I, who was eager to retire, became an Imperial General.

Chapter 97 Is it right just because it has always been this way?

As the trial continued, and amidst the increasingly loud shouts and curses of the surrounding crowd, each criminal embraced their long-awaited death.

As the number of criminals dwindled, soon only Baron Micah remained.

Compared to the criminals previously sentenced to death, who showed fear and dread when facing death, Micah was much calmer than John had expected, even to the point of being arrogant.

When his eyes met those of the onlookers who were glaring at him, he showed no remorse or pleading for mercy for the crimes he had committed. Instead, he stood on the execution platform and looked down at the crowd with contempt.

Just a few days ago, he was still the Baron of Longyan Territory.

Under the oppressive force of the invisible aura called 'class', which is formed from the arrogance and superior mentality inherent in the nobility.

For a moment, the anger in the hearts of the crowd, who originally wanted to tell him to hurry up and die, began to be replaced by the servility they had long been accustomed to. Instead, they either retreated or fearfully avoided his condescending gaze.

Watching this group of foolish peasants give him the same familiar look as always, Micah couldn't help but glance at the expressionless, black-haired youth in the audience, and a mocking smile involuntarily crept onto his lips:

"Hahaha!"

At this moment, my heart is filled with the joy of Micah.

They even started to disregard their impending death and instead wanted to mock the other person.

He wanted to mock the other party for trying to confront them, the truly noble beings who held the reins of the world, as a mere commoner.

Whether it's his past education and experiences, or the group of civilians who now hold the power of life and death over him, the oppressor.

When faced with the gaze of this dying prisoner, they would uncontrollably lower their heads to him, influenced by their ingrained servility.

All of this undoubtedly proves one point.

That is, commoners and nobles are completely different.

“John Maslow, do you see this? This is the difference between nobles and commoners, this is the difference between you and me!”

Micah roared, his face contorted with rage, his azure eyes fixed on the black-haired, black-eyed youth below. Then, amidst the suppressed anger of countless onlookers, he slowly raised his chained hands, pointed a finger at the other man, and spoke in a chilling tone:

“I, Micah Hardman, have indeed been defeated. Defeated by Roxie’s foolish assassination plan, defeated by your ingenious schemes, you peasant, and defeated by my failure to educate you.”

"So much so that I have been betrayed by my foolish son and the entire Hardman family, which has led me to this state today."

“But I have not lost. Even if I die here today, my name, Micah Hardman, will continue to shroud the skies of Dragon Eye Territory!”

"These damned commoners, when they recall my face and hear my name, still feel fear towards me, a true nobleman, because of that instinct that comes from their very bones!"

"This is the difference in bloodline between us nobles and commoners!"

"This is a rule that has existed for thousands of years, a truth that can never be changed in this world!"

"What makes you think that a bunch of commoners with no family background can stand against us?"

"How dare you command these ignorant fools to oppose us?"

“Look me in the eyes and answer my question, John Maslow!!!”

Baron Micah roared angrily, perhaps wanting to vent the emotions suppressed during the past six days in prison, perhaps genuinely wanting to hear the reasons behind the other's actions from his own ears, or perhaps trying to use his noble status to force the damned imperial officer below to change his mind so that he could have a chance to survive.

But only Micah himself knows the reason behind it.

At this moment, his eyes were wide open, and his expression was extremely ferocious.

With his hair standing on end uncontrollably due to intense emotion, he looked for a moment like a demon crawling out of hell.

In just a fleeting moment of eye contact, a chill ran down one's spine.

"!"

And listening to Micah's tone, one could sense the deep disgust and contempt he felt towards them as ordinary people.

This humiliation immediately caused a commotion among the crowd below, who clenched their fists angrily and glared at the other side, wanting to refute it.

But after meeting the other person's eyes, which were like those of a vengeful ghost, he couldn't help but feel his throat tighten.

The initial anger vanished in an instant after recalling the fear of being ruled by the other party in the past.

What replaced them was a silence that even they themselves couldn't help but feel ashamed of.

They felt that, much like Baron Micah had said, they were born destined to be ruled by those who were nobles.

Like their ancestors, they were born for barons and died for barons.

Upon seeing the Baron, they obediently lowered their heads, offering their humility and submission—imprinted in their very bones and blood—to these beings who bore glorious blood, witnessed by the gods.

After all, hasn't this been the case for thousands of years?

Everyone silently convinced themselves of this.

