"They're new faces, m'lord."
She carefully conceals her disdain and fixes a pleasing smile on her upturned face.
"They are all countryside folks who are here for the first time to set up their stalls. Do these bumpkins need me to teach them a lesson about the rules?"
Without offering any response to the butler who seemed ready to bite as a dog would, the burning flame in his eyes seemed to subside. His gaze, curious and contemptuous, began scanning the village bumpkins closely.
Tucked safely in two old, out-of-fasion cargo wagons, were a few crates that were potentially merchandise for sale. Teenagers, dressed as hunters, were protecting the wagons. As the butler said, they were uncouth, rule-breaking country bumpkins.
Such great personages would not get upset over a few fools and whether it was necessary to teach these blockheads a lesson...
Thoughts of enforcing some form of rules came to an abrupt halt when the turquoise hair caught his eye, and his inherited fisherman genes started stirring.
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Such impertinence.
——Whilst this expression wasn't only directed at the person addressing them, both the elves and humans were taken aback by the remarkably similar scrutiny they were receiving.
During their time in Niflheim Valley Village, the elves' understanding of 'class' had always been thinner than one would think, almost unimaginable. Due to harsh living conditions, villagers coexisted by helping and supporting each other in a primordial, simple way. Even towards the respected Emil Clan Leader, their attitude was more of respect than of absolute obedience, shaping an unorthodox hierarchy.
Now, this lump of flesh was arrogantly raining his contemptuous gaze on the elves with strong self-esteem. This wouldn't have been surprising if it had incited a backlash. If it hadn't been for their strong sense of duty suppressing their impulses, the young elves would probably have reacted like human youngsters — reckless and pugnacious.
In order to meet the expectations of their village, in order to prove their resolve and abilities. Elves from Brynhild to Tyr were suppressing their anger and trying to avoid direct conflict to prevent their efforts and opportunities from being destroyed overnight. Illusory transformation spell isolated their grim expressions and accusing gazes.
"What's that pig up to?"
"I feel uncomfortable."
"Do all humans have this issue, staring men down in such a disgusting way."
These murmurs and whisperings were in the language of Charlemagne, not a tiny detail missed by the elves. To prevent any unfortunate "accidents", their fingers clung tightly to their weapons.
If there were to be "accidents", they're bound to respond with a "surprise" in return.
"Comparing the results, it seems the hardship in their lives has made the younger generation of the elves mature faster than humans."
After stamping an "approved" mark on the performance of the elves and adding a calm comment, Li Lin shifted his focus to the tacky carriage at the end of the street.
He could confirm that the person of questionable taste—an enormous "meatball"—was influential enough to exert a considerable influence on the entire market. It was highly likely he was the organizer and operator of the market, but his management philosophy was clearly wrong.
An appropriate assertion of authority can promote cohesion and centripetal force within an organization, thereby enhancing its operating efficiency. An excessive display of authority is a meaningless extravagance that not only repels subordinates and customers, but also alienates potential allies and leads to the collapse of the enterprise.
The basic purpose of a business activity is to profit. It's not just foolish to pose and act like a government official, arrogantly and bureaucratically, which puts both customers and businessmen on the opposing side—it's outright dumb.
The only reason dumb people occupy positions they should not is because of their bloodline advantages and family heritage, or as it's colloquially expressed: "My dad's called XX."
In the current society, which has a far from robust system, unfairness and disparity have become a part of "daily life" and taken for granted. People don't question it nor do they seek to challenge it. As an "invader from another world", Li Lin is under no obligation to change this exploitable state, nor will he be cultivating a group advocating "freedom, democracy, and human rights" in an attempt to interfere with or even subvert foreign governments, commonly known as "road guide party" or "JY"—even though he'll end up doing it sooner or later.
Colluding with such barbaric and unhealthy people for development is even more foolish. Shortsighted, mismanaged partners will only drag him down into trouble and potential disaster.
All he had to do for now was sell his goods and collect the profits. Li Lin didn't want to have any business dealings with the market's owner beyond that.
As for the lustful gaze that lingered on frivolously, whether fortunate or unfortunate, Li Lin couldn't grasp the feeling of violation. He didn't understand the human nature of pursuing physical pleasure, which included acts that courted death. His gaze fixed straight ahead of him towards the people standing in place, figuring out the fastest route and method to leave the stalled lane, and how to meet up with Laelhek, whose face was full of anxiety and fear, standing aside from the crowd. Avoiding the conflict that was constantly being inflated.
But events often unfold contrary to one's will. Even if he doesn't provoke a conflict, the conflict will find its way to him nonetheless.
The "meatball" spoke with a lewd skinny man next to the tacky carriage for a bit, and the "gorilla in clothes" ran past Li Lin's caravan. His gawdy attire and the way he shuffled along like a thief was truly laughable.
"A clown," the merchants in the square echoed the same observation—for the thousandth time—in their minds.
The jester of a man in everyone's sight stopped before the two underperforming horses towering over him, hollering with a lewd voice that echoed across the entire marketplace.
"Mr. Mori needs a bedside servant, the lad with deep blue hair—it's you. Serve Mr. Mori dutifully!"
Every gaze—surprised, sad, sighing, lewd, ambiguous, schadenfreude—focused on the serene boy steering the wagon, his peaceful grin etched onto numerous retinas and memories within the square.
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Annotation: From a certain perspective, this is a distasteful social phenomenon. Conscientious public would be enraged, marginalized groups would express dissatisfaction, social critics would initially condemn the lack of morality, and then they'd proclaim things like "We need to reflect, what kind of system is it that leads to such problems? It must be a problem with the system."
No matter what the last type of people, colloquially known as the "American Party" or "GZJY", think or do, aside from a moment of turmoil or hassle, they can't change or create anything.