Li Yuan's second morning in the mountain capital started with an air that was colder than usual. From the inn's window, he could see a thin mist that enveloped the lowest level of the city—an area he hadn't explored yesterday. Today, he decided to descend to the part of the city designated for the "common folk."
There were no checkpoints to go down—only a steep stone staircase and paths that became increasingly narrow. The further he descended, the clearer the difference became from the merchant and noble levels. The buildings were simpler, the roads less maintained, and most strikingly—the people moved with a different posture. Shoulders were more bowed, steps were more cautious, and eyes tended to be cast downward.
Through the small radius of his Wenjing Realm, Li Yuan began to hear intentions that were familiar yet painful: constant fear, suppressed hunger, carefully hidden despair. This was not the ordinary poverty he had seen elsewhere—this was poverty that was deliberately maintained as part of a system of control.
Li Yuan entered a small market area on the lowest level. Unlike the hustle and bustle of the merchant level, here the activity took place with whispers and cautious movements. Vendors sold wilted vegetables, hardened bread, and used goods of questionable quality.
At a small stall, Li Yuan met a middle-aged woman named Mei who was selling watery soup in very small portions. Her face was gaunt, her hands were rough from hard work, and her eyes had the emptiness of someone who had lived in desperation for too long.
"Soup, sir?" Mei asked in a voice that was barely audible.
"Yes, thank you," Li Yuan replied, sitting on a wobbly wooden bench.
As Mei prepared the soup, Li Yuan observed the surroundings. What he saw made something cold spread within his chest, though his face remained calm. Children played in the streets in tattered clothes, their bodies too thin for their age. The elderly sat in corners with blank eyes, as if their spirits had been broken.
"How long have you been selling here?" Li Yuan asked in a gentle tone.
Mei glanced nervously before answering. "Fifteen years, sir. Since my husband... since he couldn't work anymore."
Through his Wenjing Realm, Li Yuan heard a more complete story in Mei's intention: a husband injured in a construction project for a noble family, received no compensation, was slowly dying from an untreated infection because medical care was too expensive.
"Is there... any assistance from the kingdom for situations like this?" Li Yuan asked carefully.
Mei laughed—a bitter and empty sound. "Assistance? Sir, people like us exist to serve the kingdom, not to receive assistance from the kingdom."
She poured the watery soup into a bowl and placed it in front of Li Yuan. "Common folk are here to work, to provide labor. When we can't work anymore... well, that's our own problem."
Li Yuan tasted the soup that had almost no flavor, but he ate it with respect for the woman who was clearly putting everything she had into this small business.
"And the children?" Li Yuan gestured toward the children playing in the streets.
"They will grow up to be laborers, like their parents. Or become servants for the upper levels if they are lucky." Mei's voice got quieter. "Education? Healthcare? Opportunities to rise in society? That's not for people like us."
Something in Mei's resigned tone, which was completely without hope, made Li Yuan feel a cold and controlled anger. His Understanding of Water as his core consciousness maintained a calm exterior, but inside, he felt a profound indignation toward a system that deliberately crushed the human spirit.
This is not just inequality, Li Yuan realized. This is the systematic destruction of human dignity.
"Mei," Li Yuan said in a careful tone, "what would happen if someone from this level tried to... improve their situation?"
Mei looked frightened by the question itself. "Improve? What do you mean, sir?"
"Try to learn new skills, start a small business that's more profitable, maybe send a child to school..."
Mei glanced around nervously, then leaned closer. "Sir, talking like that can be dangerous. There are... rules about what people like us can and cannot do."
"What kind of rules?"
"Common folk are not allowed to learn to read beyond a basic level. Not allowed to start businesses that compete with the merchant class. Not allowed to gather in groups of more than five people without a permit. Not allowed to travel outside the city without authorization." Mei's voice dropped to a whisper. "And the enforcement for these rules is... severe."
Li Yuan's expression remained calm, but his eyes became a little colder. "Enforcement?"
