Chapter 146: Negotiation (End)

"Come, come, time for dinner." The bandit leader felt the time was right and called out to everyone. Several underlings produced bags from somewhere, pulled out hardtack and bread, and began eating casually while swigging water.

Kevin, Stardt, and the rest of the captives naturally had nothing to eat. Strictly speaking, they were only given a single piece of bread at noon. Yet today, because the debate had been so heated, the bandits had completely forgotten. These bandits were unorganized, and now that the Chamberpot Mage was absent, they had lost all sense of time; missing a meal was no big deal. However, for the captives, missing this meal meant missing an entire day's rations. Still, no one dared to speak up or ask for food, and they could only look at everyone with mournful eyes.

Kevin observed for a moment and spoke up again, "Bandit boss, is this really all you eat?"

"None of your damn business," the bandit leader cursed around a mouthful of chewing bread, spraying crumbs everywhere.

"Is your food also provided by the Chamberpot Mage?" Kevin continued.

No one answered him; the bandits simply gnawed on their bread.

"Have you ever imagined roasted chicken out in the wilderness, so fragrant that a single bite fills your mouth with savory juices? Can you imagine a whole roasted lamb from the Northern Ice Fields, paired with the purest cheese and a glass of mellow red wine?" Kevin murmured casually, "I've tasted all of these."

The bandits: "..."

"Haven't you ever roasted a chicken? Roasting a chicken isn't just a matter of holding it over an open flame; it's best dusted with an imported beast-folk spice. When it hits the fire, it sizzles delightfully. Take a bite—crisp skin, tender meat, and an aftertaste that lingers forever." Kevin looked up, reminiscing.

Stardt chimed in from the side, "Have you ever eaten noble cake? Three layers of whipped cream, topped with a colorful array of fruits—red, yellow, emerald green—paired with a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. The texture is refreshing and smooth."

Stardt continued his recollections, "Have you ever had a chilled fruit platter? Enhanced with ice-magic and blended with all sorts of fruits—such a huge platter, where you take a gentle spoonful, and coolness permeates your entire body."

The bandits paused, clutching their bread in a dazed stupor.

"Did you think these meals were only accessible to nobility?" Kevin asked. "I am terribly sorry to inform you, but I have eaten them all."

"That's right," Stardt agreed. "Noble cake isn't just for nobles; it's just called noble cake. Though a bit pricey, an ordinary commoner can still order one to try on their birthday."

The bandit leader lowered his piece of bread. "What are you trying to say?"

"Are you happy being bandits?" Kevin asked directly.

"Very happy!" the bandit leader stubbornly insisted.

"How long has it been since you went outside?" Kevin asked again. "When did you start being bandits?"

"Shut your trap!" The bandit leader waved a hand while subconsciously retreating, and a moment later, he retreated into a small side cave of his own accord. The remaining bandits lost their appetites as well, hurriedly taking a couple of bites before squatting down in various corners. The amount of information they had absorbed today was overwhelming, and they needed time to digest it.

Kevin stopped pushing. Since the bandit leader had nothing more to say, it was useless to press further; he needed to conserve his energy for tomorrow.

The night passed quietly. Kevin remained tied to the wooden cross, and no one came to let him down. Stardt was ordered back into his cage. The torches were extinguished, plunging everything into pitch black once more.

In the dead of night, Kevin felt a small creature brushing against him. Realizing it was the soil-burrowing rodent that had been assisting him, a sense of reassurance washed over him. The rodent crawled over Kevin for a moment, lingering noticeably around the ropes binding his hands and feet, before quietly burrowing away into the earth.

Kevin tested his bonds with a slight exertion. The ropes on his hands and feet were noticeably loosened; a single burst of battle qi should allow him to break free. Deeply grateful for the rodent's help, he knew now was not the time to break free; he had to wait patiently for the right opportunity.

The next day, the bandits trickled back in, relit the torches, and brought out their breakfast. However, upon seeing Kevin, they subconsciously averted their gazes.

"Is that all you eat for breakfast?" Kevin asked again. In truth, he had barely slept last night—how could anyone sleep tied to a wooden cross? Though sleep-deprived and lacking in spirit, he had to force himself to look sharp; his momentum could not falter.

"Shut your trap!" The bandit leader seemed somewhat irritated.

"Don't be angry; I'm not trying to provoke you," Kevin replied. "When it comes down to it, I want to live, and you all want to live. Wouldn't it be better if we figured out a way for everyone to survive?"

The bandits remained silent.

"The facts are right in front of you. The general has agreed to a pardon and swore an oath. But his deadline is today—meaning if we aren't out by this evening, he will lose patience. Meanwhile, your Chamberpot Mage gave a deadline of a month," Kevin laid all the cards on the table. "Are you really willing to eat mixed-grain bread for another month? When good days are within reach, why not enjoy them sooner?"

