Absolute Double Power
Verse-8

At that time, Lim Shin Wu was already twenty-two years old, already a top brass of the immortal army.

Good looking…

Captivating…

Elegantly…

And arrogant.

The handsome young man was now sitting on his chin in front of a table that was placed specifically to record taxes in the middle of the square of a village, keep an eye on everyone who came while chewing the spoiled wine from the harvest of the commoners. A stack of hemp paper containing a list of surnames that handed out tributes lay before him.

Villagers flock to him with their own property to be offered as tribute. Rice, livestock, vegetables and fruits.

"If the tributes of this month are lacking." a soldier shouted loudly from Shin Wu's right side. "Next month will be doubled!"

Shin Wu was still engrossed in chewing while bowed without a care around.

An old man with dull changsan ventured closer to Shin Wu with a face that was clear. "Master," he said in a trembling voice, "Please grant us forgiveness…"

Time seems to stop suddenly. Everyone was frozen around him.

Shin Wu stopped chewing and raised his face, looking at the old man with his eyebrows intertwined, "Forgiveness?" he asked with eyes poked. "What kind of forgiveness should I give?"

"The cup is too big, my lord!" lamented the old man while bowing towards Shin Wu. "We're starving, while our rice is moldy in your warehouse. Can you cut it down a little?"

Shin Wu frowned, next to his eyebrows raised high. He pulled up his body, pushed the chair behind him, then slipped out from behind the table and approached the old man.

A number of soldiers spontaneously followed him and surrounded the old man in a standby manner.

Everyone simultaneously held their breath and gasped uneasily.

Shin Wu folded his hands in front of his chest, watching the old man with a probing gaze, cuddling and thinking hard. Then the view examines everyone one by one.

Those people immediately bowed and shriveled.

Shin Wu sighed and turned his attention back to the old man earlier. "What's your name, Yuoji?" He asked while raising his jaw.

The old man went deeper and deeper. "My name is Wei Heng, sir," he told.

"Wei Heng," Shin Wu repeated as he rubbed his shaved chin slipperyly. Then back to looking.

The villagers moved slightly back.

The young man smiled softly. He lowered both hands from his chest while looking at Wei Heng. Then rack the waist. "All right!" he said half sigh. Then back to looking. "Sound everything!" he shouted out to everyone. "I'm Lim Shin Wu," he announced, "have heard the wailing of this poor old man. As the commander of Luoji kingdom's immortal army, I declare from now on this poor old man will never starve again!"

The inhabitants screamed stifled, staring at the commander with round eyes and mouth.

Some women exchanged glances with their faces.

The men muttered happily.

A second later, a soldier ambushed Wei Heng's neck and stabbed his heart.

Screaming screams of fear exploded with wails languishing for the women.

"Who wants forgiveness again?" Shin Wu asked the crowd.

The residents are trembling.

.

.

.

From a height, there are black patches between the expanse of green and brown areas that open.

A village docked to the steep cliff walls in the valleys. The houses are made of the same soil on which the houses stand, like the natural branches of rock on the cliff walls.

A river runs along the bottom of the valley, through cultivated fields, fruit trees, rows of cotton trees, clumps of bamboo and mei hwa flowers.

A number of dull dark-clothed men with caping on each of their heads were working in the middle of the ravine, at the narrowest of places. They cut the rocks there to build a dam that will divert the flow of water through the bottom of the gorge.

The road to the village at the foot of the mountain looks amazing. The road formed a straight line splitting the seemingly endless plateau, surrounded by peaks three thousand meters high covered in green moss, like a narrow gorge between high walls, the, it was as if the mountain had been cut open by a knife, to make way for the passers-by.

The blinding morning light seemed to disappear replaced by the dark rock melancholy.

At the top of that mountain, hidden a college of one of the most respected sects.

"The end of the war in heaven between the gods of light and the dragon." a middle-aged man told his disciples while teaching. "A great blackened red dragon, seven-headed and ten-horned, and upon his head were seven crowns. And his tail dragged one third of the stars in the sky and threw them upon the earth!"

While the disciples were standing in rows with both hands folded behind their respective bodies, the middle-aged man looked around looking at the faces of the young man before him with a solemn look, like remembering something very important.

The man was none other than the head of the Kuangre dagger sect called Farmer.

Jieru Zhou.

Zhou Hua Zu's Father!

The young men who lined up before him were now an average of twenty years old.

If Hua Zu was still alive, he would have been as big as them by now, Jieru thought.

"The dragon was also assisted by his angels—the heavenly soldiers and traitorous angels, but they could not survive," Jieru continued. "They have no place in heaven anymore. And the great dragon, the old serpent, called the devil—demon who misleads the whole world, was thrown down-disappeared to the earth, together with his angels."

The young men blinked with grim faces.

"One-third of the gods of light live on our earth with a number of heavenly soldiers and demonic angels" Jieru said. "Some of them died and were reincarnated. Some are still alive today. And one of them is Jiyou!" Jieru added. "No one knows yet whether Jiyou is reincarnated or immortal. Our tribe's belief in the god of light is almost extinct. But Jiyou is the highest among all Ilojim even her twin brother. He is the holder of the nine gifts of the light of the universe."

Silence ambushed the entire hall. Each of Jieru's disciples was immersed in consideration and admiration.

"How do you distinguish Jiyou from others, or how do you distinguish them from the human race?" One of Jieru's disciples finally asked. His name is Ang Dunrui. One of the senior disciples who was closest to Jieru.

"They stopped aging at thirty years old" Jieru replied.

I heard a mumbled sound. The young men were flabbergasted, exchanging glances with one another with astonished looks.

"As for how to distinguish Jiyou from others, or how to distinguish Legion from Ilojim!" Jieru added.

The young men simultaneously bowed.

"Of course we all know that a good god will lead us to peace, while an evil god will lead us to destruction" Jieru finally tells. "Be wise in judging and do not be deceived by appearances."

"Teacher!" a junior disciple interrupted. "Some say they can be distinguished by their hair color!"

"Yes," Jieru replied. "But it doesn't guarantee that a black-haired person isn't a god race."

Jieru's students were flabbergasted.

"A bright-haired person is indeed a god race, but not all god races are light-haired," Jieru explained.