Technological Civilization? Still Unable to Cultivate Techniques? Yet as Gu Yuan watched the servant's reaction, he felt that something was off.
It was not the servant who was strange.
It was that young master who was strange.
The night passed without incident.
Today was quite torturous. Many people were unable to speak, making communication difficult.
The paper sellers, however, made a fortune.
Today's rules were not particularly harsh either.
At least they were much better than being unable to speak.
A: No jumping.
B: No sharing a bed.
C: No killing.
Of course, aside from the first rule, these had little to do with most people.
Especially the matter of killing.
For some death-row prisoners, it meant they could live one more day.
Inside the city.
In a certain room.
A group of beggars had already awakened. An old man looked at the rules outside and instantly relaxed.
The master gave them food and a place to sleep.
Who knew what he was up to.
At the very edge, An Changhai looked like he wanted to cry but had no tears.
The smell from the entire night had nearly ruined his nose completely.
What suffering.
How could life here compare to the village?
Creak.
The door opened.
The young master entered from outside.
He looked at the room full of people and smelled the odor in the air without the slightest hint of disgust.
Instead, excitement showed in his eyes.
Yes, excitement.
An Changhai saw it clearly.
But what was there to get excited about, looking at a bunch of beggars—ptui, a bunch of beggars and me?
"Which of you is more unusual?"
Unusual?
What did that mean?
"Me, Young Master. I'm missing an arm. Does that count as unusual?"
"And me. My lower body is festering. I'm extremely unusual."