A voice rang out from the top of the cave: "The one-month period is non-negotiable. Don't try to lure the bandits away with such talk. The food you mentioned is only for nobles; commoners outside can only eat mixed-grain bread."

Stardt immediately glared upward. "You're full of crap! We commoners eat meat every single day. Are you talking about decades ago?"

"This argument is pointless. Once you go outside, you'll understand naturally," Kevin said. "The country has been developing very rapidly in recent years. Water towers are already being built in the main cities, supplying every household through a comprehensive plumbing network. Preparations are underway to construct a city-wide engineering magic array, with nodal points maintained by magical towers. This way, every household can cook meals directly using the magic from the engineering array, without even needing to be a mage, and without needing firewood. Every household will also be able to utilize ice magic to chill food in specific corners of their homes for better preservation, and use wind magic for ventilation and dust removal in their houses."

"Theoretically, this isn't difficult; it just requires unified city-wide planning, layout, and building construction aligned with the nodes of the magic array. We expect to achieve this goal within a few years. By the end of this year, when the first batch of parrot-messengers is decommissioned, our network will go live." Kevin painted a picture of an extremely prosperous magical city for the bandits.

The voice poured cold water on the idea: "You are talking about the Ryan Empire, not the Loubaole Kingdom. The Loubaole Kingdom won't escape the fate of chopping firewood and boiling water for a hundred years."

Stardt cursed again, "A hundred years? Talking right out of your ass? Let me tell you, my family doesn't chop firewood to boil water anymore; my family uses a magic stove."

"This kind of argument is meaningless," Kevin interrupted directly. "The crucial point is: who do you believe? Bandit boss, I remember your name is Rex?"

"Right!" the bandit leader nodded.

"The first thing you need to do right now is break out of this ridiculous mindset of 'protagonists' and 'supporting characters'," Kevin advised him. "The protagonists in novels don't survive simply because they're protagonists who can wander into mortal danger and never die. Though that is practically what they do, at least they don't say it out loud!"

The bandit leader rubbed his forehead. "To be honest, my head hurts right now, and I don't know what to do."

"If your head hurts, that means you're on the right track!" Kevin rejoiced inwardly. "People only progress because they can think. Think about it: why is he lying to you..."

"I am not lying to you..." the voice from the cave roof interrupted directly.

"Shut your trap!!!" Kevin shouted, drowning him out with an even louder voice. Stardt immediately backed him up: "What protagonist? What supporting character? I reviewed this entire stack of manuscripts, don't you think I know? With a wave of my hand, I can ban the whole lot of them!"

The bandits: "..."

"If you still believe you are protagonists, then please conduct a bold experiment!" Kevin roared. "Every protagonist you've ever read about shares a universal law: the law of plot armor. All you have to do is take a sword and slit your throat, and you can prove whether you're a protagonist or not!"

The bandits: "..."

"What's wrong? Scared?" Kevin taunted. "Death is nothing more than transmigrating, what are you afraid of? Who knows, maybe you'll transmigrate directly to become an emperor! Or become a god! Maybe you'll press the sword to your neck, the blade will snap, and you'll discover you're indestructible!"

The bandits stood in a daze, none of them moving.

"Tsk, we aren't fools," suddenly a bandit sneered. "Are you trying to trick us into dying?"

"Heh," Kevin sneered back. "Since you don't dare to slit your throats, let's try another testing method—a different protagonist law. Protagonists are invincible at their tier and frequently defeat opponents of higher tiers. You all admit to that, right?"

The bandits remained silent, which was taken as tacit agreement.

"Right now, I am at the exact same tier as you lot. So, it's a one-on-one duel between you and me! Let's see who the protagonist is—you or me?" Kevin roared at the bandit who had just sneered.

"Fine! I don't believe this! I'm going to finish you!" Provoked, the impulsive bandit drew his sword and slashed toward Kevin, completely ignoring the fact that Kevin was still bound to the wooden cross. This duel was inherently unfair. The surrounding bandits were startled, but seeing someone else rush in first, they simply stood back and watched.

Seeing the sword descending, Kevin let out a shout and unleashed his battle qi. With a series of popping sounds, the ropes binding him snapped completely apart. The charging bandit never expected such a turn of events; caught off guard by the sudden display, his reaction was sluggish.

Kevin casually materialized a magic array shield at an angle, deflecting the man's longsword. Then, utilizing the momentum from his torso and the recoil of pulling away from the cross, he delivered a karate chop straight to the bandit's neck. The bandit's vision went black as he pitched forward, collapsing to the ground unconscious.

Absolute silence filled the cavern. The bandits felt a buzzing explosion inside their heads. In that instant, what crossed their minds wasn't thoughts of recapturing an escaped prisoner, but rather: "He really is the protagonist!"

