Roaring Heroes Battle the Overlord (Ainz)

Dear Reader,

You can refer to the female protagonist as the embodiment of the institution in the Soviet Union responsible for reviewing and censoring cultural products and publications.

Also, there is no communist content whatsoever.

Alright, you don't need to read the content of the next two chapters. You can start directly from the third chapter.

...

...

I am confident that you must have found the first two chapters confusing. Actually, these chapters are not very important; the real story begins from Chapter Three. So, if you didn't understand the first two chapters, it's okay.

Let me make a few notes. The National Radio and Television Administration is an agency responsible for the censorship of all cultural works, such as movies, games, novels, and anime, especially those imported from foreign countries through official channels. All such works must undergo its scrutiny and modification, and it also has the power to ban any cultural work.

However, this is not a political satire novel. The main theme of this book remains swords and magic, and heroes battling the demon lord.

Additionally, the heroine's behavior in the first hundred chapters is quite strange and unlikable. After Chapter 100, the heroine becomes much more normal.

Okay, let our story begin.

...

In the deep autumn, during the early morning hours, on the slopes of Mount Hua, a rugged mountain path unfurled.

As the sun rose, a couple leaned against the railing, gazing out at the sea of clouds below, where a brilliant streak of dawn broke through, breathtakingly beautiful.

The young couple nestled together, whispering sweet nothings, their eyes fixed on the sunrise over the endless cloud sea. In that moment, their hearts raced, and their intertwined fingers tightened.

Warm sunlight bathed them, and as they gazed into each other's eyes, their feelings deepened, prompting them to close their eyes and let their lips draw closer... closer...

"Whoosh!"

Suddenly, an old hand interjected between their lips just as they were about to kiss, interrupting the moment. The young man kissed the palm, while the young woman kissed the back of the hand.

"Ugh!" The young man prepared to stick out his tongue but ended up kissing a wrinkled hand instead. He couldn't help but spit a few times, glaring angrily at the old man who had interrupted them.

The old man had a square face, stood straight, with meticulously combed gray hair, dressed in a well-fitted Chinese tunic suit. Climbing halfway up the mountain had left him breathless, beads of sweat already appearing on his forehead, yet not a single button on his uniform was undone.

The old man glared at them sternly, voice booming, "Public place! No kissing allowed! Young people should refrain from such indecent behavior!"

"Old geezer, mind your own business!" the young man couldn't resist raising his fist as if to hit him.

"Alas." The old man shook his head in disappointment. "Today's youth have even forgotten the basic virtues of respecting the elderly and caring for the young."

With that, he sighed and continued up the rugged path along the stone steps.

At another rest area, he spotted a family of three taking a break from the climb. The parents leaned against the railing, chatting and laughing, while their child sat on the stone steps, frowning deeply, fingers tapping furiously on a handheld game console, lost in the gaming world.

"You're toast! I'm about to unleash my combo!" The child focused intently on the screen, his thumbs flying across the buttons, leaving behind a blur.

An old hand reached out and snatched away his game console.

"Hey! What are you doing?!" The child jumped up in anger on the stone steps.

"Kids shouldn't play such violent games!" The old man furrowed his brows as he spotted the "Street Fighter" logo on the game console's screen.

He then saw a character in a high-slit cheongsam, lifting her long legs on the screen, her thick thighs tightly wrapped in black stockings on full display.

"Even pornographic games!" The old man raised his voice suddenly, his hands trembling slightly as if he were holding a piece of filth that desecrated his beliefs. If it weren't for the fact that it wasn't his, he would have smashed it to the ground!

"Mom! Dad! A bad old man stole my stuff!" the child yelled.

The two middle-aged parents turned around, surprised to see the old man. Just as they were about to speak, he cut them off, chastising, "Do you have any sense of responsibility as parents? Letting your child play such pornographic and violent games! This game is clearly a sugar-coated bomb created by foreign capitalists to corrupt our youth!"

"Old man, you're sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong. It's not your kid, so why do you care?" The man snatched the game console back from the old man and handed it to the child.

"How can it not concern me? I'm the director of the National Radio and Television Administration! All cultural products in the country are under my jurisdiction!" the old man declared loudly, proudly straightening his back.

In the early days, he and his colleagues drafted a law that mandated all individuals under 12 could play online games for only one hour a day, while those aged 12 to 18 were limited to two hours daily.

They ordered that blood on screens be changed to green, that skeleton monsters in games be turned into fleshy creatures, and that criminals who got away in foreign films confess their crimes in the end. They required any female characters in visuals to pull up their collars to cover their chests and lower their pant legs to cover their thighs, covering any bloody or sexual scenes with thick mosaics, and banned female streamers in yoga outfits posing suggestively... Their achievements were countless.

What a glorious era it was, where all adults and minors were sheltered under their watch, free from any unhealthy content.

"National Radio and Television Administration?" The woman scoffed. "Didn't it get dissolved back in 2048?"

The old man's previously proud demeanor instantly crumbled, his once-straight back now bent as if he had aged twenty years in an instant.

