Hello, is this a letter addressed to Demon Fortress?

The slogans on the wooden board were like several resounding slaps in the face.

The answer lies in what the city lord just said.

It struck the haughty smiles of the nobles.

It also stung the hearts of those who bowed their heads, sighed, and slowly drifted away in the burnt smell.

Someone stopped and looked back.

I took another look.

Her lips moved, but she didn't speak; she just clenched the tattered hem of her clothes tightly in her hand.

Someone stood across the street, looking at the wooden sign from afar.

His eyes held disbelief, as if he were looking at a hallucination.

Someone rubbed their eyes, making sure they weren't seeing things, and their Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

Then they started to worry.

They were worried that the city lord would be angry.

They were worried that the armored knights would rush over and smash the wooden sign.

I worry that the monk who runs the post office will be tied to a stake like those who were burned at the stake.

Worry……

There were many things I worried about, but none of them happened.

One day passed.

Two days have passed.

Until the day the post office had arranged for the mail to be sent was fast approaching.

No knights charged at them.

The post office door opens and closes precisely on time every day.

That wooden sign stood there at the entrance.

It remained motionless despite the wind and sun.

The lettering on the wooden sign had faded somewhat from the sunlight, but every stroke was still clearly legible.

The city lord's knights never appeared.

Gradually, people started walking towards the post office.

At first, it was just one person.

An elderly man with gray hair, leaning on a cane, walked unsteadily to the post office entrance.

His fingers, bent and deformed from years of hard work, gripped the handle of his cane tightly.

He stood at the door, hesitating for a long time.

I looked at the wooden sign, then at the open gate.

He took a deep breath, as if inhaling all the courage of his life into his lungs, and then went inside.

Then came the second person.

The third person.

the fifth.

The tenth one.

Those ordinary people and refugees, dressed in tattered clothes and looking exhausted.

They emerged from the alleyways, from the shacks, and from the foot of the city walls.

They kept their heads down and walked quickly, as if afraid of being seen.

But there was light in their eyes.

That was a light that had been suppressed for a long time, but it never went out.

The light was faint, but it was warmer than the flames burning people to death in the square.

decades.

Communication between city-states was cut off for decades.

News from loved ones has ceased.

There's been no more news from my hometown.

They thought they would never have the chance to send a letter to their family far away again.

And now, the opportunity is right in front of us.

Longing for family and yearning for the outside world gradually overcame the fear of the city lord's power.

The post office is getting more and more customers.

The wooden sign just stood there.

Like a silent, stubborn answer.

……

Meanwhile, at the City Lord's Mansion.

In the reception room, the candlelight flickered.

The tapestries on the walls cast huge shadows in the firelight, like crouching wild beasts.

Lord Adams sat in a chair, but his posture was not comfortable.

He only sat on one side of his buttocks, leaning slightly forward, like someone who was ready to stand up and bow at any moment.

His fingers didn't tap the table, and the wine glass sat untouched to the side.

A thin film of red wine had formed on the surface of the glass because no one was tasting it.

There was no smile on his face.

The fat on that chubby face was taut, like a piece of cloth stretched to its limit.

A knight stood before him.

It was the knight captain who went to the post office to deliver the message that day.

The knight knelt on one knee, head bowed, his voice strained:

"Lord City Lord, that post office..."

"We're open again today."

"A new sign has been put up at the entrance, which reads 'Buy two, get one free'."

"There are even more people mailing letters than yesterday."

Adams did not speak.

His gaze fell on the knight, but he didn't look at him.

It's like they're looking at something else.

The knight continued:

"I've already sent people to keep an eye on things."

"But that mage... has never shown up."

"A different woman has appeared behind the counter."

"Blonde hair, and looks..."

He paused for a moment, carefully choosing his words.

"More beautiful than an elf."

Adams remained silent.

His throat moved, as if he was swallowing something.

It's not anger.

It's tension.

His hands were on his knees, his fingers slightly curled, his nails almost digging into the flesh of his palms.

He had heard about that sign.

"Send two and get one free".

Four words, like four needles, pierced the very words he had just spoken.

The olive branch he offered was not accepted by the other party.

The other party ignored his warning.

He thought the post office would either close down or move to an upscale neighborhood and bow down to him.

The results of it?

A sign.

The sign was crooked and handwritten.

They treated his words, those of the city lord, as nothing.

He should be angry.

They should be furious.

We should slam our fists on the table, send someone to smash that sign, and shut down that post office.

But he didn't.

It wasn't just because of the fear he had of the transport team behind him.

Furthermore because...

At this moment, someone is sitting in the seat that originally belonged to him.

That was a man.

He was dressed very simply, in a gray robe with slightly faded cuffs.

There was even a little stain on the hem of the clothes.

It looked like they had stepped out of the mud and water of a refugee area.

His hair was a bit messy, his stubble wasn't cleanly shaved, and his face bore the marks of fatigue from a long period of travel.

He looked like an ordinary vagrant who had come from a slum.

But the city lord dared not look at him.

She only caught a glimpse of the hem of his robe out of the corner of her eye, and then subconsciously looked away.

His waist bent even lower, like an old tree bent by the wind.

The man sat in the large main seat, leaning back comfortably.

One hand rested on the armrest, the fingers tapping lightly.

One moment, one moment.

It was slow and rhythmic.

The tapping echoed in the quiet drawing room, like some kind of ancient timer.

His eyes looked at the kneeling knight, then at the city lord.

A slight smile played at the corners of his lips.

The smile was faint, as if it appeared unintentionally.

But when the city lord saw that smile, cold sweat poured down his back.

Sweat trickled down my back, soaking my clothes and leaving them feeling cool and sticky.

This man arrived in Baiya City six months ago.

He didn't know the other person's name or background.

All he knew was that the other party had brought a letter of entrustment from "Dawn," asking him to assist in completing a certain task.

He recognized the seal on the letter.

That's the seal of the Alliance's highest oversight body.

The wax seal features an open palm with an eye in the center, as if it can see through all lies.

He only saw it once in his life, but he will never forget it.

The other party did not tell him their specific identity.

But his actions over the past six months made him guess what was going on.

This man infiltrated the lowest rungs of the refugee community and mingled with the lowly people.

They were taught about the books that the Alliance had banned.

Gather those who harbor resentment towards the nobility.

They nurtured them, guided them, and finally... sent them all to the stake.

This is not something an ordinary censor can do.

Especially anything related to Xinghuo.

There is only one organization that can act under the taboo name of Spark.

That is the Resurrection Society.