Clearly tied to a cross—a cross that even a Tier 7 warrior like the staff officer couldn't break out of—he had shattered the bonds with crimson battle qi. From a seemingly fatal predicament, he had executed a sudden, nonsensical counter-kill. The law of protagonist immortality and the law of tier-invincibility both applied. Without a doubt, this was a genuine "protagonist"!

At this moment, Kevin was still wearing his blue cloak, radiating an overwhelming aura. Though lacking purple battle qi, the psychological shadow he had previously inflicted upon the bandits resurfaced. The bandits panicked, utterly at a loss. They lost their fighting spirit and didn't even dare step forward to capture him.

Stardt, standing nearby, was equally astonished. He hadn't expected Kevin to break free from the cross like that, and muttered involuntarily, "This is my second time witnessing plot armor."

Yet Kevin, the supposed "protagonist," refused to acknowledge it. "Do you think I'm the protagonist? Let me tell you, I am not the protagonist!"

"Didn't I say it before? I am a protagonist, you are a protagonist, everyone is a protagonist. I am not a protagonist, you are not a protagonist, and nobody is a protagonist," Kevin repeated his lines from yesterday.

The bandits nodded repeatedly. Though they didn't quite understand, it sounded profoundly logical.

The only one completely out of the loop was the mastermind behind the scenes. Judging purely by sound, he had struggled to parse the ensuing scuffle and finally asked, "What is happening over there?"

Kevin couldn't be bothered with him and asked Stardt, "Hand me that piece of paper and pen. I'll show you right now how these so-called stories are written."

Stardt fished the pen and paper out of Kevin's backpack and handed them over. Sitting directly on the ground, Kevin spread the paper across his thighs and began writing furiously. Not a single bandit stepped forward to stop him; they just stood there blankly, completely at a loss from top to bottom.

Sensing the oppressive atmosphere, Stardt spoke up to lighten the mood. "Actually, living a gay lifestyle in society is indeed very hard. Although the Loubaole Kingdom doesn't explicitly criminalize homosexuality, society still disapproves of such a lifestyle; it's a cultural matter. Even if you openly walk outside, if you openly engage in homosexual acts, people will still look down on you."

"Hmph!" The group of gay bandits clearly looked down on normal people as well.

"Still, since you can't stay in the Loubaole Kingdom, why don't you find a way to go to the Homosexual Kingdom?" Stardt suggested. "Do you know about the Homosexual Kingdom?"

The bandits naturally shook their heads in ignorance. Stardt immediately began introducing the general overview of the Homosexual Kingdom. It had once been a mighty empire; though it was now past its prime and had become one of many allied minor nations, it still held a prominent place in the world. While the kingdom couldn't possibly be filled exclusively with gay people—after all, a nation couldn't sustain itself that way—homosexuality had nearly become a cultural institution there. Engaging in homosexual acts there would undoubtedly be much happier and freer.

Listening to the introduction, the gay bandits were filled with yearning. By this time, Kevin had finished writing a section and handed it to the bandits to pass around. Chapter 145 of *The Bard's Chronicles* was thus updated right inside the bandit hideout. Since the protagonist in Kevin's writing was also a bard, Kevin could fully empathize and incorporate his own experiences into the text. The protagonist in the book debated and refuted the bandits in a manner almost identical to yesterday.

As the bandits read and listened, it felt as though they were listening to themselves yesterday—the exact same encounters, and virtually identical dialogue.

"What does this prove?" Kevin asked after they finished reading. "Don't blindly believe things written on paper, because anyone can write words on paper. I can, and you can too."

The bandits fell silent; their faith was collapsing.

The voice from the cave ceiling made a final effort: "If you don't listen to me, you will regret this!"

Kevin smiled, looked up toward the ceiling, and asked, "Do you believe in justice?"

"I do not!" the voice replied. "There is no such thing as justice to begin with. So-called right and wrong are merely different starting nodes and different outcomes. Just like the alternation of day and night; in other words, the victor is justice, and the vanquished is evil."

"You're wrong," Kevin sneered. "It is precisely because everyone believes in justice—I believe I am righteous, and you believe you are righteous—that after a duel between us, naturally, my righteousness prevails over yours. But that doesn't mean justice doesn't exist! That is why we champion justice, and why both sides call themselves righteous when entering battle."

"What nonsense," the voice from the ceiling muttered impatiently. "Do you know why justice is championed? Because whether they are righteous or evil, everyone wants the people around them to be righteous, nothing more. Righteous people are too naive and kind-hearted; the more such people exist, the more opportunities evil people have to act. Even the most evil person can brand themselves as righteous. Precisely because of this hypocrisy, we'd rather do without justice—we bandits will just be purely evil."

