Chapter 369: The Twelfth Day in the Struggle for Supremacy World

Chapter 369: The Twelfth Day of Transmigrating into a Hegemony Novel

About an hour later, the convoy slowly moved away from Yuncang.

The main road gradually narrowed, with sparse fields on both sides, even though it was early summer.

The sky was azure, with white clouds drifting slowly.

The sunlight grew increasingly intense, and the air was filled with the scent of earth.

The grass looked like it had been pulled up, leaving bare dirt underneath.

Even the countryside looked barren and neglected.

The convoy kept its pace, guards staying alert around them, servants handling their own tasks.

Out here, you had to stay alert.

----------

Three days later, just past noon, the convoy halted at a roadside tea stand to rest.

This spot was dozens of miles from Yuncang, with villages both ahead and behind—a usual stop for folks on the road.

Mao Hua had the guards spread out to keep watch from good spots.

The servants started pulling out pots and food from the supply carts to fix a quick lunch.

An Yi and Bai Ji got out of the carriage one after the other.

The tea stand was quite crude—a few thatched huts with rough wooden tables and stools.

Several groups of traveling merchants were already resting there, but upon seeing the newcomers, they hastily shoved their food in their mouths and hurried away.

An Yi started to say something, then shut his mouth.

He kept his face neutral and sat down at a corner table.

Bai Ji sat down next to him without a word.

A servant immediately stepped forward, wiping down the table and chairs with cloth they'd brought along, then pouring fragrant tea made from their own top-grade leaves, swapping out the cheap stuff the stand had.

An Yi motioned for a servant to pay the tea stand for the lost business.

The servant nodded and left.

Bai Ji watched him, lifting his cup to hide the smile tugging at his lips.

Lunch was dried rations and cured meat they'd packed, plus a pot of veggie porridge cooked right there—simple, but hot and clean.

An Yi picked up his chopsticks and ate slowly, taking his time.

An Yi spotted An Jin at a small table nearby.

The kid's face was pale, his hand weak on the spoon, and he was frowning hard at the porridge in front of him.

"Jin-di." An Yi put down his chopsticks and said softly, "Are you tired? Or feeling sick from the bumpy road?"

An Jin looked up at his big brother, pouting, and whined: "Big brother... been in the carriage too long, head's spinning, feel like throwing up... hate riding in carriages."

His voice was soft and whiny, with a pitiful, teary edge.

An Yi got up, walked over, and lifted An Jin into his lap, feeling his forehead and checking his face.

"It's nothing—just car sickness, plus getting up early and being tired." An Yi soothed him, fed him a little first, then took a small, cool-smelling pill from his pouch and put it in An Jin's mouth: "Keep this in your mouth, it'll help. In a bit, big brother will sit with you and watch the view—you won't be dizzy then."

He checked the other little ones too; they were all the same—just normal reactions to a long ride, nothing bad.

He told the nannies and maids to look after them, and had someone bring clean water and cloths to wipe the kids' faces.

An Shu, though—his twelve-year-old sister—was full of energy and tough as nails.

When she saw An Yi, she called out sweetly, "Big brother!"

An Yi patted her head gently. "Good girl."

After settling the kids down, An Yi went back to his seat.

Bai Ji had been watching quietly the whole time, and only now looked away, sipping his tea to hide the complicated feelings in his eyes.

If he said he was a little dizzy too... would he get comforted as well?

Being held and soothed—he didn't even dare think about it.

He dropped his eyes, and when he looked up again, his gaze had moved to the people and carts on the road.

After a moment, he lowered his voice and said to An Yi, "My Lord, look."

An Yi looked where he was pointing.

There were indeed plenty of carts, horses, and people on the road, heading north and south.

But if you looked closely, something was off.

The groups heading south and east were way more than usual for this time of year, and a lot of them had whole families and heavy luggage. A lot of them looked scared and anxious, hurrying along.

Every now and then, you'd see a few ragged, skinny, pasty-faced people stumbling along, looking numb and hopeless, drifting like ghosts—a sharp contrast to those convoys.

"Since we left the city, the number of merchants and travelers heading south and east is way above normal, and a lot of them are bringing their whole families, looking panicked."

Bai Ji's voice was low, so only An Yi could hear: "Those ragged, hungry-looking ones—they're probably refugees from Changhe, Fenzhou, and other places hit by disaster, who lost their homes and land, and they're starting to drift toward the richer areas around Yuncang."

An Yi's eyes swept over them.

He'd noticed it a while back.

The ones with families and lots of bags were mostly rich folks and minor officials who had sharp noses or inside tips, running off to what they thought were safer counties in the south and east.

Those scattered refugees were the ones hit hardest by both natural disasters and man-made messes. Like headless flies, they headed for the capital—the symbol of power and money, where they might get a bite to eat—not knowing that what waited ahead could be just as hopeless, or even worse, with more squeezing and kicking out.

The bare patches of grass along the road were what they'd been eating on the way.

"News travels faster than I thought." An Yi looked away. "Things in the regions are clearly way worse than what the court reports say."

He picked up his cup, blew on the foam, and went on, "Good. Let everyone in this world slowly see for themselves what this grand Celestial Empire is really like. You can't hide it forever."

Bai Ji turned to look at him. An Yi's face looked incredibly calm in the afternoon sun.

Those eyes, usually warm with a smile, now reflected the dust and rushing people on the road, but stayed almost eerily clear.

Bai Ji felt a tug in his chest and asked quietly, "My Lord... don't you feel any pity?"

“Pity?” An Yi turned his gaze to meet his, “What good is pity? Ruzhi.”

His tone stayed soft: “I pity them, but the court doesn’t, the noble houses don’t, and the corrupt officials and local tyrants across the land certainly don’t. My pity can’t save all of them.”

He paused, his gaze returning to the staggering figures on the official road, his voice steady and clear, with a hard, unyielding edge:

“What can save them isn’t the empty pity of those in power, but order—land that can be tilled, a chance to earn a meal, a place where people can see a reason to live.”

He withdrew his gaze, looking at Bai Ji, his eyes unreadable:

“And these require power to build, to seize, and to protect. Wallowing in pointless grief and soft-heartedness will only stall what must be done, letting more people die silently in the chaos.”

Bai Ji stared at him, his heart pounding wildly.

An Yi’s words shattered the time-traveler’s veneer of “moral superiority” and “do-gooder compassion”—something Bai Ji hadn’t even realized he had.

He was done for, utterly done for.

How amazing.

How amazing, to have met someone like him.