I, who was eager to retire, became an Imperial General.

Chapter 42 Determination
"Grandpa, what should we do now?"

After John left, realizing that the village might be massacred by the Imperial army because of him, Mike immediately looked miserable. But then, as if he had thought of something, his eyes lit up and he suggested:

"Grandpa, why don't we eat the canned food now? That way we won't waste it. I've never had canned meat before..."

"Eat, eat, all you do is eat! How come you don't stuff yourself to death, you little brat? You're just like your stupid donkey father!"

Upon hearing this, Ernest's face immediately turned ashen, and he immediately wanted to raise his cane and beat this good-for-nothing grandson.

But seeing the other person's frightened appearance, he still couldn't bring himself to hit him hard. Instead, he gave the other person a symbolic slap on the buttocks, and then stared thoughtfully in the direction John had left.

After a long silence, as if he had made a decision, he steeled himself and immediately spoke to his eldest grandson, who was facing away from him and trying to pry open the can with his tongue so he could have a good meal before he died:

"Mike, go and call your dad over. Also, remember to have him call your Uncle Prida and the others over too. Tell them I have something to tell them."

"Grandpa, we only have two cans of food, not enough to share. Why don't you eat one and I'll eat the other?"

Mike looked reluctant to leave. His father always called him an idiot and never took him along on poaching trips, instead eating alone.

He had no intention of giving the canned food he'd earned for his clever talk to that annoying old man.

"I didn't send them here to eat canned food. Just do as I say and listen to your grandfather!"

Ernest glared resentfully at his 'filial' grandson, but his expression instantly softened when he noticed the two cans of food in the other's hand.
"Also, leave those two cans of food with Grandpa for now. Grandpa will store them for you so your dad won't steal them when he comes back. I'll return them to you after he leaves, and you can eat them by yourself then."

"Oh, I see. I'll go right now!"

Naïve Mike, completely unaware that he had fallen into the trap of adults' New Year's money.

Upon hearing this, he immediately handed the can of food to his beloved grandfather, and then, with his size 42 sweaty feet, he quickly ran towards the forest where his father was hiding.

As he watched his eldest grandson's departing figure, Ernest's smile gradually faded, replaced by an unprecedented tension and solemnity.

He didn't understand the politics and honor that the nobles were discussing.

It's unclear what the so-called policies and inspections actually mean for Shidong Village.

With the yellow earth already up to his neck, he only knew one thing: his father had told him that he was the new village chief of Shidong Village.

His mission was to ensure that the villagers could survive and have enough to eat.

If he can accomplish these two things, then he can be considered a qualified village chief.

Therefore, after taking over the position of village chief from his father, he always followed the wisdom passed down to him by his father.

If it weren't for today's looting by the Allied forces, he could have continued to let the villagers maintain their previous lives, humbly flattering the lord as before.

He passed the position of village chief to his son Siegfried, and then, with the passage of time, entered into eternal death.

Unfortunately, those damned Allied forces didn't give him that chance.

Fortunately, he has now discovered a completely new path and possibilities.

His years of wandering had exposed him to the despicable and arrogant behavior of many nobles. Therefore, he did not trust the nobles of the kingdom, nor did he trust the nobles of the empire.

Compared to those cruel and arrogant nobles, he was more willing to believe the descendant of the Immortal Qin.

Even if the other party may not be able to escape the fate of being assimilated by the imperial nobles in the end, based on his experience in judging people, at least in the short term, this eccentric descendant of the Immortal Qin should still have a shred of goodwill towards their Shidong Village.

As long as he has this kindness, that's enough for him to take the risk.

This was a gamble with very low odds, so low that he's starting to regret it now.

But as he recalled his father's dying words, the panic in his heart was inexplicably calmed, replaced by a do-or-die courage:
"Hopefully, things will get better..."

As Ernest watched the children, who had followed the Allied forces who had raided Stone Village that morning to gather intelligence, return in the distance, his gaze hardened.

……

Meanwhile, after leaving Ernest's courtyard, John went straight back to the troops stationed outside the village.

It was now 6 p.m.

Under his arrangement, the tents for encampment had been set up. Apart from a dozen or so army soldiers who had been sent out for ground patrols, the other army soldiers were playing cards together for amusement. Cheers and curses could be heard from time to time, and the atmosphere in the camp was peaceful.

However, unlike the unofficial army soldiers, apart from the two scouts on aerial patrol, the rest of the 14th squad did not gather together for recreational activities.

Instead, they each stayed in their own tents, either calibrating firearms or studying related magic books, clearly working very hard, which pleased John quite a bit.

Of course, Wendy was not among these soldiers who were studying hard.

When John arrived at the other man's tent, he found that the idiot was reciting that damned, green book of Maslow's words.

The other person was shaking their head and swaying as if reciting some supreme classic, looking completely absorbed.

The moment John saw it, the veins on his forehead began to throb uncontrollably.

But after thinking about what he was going to do next, he gave up the idea of ​​using force to correct the other party's idea of ​​strengthening the Maslow cult. Instead, he suppressed his emotions, interrupted the other party's recitation of the 'holy text', and told the other party that he would be writing a report to General Dormammu later and that no one should disturb him.

Having confirmed that everything was in perfect order, John went to the tent with his number on it.

He then placed the paper and pen on a simple folding table and quietly looked at them.

After a long while, it seemed as if a decision had finally been made.

John sighed, but his right hand picked up the pen on the table without hesitation and immediately uncapped it.

"Clap!"

Black ink stained the snow-white letter paper. The brass nib, influenced by a sense of determination, began to glide, then, with a flick of the fingertips, connected and combined letters, finally forming a line of text on the letter paper—a line of writing that, while seemingly plain, inexplicably possessed a sharp edge:
"On the Harm of the Old Aristocratic System to the Unification of the Empire"
……

(End of this chapter)