing fear. The source of this fear was himself, and the tragic end of the Zhang father and son.

“…I patrol daily, never daring to slacken my efforts. My fellow countrymen…my fellow countrymen are grateful for your kindness in saving our lives and giving us a safe haven! They all say…they all say that if it weren’t for your protection, we would have long since perished in the mouths of the dead, turning into withered bones in the wilderness! To have this peace and security is already an immense favor!” As Sun Zhiru spoke, he secretly raised his eyelids and quickly glanced at the figure on the throne before lowering his head again, fine beads of sweat appearing on his forehead.

Shen Mu understood. How much of this "gratitude" was genuine, and how much was a performance born of fear? He didn't care. As long as this emotion could be steadily transformed into the power of faith, that was enough. What he needed wasn't the adoration of the Earthlings, but their stable presence and dependence.

As Sun Zhiru's report drew to a close, he swallowed hard, his voice growing increasingly hoarse, filled with barely concealed trepidation: "My lord... I... I am of limited ability, yet I am honored that you have spared me this post. However... however, managing over a thousand compatriots is a complex and demanding task, and I... I am deeply apprehensive! Within the Blue Star community, there is... there is no comprehensive management system. All matters, large and small, are coordinated by my own efforts, or by consulting with the clerks under Chief Administrator Manid... If this continues, I fear... I fear I may overlook things and fail to live up to your trust!"

He knelt down again with a thud, his voice trembling with tears: "I...I am not greedy for power! It's just...I'm afraid! Afraid that I am incompetent and lack virtue, that I might mishandle things, and that I might...I might cause trouble, following in...following in Zhang Caidong's footsteps! I...I only want to serve you, sir, and find a place for my compatriots to live in peace. I have no other intentions! I beg you...I beg you to give me your guidance! How should this matter of management be handled? I...I will obey your orders! I would never dare to act on my own!" The hall was silent. Only Sun Zhiru's heavy breathing and the thunderous pounding of his own heart echoed in his ears.

He lay prostrate on the ground, his body trembling slightly from extreme fear and the agonizing wait for judgment. Cold sweat had soaked through his clothes. The desperate look in Zhang Caidong's eyes as he was dragged away, the gruesome sight of the Zhang brothers, covered in blood, being carried into the dungeon, flashed through his mind repeatedly. Fear, like a cold, venomous snake, coiled around his heart. He felt as if he were standing on the edge of a precipice, where a single glance or a single word from Shen Mu could determine whether he would be shattered to pieces or temporarily safe.

Shen Mu looked at the trembling figure on the ground, a faint, almost negligible hint of mockery flashing in his eyes.

A sound management system? Internal regulations? Self-management by the people of Earth?
These matters, which Sun Zhiru considered matters of life, death, and the survival of power, were insignificant in Shen Mu's eyes. What he needed was a stable and efficient group that produced faith power. As long as this group didn't cause trouble or create problems, and could provide a stable "output," what difference did it make to him whether they were well-organized or chaotic, whether they elected a leader or acted independently?

All he needed was an obedient "interface" to maintain a semblance of stability. Sun Zhiru, for now, seemed to be adequate. At least, his fear made him obedient enough.

Shen Mu's silence wasn't long, but to Sun Zhiru, it felt like an eternity. Finally, that calm, unwavering yet undeniably authoritative voice came from above:

"stand up."

Sun Zhiru felt as if he had heard heavenly music, but was also filled with great fear. He scrambled to his feet, still keeping his head down and not daring to look directly at anyone.

Shen Mu's gaze seemed to pierce through his humble posture, landing on nothingness, as if he were contemplating something, or perhaps merely watching dust floating in the air. After a moment, he spoke, his voice not loud, yet clearly reaching Sun Zhiru's ears, each word like a heavy hammer, striking the taut strings of his heart:
"Sun Zhiru".

"exist!"

"You've done a good job with the food, clothing, housing, and transportation for the Blue Star immigrants." Shen Mu's tone was as calm as stating an objective fact, without any praise, yet it made Sun Zhiru's heart skip a beat, surging with an unbelievable ecstasy and an even greater sense of fear.

"Management matters..." Shen Mu paused, seemingly choosing his words carefully, or perhaps feeling that the question itself was absurd. He leaned back slightly, his fingertips tapping lightly on the cold armrest once more.

"It's up to you."

These five words, like thunder, exploded in Sun Zhiru's ears! He can handle it himself?! What does that mean? Is it delegating authority? Is it testing him? Or...putting him on the hot seat?! A profound sense of bewilderment and a deeper fear instantly gripped him, almost suffocating him.

However, Shen Mu's next words shocked him even more, and he could hardly believe his ears:

"I believe you."