But for some reason, they all subconsciously turned their gazes to the black-haired youth standing below the execution platform, who had somehow turned his body towards the platform and was looking up at the furious Baron Micah on the platform with an unfathomable calm.

Then, the other person's voice slowly rose in the dead silence.

Although the words were perfectly calm, they struck everyone like thunderclaps bursting in a downpour, carrying an unprecedented roar that echoed in their minds.

"Has it always been like this? Is that right?"

John looked up at Baron Micah on the stage, whose expression was ferocious, a glint of unfathomable light flashing in his black pupils.

There was anger, disdain, and disgust.

But what Micah saw most was pity. Pity?

A commoner, pitying himself for being a nobleman?
How utterly absurd!

How ridiculous!
"..."

Baron Micah, having discerned John's true thoughts, fell silent.

His face was immediately replaced by a cold smile.

Just as he was about to mock the other party for engaging in sophistry and refuting him for the sake of refuting,

With a whooshing sound, a dark shadow rapidly enlarged in Micah's field of vision, much to his astonishment.

Then he felt a sudden, sharp pain on his forehead, like being struck by a foreign object.

"Clap!"

A stone slowly fell onto the execution platform, making a barely perceptible sound.

"Tick!"

Liquid flowed continuously from his broken forehead, the warm touch blurring Micah's vision. He subconsciously touched his forehead, and upon seeing the scarlet blood, his pupils instantly contracted.

Seemingly unable to believe that these lowly people would actually dare to attack him, a nobleman, he strained his eyes wide, his gaze ferocious as he scanned all the commoners below, trying to find the culprit who dared to throw stones at him.

His tone became more angry than ever before, and he even began to tremble:
“You damned scum, how dare you, how could you…”

"Whoosh!"

Before Baron Micah could roar any further, the angry crowd bent down and threw projectiles, and black shadows, like bullets, rained down on him in disbelief.

Along with the stones came the shouts of the opposing side.

"Go to hell, you scum!"

"You beast, give me back my daughter!"

At first, there were only a few people, but after someone took action, the questions and roars spread rapidly throughout the area, like ink spreading.

In the blink of an eye, these faint voices merged into one amidst the collective shouts and roars of thousands.

Like a towering wave, this condensed will, in a trance, seemed even more turbulent and suffocating than the scorching sun above.

"..."

Faced with the stones and shoes that kept hitting him, the intense shock made Baron Micah forget to dodge.

He just stared blankly at the group below, the group he had once thought would survive even if he died in this trial.

None of them dared to touch themselves in the slightest.

These were people he had always regarded as livestock, lowly people who deserved only to grovel at his feet.

He watched the anger streaming down their faces, watched the stones and excrement they hurled at him, and listened to the almost suffocating roar that erupted from the depths of their souls in a spirit of 'resistance,' a roar that would chill any nobleman to the bone.

His eyes revealed an unprecedented sense of confusion.

It's always been this way, is it really wrong?

But if that's true, then how do you explain this scene?

How should these voices be explained?
Micah was suddenly overwhelmed with an unprecedented sense of absurdity.

The pain from being hit by an object no longer concerned him.

He just stood there blankly on the execution platform, staring at everything with lifeless eyes.

It wasn't until the black-haired, black-eyed youth ordered the soldiers to stop the crowd from throwing anything they could find onto the execution platform, and then took out the stack of charges, delivered his final judgment, and announced that his eldest son, Dick Hardman, would personally be in charge of the final execution ceremony.

He finally came to his senses and let the soldiers press him down onto the guillotine.

He then glanced sideways at the wrench holding the guillotine, who was now looking at his son with tears in his eyes.

Hearing the increasingly loud shouts of "execution" from the crowd spontaneously around him.

At that moment, it was as if I finally understood something.

A sudden realization flashed in Baron Micah's eyes. He struggled to move his swollen, red face, which had been hit by a stone, and opened his broken teeth, trying to say something to his son.

However, due to severe weakness, it could only make corresponding lip movements and had not yet made any sound.

In the other party's resolute gaze, and the instant the wrench was pushed down.

Amidst a rapidly approaching metallic scraping sound, amidst the tsunami of countless people shouting wildly, and under the gaze of the small yet immensely powerful black-haired youth who had always stood quietly below the stage.

They were completely heading towards eternal death.

"Crack!"

At the same time, the dark clouds that had been lingering in the sky for who knows how long dissipated completely, and the light once again enveloped the earth, becoming even more dazzling and intense.

……

(End of this chapter)