C1098 Was he mentally ill? He had to be cured!

To the Japanese, a title was something completely unimaginable. Since ancient times, the common people of Japan only thought of the different levels of the Martial Dao as well as the titles between the Public official s. As for this title, it seemed to be the Sky Emperor's.

When Bing Tai said that he had been conferred a title, the three of them subconsciously thought about it in the direction of the Public official, and all of them asked in astonishment, "A title? We believe that the Prime Minister will bestow you with the title of General or even the name of the city's mayor, because you are a martial artist! How could they be conferred a title? "

"Impossible!" The three of them cried out like wild cats whose tails have been stepped on.

Bing Tai let out a long breath and nodded, "It's hard to imagine. "However, this is the truth. Among the Sixth and Eighteenth Class, I am a third-class Count and am already considered a high rank!"

"The Count has the money for food, and the right to set up his own personal guard. When the time comes, he will have his own estate …" The more Bing Tai spoke, the more agitated he became. He suddenly stood up and pointed at the broken house.

"Back then, I was just a little errand boy under E Balang. I'm not even a helper, so I have to work for nothing every day to repay those loan sharks that I still don't know about …"

"I got beaten up and scolded, I got scolded as a rotten gambler by you guys, E Balang even tried to bully my sister! What was I then? I'm just an orphan less than a wild dog! "I am just a pile of mud …"

Bing Tai wanted to vent all the darkness in his heart today. He had followed the Prime Minister for more than three years, but he had never dared to return to this sorrowful place.

There were so many memories of his suffering that even he did not dare to look straight at them. He could only choose to avoid them. He was afraid of the gazes of the people here. Whenever the villagers bowed to him or paid their attention, they would look at him with gazes of goodwill, envy, and pride …

However, Bing Tai Lang was still unable to escape the shadow of his inferiority complex. Those gazes made him feel as if he was sitting on pins and needles, and he felt that everyone was laughing at him.

Bing Tai had once told this secret to his foster father Xiao Letian. Xiao Letian had said that this was a mental illness and should take the initiative to face it as much as possible under the sun.

His foster father was right, Bing Tai felt that he was a disease that needed to be cured! However, it sounded very simple, but it would be difficult to do it in its turn.

Only today did he finally have the courage to return to his grief. He wanted to use the glory of being a noble to wash away his past memory of inferiority. To be reborn, he had to first return to the place where he fell.

In the history of mankind's millennia of civilization, the nobility had always been at the top of the pyramid. The worship of the nobility by humans had already been branded into their bloodlines. Not to mention the Middle Ages, even in the 21st century, people still held a respectful attitude towards the aristocracy that was left behind in some countries.

In people's lives, they could still see the influence of aristocracy. Opening a restaurant and having it decorated properly, they dared to say that they were aristocrats who enjoyed it.

Opening a bottle of red wine, if you didn't say that it was the favorite brand of the British and French royalty, would make you feel extremely ashamed. Wearing a pair of leather boots would mean living in vain. This was made by the top craftsmen in Italy, even the European aristocracy would have to wear it.

This was already the 21st century, and the noble plot within the bones of humans had yet to be refined, let alone the nineteenth century.

In the hearts of Bing Tai and the others, bestowing the title of Noble was equivalent to purifying their own bloodline. It was as if they had given their entire body a hemodialysis.

Not to mention that the Chinese Order abolished the idea of the God of Power, not to mention the new rule of three generations, in the hearts of the common people, they still viewed the issue with the values of the past.

Bing Tai spun on top of the tatami like a trapped beast.

"..." I should be grateful that this is not my place to suffer, but my blessed land! "It was here that I met my godfather, the Prime Minister …"

"I should be more thankful to E Balang and those people who insulted me. If not for their disgrace, it would have been impossible for me to become a member of the new world. I would be like those dead thugs who foolishly followed E Balang to cause trouble, and let the Prime Minister have a fair punishment in the end!"

"Tribulation is my benefactor, and this is my Blessed Land! "Paradise, do you know …"

The two servants with weak legs were already kneeling on the tatami, their heads were on top of it and their bodies were trembling, not daring to make the slightest sound.

Only the shopkeeper with the broken arm could still hold on. Although he was kneeling on the ground, his waist was still straight, and his gaze was still on Bing Tai Lang.

After venting for more than twenty minutes, until the sun started to rise outside, until the surrounding streets started to fill up with onlookers, and some people even kneeled down to greet the Marquis. Only then did Bing Tai slowly calm down from his hysteria.

With a "pa da" sound, a leather money bag was placed on the tatami. Looking at its weight, there were at least a few hundred Dragon-striated Silver Coin inside, and there were also rolls of paper money's shadow in the gaps of the rope.

"I've lost my composure. There are twenty thousand yuan worth of bounty here. Take it and decorate this shop properly!" When I have free time in the future, I will often come to your place to drink … After all, you all represent my previous life! "

Bing Tai's mental illness had finally completely recovered. The aristocratic halo above his head could already turn all of his suffering and shame into a legend in the mouths of tens of thousands of people.

"Han Xin had been humiliated, but he was bestowed the title of marquis in the end! If the ancients could do it, why couldn't I? " Bing Tai laughed merrily as she walked out of the tavern, leaving her neighbors kneeling at her door.

Looking at the heavy bag of money on the tatami, the shopkeeper with the broken hand had a sinister expression on his face. "Why is that?"

Just as Bing Tai Lang was about to walk out of the tavern, Broken Hand Manager suddenly moved, he raised his leg and stepped on the tatami's blade sheath, and used his only left hand to pull out the costal deviation, releasing a cold light that pierced towards Bing Tai Lang.

"Eight!" Stupid … "Go to hell!" His features were distorted in the roar.

"General, my lord, be careful …" Bing Tai almost subconsciously shifted his body to the side to dodge the evil wind behind him. Then, he pulled out his blade with a backhand motion, and the famous calligraphy Ju Ming was drawn out of the scabbard.

Bing Tai didn't even look back as he waved his hand behind him, his cold blade cutting down towards the wind in an arc.

This was an intuition that came out purely from practicing on the battlefield. It was a true killing sword technique, not something that could be honed from a competition between training halls.

"En!" With a stuffy groan, Bing Tai's left rib military uniform had a cut cut on it, revealing an inch long wound. The wound wasn't too deep, and only scratched the skin.