"What I do is my business." Foucault turned around and saw a human merchant dressed in brown, riding a horned horse.

"I understand, I understand—it's just that I want to tell you that doing good isn't always so straightforward; good intentions can easily lead to bad outcomes." The brown-clad merchant dismounted and gave Foucault and the others a standard noble greeting from the inland: "I am Kakafil, a merchant from the borderlands."

"A merchant?" Seeing Kakafil's standard greeting, Foucault felt a bit surprised.

Meanwhile, the instigator of this scene—the mysterious knight—merely watched coldly without saying a word.

As if all of this had nothing to do with him.

"Are you from the inland?" Foucault glanced back, then shifted his attention from the mysterious knight to the merchant before him.

"Young master, I know him..." Lange whispered to Foucault, sharing what he knew about Kakafil.

Lange hadn't wasted his free time in recent days—he used it to learn about the borderlands.

In case it might come in handy someday.

The importance of intelligence was something he learned from Ogre; coincidentally, Kakafil was among the information he had gathered.

This was learned from a noble's illegitimate child in a small border town, who claimed Kakafil was a cunning merchant.

However, strangely enough, this guy seemed to have a decent reputation among the commoners in the town, which made the newcomer Lange a bit wary.

'A cunning merchant?' Foucault questioned internally; he wasn't one to believe everything he heard.

Because of Kakafil's earlier reminder, he held some skepticism towards Lange's information.

"My ancestors are from the borderlands; they just lived inland for some time." Kakafil smiled.

"I'm Foucault, and he's Lange. We're from the inland. Do you have something to say? Share your thoughts." After introducing himself and Lange, Foucault got straight to the point.

He found this peculiar merchant somewhat intriguing.

Doing good isn't always straightforward; how else can one do good?

"Would you be willing to make a bet with me?" Kakafil rubbed his hands together.

"Bet on what?" Foucault asked instinctively.

"Young master, don't fall for this cunning merchant's trap," Lange reminded.

Foucault waved a hand at Lange, saying, "I know what I'm doing."

"See those people gathered outside the town?" Kakafil pointed towards the town gate. "They're all waiting for the cotton clothes I'm bringing."

"What are you trying to say?" Foucault rarely encountered someone so enigmatic, and he couldn't quite grasp the other's train of thought.

"Without these cotton clothes, many commoners won't survive the winter." Kakafil rubbed his hands and exhaled warm breath—the weather had already turned much colder, and at this rate, it was normal for some to freeze to death.

"Since you like doing good, why don't we bet on whether they'll appreciate your good deeds?" Kakafil smiled mysteriously.

"What do you mean?" Foucault hated such cryptic talk—but Kakafil's wager did pique his interest.

"You buy this cart of cotton clothes and sell it to them. If most of them are satisfied, I won't charge you for the clothes. If they're not satisfied—I hope you'll pay double. How about it?"

Kakafil pointed to the horned horse cart behind him, indicating it was filled with cotton clothes.

"Is it that simple?" Foucault thought it was something more complicated, but it turned out to be just this.

"Yes, but during the sale, you can't force or threaten the customers," Kakafil added, revealing a toothy grin. "Do you dare, noble sir?"

"Why wouldn't I dare? Just to be clear—the price is up to me, right?" Foucault confirmed repeatedly.

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After all, he wasn't short on money... just a few clothes, how expensive could they be?

"Just to be clear, the original price for one of my cotton clothes is two gold coins," Kakafil laughed.

"So expensive? Are your cotton clothes made from magic spider silk?" Lange had seen through the cunning merchant.

Though he wasn't as sensitive to money as Ogre, he still knew the general market prices.

"What's expensive about it? Being a traveling merchant is tough, you know. These are high-quality fur-lined cotton clothes, and I've been selling them at this price for years," Kakafil lamented while also provoking, "You can't afford it, can you? Time is money, make a quick decision."

"You scoundrel!" For some reason, Lange found this face detestable—he realized there might be a reason why people disliked merchants.

"It's fine, Lange—we'll take it," Foucault said confidently, then opened his Void Pocket and took out a heavy bag of gold coins, its weight evident from the outside.

"If I lose, I'll naturally compensate you, I swear on the honor of the Chromie Family," Foucault said, shaking the money bag.

He didn't think he would lose.

"Kedo, give this cart of cotton clothes to the noble sir," Kakafil clapped his hands and shouted, and a sturdy gray-skinned dwarf servant brought the cart over with a horned horse.

'Gray dwarf...'

Foucault was somewhat surprised to see the servant—such slaves were rare.

In fact, intelligent civilization slaves were rare, except for ordinary humans themselves.

"Lange, unload the goods." Foucault, now in a temper, signaled Lange to start unloading immediately.

Before long, the stall was set up.

A total of eighty cotton clothes, about the optimal load a horned horse could pull.

'A bit few... but the goods seem fine, doesn't feel like a cunning merchant.' Foucault was slightly surprised by the unloaded clothes.

He knew his stuff; although these clothes were expensive, considering the costs, the markup wasn't too outrageous—after all, with the cold wave approaching, prices doubling or tripling was normal.

'Given for free, it'll do.' Foucault never thought he would lose.

What he cared about wasn't the money, but the meaning behind it.

"How much are you planning to sell them for?" Kakafil asked from the side.

"About, free..." Foucault's unchanged lips curled into a smile.

"Hmph... it's good for young people to have ideas, but I suggest you set a purchase limit," Kakafil shrugged, showing no concern.