Indeed, the National Radio and Television Administration had been dissolved in 2048, fading into the annals of history. He, NeeRongPing, was the last director of that organization.

NeeRongPing silently turned away, his heavy legs feeling as if they were burdened with sandbags as he climbed the stone steps, continuing his ascent toward the peak of Mount Hua.

Behind him, murmurs followed, "What a pity. Even in retirement, he thinks he's still an official; he's too addicted to power." "I wonder if he's really the director—if he is, kicking him off Mount Hua wouldn't even repay the debt for the damage he's done to Chinese cultural development…"

NeeRongPing didn't hear these voices; the climb was exhausting him. By the roadside, a small Taoist boy was doing morning practice in a pavilion, which triggered memories from long ago.

Over sixty years ago, he was a carefree, mischievous child with a loving mother and a strict father, along with a younger brother even more playful than he was. The family of four lived happily and worry-free at the foot of the imperial city.

One day, a wandering Taoist visited their home and immediately took a liking to his younger brother, who was two years his junior. He praised his brother's innate talent and, after demonstrating some magical skills, took him away to Mount Hua to pursue the path of cultivation.

From that day forward, the brothers went their separate ways. NeeRongPing struggled through the ranks of bureaucracy, gradually rising to the position of director, while his brother, who hadn't returned home in decades, was said to have found extraordinary experiences and achieved great mastery in Taoism.

I must find my brother, NeeDePing! NeeRongPing resolved, quickening his pace up the steps.

He finally reached the summit of Mount Hua.

NeeRongPing wandered around, avoiding the noisy tourists and pilgrims, and arrived at a set of old stone steps shaded by evergreen pines.

Compared to the famed stairways of Mount Hua, this stone path was short, with just over ten steps. At the end of the steps was a stone wall, seemingly a dead end.

NeeRongPing ascended the short staircase, stepping up to the 1st Tier, then the 9th Tier, down to the 3rd Tier, up again to the 6th Tier, and finally back down to the 7th Tier. He then walked resolutely towards the end of the staircase—the solid stone wall.

Naturally, he passed through the stone wall and entered a small courtyard. A young Taoist boy dressed in green was sweeping fallen autumn leaves with a yellow straw broom and showed no surprise at NeeRongPing's sudden appearance.

NeeRongPing gave a respectful nod and asked, "Is Master NeeDePing here?"

The boy Taoist bowed slightly and replied, "You've arrived at the perfect time. Master is currently engaged in worldly matters and is available to meet outsiders today. Normally, he wouldn't see anyone from the mundane world."

With that, he pointed to a small house deeper in the courtyard, his cheeks showing two shallow dimples as he cheerfully said, "Master is busy with his worldly engagement, so please don't disturb him."

Walking along the stone path, NeeRongPing approached the small house indicated by the boy. The mist was thick, and wisps of smoke curled gently in the air. NeeRongPing breathed deeply, feeling his spirits lift and his weariness dissipate.

He couldn't help but marvel at the place—truly a haven untouched by decay. To him, this was likely the last uncorrupted sanctuary on the entire continent.

Arriving at the quaint little house with its green bricks and antique charm, he pushed open the door and stepped inside quietly.

"Malphite, use your ultimate! ADC, follow up quickly! I've already flashed in, and I'm taking all the damage! Oh no, we're going to lose!"

On the computer screen inside, the enemy's LeBlanc unleashed a combo of EWQR skills, instantly killing the low-health Garen.

The screen of the League of Legends game turned from color to gray, and NeeRongPing's heart sank into a somber gray as well.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING? AHHHH!" NeeRongPing shouted, grabbing his meticulously combed gray hair. The hope he had cherished fell into an endless abyss, trapped in despair and anger.

"Ah, Brother, you really came. I predicted three days ago that you would arrive."

Dressed in a dark green Taoist robe and sporting a pair of flashy red closed-ear headphones, the young man heard NeeRongPing's scream and turned around with a beaming smile. He took off his headphones, stood up, and embraced NeeRongPing, who was still clutching his hair.

As he rose from his seat, another person who looked exactly like him remained seated, intently clicking away at the keyboard and mouse.

NeeRongPing stared in shock at his younger brother, unable to comprehend how a Taoist who played games could so casually perform a doppelgänger technique.

"Brother, I can't let my team down," NeeDePing, the Taoist brother, said with a sheepish grin as he scratched his head.

It was unusual for a young man who looked to be in his twenties to call a gray-haired senior "brother," but given that Taoists often maintained youthful appearances, NeeRongPing wasn't too surprised by his brother's appearance.

What did astonish and infuriate him were other matters.

NeeRongPing pointed at the obviously expensive water-cooled PC and the 8K large screen monitor in the room, his words coming out in a disjointed, unclear manner. "You... you... what's going on here! When I was last here, it wasn't like this!"

"Calm down, brother!" NeeDePing, dressed in his ancient robe, pulled up a bamboo chair for the visibly trembling NeeRongPing to sit down. "I'm engaged in a worldly engagement right now. This stuff was a gift from a rich online friend I met while chatting on the internet."

