Twin Dimension Yin-Yang Mirror: Attaining immortality through the martial path
Chapter 339 - 305: With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility

Chapter 339: Chapter 305: With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility

In West Proluo, over several miles of military camps lay sparsely as the large army had already been deployed, leaving the place looking rather empty.

However, near the mountain forest’s red rocks, the fires of the forge still burned fiercely.

A white-bearded, burly old man, bare to the waist, swung his hammer, pounding on a broad-bladed greatsword.

Each time the hammer struck, a thunderous roar ensued, shaking the ground and buildings wildly.

The glowing-red greatsword was nearly complete.

"Mr. Jones, there’s trouble, General Brown has led troops into the city. I’m afraid there’s going to be serious trouble..."

A young man in military uniform hurried over, shouting at the top of his lungs.

"..."

The old man acted as if he hadn’t heard a thing.

Continuing at his own pace, he hammered the blade; it seemed as if, in his eyes, nothing existed except the weapon he was forging.

"All the high-ranking officials of the Security Patrol have been killed, the Governor’s under attack and calling for help from the Field Army. The General has mobilized the transformation camp for a major conflict—everything’s in chaos, Proluo City is in total disorder."

The young man in uniform still refused to give up, shouting anxiously.

"You, always worrying about nothing. Why are you telling all this to me, a weapon forging expert?"

The white-bearded, burly old man looked at the young man with a face full of disdain, finally taking a break from his work.

"Little White, perhaps you’ve misunderstood my status. Proluo City is in chaos, what does that have to do with me?"

"Who doesn’t know that you are Proluo State’s treasured protector, whose strength secures the peace of this land? With you here, no Ferocious Beast, even of Commander Rank, would dare to offend Proluo State."

White was puzzled.

Proluo City was under attack, crushed beneath one man’s might to the point where even the Governor was in danger.

The field forces, led by General Brown, had even been deployed to provide aid.

In such a situation, was it not worth taking action?

"So now, we have a Ferocious Beast attacking the city?" Old Man Jones asked listlessly, his odd gaze flipping upside-down.

"Not exactly, but..."

"There’s no ’but’ about it, White. Let me ask you, if I’m so powerful, as even you acknowledge, and the safety of Proluo State entirely relies on me, then why am I not the one managing these armies and cities?"

"Specialization is key, and different abilities have varied scopes. Governor Miller has a deep understanding of human nature, manages the city well, supports the economy, and ensures the people of Proluo State lead good lives. And General Brown’s command over the military is extremely capable. Mr. Jones, your talent in teaching combat and forging is even more remarkable, hence you were appointed as the Head Instructor..."

White couldn’t finish what he was saying.

He realized.

Mr. Jones was looking at him askance, as if he were looking at a fool.

"Guess why, when Brown marched his troops out, he didn’t send me into action. And that scaredy-cat Miller, who’s so close to being killed right in front of him, why hasn’t he made a phone call ordering me to help?"

The old man burst into hearty laughter.

"Because I wouldn’t listen, haha..."

Over the years, those politicians and bureaucrats locked him firmly in Proluo State with talk of public sentiment and righteousness.

Commanding no troops, wielding no power, and every now and then hearing the old saying, "With great power comes great responsibility."

So, I’ve been working for them for free all this time?

If his homeland weren’t here, if he couldn’t bear to see the land where he grew up destroyed by Ferocious Beasts, would he not have chosen to live a leisurely life instead of staying in this Field Army camp, spending his days with these rough men?

"Besides, that yellow-skinned lad, he came to Proluo State just to deal with a notorious arms dealer. Does that warrant fighting him to death? Perhaps at the start, they didn’t realize how strong he would become. But after the battle at the Golden Light Building, it was clear that his strength had crossed a line, reaching S-rank levels. Facing such an enemy, what were they thinking? Instead of seeking to appease or compromise, they went for an all-out fight to the death."

Old Man Jones poured himself a cup of cold tea, gulped down several mouthfuls, then nonchalantly sat down on the iron stump and leisurely took out his phone to start watching a video.

He clicked his tongue in appreciation.

"Good, this sword has already captured seven parts of my own style; the young man’s power is fierce."

He was referring to the scene at Roseng Plaza, where Zhou Ping’an had slashed the "Wind Wolf."

Technology was highly advanced now.

Especially recording equipment, which was everywhere.

There were long-range ones, short-range ones, overhead ones—all offering a clear view.

Jones watched with pleasure, seeing nothing wrong with what Zhou Ping’an was doing.

The strong should indeed have their own personalities.

In the eyes of the Patrol, Zhou Ping’an might be an unforgivable criminal.

But for the public, there wasn’t that much fear, because Zhou Ping’an wouldn’t attack those who didn’t aim guns at him.

He could even be considered to commit no trespass.

If he stayed at an inn, he did; he paid for his meals after eating.

In short, as long as no one hit him, he wouldn’t strike back.

If overpowered and surrendered, he wouldn’t kill or capture either.

He even couldn’t be bothered to take prisoner those Patrols who were scared out of their wits.

What was there to be afraid of?

Among the manor in Roseng Plaza, a few daring, foolish girls had even shoved their recording equipment right into Zhou Ping’an’s face without eliciting any anger from him.

