The bard fantasized again.

Chapter 3 To Hell with Your Legend

"Bang, bang!"

A huge, muffled thud blasted into the ears of the drunkards, who were already losing interest.

Like a thunderclap from a clear sky, it jolted them awake from their drowsy state:
"Who the hell—"

Just as someone was about to hurl insults, a crisp clapping sounded, like a muffled thunderclap striking a dead tree:

"Snapped!"

Their eyes fell on the bar, and they saw the ridiculous homeless man. They struck the wooden table again.

"Bang! Bang! Smash!"

Drunkards are born in small towns; how could they possibly know anything about music?

But strangely, there were no other embellishments; it was just a simple tapping of the table twice and then clapping hands together, nothing more.

This simple yet lively rhythm echoed in my ears again and again.

There was a hint of being seduced, as if they were being encouraged to bang on the table and clap their hands along with them...

"What kind of magic trick is this!?"

The drunkards restrained their hands, suppressing the urge to follow suit.

But they completely forgot to laugh and didn't realize they were getting caught up in the rhythm.

Tang Qi knew he had achieved his goal—

As the creator of pre-made online songs, he is certainly aware that there is no good or bad in music.

However, it is functional and also caters to a specific audience.

While concertos are grand and magnificent, they may not be suitable for the general public who are busy all day and just want to drink and boast.

But give them some simple rhythms to help them clear their minds.

When the mood strikes, your hands will happily keep moving—

The drunkards care about their image, but the young girl behind the bar doesn't care about that.

She felt that the rhythm was not complicated and that she could probably play it herself.

Before I knew it, I was led inside and started banging on the table and clapping.

"Bang! Bang! Smash!"

The rhythms played by the two resonated, making it much louder than when Tang Qi played solo.

The rumble echoed in the increasingly silent tavern, making it seem as if muffled thunder was about to burst forth from the ground.

'Rhythm' is ingrained in our blood, like an innate instinct, and it's not complicated at all.

Once the first person follows, soon there will be a second, a third...

"Damn, this is pretty interesting."

As the 'thunder' grew louder, the jackal couldn't help but put down his wine glass, muttered something under his breath, and turned to shout at Tang Qi.

"But if you think that just banging on the table counts as performing, then selling hooks might be more suitable for you!"

"Shut up, you jackal." The black snake beside him was also awakened by the 'thunder'.

"Boss?"

The jackal was at a loss, but he was terrified of the black snake.

Just as he was about to explain, he saw Black Snake's sharp eyes fixed on Catherine at the bar—

She seemed to be drawn into the rhythm as well, gently following the beat of the drunkards.

So the black snake also slapped the table and clapped.

"It's just slamming the table..."

The jackal gritted its teeth and spat coldly.

"What other tricks can they come up with? Once they open their mouths, they'll just spoil the fun."

No one wants to listen to those old-fashioned flattery and boasting.

Tang Qi was well aware of this—

This simple drumbeat perfectly fulfilled its purpose.

It attracted the attention of the drunkards and enhanced the atmosphere of the tavern.

But it is impossible to gain recognition.

A song that can win applause needs more than just an intro.

It needs to truly connect with the audience—

The songs in the academy that catered to high-ranking officials and nobles had lyrics that were nothing more than praise and romantic tales.

Alcoholics wouldn't resonate with these ideas.

There can only be one subject that can truly resonate with these farmers who toil all year only to be exploited by landlords—

Their lives.

And so, once again, the tavern resounded with the simple yet stirring beat of drums.

Tang Qi sang loudly:

"While they sing praises of the past, who is striving for tomorrow?"

On this night of luxury, who is being coerced by money?
This world is so heartbreaking—

Let the rich cause trouble, and the poor take the blame!

The lyrics don't do justice to that well-known classic song.

He could only compose a new verse himself, like a melody he hummed casually.

But the melody doesn't have to be arbitrary.

The important thing is that it's easy to remember.

It should be catchy and easy to sing along to, so that listeners can hum along.

The academy doesn't teach these things, and its predecessor only knew how to play clumsy court tunes on the lute.

But Tang Qi, a pre-made food maker, can use these kinds of melodies with ease.

As for the lyrics, use the simplest words possible.

No need to name names.

Alcoholics can tell who is praising the past and who is living a life of luxury.

"A new nation rises, and an old dynasty falls."

Let the gods tell us: who is wasting their time on the wilderness?

Lord Mel legally owned the land in Starplum Town, but he would never personally go to the countryside to cultivate the wasteland. So he designated the most fertile fields, established orchards there, and had his serfs grow the best Starplums.

The remaining land is then contracted out to independent farmers, rent is collected from them, and surplus crops are bought back at low prices.

This place is surrounded by three mountains and is isolated from the world.

