Chapter 349: Judgment

Amoeba Worm Instance, third day, morning.

Outside the city, fireworks, white mist.

Heads swarming, numb.

Last night something seemed to have happened in the city; a large contingent of soldiers surrounded the entire inner city, prohibiting anyone from entering or leaving.

Someone speculated.

Perhaps the inner city had suffered an accident, or perhaps the nobles had opened another feast.

But these have nothing to do with them.

Finding food, eating one's fill, then surviving—that is what the outer-city Survivors need to consider.

Beside the trash heap.

A gaunt man lay on the ground, carefully blowing on the flame.

The ignited feed bag and dry firewood support a rust-streaked half iron pot, inside which murky water and a piece of moldy pork float.

"Dad..."

"When can we eat?"

The small boy with a round belly and limbs like hemp stalks sucked his fingers, timidly looking at his hunched father.

He was so hungry; his mother had also died yesterday.

The yellow jade clay buried deep underground cannot be eaten too much.

The adults say it's Guanyin soil; eating it will cause constipation.

His mother was suffocated to death, although he doesn't know what that is.

He stared with wide eyes, his nails gnawed clean.

The meat aroma wafted.

"Dad! The meat smells so good!"

The boy wanted to move closer, but the burnt-plastic smell made him cough.

He hesitated for a moment.

"Dad, why didn't you cook meat for Mom yesterday?"

The ignited plastic bag emits a pungent odor; the firewood is somewhat damp and not easy to light.

"Cough—cough"

The man bent over, unable to stop coughing.

He blankly held the boy, patiently waiting for the meat to boil.

The surrounding hungry crowd stretched their necks toward the pot, milky oil floating on the gurgling bubbles.

Throats moved, yet no one said much.

If it were usual, a piece of fatty meat would be enough to make the starving crowd go mad and scramble for it.

But now.

They merely watched silently, maintaining quiet.

Among the crowd standing aside, many looked at the father and son with pity.

At the city corner, gang members who had taken the best spots gathered together, collecting protection fees one by one.

"Glasses... my glasses..."

"Please help me find them..."

On the muddy ground, a middle-aged man in a tattered white shirt lay on the ground, feeling in the muddy water for his glasses.

His eyes were lifeless, feeling inch by inch like a blind man.

He was highly myopic; without his glasses he could see nothing clearly.

His wife and daughter knelt beside him, desperately begging the man wearing a nose ring not to take their last food.

"Sir! Please leave us some!"

"We haven't eaten in two days... we just paid our grain tax last week!"

The woman's voice hoarse, she wiped a tear and clung tightly to the small girl half her height in her arms.

Her face was sallow, her whole body trembling from hunger and indignation.

The man wearing the nose ring snorted, then kicked the man into the puddle with one foot:

"Old blind man, what are you looking for?"

"We agreed to fix one item, split the profit with the brothers, where's the grain?"

"We calculated that you fixed four appliances this week; shouldn't you have eight flatbreads?"

Before the disaster, the man was a researcher at the Institute of Technology, an engineering graduate; after the disaster he made a living by repairing appliances for people.

Someone like him, with a useful skill, is already considered 'middle-class' in the Bolaka slave pits.

Water rushed up his nose; the man struggled, flailing his arms, he was about to drown in the puddle.

The wife holding the child saw this and rushed forward:

"Sir! Spare us! Last time we repaired things, two households didn't pay us! We really didn't hide anything!"

While speaking, the woman, anxious, wanted to push aside the nose-ring man's foot.

If he steps down again, the man will die, and everything will be over.

Repairing one appliance earns two grass cakes; handing over half leaves just enough to survive.

If the man died, she could not imagine how she and her child could survive.

The surrounding onlookers dared to be angry but dared not speak.

They too are skilled labor slaves; today is the time to pay the grain tax.

The man is very kind; usually he even gives a bit of food to the labor slaves who can't find work.

But resistance means death.

They can only watch silently; many eyes are filled with resentment and anger.

What are you looking at! Keep staring and I'll gouge out your eyeballs!

A gang member slapped to the side of the line; the youth with clenched fists had his half-spectacles on the bridge of his nose knocked to the ground.

Do you know who the grain you hand over is for!!

Damn it, a bunch of good-for-nothings who eat but don't work!

