Dimensional Supermarket - Chapter 100

Ye Zhou originally thinks that the general’s mansion guarding the city gate will be relatively clean and tidy, but what greets him leaves him in despair. There are no stone slabs laid outside the building, so no matter how clean the inside is, as soon as the door opens, yellow sand blows in and settles everywhere. Even the slabs inside the house are covered in a fine layer of sand.

The moment Ye Zhou steps over the threshold, he makes up his mind—he’ll sleep in the tent tonight.

They pass through a still-dilapidated covered walkway and step through two circular archways before finally seeing Sarah.

Only… Sarah looks like some bandit who bullies both men and women.

She is sitting at the doorway on what appears to be a “human mat” dressed in green cloth. When she notices Ye Zhou entering, she immediately stands up and, in an attempt to cover her tracks, kicks the “mat” aside.

The “mat” tumbles down the steps and rolls to Ye Zhou’s feet. It raises its head and glares at him.

Sarah quickly runs down, gives it another kick, then clasps her hands behind her back and puts on a fake smile for Ye Zhou. Her voice turns sickly sweet. “Boss, you’re here. Everyone’s inside. I didn’t let a single one of them go. You! Stop right there! If you run again, I’ll break your legs!” Sarah shouts at the “mat”—the guest she just kicked, who is now trying to scramble away.

The man freezes, too frightened to move. After seeing Sarah’s ruthless methods, the other guests are all scared out of their wits. Her shout seems to short-circuit his brain—he becomes like a puppet, following instructions without thinking.

Sarah tries to explain: “I was just sitting at the door. You can ask him if you want. The doorstep was too hard, and my butt started to hurt after a while. That’s why I asked if anyone was willing to be a cushion.”

Ye Zhou looks completely appalled, but he doesn’t scold Sarah—regardless of whether she’s a vampire or how strong she is, this isn’t something she has to do. Her duty is simply to protect him, not to act as his enforcer.

“How do you plan to deal with these people?” Ye Zhou asks, turning to Chen Hou.

Chen Hou’s gaze falls on Zhang Rong, who lies unconscious nearby. He notices the top of Zhang Rong’s head looks like it has been torn open and covered in medicinal powder. The red and white mix looks horrifying.

“He… What… happened to him…” Chen Hou’s voice drops.

Sarah answers, “I tore off his scalp.”

Everyone except Zou Ming gasps.

Even hearing it makes their scalp tingle.

Sarah adds, “He kept talking nonsense and refused to tell someone to open the door. Don’t blame me.”

Ye Zhou says calmly, “It’s not your fault. Go take a rest.”

Sarah shakes her head. “You guys deal with them first. Can you leave the killing to me, okay?”

Chen Hou shudders. The more he looks at Sarah, the more he feels she must be some kind of mountain spirit or ghost—someone who can kill without batting an eye.

Helpless, he turns to Ye Zhou for support.

Ye Zhou doesn’t immediately agree. “I’ll discuss it with Chen Hou later.”

Sarah grins. “Then I’ll wait.”

Chen Hou goes to check on Zhang Rong. Since Zhang Rong is unconscious, he has Chen Yan carry him to a dormitory for care. Zhou Yuanhe goes along as well. Zhang Rong isn’t dead yet, so saving him comes first.

As for the remaining guests…

Chen Hou walks into the hall and looks at the group huddled in the corner. He sighs internally.

He doesn’t expect so many people in Chen State not to want him to return.

He used to think he was a monarch beloved by the people. Since taking the throne, he has never raised taxes for personal gain. His wife wears only wooden hairpins as jewelry, even until the day he leaves.

As a ruler, he never indulges in luxury for himself.

Looking at the guests, Chen Hou doesn’t flare up, nor does he order them taken away. Instead, he presses down his robe, stands tall before them, raises his hands flat, and solemnly bows.

With a hoarse voice, he asks, “Tell me—have I failed to earn your service due to lack of virtue? Or is it that I am too incapable as a monarch, and you believe it’s better to replace me?”

The guests look at this gentlemanly monarch, and the fear in their hearts begins to fade—but still, no one dares answer.

After all, they are traitors.

Finally, one person steps forward, returns the bow, and speaks loudly: “It’s not the king’s fault, but ours. People are greedy for gain. Everyone here wanted a high position but lacked the ability to earn one. So they took crooked paths. We are all petty villains—this has nothing to do with the king.”

Chen Hou looks at the man. Even though he knows it might be posturing, he still shakes his head and says, “Sir, you are no villain. A true villain would never say something like this.”

The man raises his head. His eyes are on Marquis Chen, but they soon shift to Ye Zhou standing beside him.

A flash of surprise passes through his eyes.

This man has no long hair, no beard, an exquisitely handsome face, and a gentle air. That someone like him stands beside Chen Hou is startling.

His clothing and appearance… don’t match the people of this era. Based on his features alone, it’s hard to tell which nation he’s from.