To leave the village, one must cross the dangerous Dawn and Dusk Forest.

The unpredictable changes in the terrain and the presence of wild, even undead creatures, could easily wipe out an entire, well-organized adventure team without any spellcasters.

Occasionally, there are lucky individuals like Tang Qi who escape death.

But they are usually not caravans.

So the farmers had goods in their hands, but couldn't sell them.

As for the lords who have reaped all the benefits, they certainly wouldn't risk returning to either place.

All he had to do was hold balls at his villa in Longjin City, enjoy his retirement, and send his caravans to run errands. Every year, a steady stream of gold coins would flow into his treasury...

Those who truly poured their hearts and souls into this land only received a barely balanced income and expenditure in return.

Who is the master of this place?
But who is wasting their time on this land?
"It's me! It's me!"

Tang Qi had been hungry and thirsty for too long, so much so that his voice was a little hoarse.

But the stage was already set up, and he absolutely could not back down.

Even if it meant tearing his vocal cords, he would still sing at the top of his lungs.

Don't let promises that will eventually be broken blind you.
Don't take advantage of my labor.

Pick up your hoe, even if it means murder and arson;
Hold your head high, even if you shout until your throat is hoarse!
Screw heroes, screw legends;
Fuck the landlords, fuck life!

"Cut off his goatee!"

The dwarf, who was tapping out a rhythm, drank plum wine and couldn't help but slam his fist on the table and stand up.

Born in the mountains, he could never stand the formalities and rituals of the nobility.
"To hell with landlords, to hell with life!"

When adventurers get drunk, they don't care who pays their commission.

But the jackal quickly pressed down on the shoulders of his dwarf companion, both surprised and frightened:
"Stone Breaker, are you crazy? That's our employer!"

The black snake stretched and lay back against the corner wall:

"The employer couldn't hear it in Longjincheng, so he felt unhappy and thought it wouldn't hurt to swear at him."

We are mercenaries paid for our services, not dogs begging for mercy.

If they were truly so loyal, how could they possibly go to a tavern to drink heavily while on night duty?
The jackal was still uneasy and hurriedly looked around.

But he found that no one paid any attention to his corner.

Tang Qi's 'ballads' are simple, but the advantage of simplicity is that they are easy to learn.

This is certainly not a good song.

But that was enough for them to vent.

When he repeated it a second time, some people started singing along.

They usually harbored resentment towards their lord, but they wouldn't openly voice it.

But tonight, with wind and rain raging, the drunkards are confined to this small space.

They were already living a life of debauchery.

As long as tomorrow hasn't come yet.

You can still pretend to be living in a dream.

Nobody cares about sleep talking.

When drunk, one is not afraid to say outrageous things.

"To hell with landlords, to hell with life!"

"Poet, you're simply a genius born of a mother!"

"Catherine, three more glasses of plum wine, oh, and my favorite mashed potatoes. I'm sleeping here tonight!"

"Grandma, I miss you..."

Amidst the cheers and clinking glasses, they felt utterly satisfied.

So much so that nobody cares about the author of this folk song anymore.

No one cared about his previous jokes.

They just wished the night could last a little longer.

After all, when the horizon lights up with that pale white glow.

They also need to forget the present and wake up from their dream.

So Tang Qi had some free time, so he coughed lightly to rest, making bubble sounds: "Uh huh huh..."

This can massage your sore throat.

A tray was placed in front of him.

There sat a plate of cold, hard black bread, stewed beans, and a glass of fruity plum wine that shimmered with a faint glow.

He slowly raised his eyes and met Catherine's bright eyes.

Listen to what she said:
"You must be tired. Would you like something to eat?"

Respect is something you have to earn.

He is a poet, not a beggar.

This is payment, not charity.

"Of course, thank you."

Tang Qi nodded, but then he noticed the little girl next to Catherine.

That was the first listener to tap out the beat with him.

The girl, still immersed in the song, raised her little fist and loudly imitated it:

"To hell with landlords, to hell with life!"

Catherine reached out and smacked her on the head with her finger:

Don't learn to swear!

The girl clutched her head in pain.

"Woo~"

　The article clearly states that they simply needed an outlet after getting drunk, not that the song was particularly good.

　　If this made you cringe, I apologize in advance, but the story that follows is still very exciting, I'm not kidding!
　　The intro is Queen's "We Will Rock You," but neither the lyrics nor the melody are the same.

　　When we were in elementary school, we used to keep this beat. At first, there were only two or three people, but later the whole class joined in, and it turned into a chorus of "We Will We Will Rock You." I remember it very well.

　　But I didn't understand it at the time. I thought it meant "we will fku," and I thought, "Are all foreigners this wild?"

　　
　
(End of this chapter)