"So, we’re just going to let the Zhuxia people walk all over us, killing so many and then leaving without a scratch? If that’s the case, we Proluo State People will have lost all face."

"Look at you, Little White, you’re not even that old and yet you’re so concerned about face. Since you’ve been fetching tea and water, licking boots to my satisfaction these past few days, I’ll teach you a thing or two, so you don’t end up dead because you messed with the wrong person one unseeing day.

Face doesn’t matter worth a damn, what matters is the benefits. Just look at that cunning bastard Miller and Brown—they always talk a good talk, praising me to the skies. But when it really comes down to power and money, you think they’d willingly share even the slightest bit?"

"Mr. Jones doesn’t want to fight for it?"

"Can I even compete? Me, fight? From the top down, it’s all their people, and even the citizens of Proluo State, just like you, you fool, believe I should just stay firmly at the edge of the forest, guarding the city for everyone’s sake. How could I possibly fight for more?"

When Jones spoke of this, he was filled with anger.

However, he also knew that explaining this to a young man brainwashed by the higher-ups was about as useful as playing music to a cow—an utter waste of time.

So, he couldn’t be bothered to say more.

Picking up a yellowed, damp towel, he wiped the sweat from his body in a haphazard manner, his belly covered in chest hair bared, and dressed in his wrinkled military uniform, he left without any concern for appearances.

"Is Mr. Jones going to capture the culprit? With you in action, it’s almost a certainty."

"You think S-class fighters grow like crops in the field, able to be captured at will? I’m going to watch the damn show, to see whether these politicians and wheeler-dealers with all their hubris can clean up the mess they’ve stirred up."

Old Man Jones started up a pickup truck, laughing so hard his voice warped.

Indeed, he was revelling in others’ misfortune.

He had already decided that unless the Beast Commander was attacking the city, meaning a slaughter was imminent, he wouldn’t lift a finger to help.

"The greater the ability, the greater the responsibility? Bullshit! Invoking the public’s heart and moral high ground to coerce somebody—I’m sick of it."

...

Governing Mansion, towering twenty-four stories high, its glass curtain walls seeming to form a single whole with the wall, would catch the unsuspecting eye, making the building appear like a gigantic gemstone.

The sun reflected in the building’s facade, dazzling onlookers.

Even Zhou Ping’an had to admit it.

The post-war economic recovery of Proluo State was, indeed, significantly stronger than Dongjiang’s.

Their speed at assimilating black tech was faster.

And they were willing to apply it to civilian life.

For instance, this very building used the construction techniques of the Landis Ruins’ Crystal Palace, an integration of defense and aesthetics.

To an enemy, it would be nearly impossible to spot where the security guards were for defense or from where the weapons would launch an attack.

But such an enemy certainly did not include Zhou Ping’an.

The moment he stepped out of the car and set foot on the plaza in front of the building, he didn’t bother with words; he simply raised his hand and fired two shots.

Pop pop...

From higher up in the building, two sharp screams followed, and firearms tumbled down.

Zhou Ping’an shook his head, not even bothering to look around.

His mental strength radiated outward, his Crisis Perception fully activated.

Any hint of malice, or an emerging threat, and he would preemptively open fire.

The Golden Eagle pistols, a trial product from the black tech laboratory, were well-deserving of their name.

Their accuracy was pinpoint up to two hundred meters.

And the recoil was almost completely negated.

What was most extraordinary was that they could fire nearly thirty percent faster than standard pistols.

With these advantages and Zhou Ping’an’s neural response and hand speed,

standing face to face, within two hundred meters, he would have fired seven or eight shots before his opponents could get off even one.

They might not even have time to raise their guns to aim before being shot dead.

In such situations, the average elite soldier was practically no challenge to him at all,

just like, in the battlefields of Another World, those ordinary soldiers who hadn’t reached the Great Achievement of Muscles and Bones were like chaff in the face of the ferocious onslaught of the True Qi Realm generals.

They were utterly ineffective.

’With the advancement of firearms, many people have lost all awe for the truly strong. After all, what’s to fear about someone who has trained for ten or twenty years when they can’t stop a single bullet?’

’Yet, genetic transformations have been around for many years, Ferocious Beasts and Gene Modified Warriors are growing stronger and more numerous. Why haven’t these people changed their combat style, why haven’t they developed a culture that respects martial prowess?’

Considering this, Zhou Ping’an had to acknowledge the overwhelming power of habits and systems.

No matter how strong an individual may be, in the view of some, they can still seem insignificant.

After all, humans are social creatures; they always have various weaknesses.

Like family ties, friendships, love, duty, responsibility, commitment, and patriotic sentiment, or a sense of belonging to one’s race...

Fame and fortune, love and hatred, there’s always a chink in a person’s armor, some way to assimilate them into the system.

Those who resist, those who fight alone, must be overwhelmingly powerful enough to overpower a nation single-handedly, or else resistance means death.

And so, the very existence of politicians and political creatures is predicated on this principle.

They have the power to turn the tide, to shape events as they please.

They can do whatever they want, whenever they want.

And they never even consider the likes of us."