Under the dual influence of heavy gold coins and the badge symbolizing the North Wind caravan, the process of Lin Gui opening a post office in the refugee district proceeded at an alarming speed.
He first faced the low-level clerks in charge of title deeds and business licenses.
The entire process could be described as a masterclass in human duplicity.
Initially, when the clerks saw Lin Gui’s tattered mage robes and his strength at the Mid-tier High Rank, their faces were written with nothing but disdain and negligence.
One sat with his legs crossed, lighting a cigarette and pointing to a form with his chin, telling Lin Gui to come back on this same day next year.
He might as well have written "I don't want to deal with you" across his forehead.
However, when Lin Gui wordlessly pushed a large bag of gold coins over, that disdain instantly transformed into undisguised greed.
He even repeatedly hinted, both overtly and covertly, that he wanted... an enhancement.
Clearly, he took Lin Gui for a foolish fat cat seeking refuge in the Royal Capital.
Lin Gui did not mind the extra charges; after all, this money was not his.
As the bribes continued to flow, the greed in the clerk's eyes deepened.
He began patting his chest and promising to process Lin Gui’s business in the shortest time possible, even offering to squeeze him into the queue reserved for nobles.
However, when Lin Gui proposed opening a post office specifically for refugees and commoners, the greed in the clerk's eyes instantly curdled into cold killing intent.
This touched upon certain unspeakable bottom lines.
Yet in the next moment, when Lin Gui revealed the North Wind emblem and calmly declared his status as a member of the transport team, the killing intent had no time to retreat before it was overwritten by immense terror.
The clerk’s legs went weak, and he nearly knelt on the spot to beg for mercy.
In just a few minutes, the man’s expression had shifted no less than four times.
The matter was quickly reported up the chain of command.
Ultimately, a well-dressed and meticulously poised elderly man received Lin Gui.
He was the steward of a high-ranking noble and a direct beneficiary and agent of the existing post office interest network in the Royal Capital.
A negotiation regarding the right to open a post office unfolded in a subtle atmosphere.
When Lin Gui explicitly stated that his target clientele was limited only to the refugees of the Seventh Ring and some commoners of the Sixth Ring, and that he would never touch the upper districts, the old steward showed undisguised astonishment.
He confirmed this point repeatedly.
It was as if he could not understand why anyone would go to such lengths for those mud-legged peasants, even resorting to the connections of the North Wind caravan.
Although Lin Gui could clearly feel the contempt belonging to the ruling class deep in the old steward's gaze, the man dared not show direct hostility due to his fear of the North Wind transport team’s background.
He candidly pointed out that Lin Gui’s behavior itself was very "dangerous" to them.
It was not a threat of force, but rather the potential to completely shatter the class barrier of information transmission.
It would ruin the "exclusive service" image and the added value they had painstakingly built for their noble clients.
The conditions on both sides changed again and again.
After a long period of back-and-forth, they finally reached a few tenuous points of consensus.
First, Lin Gui’s post office could only operate within the Sixth and Seventh Rings.
He was strictly forbidden from actively expanding business into any of the upper rings.
Second, Lin Gui’s post office had to be affiliated under their name and accept "supervision."
Furthermore, the name absolutely could not be the "7-Copper Post Office."
That sort of name, with its explicit pricing and implications of equality, was prohibited.
It could only be called the "Pariah Messenger."
Third, and most importantly, Lin Gui had to maintain a posture of "bestowal" and "randomness."
He needed the nobles who might occasionally pass by or hear of it to believe that his act of receiving and sending letters in the Royal Capital was a time-limited, temporary charitable activity rather than a continuous business operation.
He had to make the nobles feel that those refugees and commoners had simply struck it lucky by accidentally encountering a peculiar mage acting on a whim of benevolence.
They must not believe they were enjoying a stable, low-cost essential service.
“There are many ways to go about this,” the old steward explained unhurriedly.
He specifically showed Lin Gui how to provide sufficient "spiritual value" to the nobles to maintain their sense of superiority.
“For example, you can claim this is a temporary endeavor to collect the willpower of all living beings for a certain magical experiment.”
“Or, you can pose as a noble scion who is naive to the world, moved by a traveling bard's stories, and experiencing life on a sudden whim...”
“In short, you must maintain the proper posture.”
“You must make the lords feel that this is not a service, but rather...”
“Hmm, an act of curiosity and pity toward the bottom tier, a lofty and brief moment of condescension.”
“In that way, the lords will merely laugh it off and might even find it interesting, rather than feeling offended.”
