When The Dragon Prefers To Dance In Peacock Feathers: A Chronicle Of Unusual Wealth And Silent Whispers

In a land where dragons are famed for their wisdom, there unfolds a tale of silent storms and golden temptations, reminiscent of the ancient proverb, “A book is like a garden carried in the pocket.” Yet, this garden seems to bloom overnight with peculiar flowers.

The realm’s most esteemed scribes, once devoted guardians of truth, are being spirited away by the lure of silver and gold, into the embrace of the ruling HUSTLERS, both national and local. These scribes, now draped in silks and flaunting treasures untold, present a spectacle that bewilders the common folk.

“Even a hare will bite when it is cornered,” one might say, observing the sudden opulence of these erstwhile humble messengers. Yet, beneath this veneer of prosperity lies a grand chess game of power and silence. The current court, led by a figurehead known more for his garden of wilted promises than his harvest of achievements, has embarked on a grand scheme. By enlisting the realm’s finest wordsmiths, they aim not to embellish the chronicles of their reign but to quell the whispers of dissent.

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This strategic maneuver whispers of an old wisdom: “To know the road ahead, ask those coming back.” Yet, this road seems paved with intentions as transparent as a dragonfly’s wings. The most illustrious of the court’s jesters, it appears, are those with the least talent for governance, now seeking the quills of the realm’s greatest scribes to pen their legacy.

These scribes, once the vigilant dragons guarding the gates of truth, now find themselves entangled in a dance of shadows. They wield their newfound wealth with a flamboyance that belies its origins, a spectacle of midnight revelries and chariots of fire, perhaps to silence the murmurs of their brethren still tethered to their inkwells.

The tale unfolds further, revealing a court filled not with sage advisors but jesters adorned in the trappings of wisdom. “A man who uses power to shield himself,” the people murmur, “is like a toad dreaming of a swan’s reflection.” The true measure of a reign, as the sages remind us, is not in the silence it commands but in the stories sung by the commoners, the hawkers, and the youth. A noble governance needs not the gilded words of a scribe, for its deeds would resonate through the ages without adornment.

To the scribes who now walk the halls of power, a solemn reminder is whispered on the wind: “When you drink the water, remember the spring.” Though silver may fill your pockets and silks may grace your shoulders, the scales of karma are unyielding. The realm watches, and the guardians of truth who remain, steadfast in their purpose, bear the true legacy of the dragon, unwavering in the face of temptation.

For in the end, as the ancients wisely proclaimed, “A dragon will be a dragon, even if it swims in a river of jewels.” Greed, no matter how elegantly dressed, cannot mask the stench of decay in the garden of truth.

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