Chen people usually have long torsos and narrow shoulders. Judging by his build, he looks more like someone from Zheng—broad shoulders and a slim waist.

But his looks far surpass those of Zheng. Zheng people often have broad foreheads and flat noses, with large nostrils, but this man’s pupils are pitch-black, his eyes long yet not narrow, with slightly upturned ends. His nose is straight and subtle, his lips thin and narrow—there’s no coldness in his expression, only a romantic charm.

Even standing beside a king, his presence isn’t diminished.

At a glance, he seems like a noble, yet his demeanor is approachable. You’d think him a modest gentleman—cultured, with a generous spirit.

Chen Hou notices the man staring at Ye Zhou and clears his throat to pull his attention back.

The man snaps out of it and looks away from Ye Zhou, continuing, “Since General Zhang has already submitted, we have nothing more to say. Your Majesty may do as you wish.”

As soon as he finishes, the other guest advisors immediately protest.

“Your Majesty, it was all General Zhang’s doing! It has nothing to do with us!”

“We were only guests—how could we influence the general’s decisions?!”

“Your Majesty, please have mercy!”

Chen Hou turns to Ye Zhou. “Immortal… may I speak with you in private?”

Though Ye Zhou doesn’t know what he wants to discuss, he still nods.

The two step outside and stand behind a pillar to talk.

Chen Hou sighs. “Immortal, I truly don’t know what to do with them. If I kill them, no more scholars will come to Chen. The world won’t see that they rebelled against me—only that I slaughtered scholars out of envy.”

“If I let them go, they’ll surely spread word of this…”

Only then does Ye Zhou understand. All the kingdoms are currently competing to recruit scholars. Monarchs, no matter their temperament, maintain a consistent approach to scholars—humble and reverent.

Talents are scarce, and competition is fierce.

Here, education and literacy are even more exclusive than in the Daliang Dynasty. Almost all scholars come from noble families. Unlike Daliang, where nobles pursue power, the aristocracy here is born with everything. If they want to be officials, their elders can simply recommend them. Nobility is inherited—they never worry about falling out of class.

So, they take pride in not serving the monarch. Seeking officialdom after studying is seen as beneath them.

A “real” scholar doesn’t chase after fame or fortune. Anyone who does is ridiculed.

The ones who can be swayed by monarchs are usually from minor families—sometimes descendants of fallen nobility—trying to restore their family’s glory.

But even these scholars are picky. They judge monarchs, the strength of the state, and how much respect they are shown.

In short, here, “scholar” equals nobility. In any feudal age, this is absurd.

After hearing this, Ye Zhou falls silent for a long time. Finally, he says, “That’s hereditary nobility for you. They’re born this way and die this way. With fiefs and stipends, they don’t care about advancement.”

Why work hard when there’s no upward path?

Those who worry for the nation are the exception. In this era, loyalty to the sovereign and patriotism mean little. A scholar from Lu can serve in Chen, and one from Zhao can work in Zheng. No one feels it’s betrayal.

The old ideals of loyalty and national pride don’t hold.

They only want to prove their own brilliance.

This place is like a talent marketplace, and unless you are a superpower bursting with scholars, monarchs have no say in who they get.

Ye Zhou, being an outsider, can’t predict how the locals will react to Chen Hou’s decision. He can only offer this: “If you can’t kill them and don’t want them spreading rumors, then lock them up for now. You might make use of them later.”

Chen Hou nods. He has been thinking the same. “But the scholar who spoke just now—I think he’s different.”

Ye Zhou says, “Then imprison him too, but release him first and claim he’s agreed to serve you. If the others want out, they’ll have to follow his example.”

Chen Hou looks at Ye Zhou in admiration. “You truly are an immortal. This way of handling people…”

Ye Zhou waves him off. “Chen Hou, no need for flattery. Go deal with them.”

He can clearly hear the flattery in Chen Hou’s tone.

Once Chen Hou leaves, Zou Ming comes over. “Let’s set up the tent for tonight.”

Ye Zhou nods and sighs. “I doubt their capital’s much better. Let’s hope the roads there are paved, at least, so it’s not all dust.” His expectations for Chen’s capital are falling fast. No expectations mean no disappointment. “Honestly, I think it’s going to be hard to keep Marquis Chen’s return a secret. Don’t sleep too deeply tonight—just in case someone tries an assassination.”

Zou Ming nods. “There are so many people in the camp. It’s normal for spies to be mixed in.”

Even if they can’t reach the capital right away, the mastermind probably has confidants nearby.

Ye Zhou smiles. “That’s good. Cao’er and the others could use some live practice. I can’t always rely on you and Sarah to stand in front.”

Zou Ming presses his lips together. After a few seconds, he says quietly, “I can keep standing in front.”

Ye Zhou pats his shoulder. “You’re not made of iron. You’re mortal too. Don’t forget to look after yourself. Look at me—I never get up early if I can sleep in.”

Zou Ming’s lips twitch slightly.

The one who always stands at the front line… has never really been him.