Chapter 58: The Hardest Vengeance to Forget!

Time passed, minute by minute.

Many members of the troupe looked toward the room where Su Xianjun was staying, wondering if they were hoping that he would perform for the Eastern Barbarian bandits to save the lives of the townspeople.

But no matter how much Yang Xinyan tried to persuade him, Su Xianjun remained unmoved.

At that moment, a small side door opened, and the scholar entered the backstage area.

Everyone instantly became tense.

However, the scholar stepped aside, revealing Wang Jinghui behind him.

"Master Wang, please go ahead."

Wang Jinghui's face was deathly pale, beads of sweat covered his forehead, and his left hand trembled slightly in front of him, with his pinky wrapped in a white cloth stained with blood.

The people backstage stared at him in surprise. Wang Jinghui seemed hesitant to meet their eyes, and he went to Su Xianjun's door, lightly knocked, introduced himself, and then entered the room.

The scholar's gaze swept over the people backstage, and everyone quickly lowered their heads, avoiding eye contact with him.

The scholar burst out in laughter, casually found a place to sit, and waited for Wang Jinghui to come out.

Zhao Haiping felt an urge to rush over and kick him.

The petty, treacherous type!

It seemed that every era had its fair share of vile traitors like this.

This scholar clearly had some psychological issues. He had defected to the Eastern Barbarians because he felt unappreciated in the Great Sheng Dynasty and blamed the dynasty for mistreating him. So, he had joined the bandits, enjoying a taste of superiority.

Not satisfied with mere plunder and slaughter, he wanted to indulge in the finest performances, living as if he were a lord.

After being scolded by Wang Jinghui, he had thrown Wang into the dungeon, threatening to break one of his fingers every hour until Wang, a respected scholar, was reduced to the same state as himself.

Initially, Zhao Haiping had held some hope for Wang Jinghui, but now, less than an hour after having one of his fingers broken, he had already surrendered?

Yes, breaking a finger was painful, but...

Recalling the experiences of players in the Scholar Trial and historical figures like Yang Yan, Zhao Haiping couldn't help but feel disappointed. The gap was simply too wide.

At this moment, he could probably catch the scholar off guard and kill him. But doing so would be meaningless.

Zhao Haiping kept reminding himself that this was only a trial scenario, a simulation of historical events that had already taken place. What he was seeing now was just a collection of virtual data.

Even if he killed this lackey, it wouldn't guarantee passing the trial.

After a while, Wang Jinghui finally came out of Su Xianjun's room. His pale face was tinged with a flush of shame—he had likely been scolded harshly.

However, to everyone's surprise, Wang Jinghui approached the scholar and said, "Mr. Su has agreed."

The scholar raised an eyebrow, his face lighting up with delight. "Oh? Mr. Su agreed?"

Wang Jinghui nodded. "Yes, but he insisted that he wouldn't perform 'Farewell My Concubine' and that he wouldn't share the stage with Boss Yang.

"Mr. Su said… he had no intention of associating with people like us."

The scholar sneered but nodded. "No problem. Mr. Su's rendition of 'The Peony Pavilion' is also a masterpiece. As long as he's willing to perform, the rest can go his way.

"I'll go tell the general the good news. The backstage is yours. Mr. Su should start preparing—I'll be eagerly awaiting."

With that, the scholar turned and returned to the main theater.

The troupe members looked at one another, each with different expressions.

Some were puzzled as to why Su Xianjun, who had been so resolute before, had been persuaded by Wang Jinghui; others glared at Wang Jinghui in disbelief, unable to understand why even he had yielded to the bandits.

Wang Jinghui's face darkened as he avoided meeting their gazes.

After a moment, Su Xianjun's door opened, and he stepped out, fully dressed and made up.

Handsome in appearance, Su Xianjun's gestures carried a hint of femininity due to his years of playing female roles. Yet, his expression was one of resolve and sorrow.

He glanced at Wang Jinghui and then at Yang Xinyan.

"There's a hidden door backstage. Those who want to save their lives can leave."

It was close to midnight by now. The bandits were in the main theater, drinking and awaiting Su Xianjun's performance, fully relaxed.

Yang Xinyan seemed to want to say something. "Xianjun…"

Su Xianjun glared at him. "Go!"

Yang Xinyan said nothing more, bowing his head and heading toward the hidden door.

Wang Jinghui, pale-faced, looked at Su Xianjun. Perhaps seeing how Yang Xinyan had been scolded, he also stayed silent and followed Yang to leave.

Several other troupe members, about half, also began to leave, one by one.

Everyone knew that staying in the theater was extremely risky.

The Eastern Barbarian bandits could start slaughtering at any moment, so escaping now gave them a chance to survive.

But over half of the troupe members remained behind.

Zhao Haiping also found himself torn. Clearly, staying or leaving would lead to different paths in the trial.

