I am a full-level celestial master, you let me enter the strange talk of rules?

Seeing the Qing Tong clan chief, once a powerful and influential figure who had suppressed the region, lying on the ground like a lifeless, broken puppet, the strange consciousness within Zhang Yangqing fell silent.

It looked at the straight streak of light, at the smooth, mirror-like cut, and at the extreme fear and bewilderment that remained on the face of the Qing Tong clan chief before his death. An unprecedented and complex emotion spread through its newly formed consciousness.

It already possesses the cultivation level of the Celestial Realm, and it had just fought against the Qing Tong Clan Chief, using Zhang Yangqing's body.

That's why it has become more aware of what a gap is.

Despite having the same cultivation level, it was utterly suppressed by the Qing Tong Clan Chief, like an adult toying with a child.

With a single, effortless move, Zhang Yangqing crippled his opponent's arm, and with a second sword strike, he killed him instantly.

This is no longer a difference in strength and skill, but a difference in level of understanding.

With his understanding of the essence of power, his control over the rhythm of battle, and his application of the power of laws, Zhang Yangqing stood at a height that was completely beyond its reach, looking down on everyone, including the Qing Tong Clan Chief.

It couldn't help but speak, its consciousness tinged with rare awe and curiosity: "Great God, are there really people in this world stronger than you?"

When it asked this question, it already had the answer in its mind; it just wanted to confirm it.

Zhang Yangqing paused slightly upon hearing this.

A figure suddenly flashed through his mind.

Long ago, in a world of ghost stories, there was a pair of cold, serpentine eyes that seemed to pierce through the soul, and a taciturn but unusually persistent "little follower" who followed behind him.

I think I was asked a similar question back then.

He casually replied, "Of course there are, but I haven't seen them yet."

His tone was calm, as if he were stating an objective fact, without any boasting or arrogance.

But it is precisely this ordinariness that makes the weight of this statement so immense.

The eerie consciousness pondered the words for a moment, remained silent, and then let out a heartfelt exclamation in its sea of ​​consciousness:

"It's just right."

"Master, your act was fucking amazing."

"As expected of a master."

Zhang Yangqing ignored it.

Meanwhile, at the top of the highest tower of the Qing Tong family castle, the family banner, embroidered with a blue phoenix tree emblem, which had been hanging for hundreds of years, was fluttering in the wind.

The old miner climbed up himself.

He gripped the flagpole tightly, looked down at the dark mass of miners in the square who were looking up at him, and then at the blurry figure sitting on the throne in the distant hall.

Take a deep breath.

Then, he drew the long knife he had taken from the guard's corpse from his waist and, with all his might, slashed fiercely at the flag rope!

"Crack!"

The rope broke.

The flag that symbolized the supreme authority of the Qing Tong family, that had flown above the heads of countless miners for hundreds of years and seemed to never fall, slowly slid down, like a giant black bird that had been shot down, helplessly falling to the dust!
Almost simultaneously, the old miner raised his long knife high, and with all his might, shouted at the top of his lungs:

"Chief Qing Tong is dead!!"

"We've won!!!"

The sound was like thunder, exploding above the castle!

In the square, tens of thousands of miners, dressed in rags and covered in blood, erupted into a thunderous cheer after a brief, unbelievable silence!
"We've won!!"

"We won!!" They waved their makeshift weapons: pickaxes, shovels, sticks, and even swords just pulled from the corpses.

They embraced each other, wept loudly, and laughed and cried at the same time.

Some people knelt on the ground, kissing the earth beneath their feet—a land they had irrigated with their blood and sweat, yet which had never truly belonged to them.

Someone slumped in a corner, covering their face with their hands, tears streaming through their fingers—a mixture of despair and hope that had been suppressed for decades and was finally being released.

Those remaining members of the Qing Tong family who were still putting up sporadic resistance saw this scene, saw the fallen flag, and heard the deafening announcement that "the patriarch is dead."

Their faces turned ashen, and the weapons in their hands clattered to the ground.

Their faith, their backers, and the power structure upon which they depended for survival collapsed completely at this moment.

A dynasty has come to an end.

A new order is quietly sprouting from the ruins.

Inside the main hall, the noise was largely blocked out by the thick stone walls, making it exceptionally quiet.

Zhang Yangqing sat on the enormous throne carved from the bones of an ancient behemoth.

This throne once belonged to the Qing Tong clan chief and symbolized supreme power in this region.

At this moment, the new master sat on it, but showed no signs of the awkwardness or excitement of a new king ascending the throne.

His posture was casual and relaxed, his body leaning back slightly, one hand on the armrest and the other casually resting on his knee.

There was no deliberate attempt to project an air of authority, nor any feigned humility.

It was an innate air of superiority, as if he was born to sit in such a position and look down upon all living beings.

Anyone who tries to measure him by "power" or "status" will feel a deep sense of inferiority in his presence.

Eagle Eye Miner strode in, his steps hurried, his face filled with barely suppressed excitement and agitation.

He stopped a few steps from the throne, bowed, and his voice trembled with excitement: "Boss! What should we do with those Qing Tong family members who surrendered and were captured?"

He raised his head, a hint of expectation in his eyes, awaiting Zhang Yangqing's instructions.

Zhang Yangqing didn't answer directly, but instead asked, "What do you think?"

Eagle Eye Miner paused for a moment, then carefully considered his options before speaking his opinion: "Boss, in my opinion, why don't we lock them up too and make them work as miners, so they can experience what it's like to be oppressed!"

The more he talked, the better he thought the idea was, his eyes gleaming with vengeful pleasure: "Let them mine too! Let them starve too! Let them wear shackles too! Let them know what we miners have been through all these years! This is called giving them a taste of their own medicine!"

After he finished speaking, he looked at Zhang Yangqing with a smug expression, waiting for his boss's approval.

However, Zhang Yangqing simply looked at him calmly, without the slightest fluctuation in his eyes.

Zhang Yangqing slowly spoke: "If we do this, how is it any different from them? It's just that we've changed positions and are continuing to exert pressure."

Eagle Eye Miner's smile froze; he stood there, stunned, his mind going blank.

Yes! What they hate is the oppression of the Qing Tong family, and the cruel system that treats people like livestock and tools.

If, after seizing power, one merely reverses the roles of oppressor and oppressed and continues to maintain the system, what fundamental change will occur in this world?

What difference is there between them and those they overthrew?
He prided himself on his intelligence and his ability to read people, but at this moment, he was rendered speechless by Zhang Yangqing's simple question.

He racked his brains, sweat beading on his forehead, his mind practically steaming.

However, his limited knowledge, experience, and perspective made it impossible for him to grasp the level of thinking that Zhang Yangqing possessed.

He had no choice but to give up and honestly asked, "Boss, what... what should we do? Are we just going to let them go?" (End of Chapter)