Mei pointed to a small building at the end of the market area. "A security post. They monitor activity on this level constantly. There are informants too—people who report 'suspicious behavior' for small rewards."
A police state, Li Yuan realized with a growing coldness in his chest. Systematic surveillance and suppression designed to keep people in permanent subjugation.
"What constitutes 'suspicious behavior'?"
"Too much prosperity—if someone suddenly has better food or cleaner clothes, it's suspicious. Learning—if children are caught with books or trying to write, their parents can be fined. Gathering—even family meetings can be reported as 'plotting.'"
Mei looked at Li Yuan with an expression that was a mixture of fear and desperate hope. "Sir, what level are you from? You don't talk like a merchant or a noble, but you're not from here either."
Li Yuan considered how much to reveal. "I'm a traveling scholar. I study different societies and how they organize themselves."
"A scholar?" Mei's eyes widened. "A real scholar? Who can read and write and... and understand how the world works?"
"Yes."
Tears began to form in Mei's eyes. "Sir, may I ask a question that's... that's maybe dangerous?"
Li Yuan nodded.
"Is it... is it supposed to be like this? Are people like us supposed to live like animals, without hope, without a future for our children?" Mei's voice was breaking. "Or are there... are there ways for society to be different?"
That question, asked with such desperate hope mixed with fear, hit Li Yuan harder than any violence could. His face remained impassive, but something cold and terrible settled in his expression—not an explosive anger, but a fury that was controlled and focused.
"No," Li Yuan answered in a voice that was quiet but carried absolute certainty. "It is not supposed to be like this. Society can be organized to lift everyone up, to provide opportunities for growth, to treat every person with dignity regardless of the circumstances of their birth."
Mei stared at Li Yuan as tears flowed down her face. "But... but sir, if that's possible, why... why isn't it happening here?"
Li Yuan looked around the market area—at the malnourished children, at the adults with broken spirits, at the surveillance system that maintained oppression through fear.
"Because there are people in power who benefit from the current system," he replied, his voice now carrying a sharp and cold edge. "And they are willing to cause immense suffering to maintain those benefits."
Li Yuan stood up from the bench and placed money for the soup—more than Mei charged, enough to feed a small family for several days.
"Mei," Li Yuan said in a gentle tone but with an underlying steel, "change is possible. But change requires people to stand together, to refuse to accept that suffering is inevitable."
"But sir," Mei whispered, "people like us... we have no power to change anything."
Li Yuan looked at Mei with eyes that were now completely cold despite the gentle tone of his voice.
"Power doesn't always come from wealth or position, Mei. Sometimes power comes from people deciding that they will not accept injustice anymore. And when enough people decide that..." Li Yuan paused, looking at the surveillance building, "systems that seem permanent can change very quickly."
Li Yuan walked away from the stall, but not before hearing Mei whisper in a voice that was a mixture of hope and terror: "Is it really possible, sir? Could things really be different?"
Li Yuan didn't answer directly, but through his Wenjing Realm, he could hear a shift in Mei's intention—from complete despair to a tentative, frightened hope.
As Li Yuan continued to explore the lower level, witnessing more examples of systematic oppression, cruelty, and the deliberate maintenance of human misery, something fundamental shifted in his approach.
Patience and gentle persuasion have their place, he thought with a coldness that was becoming more pronounced. But there are times when injustice is so profound, so deliberately cruel, that stronger measures become a moral imperative.
The people in power in this kingdom have made a choice to build prosperity for themselves on a foundation of others' suffering. They've created a system that deliberately crushes the human spirit to maintain their privilege.
Li Yuan's face was now completely impassive, an expression that anyone observing would find unsettling in its coldness. But in his heart, controlled by his Understanding of Water, compassion burned as strongly as ever—not as a weakness, but as a strength that would no longer tolerate cruelty toward innocent people.
It's time to show them that their system, which seems so permanent and unshakeable, is actually very fragile when faced with someone who truly understands how power works.
And someone who is not afraid to use that understanding to protect those who cannot protect themselves.