"Only Su Xianjun seems to know about the hidden door backstage. Why didn't they leave sooner? Was it because their escape would have been too obvious initially, risking capture? Or does Su Xianjun have another plan?"

"Leaving doesn't necessarily mean survival. There could be other developments…"

"Fine, I'll stay and see what happens in the theater."

After some hesitation, Zhao Haiping decided to stay.

When most people had left, Su Xianjun finally looked at those who had chosen to stay.

Under the lantern light, he seemed to be memorizing everyone's faces. As expected, those who stayed were the people he trusted most, including Zhao Haiping's character, who was clearly one of them.

After a moment, Su Xianjun spoke, "Since you've all decided to stay, you must have come with a resolve to die.

"We may be mere performers, looked down upon by many as mere actors, but we should know what loyalty to our country means.

"I've already made arrangements with Master Wang. Once he leaves, he'll gather the militia, get the oil from the warehouse, and set the theater ablaze. But to avoid raising the bandits' suspicion, we still need to perform until the end.

"So, please, join me in singing this final act."

Everyone's face was filled with sorrow, but no one left. Instead, they all nodded and said, "Yes, Mr. Su!"

Zhao Haiping was shocked—he hadn't expected this turn of events.

So the trial was indeed closely connected to the theater!

Staying had been the right decision!

Earlier, Zhao Haiping had assessed the strength of the Eastern Barbarian bandits and realized that his small group stood no chance against them.

The only viable plan he could think of was to rally more militia, find three to four hundred able-bodied men in the town, and attempt to take the bandits down.

But he still knew too little about the trial's setup. Even if he left the theater, he had no idea where to find reinforcements.

Now, however, Su Xianjun had offered a new solution: fire!

It was late at night, with a moonless sky and strong winds. The bandits were intoxicated and less vigilant. If Su could distract them with a performance while they set the fire, there might actually be hope.

Could this be the true solution to the trial?

But… was it really that simple?

After all, he hadn't unlocked a single special identity, and his contributions in this trial had been minimal.

Could he really pass by just watching the characters play out their roles?

That didn't seem like this game's style.

However, Zhao Haiping couldn't think of any other strategy, so he joined the remaining troupe members to start preparing.

Since about half of the troupe had left, Zhao Haiping had to help with the accompaniment. Fortunately, he had chosen the "Theater Proficiency" skill, so he wasn't entirely lost.

Soon, the curtain rose.

The Eastern Barbarian bandits, drunk and rowdy, cheered as Su Xianjun stepped on stage.

The scholar, also tipsy and satisfied, looked up at Su, although he seemed annoyed by the bandits' uncouth behavior.

Su Xianjun began his performance, and his voice resonated through the theater.

"Looking upon the ancient lands of the Southern Dynasty, flipping through tales of past elegance,

Flowers on the balconies, lanterns at dusk, pouring out endless heartache.

Each day, strumming the lute against the wall, seeking an understanding soul, for this one time…"

At first, the bandits were rowdy, but soon they fell silent, entranced by Su's voice.

Despite being alone on stage, Su Xianjun's performance captivated everyone,

even Zhao Haiping, who had no prior appreciation for opera. Thanks to his "Theater Proficiency," he, too, found himself spellbound.

Yet, he never fully lost himself, frequently glancing outside.

When would they start the fire?

He had a feeling that, even with the fire, it might not be enough to kill all the bandits. But in the ensuing chaos, with the bandits drunk, he might be able to kill a few more, especially the wanderer who had killed him before.

However, he didn't dare act rashly. He knew the wanderer's instincts were incredibly sharp, and any slight abnormality might alert him, ruining everything.

Zhao Haiping grew more impressed with Su Xianjun.

Despite facing death, Su's performance remained flawless, showcasing his exceptional skills. If he were a player in "Dark Sands," he'd likely become a top player without much training.

Then, Su's tone suddenly changed.

"…Forgiving private grudges may be easy, but national hatred is the hardest to forget!"

The bandits were too captivated to notice, but the scholar's face turned pale—he realized that Su had altered the lyrics.

The original line should have been, "Forgiving national hatred may be easy, but private grudges are hardest to forget." By switching the words, Su had transformed the meaning entirely.

Zhao Haiping's blood surged, knowing that according to their plan, the theater should now be set ablaze, reducing the bandits to ashes!

"Start the fire!"

Su Xianjun's voice echoed through the theater, loud and clear. Even those outside could hear it.

The Eastern Barbarian bandits in the audience looked alarmed and immediately drew their blades.

But… nothing happened.

Su Xianjun stood frozen, clearly just as confused.

The bandits, now fully alert, stood up, drawing their blades, and Zhao Haiping's face fell.

"Damn it!"

He tried to wrest a sword from a bandit, but failed. The trial ended once again in failure.