Kevin retorted, "Do you know why we all champion justice? Because humans win through teamwork. Righteous people can stick together and weather storms through concerted effort. Evil people, however, find it hard to stick together because they are selfish and paranoid, inevitably guarding against and stabbing each other in the back. If you truly want to be purely evil, I advise you to watch your backs, never rush to the front during a raid, and hide in the very back."

Everyone: "..."

Kevin smiled. "If you can't even sort out justice and evil, what are you doing being bandits?"

The bandit leader let out a long sigh and made his final confirmation: "So... the outside world really has pardoned us?"

"Yes," Kevin replied patiently.

"And if these people are released, they won't come back to cause trouble for us later?" The bandit leader turned to look at the captives.

The captives shook their heads preemptively. "No, absolutely not." Survival took precedence right now; nobody was going to play the hero of integrity.

That voice made one last desperate attempt: "Listen to my advice, wait even just two more days."

Kevin slowly walked toward the bandit leader. As the protagonist approached step by step, the bandit leader grew nervous and instinctively reached for his sword. Kevin raised his hands to signal he was harmless, then kicked the bandit leader's chair. The chamberpot resting on the armrest tumbled off and shattered into pieces.

The entire cavern fell into a daze once more as they stared blankly at the shards of the chamberpot. Kevin asked, "Where is the Chamberpot Mage? There is none. That was just some sort of parlor trick."

The bandit leader slumped defeatedly into his chair, his eyes helpless.

Kevin looked up. "Aren't you going to say a few more words? We haven't had the pleasure of asking which imperial general you are."

Silence reigned from the cave ceiling.

Kevin spoke calmly, "There isn't much time left—just one hour. Bandit boss, make your decision."

"I..." The bandit leader surveyed his subordinates below. Their expressions were varied, all clearly caught in a daze and entirely incapable of judging the situation.

"Let's go!" Kevin urged again. "Go outside, engage in more gay activities, aren't you looking forward to it? Do you really intend to clutch a chamberpot and eat hardtack here forever?"

"Fine!" Finally, an underling was swayed, instantly sparking a chain reaction among a large group. "Boss, let's go outside!" "Let's go, we'd have to leave sooner or later anyway!" "Follow the protagonist!" "Follow the protagonist!"...

Seeing his men fired up with passion, the bandit leader finally hesitated no longer. "Alright, let's pack up our things and move out immediately!"

In that instant, Kevin faintly sensed the cage trembling slightly. The captives had watched Kevin and Stardt's verbal battle from start to finish. Their hearts had been extremely tense, their fates entirely hanging on those two mouths. Now that the opportunity for release was finally at hand, it was the realization of a long-held luxury. As for so-called revenge, staying alive was far more important.

The bandit leader couldn't help feeling a slight pang of guilt. "Apologies, we were enemies just a moment ago..."

Kevin smiled and patted the bandit leader's shoulder familiarly. "My comrades died at your hands; by all rights, I should seek revenge. But sometimes, there are things more important than revenge. In any battle, both sides face life and death. You also lost three fingers to me—let's call it even."

"I am deeply impressed," the bandit leader said with heartfelt gratitude.

Stardt also walked up slowly. "Um... give me back my underwear."

The bandit leader chuckled awkwardly, fished it out of his pocket, and handed it back.

After some quick packing, the high-spirited bandits were ready in moments. Opening the cage, they found the once-elite experts were now weak and exhausted, and nobody had any energy left to resist anyway. They were about to be saved in a few steps—why bother fighting anymore? However, they refused to abandon the staff officer, opting instead to carry the wooden cross as they walked out. They were still somewhat terrified of someone of such high tier.

Bandits and captives mingled together, exiting in an orderly fashion. Kevin and Stardt stayed at the very back. Once he confirmed that every single bandit had left the cave, Kevin looked up and called out, "Got nothing left to say?"

"Interesting!" The voice from the cave ceiling drifted down leisurely. "Most interesting!"

Kevin smiled and walked out of the cave alongside Stardt. Mist still lingered, but the long-awaited open-air environment brought tears of emotion to the captives' eyes, while Kevin and Stardt felt a lingering sense of surviving a harrowing ordeal.

Suddenly, the sound of thundering hooves rang out from ahead. Within moments, dozens of horsemen charged into view. It was General Odr and his trusted guards. They had monitored everything inside the cave through Stardt's parrot and, upon learning of the successful rescue, had galloped over at top speed.

"General!" Kevin and Stardt stepped forward to greet him.

"Is everyone accounted for?" The general's face was chillingly cold.

"Accounted for."

"Hey!" The bandit leader even stepped up to greet him, considering himself quite the big shot. "You must be the general. Well, my name is Rex. Let's get acquainted."

*Slash!* A burst of purple battle qi flashed, and the bandit leader's head flew high into the air. At the same time, the general's guards drew their swords and charged into the ranks of the bandits, blood spraying mercilessly. Kevin stood frozen in shock. (To be continued.)