If it weren't for me helping you with the Deputy Commander of the City Guard Army, Lord Huoman said a good word— you lot of good-for-nothings still want business?

He shouted a loud reprimand.

The gang member went down the line slapping faces, invoking Huoman's name to intimidate the labor slaves.

When Huoman's name was spoken, many people's bodies trembled.

As the Commander of the City Guard Army, those outside the city can be said to be his 'slaves'.

Every month, none of the slaves he takes away come back alive.

Just don't know why Lord Huoman didn't come today; logically he should come by to have a look and take away 70% of the submitted goods.

The nose-ring man wore shiny high boots, glancing around at the crowd with heads down, not daring to look again.

In his peripheral vision, he saw the woman actually using her hand to dirty her shoe.

He suddenly flew into a rage.

Fuck your mother! Damned peasant! You dare dirty my boots!!

In his anger, he simply kicked the woman in the abdomen.

He retched, crying out in pain.

The foot on the man's head moved away.

Taking the opportunity, the man, face flushed, bent over and began to pant heavily.

He heard his wife's painful cry; the little girl's sobbing nearby made his heart tremble.

He couldn't see clearly, couldn't see at all.

He had no time to beg for mercy or look for his glasses.

He hunched up like a blind man, stood up, gazed blankly toward the direction of the crying, and began to wail heart-rendingly.

Yuanyuan, don't cry, Daddy's here!

Daddy...

The child's tender voice panicked; she wanted to throw herself into Daddy's arms, but also wanted to help Mom, who had collapsed on the ground.

The girl wiped away a tear, pressed her lips tight, suppressed her fear, and still chose to first help the mother on the ground.

After the disaster, the child was unusually sensible.

Those who aren't sensible can't survive.

The scene before him didn't make the nose-ring man feel reluctant; he'd seen too many like this.

The member beside him snorted coldly, then grabbed the girl's hair.

Old Blind Man, if you can't pay the grain, we'll take your daughter as compensation.

Having said that, he ignored the man's panicked pleas and forcibly opened the girl's mouth, inspecting her like livestock.

Boss, they're still quite healthy; I didn't expect these two good-for-nothings to raise them so well.

I think Lord Huoman would like them.

No! Don't! Lord, please spare her!

Upon hearing that these people wanted to take her daughter, the woman, like a dying flame flickering back, desperately struggled to her feet from the ground.

Those taken by Huoman are usually tortured beyond human shape; their final fate is to be played to death, then thrown from the city wall, and snatched by hungry rioters.

The nose-ring man glanced at the girl who dared not speak, and nodded in satisfaction.

Old Blind Man, stop looking; your glasses are here.

Just as his words fell, a clear sound of breaking glass rang out.

The nose-ring man pressed down with his toes, grinding the lenses back and forth underfoot.

Killing a chicken to warn the monkeys, a routine matter.

I, on behalf of Lord Huoman, have taken a liking to your girl; it's settled.

Having said that, he prepared to turn and leave.

A labor slave who can't see clearly, and a frail, sickly woman.

Other slaves will 'deal with' them.

Dad! Mom...!

The girl, her hair gripped, turned deathly pale and struggled desperately.

Life after the disaster is hard, but at least one can still get by.

At this moment, she felt the sky had collapsed.

The nose-ring man gave a sinister laugh, then glanced back at the angry labor slaves.

What Lord Huoman has taken a liking to—just look, I'll send you lot over too!

His words hadn't even finished.

Gurgle

A ball-like object was thrown from the city wall and landed at the nose-ring man's feet.

It was a head with eyes wide open, an expression of terror.

Huo Man has taken a liking to you.

Whoosh!

On the city wall, Gao Tian shot an arrow with a blank expression; the strong arrow's bursting impact pierced the nose-ring man and pinned him to the ground.

Blood spattered; the arrow that pierced his heart pinned him firmly to the ground.

Face to face, nose to nose.

Finally, the nose-ring man saw the face on the ground clearly before his life ebbed away.

That was Huo Man, deputy commander of the city guard, the Huo Man who struck fear at the mere mention of his name.

The purge begins; execute all gang members.

A cold, unfamiliar command rang out across the city.

As the man's voice sounded.

On the city wall, masses of soldiers escorted nearly a thousand bound nobles and officials.

The city gates swung open; the ordered soldiers, expressionless, filed out in a line.