Chapter 4: Peaceful Taoist (Patreon)

At that moment, the scene on the light screen continued to play out.

Gusttave led Feixiao deep into the mountain forest, slaying three monstrous demons that had been terrorizing the region along the way.

His methods were clean and efficient, without a trace of flourish — the base stats of an Ultimate Life Form spoke for themselves, and with a century of cultivation behind him, ordinary demons stood no chance of even putting up a fight.

Feixiao crouched on a slab of bluestone, tail swaying listlessly as she watched Gusttave expertly dig loot out of the demon's lair, her deep blue fox eyes full of curiosity.

"That 'capitalist' thing you mentioned earlier — what exactly is that?" she suddenly asked.

Gusttave's hands paused, and he glanced back at her.

The little fox sat perched on the bluestone, her silver-white hair stirring faintly in the mountain breeze, the tips of her three tails unconsciously twining together — clearly she'd been holding this question in the whole way.

"It's not a thing, it's a type of person," Gusttave said, tucking away a bag of demon cores as he stood and brushed the dust off his hands. "Haven't you seen merchants in human towns before?"

"I have."

"Then have you noticed that the owner of a grain shop doesn't farm the land himself, and the owner of a cloth shop doesn't weave the cloth himself, yet they earn far more than the farmers and weavers do?"

Feixiao tilted her head and thought about it, then nodded.

"A capitalist is... the ultimate form of that kind of person," Gusttave said, choosing words she'd understand. "They don't farm, weave, build houses, or forge iron — but they own the fields, the looms, the houses, the mines."

"If a farmer wants to use their fields, he has to hand over most of the harvest. If a weaver wants to use their looms, she has to work day and night for wages that barely cover a bare living."

"Isn't that just robbery?" Feixiao frowned.

"Legal robbery," Gusttave said with a smile that carried some indescribable edge. "And they've invented a whole set of justifications to make everyone believe it's simply the natural order of things — 'hard work makes you rich,' 'fair trade,' 'the capable deserve more.' The exploited even come to believe they're poor because they haven't worked hard enough."

Feixiao's fox ears flattened, and her tail stopped swaying.

Young as she was, she was, after all, the Tushan clan's second-in-command — she had managed the clan's ledgers and seen something of the human world.

She couldn't fully grasp everything Gusttave had said, but the core of it struck her like a needle, piercing straight into her understanding.

"So... when the powerful and privileged 'eat people,' is that also what capitalists do — 'eating people,' for real?"

"An extreme form of it," Gusttave nodded. "Once power and wealth concentrate past a certain point, once no force remains that can restrain them, ordinary exploitation stops being enough to satisfy their desires."

"They start chasing something even more extreme — the power of life and death over others, absolute dominion over the bodies and minds of their own kind. Eating people is just one of the most blunt expressions of that desire."

He paused, his tone as calm as if stating the most ordinary fact in the world. "Without any restraint at all, what humans are capable of is far more cruel than what demons do. Demons eat people to fill their stomachs. Humans eat people for pleasure."

The mountain wind swept through the treetops, stirring up a rustling sound.

Feixiao fell silent for a long while, then finally hopped down from the bluestone and followed quietly behind Gusttave.

After several steps, she finally spoke, her voice subdued. "What about you? You're human — do you think humans are bad too?"

"I don't think humans are bad, and I don't think demons are good," Gusttave said without turning back. "Good and bad aren't divided by race, only by action. There are good humans and bad demons, good demons and bad humans. Except—"

He suddenly stopped walking, turned his head toward the little fox beside him, and let a smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

"The one you've met right now happens to be a good human."

Feixiao froze for an instant, then turned her face away, the tips of her ears flushing faintly red — while her tail, betraying her completely, swung happily on its own.

[March 7th: Aaaaah, so smooth!!]

[Silver Wolf: That conversational pivot was way too smooth. Expert-level.]

[Hu Tao: ...This Director's feelings are very complicated right now. I don't know whether to keep being mad or give him praise.]

[Elysia: An entire serious discussion, just to set up that one line of understated tenderness at the end? What an interesting gentleman~]

[Zhongli: Judging good and evil by class rather than by race — such a perspective does indeed give him the standing to comment on Liyue.]

The image on the light screen bled outward like ink in water.

Gusttave traveled the mortal world with Feixiao for a full ten years.

Over those ten years, the two of them left footprints from the southern lands to the northern mountains, from the eastern sea to the western deserts.

Wherever Gusttave went, he always did three things — take up bounties, slay evil demons, and hunt for cultivation techniques.

Feixiao's job was to tally the loot after each fight, and occasionally to pump the local demons for information.

Eventually, Gusttave and Feixiao returned to the place where their journey had begun — Tushan.

"Let's part ways here," Gusttave said to Feixiao.

The smile on Feixiao's face froze instantly, and her tail, which had been swaying lightly, drooped all at once.

She stepped forward and instinctively grabbed hold of Gusttave's sleeve, her fingertips tightening slightly, a barely noticeable flicker of panic clouding her deep blue eyes. "Part ways? Where are you going?"

"To do what I'm supposed to do." Before Feixiao could say anything else, Gusttave had already risen into the air and left Tushan.

Sometime after, in an impoverished farming village, a man calling himself a Daoist of Great Peace began preaching among the villagers.

He taught the local people to read, showed them more advanced farming techniques, helped them improve their tools, and even gave them seeds that could yield more grain.

At the same time, he led his followers in building irrigation works that benefited the common people.

Word of the Daoist of Great Peace quickly spread across human territories — even reaching mixed human-demon regions like the northern mountains and the western deserts.

Several more decades soon passed.

The reputation of Way of Great Peace spread like wildfire.

From the original three villages, to thirty, and then to three hundred.

The Great Peace Daoists wore plain robes identical to Gusttave's, trekking through the poorest, most remote corners of the mortal world, teaching literacy, new farming methods, irrigation, and basic medicine.

They took no payment, built no temples, and lived in no grand halls — eating and sleeping no differently from the common people.

More astonishing still, Way of Great Peace accepted disciples regardless of their origins or race.

Orphaned humans, abandoned demon children — so long as they held kindness in their hearts and were willing to serve the common people, they could join.

In corners forgotten by the great clans and the famous orthodox sects, Way of Great Peace's reputation rang louder than any immortal sect's.

Because the immortal sects stood high above, while the Great Peace Daoists stood in the mud.

And yet, despite the Great Peace Daoists' teachings, the people who should have grown prosperous remained mired in hardship.

It wasn't that the Daoists' guidance was useless.

On the contrary, their teachings worked very well — grain yields rose considerably. But what followed was a wave of rising taxes and rents.

So even though the people were producing more than ever, they still struggled just to keep food on the table.

None of this surprised Gusttave — this was simply how the society worked.

Without changing the relations of production, no matter how advanced the productive forces became, they would only keep getting bled dry.

Year after year, the harvests grew better, and year after year, the rents and taxes pressing down on their shoulders rose right along with them.

Grain yields on the land rose thirty percent, and the landlords dared to raise rents by fifty. The town's workshops wove finer cloth, and the shop owners turned around and cut wages by thirty percent.

Life should have gotten better and better, and yet by year's end, every household's granary still stood empty, and no one had new clothes on their back.

Someone finally couldn't help but ask a Daoist of Great Peace: "Master, we've worked harder than ever, and we're growing more grain than ever — so why can't we still eat our fill?"

The Daoist crouched on the ridge between the fields, watching the servants collecting rent in the distance. He was silent for a moment, then said only: "Because what you grow was never yours to begin with."

Gusttave stood on a distant hillside, gazing at the village with its rising cooking smoke, not a flicker of emotion in his eyes.

With a century of cultivation and the power of an Ultimate Life Form, he could have toppled a kingdom or a city with ease long ago. Yet he had chosen the slowest, most foolish path instead.

He wanted these people to realize for themselves who was sucking their blood, who was treating them like livestock.

At the same time, Gusttave kept firmly in mind the saying: political power grows out of the barrel of a gun.

Every Daoist of Great Peace was a cultivator Gusttave had carefully trained. None of them were as powerful as he was, but they were elites in their own right.

In the chat group, the mood had grown heavy beyond words.

[Keqing: Yields go up, and taxes skyrocket right along with them... This — this makes no sense at all!]

[Seele: It's the same for the miners in the Underworld... they dig their hearts out mining Geomarrow, and all they get back is barely enough food to survive.]

[Zhongli: Production rises, yet the people do not grow rich. Prosperity is created, yet the people find no joy in it. This is not governance — it is extraction.]

Zhongli's fingers tightened slightly around his teacup.

He had once believed that mortal self-governance was meant to work this way — merchants pursuing profit, officials maintaining order, and the years flowing peacefully onward.

But watching the diligent, hardworking people on the light screen still struggling just to survive, for the first time he felt a flicker of doubt about his choice to hand the realm over to others.

Atop Tushan, Huohuo still often stood beneath the Bitter Love Tree.

A century had passed, and the loneliness about her had only deepened. But lately, she found herself unconsciously gazing toward the direction of the mortal world.

News of Way of Great Peace had already reached the demon realm. Many kind-hearted young demons had begun sneaking down from the mountains to help the common people farm and heal the sick.

Tingyun, handling the clan's affairs, would sometimes look over reports from the mortal world and let out a soft sigh.

"This Daoist of Great Peace... is quite the remarkable person."

Only Feixiao, whenever she heard the words 'Way of Great Peace,' would find her ears perking up on their own.

She always felt that the man who had taught her to see the true nature of humans and demons, who had led her across the mortal world, was there.

One day, someone finally reached their breaking point.

A landlord in a certain county brought his servants and forcibly hauled away cartload after cartload of grain the villagers had just harvested. An old man dropped to his knees to beg, only to be kicked aside.

Anger that had been suppressed for over a decade finally exploded.

"Why should it be like this! We grew this grain — why does it all belong to you!"

A young man snatched up a hoe, his eyes red, and charged forward.

As if a fuse had been lit, more and more villagers picked up sickles, carrying poles, and hoes, surging toward the landlord and his servants.

Chaos was on the verge of erupting.

Local authorities, hearing of it, immediately dispatched soldiers to put down the unrest, blades and spears drawn, killing intent thick in the air.

The soldiers shouted of "rioting mobs" even as their spears struck down unarmed villagers without mercy.

Blood soaked the field ridges in an instant.

[March 7th: They just want to survive...]

[Kiana Kaslana: This is too much! It's clearly the officials and the landlord who are the thieves here!]

[Hu Tao: ...So this is what a world ruled by merchants and great clans looks like.]

[Welt Yang: When the rules only protect those at the top, resistance becomes the only way out.]

Just as blood stained the field ridges and the people were driven to the brink of despair, a faint golden streak of light suddenly flashed across the sky.

Gusttave stood in midair in his plain Daoist robes, the fabric snapping in the mountain wind. There wasn't a trace of violence about him, yet he carried a pressure that seemed to hold heaven and earth in check.

"The Daoist of Great Peace! The Daoist of Great Peace has come!"

Someone in the crowd shouted it first, and the once-despairing villagers lifted their heads at once, light rekindling in their eyes.

The landlord, already white with fear, had gone limp against the grain cart. He pointed a trembling finger into the air. "Wh-who are you? Interfering with official business — are you trying to start a rebellion?"

Gusttave descended slowly, his feet landing lightly on the muddy field ridge. "A rebellion? We're merely demanding what's fair."

Before the words had even finished, he casually swept out his hand.

An invisible wave of energy erupted outward. The soldiers surrounding the villagers were sent flying like kites with their strings cut, their weapons shattering to pieces — yet not a single person died. He had only stripped them of the strength to do harm, without taking a single life.

It wasn't mercy on his part — he was simply saving their lives so the common people could pass judgment on them themselves.

The landlord, scared out of his wits, scrambled and crawled trying to flee, but a beam of golden light pinned him in place, and he couldn't move an inch.

"You — you dare lay hands on an official appointed by the court? The immortal sects won't let you get away with this!"

Gusttave had no interest in wasting words on him. He turned instead to the villagers gathered around, their eyes a mix of fear and excitement:

"The grain you grow should belong to you. The sweat you shed shouldn't be feeding bloodsucking parasites."

"If the immortal sects won't step in, if the great clans won't step in, if the officials won't step in — then I, Way of Great Peace, will see this through to the end."

The crowd fell silent for an instant, then erupted into a deafening roar.

Some dropped to their knees weeping, some clenched their fists — years of pent-up grievance and rage poured out all at once.

In front of the livestream's light screen, everyone in the chat group was already struggling to keep their emotions in check.

[Seele: It's just like the Underworld... You give it everything you've got, and it's still hard just to survive.]

[Otto: If power serves only the few, then even the most stable order is nothing but a tower built on shifting sand.]

[Zhongli: Production rises without enriching the people; diligence earns no standing. In such a world, collapse is only a matter of time.]

[Welt Yang: He isn't saving one place at one moment — he's awakening an entire people.]

[Elysia: Gentle yet unyielding — like a beam of light shining into the mire?]

Gusttave stood before the crowd, his voice carrying across the fields:

"The Way of Great Peace, from this day forward, officially raises its banner."

"Those who till shall have their land. Those who labor shall have their food. Those who live shall have their dignity."

"Those willing to follow me — let us build Great Peace together."

"Those unwilling may go their own way — but whoever dares oppress the common people again, I will come find them."

As his words fell, countless villagers dropped to their knees and bowed their heads to the ground, their roaring voices surging straight up to the heavens.