Believe?! Lord Shen Mu… said he believed him?! Sun Zhiru abruptly raised his head, his eyes filled with utter shock and bewilderment, completely forgetting his fear. He saw Shen Mu's gaze calmly fall upon him, those deep eyes devoid of suspicion, scrutiny, even… devoid of much of the emotional fluctuations of a “human,” only an almost godlike indifference looking down upon an ant and… a peculiar “trust” based on something he couldn't comprehend? What was the foundation of this trust? Was it his humble report just now? Was it the fear he had displayed? Or… something else entirely?
Immediately afterwards, Shen Mu's voice rang out again, carrying an undeniable decisiveness that completely dispelled all of Sun Zhiru's doubts:

"Maintain the status quo, appease the people, and avoid causing trouble. This is your duty. You have the authority to handle any internal affairs of the Blue Star immigrants. If you overstep your bounds or encounter matters you cannot decide..." Shen Mu's gaze turned to Fatis, who stood silently to the side, "You may seek assistance from Knight Fatis or Steward Manid, or report directly to me."

His tone was resolute, granting Sun Zhiru full authority over internal affairs of the Blue Star people, while also clearly defining the boundaries—no trouble, no overstepping the boundaries.

"As for Zhang Song, Zhang Bo, and Zhang Caidong..." Shen Mu's voice suddenly turned cold, like the Siberian wind, "It's none of your business. They have their own places to go. You only need to take care of the living."

That last sentence was like a bucket of ice water, instantly extinguishing the faint, illusory warmth that had just ignited in Sun Zhiru's heart because of the word "trust," and bringing him completely back to his senses.

This "trust" was built on absolute control and the power to crush him at any moment! Zhang Caidong's fate was the best warning. He understood that he was merely a tool, a tool to maintain the stability of the Blue Star people and thus continuously produce something crucial to Lord Shen Mu. Tools don't need their own thoughts; they only need to be loyal, obedient, and infallible.

The immense fear receded like a receding tide, replaced by a profound sense of exhaustion from surviving a catastrophe and a heavy shackle called "responsibility." He had survived and gained "power," but this power was like a sword hanging over his head; the slightest misstep would lead to utter destruction. At the same time, an indescribable surge of emotion—a mixture of gratitude, awe, loyalty, and a vow to serve to the death—violently assaulted his heart. Lord Shen Mu didn't care about their "management system," but he had given him "trust" and complete authority! This "trust," in this precarious situation, was more precious than any gold or silver!

"Thump!" Sun Zhiru knelt down heavily again. This time, it wasn't out of pure fear, but with an almost pious excitement. He kowtowed deeply, his forehead hitting the floor with a dull thud, his voice choked yet resonant:
"Thank you for your trust, sir! Thank you for your grace, sir! I, Sun Zhiru, swear to Heaven that I will do everything in my power, even unto death, to repay your kindness in saving my life! I will certainly manage my fellow countrymen well, not cause any trouble, and live up to your trust! If I break this oath, may I be struck down by Heaven and Earth!"

His body trembled violently with excitement, and tears welled up uncontrollably in his eyes, mingling with sweat as they dripped onto the smooth stone slab. At that moment, fear transformed into unwavering loyalty.

He found the only way to survive in this cruel new world—to cling tightly to the powerful yet ruthless protector before him.

Shen Mu looked at the excitedly kowtowing figure below, his face expressionless. The intense emotions that Sun Zhiru was unleashing at this moment—gratitude, excitement, loyalty, and vows—were like a boulder thrown into a calm lake, creating ripples of faith in Shen Mu's mind several times stronger than usual! This power was pure and rich, carrying a burning sense of "conversion," instantly surging into Shen Mu's wounded spiritual sea, nourishing the cracks scorched by the curse and its backlash like sweet rain, bringing a brief but clear sense of comfort.

good results.

Shen Mu assessed the situation without any emotional fluctuation. Loyalty born of fear is still loyalty. The power of faith produced under this state seems to be of higher quality. He didn't care about Sun Zhiru's true thoughts deep down; he only cared about whether this "output" was stable and efficient. For now, it seemed that the choice of this "interface" was correct.

"Go down." Shen Mu's voice returned to its usual calm, as if nothing had happened. "Go do your job."

"Yes! Yes! I take my leave! Thank you, sir! Thank you, sir!" Sun Zhiru kowtowed twice more, then trembled as he got up, bowing his back and carefully backing away until he reached the door, where he turned and strode away. His departing figure carried a complex feeling of having unloaded a heavy burden yet shouldering a new mission.

The doors to the council hall slowly closed, shutting out the light and sound from outside. Silence returned to the hall, leaving only Shen Mu and the lingering aura of excitement and fear belonging to Sun Zhiru.

Shen Mu closed his eyes, his fingertips once again tracing the cold armrest. In his sea of ​​consciousness, the warm current of faith that had surged in due to Sun Zhiru's intense emotions still rippled gently, like ice shards thrown into molten lava, bringing brief relief and counteracting the chilling, stabbing pain of the Yenogu curse, which clung to him like a leech. He needed this power. The more the better, the purer the better.

Earthlings? Management system? Sun Zhiru's loyalty?
They are all just components of... the source of power.

He didn't care about their love and hate, only whether they could reliably provide the "fuel" that sustained his existence and supported him to keep going.

Outside the window, the distant clamor of Deherim drifted in—his fortress, his source of power, and the outpost he had to defend against the abyss. After a brief moment of tranquility and the absorption of power, an even greater storm was quietly approaching from the direction of the ancestral tombs, from the depths of the black clouds of the Corruption Swamp.

A brief respite, only for the next, even more brutal battle. (End of Chapter)