Chapter 9: Chapter 5: Grassroots Troupe_1

It was mealtime.

It was morning, a bit early for a meal, but that didn’t matter. Having the meal early to celebrate the awakening of My lord was no problem at all.

The dining area was in the backyard, right next to the room where Zheng Fan had woken up.

Seven people were seated around a round table.

Zheng Fan was at the head of the table, with Feng Siniang to his left and the blind man to his right. This blind man was a comic character created by Ah Qiu. Ah Qiu’s father had been a civil servant who died in the line of duty. She hadn’t told everyone the specific details; perhaps only her boyfriend, Liang Cheng, knew a little.

However, the character Ah Qiu created in the comic “Blind Man”—”Bei”—had a bloody style of law enforcement. He held private court, punishing criminals without regard for due process, employing methods that were utterly inhumane and excessively brutal—a way for him to vent his frustrations. In reality, however, this “Bei” gave off a peaceful and cheerful vibe, always smiling and seemingly good-tempered.

The seating arrangement was, of course, deliberate. Feng Siniang and Bei sat on either side of Zheng Fan, at least ensuring the atmosphere at the table wouldn’t be too stiff. The vampire A Ming and the Zombie Liang Cheng were, naturally, seated opposite them. In Feng Siniang’s opinion, it would have been best if those two squatted by the door with their rice bowls. Who would want to look at their icy faces anyway?

As for Xue Three, he wasn’t presentable enough. Feng Siniang feared that having him too close might affect My lord’s appetite. Fanli was too dense and was always trying to chat with people about his experiences with crippling opponents. Until she could ascertain whether My lord could stomach such gruesome topics, Feng Siniang didn’t dare let Fanli get too close to him.

“Come, raise your glasses! Let’s celebrate My lord’s awakening! From today onward, we have a guiding spirit!” Feng Siniang declared, taking the lead.

Everyone else stood up and raised their wine cups.

After the toast, it was time to eat.

Zheng Fan was hungry. After all, he was a man who had been courageous enough to ’end’ his own life. Having moved past the initial shock and confusion, he now found he had quite an appetite for the food before him.

At the dining table, Fanli held an extra-large rice bowl. He ate little of the other dishes but heartily wolfed down his rice. Xue Three was delightfully gnawing on a chicken drumstick. A Ming was focused on the basin of sheep blood sausage before him, while Liang Cheng gnawed on a sheep bone. Bei ate slowly and leisurely, displaying the most refined table manners among the group.

Seizing the opportunity, Feng Siniang began to explain their situation to Zheng Fan.

First, she explained how they had all appeared. That had been half a year ago. On a certain day, a total of eight people, including Zheng Fan, had appeared together at the edge of a desert. Everyone else was awake; only Zheng Fan remained unconscious.

They carried the unconscious Zheng Fan as they slowly explored the surrounding area. Eventually, they chose this small town on the edge of the desert as their base.

“The place where they were currently staying was an inn, but it also offered various entertainment, somewhat like a modern entertainment complex where one could eat, drink, play, and sleep.

Feng Siniang had naturally fallen back on her old trade; among them, she was the only one with a head for business. In this inn, Feng Siniang had about ten girls working for her, specifically to entertain customers.

The stage was used for performances. Xue Three played the clown or worked as a storyteller, while Liang Cheng performed acrobatics, like breaking stones on his chest or balancing spears on his throat.

A Ming was in charge of brewing wine, and his wine had become quite famous in this small town. Blind Bei had set up a fortune-telling stall at the inn’s entrance, fleecing whoever he could. As for Fanli, he was responsible for chopping wood and other manual labor.

As a result, the inn’s business had been quite good, becoming rather prosperous in this small town.”

“Next, Feng Siniang began to list her grievances. She complained that while Fanli could do the work of three men, he ate enough for five!

Hearing this, the simple and honest Fanli looked up and gave a bashful, goofy grin, then quickly lowered his head and continued to shovel rice into his mouth.

Feng Siniang then turned her complaints to Blind Bei. Initially, he had managed to fleece many ’fat sheep’—in fact, their startup capital for the inn had come from Bei’s swindling. But in recent months, his clientele had dwindled. Yet, he didn’t seem worried. He’d just set up his stall on time, then sit leisurely by the entrance, basking in the sun, not bothering to call out to potential customers or think about new ways to attract business. Then, he would promptly come in for meals when it was time.”

Hearing this, Blind Bei gave a helpless smile and said, “Hutou City is only so big, with only so many people. There are only two or three ’fat sheep’ around. There’s nothing I can do.”

Feng Siniang glared at Blind Bei.

She couldn’t complain about the others, though. The wine brewed by the vampire A Ming always sold well; passing merchant caravans would sometimes make a special stop just to buy his wine. Xue Three put a lot of effort into his performances and storytelling. And Liang Cheng, though unwilling, would still perform acrobatics to attract customers if she asked him to.