Seeing Kakafil abide by the agreement without interfering, even pointing out loopholes, Foucault was momentarily stunned.

He then nodded at Kakafil, indicating his understanding.

He let Lange start calling out to the crowd.

The people had already gathered during the unloading, and with Lange's call, they quickly surrounded them.

"Give me one!"

"I want one too!" Many commoners had already taken out their bags of silver coins—they mostly only had silver coins.

They had prepared for a long time to exchange for warmer clothes.

This was a once-every-two-year harsh winter—without clothes, they might not even survive to see the beast tide, freezing to death before reaching a refuge.

Not to mention this year's cold wave was even colder.

"Quiet!" At Foucault's signal, Lange used Battle Qi to amplify his voice, making it carry further.

"Today's clothes are sold for one silver coin each, one per person." Foucault confidently had Lange announce the price he had prepared.

This price wasn't much different from two gold coins or giving them away for free.

"What? One silver coin!"

With Lange's voice amplified by Battle Qi, it quickly spread to the entire town entrance, even those in the town could hear it.

Some who initially just wanted to watch the commotion came over upon hearing the price.

"Make way..." A town guard squeezed in, and upon seeing Foucault, the seller, he wisely kept quiet and joined the queue.

"I want one!"

"I want one too!"

"Why are you cutting in line!"

"You already have clothes, why buy more!"

The scene quickly became chaotic, but they were only jostling for position.

This caught Foucault off guard.

He even sensed the potential for conflict.

"Line up properly!" Lange couldn't help but shout.

Seeing Lange's attire and sensing his Battle Qi, the crowd quickly quieted down—they didn't dare provoke a noble.

"Please, let me go first..." A woman couldn't help but cry.

She was just here to buy cotton clothes, why were there so many people...

"Please..."

Moved by the woman's cries, some young men couldn't help but want to let her cut in line.

But a burly man behind the young man threatened, "Anyone who dares to cut in line, hmph!"

"Yeah, either step aside yourself and let those behind wait, what's this about, if you want to be a good person, step aside and give up your spot."

This statement immediately dispelled many people's thoughts of giving up their spots—after all, they needed the cotton clothes too, especially at such a low price.

Even if they didn't need the clothes, buying one to sell later would still be profitable.

This left the woman utterly hopeless.

She was weak, how could she compete with these young men...

And there were many more like her.

"Young master..." Lange couldn't bear to watch.

From the side, Kakafil's voice came, "Don't forget the agreement."

"Lange... step back." Foucault wasn't particularly keen on sticking to the bet, but he saw something beyond the wager.

If he allowed the woman to cut in line now.

Then order would be lost, and it would surely provoke anger and resentment from those who couldn't get clothes.

That wouldn't be helping, it would be harming!

And there were many others like the woman, who knew if those pushed aside needed clothes or not.

And if you helped one, what about the others?

If you don't help, is it discrimination?

Who needs help, who doesn't?

This series of unforeseen problems suddenly disturbed Foucault's thoughts.

He suddenly realized that doing good wasn't so simple...

Blindly helping might not have the right effect, it might even have a negative impact.

"Good intentions without the ability to back them up often lead to undesirable consequences, my friend," Kakafil said from the side.

"Lange, sell to them according to the queue!" Foucault almost forced these words out through gritted teeth.

This wager was undoubtedly a loss for him.

From the start, he had already lost.

"You're deceiving me..." Foucault looked at Kakafil with eyes full of anger.

Eighty clothes, no matter how he sold them, it was hard to distribute them fairly.

The real trap was in the quantity—people don't worry about scarcity, but about inequality.

If those who didn't need the benefit received it, taking up the demand and benefit, then those who didn't get it would surely harbor resentment.

Would those who received the benefit thank Foucault? Probably not—after this, the mutual resentment didn't disappear because of Foucault's purchase.

Instead, it intensified.

Trying to change everything without enough power only invites backlash.

Even if you have good intentions.

"I have money! Please sell me the cotton clothes!" The woman from before offered a bag of money, pleading with a man who had bought clothes.

Fortunately, the law and order here were good, so there wouldn't be any robbery.

The man being pleaded with looked very hesitant.

It was the feeling of being roasted over a fire called 'morality.'

After all, Foucault and his group were nobles, so no one dared to target them.

And the crying woman looked so pitiful... she was even one of the first to arrive.

This scene deeply pierced Foucault.

He couldn't help but clench his fists.

"Is this what you wanted, noble Foucault?" Kakafil's voice came at the right moment.

"Where are your other clothes! I will buy them all!" Foucault had never been so angry, he didn't know what he was upset about—whether it was the loss of the wager or the clash with his former values.

Perhaps it was both.

Beside him, Lange was also suppressing his anger—it was the feeling of being played.

He could sense the meaning in the eyes of the people looking at him.

It was this slick-tongued merchant's fault!

"No, no, no, you misunderstand, I wouldn't dare hand over the rest of the cotton clothes to you—losses like this, you only need to learn from them once, failing too many times... that would be truly crippling." Kakafil patted Foucault's shoulder, then continued, "For now, just watch from the side, okay?"

"Young master!" Lange was already thinking of drawing his sword—in his view, this guy was mocking his young master after the fact.

"Lange..." Foucault took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, "Let's just wait..."

This was the first time Foucault had thoughts of killing.

If this guy didn't give a satisfactory answer, Foucault feared he wouldn't be able to hold back his murderous intent.

"Let's settle the bill first." Kakafil, seemingly unafraid of adding fuel to the fire, extended his hand to Foucault.