Bad Money Drives Out Good

"What was the reason for the failed awakening?" Mu Hongyuan frowned again.

"I don't know. Either the Survivors ' [World Influence] isn't high enough, so those Survivor rebuilding or have a lucky streak are frantically expanding their influence; or this era doesn't allow Survivors to awaken."

After Su Luo finished speaking, she stood up.

Mu Hongyuan stood up as well, grasping the key point. "This era? You've already figured out the theme of the Dungeon?"

"Perhaps, Miss Mu Hongyuan. We need to consolidate our power now. I need to promote the improvement of doctrines within the Empire Academy of Sciences, which cannot be achieved through Truth and persuasion alone."

Su Luo had already reached the door.

"Often, even if you lay the Truth right in people's faces, they will only choose the path that benefits them. Never mistake real-world obstacles for ideal conditions."

When Mu Ri promoted Human Absolutism, it didn't rely on reasoning, but on Authority Sword and faith. Those who stubbornly refused to accept Humanity Above All weren't persuaded, but eliminated.

I have no obligation to seduce or persuade you.

"In my hometown's history, there was a pioneer named Bruno. Many people believe he was burned at the stake for adhering to the Heliocentrism. But in reality, the Heliocentrism, as a mathematical hypothesis, wasn't that serious. The true historical fact is that he Negation the Christianity Trinity and the Divinity of Jesus, among other rebellious statements, and was ultimately driven to his death by the flames of reality."

"We are now like the despicable Bruno, needing to more thoroughly Negation the world to achieve our goals."

As Su Luo got into the carriage, she kicked the difference engine off the carriage, took one last look at Mu Hongyuan, and at the same time, a piece of white paper floated out.

Brass parts were scattered all over the ground, and white Steam spewed out from the broken pipe, condensing into a cloud of white mist in the cold air, supporting the paper.

"Our influence Spread to four cities, encountering numerous obstacles and a host of unspeakable Survivors. There is a Survivor here who is so powerful we find him difficult to handle; we need your help to eliminate him. We will provide assistance."

Mu Hongyuan took the paper and watched the Scholar drive off onto a side road near the city.

The carriage wheels creaked and groaned as they rolled over the gravel road. Two Knights followed behind, silent. In the distance, the sky was dark, and chimneys and Steam pipes were outlined in jagged shapes against the gloom.

"Stay away, "Su Luo sighed, realizing an interesting truth:

Why is the Xiaonan Niang style so prevalent throughout the All Heavens and Ten Thousand Worlds?

Perhaps it's because bad money drives out good money, and counterfeit money drives out bad money.

Norn Town.

Without a doubt, this is a very unremarkable town. In the century since industry and Steam came into being, it has changed very little, and even in the Rich District, Steam heating systems have not become widespread.

If you absolutely had to label this town, it should be called a "de- Industrialization, de-developmental nature reserve."

Many writers and artists who travel to this city always leave something behind, such as a sketch, a short poem, or a folk song that is repeatedly sung by later generations.

Ansen, the Survivor, strolled leisurely from his spawn point to this "backward" place, eliminating several Survivors along the way.

Ansen entered the small town with several books and a writing brush, and inspected the surroundings.

Nestled in the folds of a valley, lies a small town where time seems to have slowed its pace. The hills, a deep blue-green, undulate gently, their slopes covered with tender yellow wildflowers and deep green meadows. A silver ribbon-like river meanders around the edge of the town, its shallow waters reflecting the clouds and the pointed rooftops.

The wind blew in from the mouth of the valley, carrying the earthy and grassy smells, as well as the aroma of bread being baked in the distance. The town had no neat walls, but was gently enclosed by groves of old oak trees, hawthorn trees, and low wooden fences. From a distance, the red-tiled roofs and pointed roofs were scattered like mushrooms on a green velvet carpet.

Unlike the massive Steam- powered buildings surrounding other cities, here you can't hear boilers roaring or see black smoke billowing from chimneys. Even the air is clean; breathing it in doesn't feel like your throat is being rubbed with sandpaper.

It's like watching a domestic film and seeing a pristine, untouched world among a group of tattooed actors.

Such an environment will surely allow him to write Perfect works.

As an author and artist, Ansen happily decided to stay in the town for the next two days and refine his work.

He first went to the only print shop in town and printed dozens of copies of his first two books. Ansen then set up a small stall by the roadside in a place with green hills and clear water.

He laid out the booklets one by one, pressing down the corners to prevent them from being blown away by the wind. Then he sat down, took out his ink brush, and slowly began to write his own Fairy Tale.

Passersby would occasionally glance at Ansen work, and some even went up to buy it to take home and study.

In this gentle breeze and leisurely atmosphere, Ansen comfortably closed his eyes, enjoying the rare moment of leisure. His pen scratched across the paper, and the story flowed like a river from his pen tip.

Survival Games are always intense and dangerous, and he hadn't had such a carefree time in a long time. He could take advantage of the unique nature of the Dungeon to enjoy some time to himself.

"Da da!"

Amidst this natural harmony, a discordant sound arose, disrupting Ansen's pleasure.

It was a luxurious carriage. The body was a deep emerald green, with brass trim and rivets reflecting a faint light. The carriage was engraved with the medals and insignia of the Empire Academy of Sciences, and the sound of wheels and hooves rolling on the uneven cobblestones broke the tranquility of the town.

Two large tanks followed behind, along with two Steam Mech nearly four meters tall, their shoulder exhaust pipes emitting white Steam. With each step they took, the ground trembled slightly.

Ansen glanced at it a few times, then closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment.

The nobles he didn't know, the Academy of Sciences, the Empire—they had nothing to do with him, nor with his schemes.

"Clang!"

The next second, the carriage showed no sign of stopping, sending his small bookstall flying, books scattering everywhere. The horse's hooves landed precisely on his books, turning the recently printed copies black and tattered.

Ansen opened his eyes, somewhat bewildered. The small window of the carriage was facing him, and the person inside slightly lifted the curtain.

A very young nobleman with an exceptional demeanor made Ansen doubt for a moment whether he was Survivor.

But that's impossible. Anyone who comes looking for trouble out of nowhere will be treated as Survivor; there's no room for wishful thinking.

In that instant, thoughts raced through his mind, and Ansen looked at the unfinished manuscript in his hand with a touch of regret.

It's such a pity. I haven't finished writing this Fairy Tale yet. Today, an unknown Survivor came knocking on my door. I'm probably going to be in deep trouble. The peaceful times are gone forever.

Unexpectedly, the noble-looking man in the carriage first leaned out of the window, glanced at the book on the ground, and then said to him:

How much does it cost to park here for a day?

Ansen was stunned.

"Dude, this is a bookstall, not a parking lot."

The man laughed upon hearing this:

"Oh, parking is free here, right?"

Ansen: "..."