"Worldly engagement… what does that mean?" NeeRongPing asked, slightly coming to his senses as he stared at NeeDePing.

"Worldly engagement, simply put, is pretending to be a regular person to experience the mundane world. It helps to refine one's Taoist heart. You, having been a high official, sometimes go down to the grassroots to experience the life of the common people, right? This is just the Taoist version of that," NeeDePing explained, helping the still-shaking NeeRongPing settle into the chair. "Fortunately, with today's technology, I can do a worldly engagement without leaving home. Back in the day, I'd have to go to the market and pretend to be a butcher, getting some blood on me every day. That would've been awful."

"I see now," NeeRongPing said. At nearly seventy, his old body wasn't quite up to handling such shocks. He steadied himself by gripping the back of the bamboo chair and took out a small bottle of calming pills from his Zhongshan suit pocket, popping one into his mouth.

A few minutes later, as his breathing steadied, NeeRongPing solemnly took out a yellow silk pouch from his chest, untied the drawstring, and extracted a hefty cylindrical brass seal, handing it to NeeDePing.

NeeDePing examined the seal, frowning at the engraved text. "Why are you giving me the National Radio and Television Administration's seal? Do you want me to become a bureau chief?"

He couldn't understand why his older brother, NeeRongPing, would carry such an official seal, travel all the way to Mount Hua, and struggle up from the foot of the mountain to the peak at nearly seventy years old, only to give him this seal.

The seal felt weighty in his hand, with traces of red oil paste on the engraved text and a polished area where it had been frequently handled. It clearly bore the marks of decades of use.

"This is the seal of the old National Radio and Television Administration," NeeRongPing said. "Though the NRTA is now a thing of the past, its legacy must be carried on!"

Looking at the brass seal in his younger brother's pale hands, NeeRongPing continued, "This seal represents the authority of the NRTA's past directors! It has stamped countless official documents, sealing away a multitude of harmful elements! It has suppressed the growth of ideological poisons and prevented foreign decadent and hedonistic literature, anime, and films from corrupting the spirit of the Chinese people!"

"Is that so?" NeeDePing glanced at the flickering computer screen beside him. "The netizens I see online don't seem to think so. It seems like the common people are quite... discontented."

"Hmph! A bunch of shortsighted fools. How could they possibly understand the earnest intentions of us die-hard cadres who have weathered decades of challenges!"

NeeRongPing snorted, sitting up straight, seeming to regain his former authoritative presence.

"Look at today's world—everything is falling apart, and the people's morals are deteriorating! Just today, on my way up the mountain, Mount Hua, which should have been a pure land, was filled with young couples openly hugging and kissing, acting as if no one else was around!

"What's the difference between this and the mindless animals mating in public? I tried to advise them to be more mindful of their behavior.

"But these young punks didn't appreciate my good intentions. Not only did they hurl insults at me, but they even dared to lay their hands on an elderly man like myself!"

"Hmm…" NeeDePing didn't know how to respond to his emotionally charged brother.

"Although the National Radio and Television Administration is now history, our spirit must live on! This seal carries the will of all the past directors. I hope you can use your skills to materialize this will and belief to eradicate all the harmful ideologies! Let it cleanse the impurities from those vulgar literary works!"

NeeRongPing finally stated his purpose. He wanted NeeDePing to extract a spiritual entity from the seal that embodies the NRTA's will and infuse it into unhealthy works to change the world.

NeeDePing didn't answer his request but countered, "Did you only see those shameless couples on your way up Mount Hua?"

"Of course, what else could I see?" NeeRongPing glared with his slightly yellowing eyes at his clear-eyed younger brother.

"Did you notice the porters carrying heavy loads, climbing up and down the dangerous paths of Mount Hua like ants?

"They are the carriers of Mount Hua, and the tourists and pilgrims at the temples and monasteries consume a huge amount of food, water, and other supplies daily, all of which are carried up by them from dawn till dusk on their shoulders.

"Every visitor huffing and puffing on the mountain paths is often shocked by the heavy burdens and swift steps of these porters. Yet you, brother, climbed from the foot to the peak of the mountain and only saw those hugging and kissing couples?"

"I…" NeeRongPing was speechless. For the first time, he felt that, as a former official who prided himself on being uncompromising, he might have overlooked something during decades of political life.

After a moment, he lowered his head and said, "That's not my responsibility…"

"But!" NeeRongPing looked up again, not willing to concede in this brotherly debate. If he lost, the NRTA's decades-old will would vanish as well!

"Our people wear blue jeans and listen to foreign pop music, and I'm really worried. Some may think we have overcorrected in some areas, but we cannot deny that we have kept certain corrupting ideas out of our country!"

NeeDePing furrowed his brow. His brother's words reminded him of a recent game of Civilization VI, where he had battled for an entire day and night with three players, only to be defeated by a cultural victory.

A cultural victory in Civilization VI means a country wins by culturally overpowering others.

After a moment of reflection, he put the brass seal, which carried decades of the NRTA's will, back into his chest and nodded to the impassioned NeeRongPing, promising, "I will do my best to extract the spiritual entity from the seal."