Sun Yisheng had never been this high-profile in his entire life.
He was a ninth-rank petty official, an unranked bureaucrat in Western Capital City. Usually when he went out, very few people looked at him twice.
Today, however, he felt the gaze of tens of thousands upon him, making him a bit dizzy and his heart race.
Yet Chen Shi, walking beneath the silk parasol and entering the capital, had a completely different state of mind.
"My grandpa killed a lot of people here, and they called him the Western Capital Butcher." He said to Sun Yisheng.
Sun Yisheng shivered, the feeling of being the center of attention instantly vanishing as he hurriedly said, "Young Master, you must never mention this matter again! Lord Chen also faced the hostility of many people because of this."
Chen Shi didn't care. At that moment, a voice came from the crowd: "He's the Child Scholar, a man who has been dead for eleven years."
Chen Shi looked toward the source of the voice, but saw heads bobbing and a crowd of people looking at their batch of entering provincial graduates, unable to tell who was speaking.
More than two hundred and sixty provincial graduates from all over Western Ox Continent entering the city at the same time was a rare sight in the history of the Western Capital.
What they saw most often were numerous servants and retainers escorting aristocratic provincial graduates into the city like stars surrounding the moon.
Yet this batch of provincial graduates entering the Western Capital looked weathered and travel-worn, some bearing old injuries, but their spirit and vitality were unexpectedly good—giving off a feeling of not being tainted by the mortal world.
"He's alive again."
There were murmurs in the crowd, "A man who should have died long