CHAPTER 331: CHAPTER 286: BLOODTHIRSTY

Li Ang sat in the audience, his palm lightly resting on a newspaper, his eyes closed as he rested his mind.

The friends around him knew he was in meditation and subconsciously lowered their conversation to avoid disturbing him.

Pei Jing was the first to enter the arena. He battled his opponent for over fifteen minutes before finally securing a narrow victory. Exhausted, he raised the Canghai Sword high above his head.

The audience’s cheers were thunderous, and atop the high stands, Emperor Yu, Minister Pei Su, and others also revealed smiles of relief.

Then came Ren Xin, Ashina Que Teqin, Li Hui, Shangguan Yangyao... The matches proceeded one after another, the audience’s cheers and applause rising and falling, yet Li Ang still sat with his eyes closed, lost in thought.

This world was absurdly real.

The contests within the Martial Arts Arena certainly pertained to national honor. The performance of the younger generation of cultivators represented the overall state of cultivators in various countries for the next ten to twenty years, signifying the peace and stability of the nations.

Seeing their own contestants win, whether it was Emperor Yu, Mountain Masters, Taihao Mountain Cardinals, or the Royal Families of Jing and Zhou Kingdoms, the smiles on their faces were genuine.

In the stands, the cheers and exultation of Yu Country’s citizens were just as real.

But...

Li Ang lowered his head, glancing at today’s newspaper.

The newspaper reported that in Luoyang, workshop laborers had smashed a new model spinning machine. The incident began when the workshop owner bought the latest large-scale spinning machine. Because the new spinning machine was more efficient and required fewer workers, the owner fired a batch of laborers and reduced the remaining workers’ wages. He also threatened any who claimed they would resign: "There are plenty of people eager to take your job. Even with the pay cut, workshop wages are still higher than what you would earn farming."

So the laborers beat the exceptionally arrogant workshop owner until he fled. They then destroyed and burned the large spinning machine, dispersing before government officials arrived.

...

All this was eerily familiar.

Li Ang’s hand unconsciously tightened around the newspaper.

He had been to Suzhou and witnessed firsthand the conditions of the spinning workshops there: the airborne dust and fibers, the oppressive humidity, the monotonous and mechanical labor.

In these workshops, laborers in their twenties prematurely looked like they were in their forties.

The destruction of machinery by Luoyang laborers was not just due to worries that the machines would take their jobs. It was more a rebellion against unbearable oppression and exploitation.

They were unlearned in the Four Books and Five Classics, nor did they understand those profound and arcane principles. But instinctively, they knew the introduction of large spinning machines would allow workshop owners to lower wages with even less restraint, ignore the squalid workshop environment more freely, and act with greater impunity, treating people like machine parts to be mercilessly discarded.

Tragically, he had unknowingly pushed all of this into happening.

Li Ang took a deep breath. Land annexation in Suzhou had become quite severe. Workshop owners were willing to pay five, even more than ten times the usual price for riverside land suitable for building workshops. In the villages closest to Suzhou City, numerous workshops had sprung up, like straws, frantically drawing in the surrounding population.

Everyone knew that the Former Sui was ruined amidst conditions where "the rich’s fields were vast, and the poor had no ground to stand upon," but what could be done?

Farmers’ capacity to withstand risk was extremely low. Once disaster struck—be it natural or man-made, reducing land yields, or if a family member fell ill—they could quickly go bankrupt and be forced to sell their land.

Once they lost their land and means of livelihood, farmers had no choice but to become workshop laborers, to be carved up at will.

Previously, due to the low efficiency and still modest profits of the workshops, the expansion rate of Suzhou’s textile workshops had remained within a reasonable range. They utilized waterwheels for power, requiring construction along rivers, so the choice of locations was relatively limited.

But the Spiritual Energy Machine, an idea provided by Li Ang and realized by Su Feng, was completely different. It didn’t require careful site selection; workshops could be established anywhere. Its power source was the omnipresent nature’s spiritual energy, allowing continuous operation. Its production efficiency and profit margin far surpassed all previous textile machinery.

In such circumstances, the pace of workshop expansion was bound to accelerate dramatically.

The poor grew poorer, the rich grew richer.

Li Ang looked around. He was in the Academic Palace, the pinnacle of Yu Country.

Nowadays, what percentage of Yu Country’s wealth is held by the top two percent of its richest people? Fifteen percent? Twenty percent? That already seems quite exaggerated.

And once the Spiritual Energy Machine is widely distributed, and various types of workshops spring up like bamboo shoots after rain, how much wealth will this top two percent hold? Forty percent? Fifty percent? Or even eighty percent?

Li Ang could easily foresee that if left unchecked, Yu Country’s overall wealth would skyrocket thanks to the Spiritual Energy Machine. Scholars, merchants, and the nobility would indulge in even more lavish extravagance. Meanwhile, the quality of life for the more numerous workers and farmers would, in some ways, deteriorate instead of improving. Facing the ridiculously efficient Spiritual Energy Machine, workers and farmers would lose their bargaining power. They would be forced into soul-crushing labor for fourteen to sixteen hours a day just to earn meager wages to support their families. Even rebellion would be futile. One cultivator is equivalent to an entire army. Against a Candle Cloud cultivator, who could come and go as they pleased, no number of ordinary people would matter. The Spiritual Energy Machine is both an elixir that cures diseases and saves lives, and a bloodthirsty monster that devours people without spitting out their bones.

Li Ang opened his eyes and slowly folded the newspaper, his gaze lingering on the front-page headline—an article praising the cultivators of the Academic Palace, lauding their performance in academic exchanges, earning glory for Yu Country.

It also devoted quite a bit of ink to praising Li Ang himself.

Simply... dark humor.

Li Ang shook his head. He had entered the Academic Palace to enable more people to live dignified and decent lives, not for his inventions and creations to become wealth solely enjoyed by the powerful elite.

It was he who had, as if opening Pandora’s Box, unleashed the fearsome beast that was the Spiritual Energy Machine. And it is his responsibility to firmly hold its reins, to grip its throat, and prevent it from gnawing at the flesh and blood of Yu Country’s citizens.

The Academic Palace, influencing and controlling Yu Country in all aspects, is the best platform for this.

To achieve this, he needs more prestige, a higher standing, greater power, and even... absolute personal martial strength.

The announcer in the Martial Arts Arena called out the names of Li Ang and Bian Chenpei.

In the distance, Bian Chenpei gracefully stood up, a smile on his face, enjoying the crowd’s focused gaze as he leisurely walked toward the arena below.

He was a favored son of heaven, a member of Taihao Mountain, which ruled over all the people in the world.

"Risheng, it’s your turn," Li Leqing whispered a reminder.

"Mm."

Li Ang slowly stood up, casually placing the newspaper on the seat beside him, his gaze resolute.

Now, he would start by... smashing Bian Chenpei’s head to pieces.