Lin Gui listened expressionlessly, a cold sneer in his heart.
He did not care if the name was 7-Copper or Pariah Messenger.
He did not care about being affiliated under their supervision.
He certainly did not mind playing a part in a "bestowal" play for these noble lords.
As long as the letters were eventually delivered and the system's mission was completed—while providing a convenience to those truly in need—he could compromise on these empty names and formalities.
“Fine,” Lin Gui nodded, accepting these humiliating conditions.
The old steward finally revealed a satisfied smile, as if he had resolved a potential trouble while maintaining his dignity.
Having obtained the stamped permit documents, Lin Gui left the hypocritical service point without looking back.
He looked up at the cluttered, dilapidated, yet vibrant streets of the Seventh Ring refugee district.
The post office could finally open for business.
To ensure that the five thousand-odd letters brought from Caran City were all delivered in the shortest time possible, Lin Gui began throwing money around without regard for cost.
He directly purchased a dilapidated but sufficiently spacious two-story wooden building in a relatively central location of the refugee district.
After paying a price in gold far exceeding the market rate, a large number of carpenters and workers were quickly summoned.
They worked day and night to expand and reinforce the wooden building.
There was only one requirement: it must be fast, and the space must be large.
The clanging of construction and the rising dust quickly caught the attention of the refugee district.
Meanwhile, news began to spread simultaneously.
The dissemination of information also relied on money to pave the way.
Lin Gui’s original plan was to have people shout loudly in the refugee and commoner districts with a simple and direct message: "There are letters from Caran City! If you know these names, tell each other to come to the Pariah Messenger to sign for them! There is a reward!"
However, as soon as this notice was drafted, it was taken over by the "assistance" team sent by the old steward.
With a flourish of their pens, they completely revised the content:
【Notice to the Pariahs of the Seventh Ring:】
【Today, the noble lords have shown mercy, specially bestowing upon you low-born sorts an opportunity to communicate with your distant low-born kin.】
【Several letters from the lowly town of Caran have arrived, granted as charity to those of you who crawl upon the earth.】
【Those who recognize their own lowly names may scurry to the Pariah Messenger to receive them on their knees.】
【Should there be a reply, one must kowtow in thanks for this heavenly grace and offer up seven copper coins as a sign that you have not entirely forgotten your benefactor's kindness!】
The promotional language was filled with blatant tones of bestowal and extreme disdain, treating the commoners and refugees like stray dogs by the roadside.
Lin Gui watched the unrecognizable notice but did not stop them.
Ironically, this promotional method filled with contempt worked exceptionally well.
It spread even faster and wider than Lin Gui’s method of equal notification in Caran City.
Perhaps after long-term oppression, the refugees and commoners were already accustomed to this posture of being granted charity, and they found it more "real" and easier to understand.
Before long, long queues formed at the post office entrance.
Most of the people in line were dressed in rags, their faces etched with the marks of suffering and labor.
The eyes of the refugees were mostly filled with bewilderment and fear, while the commoners wore expressions of numbness and exhaustion.
They moved their feet cautiously, as if even stepping into this seemingly "lavish" post office was a transgression.
They fearfully accepted the envelopes—which might carry the final news of distant relatives—from the hands of the "staff."
Hardly anyone dared to speak loudly during the entire process; there was only heavy breathing and suppressed sobbing.
For these people struggling on the line of survival, these letters from afar weighed as much as a thousand jin.
Only after finding a secluded corner did they impatiently and tremblingly tear them open.
What followed was often a long silence, succeeded by uncontrollable weeping mixed with longing, sorrow, and a tiny bit of consolation.
That thin sheet of paper carried the only connection between them and their distant kin, a link nearly crushed by their miserable lives.
The team sent by the old steward took over almost all concrete business—distributing letters, registering replies, and collecting fees.
They were all dressed in fine clothes, looking completely out of place in their surroundings, and they made no effort to hide their disdain for this crowd of "filthy pariahs."
They covered their noses with handkerchiefs and looked as if they wanted to use tweezers to handle the copper coins when giving change.
But their efficiency was incredibly high.
On one hand, it was because they were professionals; on the other, Lin Gui paid each of them a generous salary far exceeding market rates.
Thus, these people operated the daily affairs of the Pariah Messenger with high efficiency, caught between the "pain of enduring a filthy environment and low-class people" and the "joy of earning a handsome reward."
They were so efficient that in just half a day, nearly half of the five thousand letters Lin Gui brought from Caran had been signed for.
Lin Gui even considered whether he should just hire these professionals to work for him in the future.
