And at that moment.
Wenren Sheng thought about it. How should he solve this problem? If he wanted to solve it,
he first had to go to the scene and take a look.
So he rose directly and walked out the door.
The moment he reached the entrance, he saw a crowd of villagers kneeling on the ground.
There were nearly several hundred of them, packed densely together.
Every one of them wore tattered clothes, their faces smeared with mud.
They reeked of the fishy stench of river water.
The middle-aged cook loyally held a spatula, guarding the Young Master—and guarding her own livelihood as well.
These days, it was not easy to find a close-serving position under a lord.
Especially the position of cook. It looked humble, but in truth, only a trusted confidant could fill it.
Just then, someone hidden among the villagers suddenly shouted:
"Lord, you're leaving us no way to live!"
"Let's go up there and kill this lord! Then we can all flee to the neighboring territory and survive!"
"Kill this lord!"
Hearing this, the cook's body trembled.
Though she was broad and sturdy, she stood no chance against hundreds of villagers.
To put it bluntly, each of them only needed a pebble—not even a proper stone—to bury her alive.
As for the Butler, he had already curled up inside the room and simply crawled under the bed...
Wenren Sheng, however, was a little speechless.
Nothing had even happened yet, and they already wanted to kill the lord and rebel?
As I recall, the commoners' bottom line wasn't this low.
Normally, only after exploitation drove three or four out of every ten households into bankruptcy would people begin to flee.
Only when fleeing was no longer possible would they consider killing the lord for food.