As for herself, she managed everything, inside and out. And the group of girls under her provided a guaranteed source of income.

Of course, Feng Siniang wasn’t happy. This was probably the most wretched brothel she had ever run in her entire ’career’. The girls under her command were neither delicate, nor skilled in zither, Go, calligraphy, or painting. Most were around her age, and some she even had to address as ’Elder Sister’.

There was no helping it. Hutou City was near the desert, a bitter, cold place. The people here had limited spending power. Many of their customers were from passing caravans who came specifically for other services, and they didn’t require the courtesans to be skilled in playing instruments or singing.

For Feng Siniang, this was like asking a Michelin-starred chef to flip burgers at a roadside stall… Her professional satisfaction was appallingly low.

However, upon hearing all this, Zheng Fan, who had already eaten a fair amount, couldn’t help but put down his chopsticks. One thing, in particular, baffled him. He looked around the table at everyone: Vampire A Ming, Blind Bei, Fanli, Xue Three, Liang Cheng, and Feng Siniang herself—logically, they should all be formidable, demonic figures. So why were they all holed up in this small town, making a living like ordinary people?

This seems completely at odds with their established personas and inherent natures, he thought.

So, Zheng Fan spoke up, “For the past half year, have you all just been here… earning money to live?”

Upon hearing this, Fanli stopped shoveling rice into his mouth, Xue Three paused with a chicken leg in his bite, A Ming put down his chopsticks, Liang Cheng frowned at the bone he was holding, and Feng Siniang also stopped her chattering.

Finally, Blind Bei let out a bitter laugh and said, “My lord, from the very first day we woke up, we discovered something…”

“What did you discover?”

“That… we had all become ordinary people.”

Zheng Fan was speechless. Ordinary… ordinary people?

This answer, this reality, was something Zheng Fan had completely failed to anticipate.

However, after calming down and thinking it over, it suddenly seemed quite logical. The vampire A Ming was eating blood sausage, the Zombie Liang Cheng was gnawing on bones, and a group of demon lords were actually cooped up in this remote little town, earning a living…

If they hadn’t lost their powers, how could they possibly accept such a life? Even if they were just ’experiencing life,’ they wouldn’t do it for half a year, would they?

There was one piece of good news, however. Hearing them say they had become ordinary people actually lessened the pressure Zheng Fan felt considerably. A tiger without fangs could still kill me with a swat of its paw, but at least it’s not as terrifying as it was before, right?

Moreover, although he didn’t know why they all called him “My lord,” which implied they recognized him as their master, he doubted he would have had the courage to try and command these demon lords if they were at their full strength right from the start.

This topic seemed to have touched a sore spot, as the atmosphere at the table instantly grew heavy.

Zheng Fan took a deep breath and then looked at Feng Siniang, who was sitting beside him. There was something he had actually wanted to ask for a long time but had held back until now.

“Where is Mo Wan?”

Mo Wan was the protagonist of Zheng Fan’s own comic. He was a male infant of terrifying power, possessing an immense, innate resentment.

To put it bluntly, when it came to character development, creating a terrifying atmosphere, and crafting thrilling plots, no one else in the studio could truly compare to Zheng Fan. It could be said that the comic *Mo Wan* was the most extreme among all those produced by the studio. Consequently, the character Mo Wan was also the most terrifying of these seven demon lords.

But no matter what, Mo Wan was, after all, a character he himself had drawn. As for the six people present, although he had continued their stories with a few installments over the past three years, they were ultimately other people’s stories, other people’s characters. Only Mo Wan was his own.

Creators often develop a parental sort of affection for their works. To say that Mo Wan was Zheng Fan’s son was not an exaggeration at all. If Mo Wan were here, Zheng Fan would feel much more secure. It’s like an ancient general going into battle; if you don’t have your own loyal troops, can you really feel secure?

However, this question seemed to make Feng Siniang somewhat awkward, as if she didn’t know how to respond.

Nearby, A Ming, who had been sitting there, stood up, left his seat, and went into a room. He quickly returned, carrying a box. Placing the box on the table in front of Zheng Fan, A Ming said icily, “He’s in there.”

“Hmm?”

Zheng Fan reached out, somewhat surprised, and opened the box.

He had initially thought that Mo Wan might have met with some accident, and that the box contained his head. Since Mo Wan was an infant, although the box was small, it seemed just about large enough to hold his head. But when he opened the box, he found only a black stone inside.

“This is… Mo Wan?”

Feng Siniang glanced at the stone in the box with a touch of jealousy and said, “My lord, he said that since he doesn’t have a physical body, he doesn’t need to eat or drink, and therefore doesn’t need to work. So, he sealed himself inside this stone.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep