Chapter 867 - 73: Chaos Rises, This Era Is Sick

Of course, from time to time, there are also loyal and righteous individuals who advise Zhao Gou.

But Zhao Gou doesn’t care in the slightest.

He always responds to the praises of ministers like Qin Hui, saying things like, "My Great Song is still great."

And this, invisibly, has further exacerbated the worsening situation.

This era is seemingly like this.

Once the Emperor changes, everything naturally becomes irreversible!

...

Northern Border, an unnamed river valley village.

This place was once a reflection of the glorious era of the Great Song at the Northern Border.

During the years when the Gu Clan flourished and the court’s authority extended to the frontier, thanks to relative border stability and the court’s encouragement of border trade, this small village located beside a trade route once enjoyed a time of peace.

The villagers raised cattle and sheep, grew hardy millet, and occasionally exchanged surplus furs and mountain goods with passing caravans for southern salt, iron, and cloth.

Though not wealthy, taxes were manageable, labor duties had a term, and life could go on.

Children could run and play in the valley, and the elders could sit in front of earthen houses, peacefully enjoying the rare northern sunshine.

However, with the Gu Clan retreating from the world and the decay of the court, all this has completely vanished into history.

Now this village is in utter ruin.

The caravans of the past have long disappeared, replaced by the occasional howling looters or horse bandits, plundering everything, with more than half of the village’s houses collapsed, leaving only broken walls and ruins lamenting in the wind and snow.

The few wisps of smoke left also appear weak and feeble.

The villagers are sallow, emaciated, and their eyes are numb.

The cattle and sheep they raised have long been "requisitioned" by passing troops or officials under various pretexts.

The only remaining millet seeds were forcibly taken last year by a major merchant house colluding with the government, under the guise of "unified purchasing," at a pitifully low price, in exchange for shoddy and almost unbearable cloth and salt mixed with sand.

The young men either were taken away to serve as laborers, their fates unknown, or grit their teeth and fled this land of despair.

At the village entrance, under a dead old locust tree, sits a blind old man.

He is wrapped in tattered fur barely covering his body, hollow eye sockets facing the gray sky, and his hands, full of calluses and chilblains, unconsciously stroking a smooth wooden stick.

He is both a witness to this village’s years and a bearer of this suffering.

Gu Hui and Yue Fei, dressed as ordinary travelers, stepped through the snow to stand before the old man.

"Old sir, sorry to disturb you."

"We’re passing through and would like to ask for a bowl of water to drink."

Upon hearing this, the old man barely moves, his hollow gaze turning towards the source of the voice, his chapped lips moving slightly, issuing a hoarse voice: "Water... the well is over there, help yourselves... there are not many people left in the village."

Looking at the surrounding devastation, Yue Fei’s tiger eyes show a hint of compassion, and he asks solemnly, "Old sir, why has this village fallen into such ruin?"

The old man remains silent for a moment, as if recalling, or perhaps already numb.

He slowly begins, his voice without resentment, only a resignation: "Gone, everything is gone... the cattle, the food, the children... all taken."

"Who took them?" Gu Hui gently guides.

"The Imperial Family... and those merchants of the grand officials..." the old man mumbles, "They said... it was for the court, for the soldiers at the Northern Border... but we, we haven’t even seen the shadow of the soldiers..."

Yue Fei clenched his fists, his knuckles white.

Gu Hui continued to ask, "Old sir, why do you think... this world has become like this? Is it because the Emperor is unkind?"

Hearing this, the blind old man appears to be stirred, his emotions suddenly a bit agitated, he vigorously shakes his head, though sightless, as if to shake off this treasonous thought:

"No! It’s not the Imperial Family’s fault! The Imperial Family is the Holy Emperor, they are good!" His voice raised, with an almost stubborn conviction, "It’s all those officials below... those treacherous ministers! Those heartless merchants!"

"They have deceived the Holy Emperor, they oppress us commoners!"

He extended his withered fingers, gesturing randomly into the distance: "The Imperial Family is deep within the palace, how could they know our hardships here?"

"It’s those people who ignore the Imperial Family’s words, acting recklessly!"

"If the Imperial Family knew, they would definitely stand up for us!"

"They definitely would!"

The old man repeated this, as if persuading Gu Hui and Yue Fei, more like persuading himself.

Seeing this, Yue Fei could not help but clench his fists, his body slightly trembling.

Others might not know.

But how could he, as the Grand Marshal of the Northern Border, not know?

When had his troops ever requisitioned cattle and sheep from the people’s homes??

Gu Hui’s expression, though unchanged, inevitably nodded slightly, he did not say much more, just led Yue Fei as usual to continue past, and then asked Yue Fei again.

This time, Yue Fei replied without hesitation.

He uttered a sentence—one that Gu Hui once told him.

At the time, he still held some doubt.

But at this moment, he spoke with calmness and firmness:

"This era... is indeed sick."

....

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