"How do we hold a lively, interesting event?"
Shan Zifan presented this question in the office.
"I know this. The ancients already had experience with it," someone answered eagerly.
"Go on."
"Legend has it that in ancient times, there was a king who married a beautiful imperial concubine, but she never smiled. To win a smile from her, he ordered the beacon towers lit. The feudal lords from every region rushed over to provide aid, and the chaotic, lively scene finally made the imperial concubine smile faintly..."
The story of King You of Zhou and Bao Si?
Wenren Sheng thought to himself. This was probably the ultimate simp—the real deal. He had simped away both his country and his own life.
"Beauty brings disaster" was naturally just the shameless self-justification and scapegoating of scholar-officials, but Simps Must Die was absolutely true.
"Mm, not bad. Not bad at all. Let's start by issuing a citywide air-raid alarm and see what happens." Shan Zifan gave the order directly.
"But shouldn't we give advance notice first, to prevent a stampede?" Lang Yini, who had come along with them, suggested.
"Oh, in that story about the ancient king, did he give the regional lords advance notice that it was only a joke?" Rather than answer her question, Shan Zifan turned to ask everyone else.
"No. If he had notified them in advance, how could the lords have brought so many soldiers and made it look so convincing?" someone said with a laugh.
"This..." Lang Yini fell silent.
At that moment, however, the middle-aged prophet suddenly frowned. "No. If you do this, you will definitely fail. The event needs to be lively, but there can't be innocent casualties."
Wenren Sheng's heart stirred slightly.
He had already believed the man was summoning Little Illusion. With this