The task of delivering letters, which was supposed to bog him down, was instead freeing up his time thanks to the steward's unintentional help.
Now, he only had to hand the envelopes to the professional team below.
He did not worry about them playing tricks or tearing up envelopes in front of the commoners.
While watching the despair in the eyes of commoners was a favorite pastime of the upper class, they would not do it here.
Because for every letter successfully delivered to its rightful recipient, Lin Gui provided a reward of twenty gold coins.
In just half a day, to open this post office and appease the great noble behind the steward, he had spent nearly a million gold coins.
Fortunately, none of it was his money.
He wondered if that noble lady had discovered the fact that her small treasury had been emptied by him yet.
Lin Gui felt a slight urge to go and see her despairing, twisted, and furious face.
He also looked forward to the scene of her tearing into her own nephew.
Unfortunately, Lin Gui had to go search for information on the Tomb of Catriona.
“Are you leaving?”
Theia, her face entirely concealed, looked at Lin Gui as he prepared to head out, a trace of undetectable loneliness in her voice.
She desperately wanted to go with him but was afraid of exposing her identity.
Lin Gui’s Shroud of the Gloomy Night could fool a Legendary rank, it was true, but no one could guarantee that there were no special items or magic in the massive Royal Capital—like Gorn’s steel needles—that could directly detect soul fluctuations.
For safety’s sake, she had only been able to stay in this refugee district outpost for the past two days, quietly cultivating.
Lin Gui naturally noticed Theia’s loneliness and gloom.
He thought about it and said, “Hmm, get ready this evening.”
“Huh?” Theia looked up, her long, pointed ears twitching instinctively.
“I’ll take you for a walk in the Fifth Ring commercial district tonight.”
In an instant, Theia’s eyes, which were obscured by the shadow of her hood, lit up.
Her long ears, which had been somewhat drooping, suddenly perked up energetically, swaying slightly to reveal her inner joy.
“Really?!”
“Yes,” Lin Gui nodded and smiled.
Although Lin Gui was also concerned about Theia being discovered, even if she were, he had the ability to take her away.
Soon, nobles returning from outings in the countryside heard about the Pariah Messenger.
When they saw the blatantly insulting promotional language and heard descriptions of noble servants "bestowing" letters to refugees, they could not help but laugh loudly.
They treated the matter as a fun piece of gossip to spread around after tea and meals.
It spread throughout the noble circles.
“Have you heard? A ‘Pariah Messenger’ opened over in the Seventh Ring. It’s quite blunt!”
“Hahaha, I wonder whose idea it was. It’s certainly unique.”
“Bestowing a few opportunities to communicate to make those pariahs weep with gratitude is a bit of fun, I suppose.”
Just as this peculiar "post office" was running smoothly, in the First Ring, the Royal District.
Inside a high-end hotel decorated with extreme luxury, with even its door handles inlaid with magic gems, Elvia was listening to a subordinate's report.
When she heard that Lin Gui had not only successfully opened a post office in the Royal Capital but also seemingly connected with the upper-level post office interest group—even pulling in the help of a certain great noble—she was completely stunned.
“How did this guy... get in touch with those merciless great nobles?”
“How could they allow him to open a post office? And they even sent people to help him?!”
Elvia massaged her temples, her mind full of questions.
“Given Lin Gui’s moral hang-ups... he actually tolerated nobles riding over his head?”
“Using slogans that are clearly insulting to commoners?”
“And allowing others to ‘bestow’ letters in such a posture right in front of him?”
This completely overturned her understanding of Lin Gui.
This was not at all the Lin Gui who, in Caran City, would coldly arrest any noble who dared to insult commoners and take them away to be fed to demons!
Although she was full of questions, Elvia had little energy left to dig into what Lin Gui had actually done.
She was currently facing a much more severe problem, one that might even involve her life or death.
John's Holy Knights, who had escorted her to Caran City, were completely wiped out.
Shortly after she, Lin Gui, and Theia had left that eerie underground tomb, the soul lamps in the Knight Hall representing every member of John’s Knights had all gone out at the same time.
The most fatal point was that John's Holy Knights had been specifically ordered by the King to escort her, the Seventh Princess, to her post in Caran City.
Now, she had returned alive, while the entire Holy Knight order responsible for protecting her was mysteriously dead, with not even their bones remaining.
It was difficult for people not to draw a connection.
Whether the deaths of John's Holy Knights were related to her.
After all, the relationship between her and the Third Prince was notoriously poor.
Rate on N.U.
