Money could work miracles, but once you had enough gold coins, there was no longer any need to spend money.
At Lu PingAn's level, he could settle many things with Face Fruit alone.
But having reached the level of a City Lord, he had more or less hit his limit.
This was a remote world within the Featherfolk multiverse, a Steam Industrial World considerably more advanced than the Middle Ages. Its population was substantial, but its civilization's development level was merely average.
Steam vehicles were reasonably fast, but only reasonably so. And overly wealthy, comfortable lives had made travel a choice rather than a necessity of life.
This social structure meant that cities were spaced far apart. At the same time, every city was effectively a Small World, or at least an independent nation.
Positions and money from one city would be recognized in another, but that was all.
Forget about reputation across cities. They did not even have rapid communication or entertainment. Perhaps it was precisely this slow and peaceful development of civilization that had led to such long-lasting tranquil lives.
Ambitious schemers and reformers found it difficult to emerge when most people were content with their prosperous lives. They did not even have the soil from which an ambition to sweep everything aside could grow.
And the cities' overpowered "heavy weapons" made any attempt to seize power by force into a joke.
"These worlds are so wealthy that they do not even need talent, much less geniuses who bring change."
Lu PingAn did not know whether that was a good thing. He did not even know whether all the powerful races under the Twelve Pillars were like this—though in truth, this was a minority—but judging from the outcome, he was destined to be merely a passerby.
"Begin. Harvest