Feng Yun's eyelids drifted shut, and he stood motionless for two minutes, his mind consumed by visions of a majestic robe. When he opened his eyes, he asked,
"And now, where are the clothes?"
"The globe is connected to a manufacturing machine," the shopkeeper explained, gesturing toward a nearby doorway. "I'll retrieve your garments."
He disappeared into the adjacent room, leaving Feng Yun to wonder at the ingenious device.
Two minutes later, the shopkeeper returned, bearing a neatly folded stack of clothing.
Feng Yun's face lit up with a radiant smile as he accepted the garments.
"Now, I can finally shed these tattered clothes," he exclaimed, his voice tinged with relief.
As he gazed at the shopkeeper, Feng Yun's expression turned inquiring.
"Is there a bathhouse nearby where I can refresh myself and change into these new clothes?"
The shopkeeper smiled.
"Sir, there's no need to venture elsewhere. You're welcome to use our bathroom and changing room facilities, though please note there will be an additional fee."
Feng Yun nodded, accepting the offer. He took the black robe and headed to the bathroom, eager to refresh himself.
Ten minutes later, he emerged, his hair damp and his skin revitalized from the warm shower. Now dressed in the elegant black robe, he looked refreshed and renewed.
The shopkeeper gazed at him, struck by the transformation.
Before his bath, he had seemed like a humble beggar, but now his skin shone like jade, gleaming with a radiance reminiscent of stars. His short black hair was smooth, and his eyes, dark and piercing, exuded an aura of quiet dominance. Yet, despite these striking features, his face defied simple description—words themselves felt inadequate to capture its presence.
After admiring Feng Yun's refreshed appearance, the shopkeeper asked with a hint of amusement,
"Sir, are you a model or perhaps the husband of a princess?"
Feng Yun's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"What? No, I'm neither a model nor a princess's husband."
The shopkeeper apologized for his bold question, and Feng Yun promptly asked,
"How much do I owe you?"
"The total comes to 8 silver coins, sir."
Feng Yun retrieved his money pouch and handed over the payment. However, curiosity got the better of him.
"I have a question, if I may?"
The shopkeeper's expression turned attentive.
"Of course, sir. Please, go ahead."
"I walked through the entire market, and I didn't see a single beggar," Feng Yun observed.
"Why is that?"
The shopkeeper's demeanor shifted. He hesitated for a moment before stepping outside the shop to glance around cautiously. His reaction only piqued Feng Yun's curiosity further.
The shopkeeper's voice dropped to a whisper.
"You see, the reason why there are no beggars on the streets… well, that's a topic we're not supposed to discuss."
Feng Yun leaned in, his interest deepening.
"Why is that? Tell me more."
The shopkeeper's expression turned grave.
"This is a perilous subject, sir. If anyone discovers that I've shared this information with you, my life will be forfeit. That's why I'm risking everything to tell you—my life is literally on the line."
Feng Yun's eyes locked onto the shopkeeper's, and he handed over another silver coin.
"Now, tell me everything."
Approximately two months prior, the kingdom had celebrated the king's birthday with a grand rally. As the king's carriage procession wound its way through the city, accompanied by noble guests in their own carriages, a group of beggars suddenly appeared, protesting the lack of free food.
However, their true desire was not alms, but employment—any job that would provide them with a means to earn money for food and medicine for their children.
The king's anger flared at the disruption, but his daughter, the princess, swiftly intervened, calming his temper.
"Father, please let me handle this," she said.
Stepping out of the carriage, she apologized to the beggars and offered a solution.
"Why did you choose to protest today, of all days? Fear not, I shall ensure that your employment needs are met. Please, disperse now."
However, the beggars, emboldened by the princess's apology, refused to back down. They saw her gesture as a sign of weakness, believing that if they pushed further, they could humiliate the king himself.
The noble guests began to murmur among themselves, criticizing the princess's naivety.
"Royalty does not apologize to commoners," they whispered.
The king, enraged by his daughter's actions and the beggars' defiance, could no longer contain himself.
He stood up in his carriage and addressed the princess, his voice stern.
"This is how one handles such situations. You have given me the greatest gift I could have asked for on my birthday."
The princess stood silently beside her father, unable to utter a word in her defense. She could only offer a humble apology, her eyes cast downward.
The king summoned the military general, his voice firm and authoritative.
"Military General!"
The general promptly appeared, his expression attentive.
"Yes, My King? How may I serve you?" he asked, his voice crisp and obedient.
The king gestured imperiously, his hand waving in a swift, decisive motion. He leaned in, his voice taking on a low, commanding tone as he whispered in the general's ear.
"Summon the royal guards at once. Instruct them to round up every beggar in the city and bring them before me now."