Golden Dragon: Six Thousand Years of Empire-Chapter 732 - 414: The Golden Dragon Lord’s Jealousy

Roar~

The serfs and farmers who had spent their lives cultivating the earth watched with awe as the Flying Dragon, shimmering with a metallic glow beneath its belly, soared across the sky and landed in the castle of the Nobles, towering like a gray mountain in the distance.

At this moment, they had not yet realized what connection these Flying Dragons had with their fate, until the muddy folk returning home from the fields at dusk heard the bell ringing at the village entrance—a sound of summoning.

"What’s going on?"

"It’s not time to pay taxes yet, is it?"

"They wouldn’t be increasing taxes again, would they?"

Upon hearing the village chief’s summoning command, whether it was the serfs without freedom or the self-cultivators with limited freedom, their expressions showed reluctance and anxiety.

Because each time the bell summoned at the village entrance, it was never for good things—either paying taxes or increasing taxes, or using various reasons to collect their hard-earned, pitiful assets, leaving them unclothed and starving.

So-called free farmers only had a more respectable title than serfs, but in reality, were even more miserable, as the Nobles regarded serfs as property, treating free people as troublemakers and subjecting them to stringent exploitation, wanting them to sell their only lands and even themselves, reducing to serfs.

Of course, the supposedly better status was only relative; actually, all were enduring unspeakable hardships. Therefore, faced with what was likely a summoning from the Nobles, all the muddy folk were extremely resistant.

Unfortunately, their resistance could only be reflected in their emotions but, in action, they were very honest, like tamed, gentle sheep, at the beck and call of the shepherd.

When the bell at the village entrance stopped, one farmer and serf after another gathered on the village threshing floor and saw a Knight from the castle.

Armor glittering with metallic sheen, imposing and beautiful; the sword at his waist, the tall warhorse, the flying banners—all these made the muddy folk scraping for food in the fields instinctively show looks of awe and fear.

To them, this was a true big shot, who held power over life and death, all in a single thought. Even if he suddenly drew his sword to kill them, they could only accept their misfortune; if he took a fancy to their wives and daughters, that would be their honor.

The formerly arrogant village chief now resembled a lapdog, hunching his back as he followed the Knight, and no one doubted that with a nod from the Knight, he would immediately crouch down and lick the dust off the steel boots like a dog, wagging his tail if he had one.

However, many of those standing in the front ranks on the threshing floor noticed something unusual about this Knight—his gloomy face was full of reluctance, with suppressed anger in his eyes, as if some unknown fear was holding a sword to his throat, forcing him to do something.

Such an expression made the muddy folk even more uneasy; when these big shots were unhappy, it spelled disaster for them, the insignificant populace.

"In accordance with the decree of Holy Dragon Emperor..."

Yet, contrary to many of the muddy folks’ expectations, the Knight, who seemed to be in an extraordinarily bad mood, did not draw his sword to kill or vent his emotions, but instead took out a sheepskin parchment and began to read aloud. However, the introduction wasn’t for the great Duke of Wilanda.

"Who is the Holy Dragon Emperor?"

"Does anyone know?"

The serfs standing at the end of the threshing floor couldn’t help but whisper; it was a name they’d never heard before, causing a bit of noise and commotion that quickly subsided as they heard an incredible command;

"Effective immediately, all serfs’ servitude contracts within the domain are to be dissolved."

The sheepskin parchment tore in the Knight’s grip, startling the ravens at the village entrance into flight. The threshing floor fell silent, with only the ravens’ screeching echoing in the sky, as if heralding some ominous arrival. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

After a moment, the crowd began to stir, but none of the serfs cheered for the sudden arrival of freedom, nor did they show any joy.

Because it was a command from the Nobles, and everyone knew that Nobles could not possibly be generous and merciful, they only wanted to squeeze the last bit of grease from their bones.

"Damn mud spawns, are you worthy of such a favor?"

Seeing the muddy folk before him showing no reaction, the Knight paused, cursed inwardly, gritted his teeth, and continued:

"All taxes are to be reduced to half of the original."

Each word from the Knight’s mouth seemed squeezed through clenched teeth, and once he finished reading,

the sheepskin scroll in his hand was immediately torn into pieces, scattering onto the ground, as if venting some dissatisfaction within him.

However, no one cared about the Knight’s small actions; neither the village chief circling him nor the farmers below—all stood gaping.

"Sir, what did you say?"

The slightly bloated, corpulent village chief looked at the noble Knight as if he were a monster.

"Are your ears deaf? All taxes are halved, and they won’t be arbitrarily increased in the future."

The Knight held back the urge to punch the pig-like chief before him, and shouted impatiently.

In the past, his fists or the hilt of his sword would have struck such a defiant commoner, but now he could no longer act so recklessly, for the Law Code controlled everything.