Chapter 92: A Village in Reality

The boy looked about four or five, standing there stark naked, a pair of bright black eyes watching the strange uncle slowly approaching with curiosity.

Cai Feiming revealed a rare sincere smile since crossing over, along with a touch of melancholy — perhaps he remembered that woman who once promised to bear him children. He crouched down, pulled a piece of Osmanthus Yellow Candy from West Lake Qiao Family Old Osmanthus Workshop out of his pocket, and the uncle's voice, full of temptation, rang out: "Little friend... heh heh... look what this is?"

The boy grabbed the yellow candy, watched the strange uncle mime the "eat" motion, sniffed it, then stuffed the candy into his mouth and revealed a smile. Both of them were grinning foolishly. The strange uncle suddenly reached out and snatched at that chicken in the air, pretending to swallow it whole. The boy covered his crotch and ran off...

In any middle-class Community in America, Cai Feiming's just-now action would already be enough for the cops to mobilize, with at least three charges waiting for him. If the Lawyer were competent, they could even Smash a felony on his head. His job would be lost, his reputation ruined, and the judge would forbid him from appearing within xx Meters of the child ever again.

Yet in a Native village of the 17th Century, now only Feng Jun walked over laughing, patted his shoulder, and said: "I've noticed you really like little friends."

"None of the grown-ups are any good; I can't bring myself to like them." Cai Feiming nodded: "Little friends are the future..."

"Yeah, raise children to guard against old age, right." Feng Jun nodded and replied with emotion: "None of us can be relied on; we can only depend on little friends."

The trading proceeded very smoothly. The Iron tools, Salt, Glass Beads, and cotton-linen cloth brought by the Transmigrators were all very well received. Some exquisite Lacquerware made by Japanese and Porcelain locally produced in Jiangnan were also quickly traded away by the villagers for Deerskin, antlers, Rice, and Air-Dried meat. In a trade activity where political significance took precedence, the Native side naturally felt today's deals were especially advantageous, so it didn't take very long before the Ming People employees began packing up the luggage — their task was complete.

Cai Feiming and the others, accompanied by Gongda, were strolling around the village. The village wasn't large, about 300 people, but today it felt exceptionally crowded, because Elders or Village Chiefs from several surrounding villages had arrived. The entire population of Xingang Society was actually just over 1,000 people: in its primitive state, the land's carrying capacity was poor; one Native village needed deer grounds, fishing grounds, and a very large area of land for slash-and-burn rotation just to sustain itself.

The Natives here had no cattle; their domestic animals were dogs, pigs, and chickens. Chickens were not for eating, but for providing plumes for the Warriors. Due to the primitive commune state, almost every household in the village had Air-Dried venison and pork hanging from the eaves, with some Job's tears, sesame, and Rice drying on bamboo mats. One could also see taro and sweet potatoes — the latter were definitely seeds brought by fishermen or merchants who Traveled Back and Forth to trade.

The most striking sight was the strings of skulls hanging at the doorways of some houses. This decoration representing martial valor was universally present among various Native peoples worldwide in the Seventeenth Century, and the local Natives here were No Exception. Every One Section of time, the Warriors would go out to hunt heads or engage in Tribal War Pacts — a custom that had stretched on for countless years.

Transforming customs and traditions is a heavy burden and a long road... Feng Jun and the others looked at those white-bone ornaments on the porches, increasingly feeling the urgency of time.

The busiest people in the "Native Propaganda Corps" were naturally the two doctors, Bai Shuchao and Dong Qiang. Dong Qiang was someone who had crossed over to Hangzhou together with another doctor only after the expedition force had already set out from Hangzhou. This time, he came along with Cao Chuan's ship to reinforce the main Troops.

The Natives' concept of a "doctor" was something they had originally gotten from the Japanese and the Red Hair people. The standard procedure was: if sick, find the Witch — do a ritual, eat some mountain earth and tubers, and that was it; then go home and continue waiting to die. Because the Xingang Society Natives had contact with the Japanese and Red Hair relatively early, they had this concept, even though the so-called doctors of Japan and the Red Hair were of truly questionable medical skill, they were still a bit more reliable than the Witch.

So, upon hearing Xishan Xingjian introduce these two as doctors among the outsiders, the Natives quickly crowded around. Extracting teeth, feeding deworming tablets, disinfecting and suturing all kinds of external wounds — Great Master Miaoshu and Dong Qiang were busy and having the time of their lives.

At the moment, these two only had these three tricks up their sleeves. Any Disease more profound than this, they could neither diagnose, nor would they use the only One Point of samples they had on the Natives, such as Antibiotics.

The dental instruments that Bai Shuchao constantly obsessed over still hadn't been obtained. If he had them, he could have used silver amalgam or gold to fill teeth today, instead of extracting every bad tooth he saw.

In a certain sense, the medicines and consumables the "Native Propaganda Corps" spent on the villagers today were what the Crossing Faction had truly bled for: the existing deworming tablets like Albendazole were something the Transmigrators simply could not produce within ten years. As for the treatment fees priced in Deerskin that Bai Shuchao Announced after the treatments were done, that was merely to cultivate the correct trading mindset among the Natives — it could not compare in value.

The villagers were informed that those whose wounds had been sutured needed to hand over One Copy more of Deerskin, and after 7 days they could go to Dayuan to find the doctor to have the stitches removed.

Watching the villagers gesticulating wildly, pointing at the Cotton Gauze on their arms and spraying spittle at their clansmen, Village Chief Gongda — this rare Native with a big-picture mindset — felt the pressure in his heart inexplicably lighten a great deal at this moment.

Lunch was cooked in iron pots. The village had iron pots obtained through trade, and the Transmigrators naturally brought their own iron pots as well, including Water Canteens and bowls — all were prepared in advance. Anyway, these things didn't need to be carried on the back of the Kunlun Master, so they just brought them along.

The staple foods were Rice, Soybeans, and taro. The Natives' primitive slash-and-burn rotation planting method couldn't properly serve something like Rice that required water management; drought-resistant Rice was the staple food of the Xingang Society and even the Natives across the entire island.

Scallions and ginger were both available in the village. Thirteen Spices, a thing with little market among the wealthy households of Great Ming, was a divine artifact in Dazhang Village. The Air-Dried venison and fish, full of gamey odor and insufficiently salted, once boiled in a pot with Thirteen Spices and paired with scallions, ginger, and rice, made for a fine meal however you looked at it.

After eating and drinking their fill, the scheduled program took the stage.

Before Departure, CEO Xia Xianze had made an important directive: in this barbaric era, it is a Necessity for us to make our opponents realize that the Transmigrators have the Capability to destroy them at any time. Only under this major premise can everyone sit down and discuss cooperation and trade. If strength has not been demonstrated, then cooperation will Be Certain To be unreliable. Therefore, even if there is no opportunity, we must create one.

Following the Old Chief's directive, after the meal, the "Native Propaganda Corps" did not rush to start negotiations with the Native headmen. Instead, they sent out fierce men like Wei Yuan, Intending to use Assault Rifles to perform a few "impromptu programs" for the villagers.

On the wall over two hundred Meters away were placed bamboo joints, human skulls, wooden blocks, and deer bones. This distance could not be any farther — it was already the Diameter of the village.

The excited villagers on both sides of the main path instantly fell silent after the MK-17 Assault Rifle emitted its enormous sound and muzzle flash. Those things on the wall were all smashed to pieces within seconds by a giant taller than the eaves, using the iron pipe in his hand.