Chapter 663: Disputes, Chopping Wood, Cooking, and Clubs

While Jier and the others were talking, the large tree trunks that had been brought back by his horses and the young refugees were currently being hacked at by two young men holding small axes, who were trying to find a way to split them.

But the single-handed axes in their hands were not large enough, and after the two of them hurried and busied themselves for quite a while, they had only managed to hack a small section of wood off one side of the thin end of the trunk.

The weather in the mountains changes quickly; by four or five in the afternoon, the sky began to darken slightly, and with drifting cloud layers blocking the light, the time of dusk was actually very short.

The young refugee woodcutters could not quickly get the firewood they needed to burn, so they were running around in a panic.

The people who had gone out to cut wood all gathered around, mercilessly mocking the two men doing the work for being weak-handed and soft-footed, unable to even handle such a small task and delaying everyone's meal.

This made the two men who were busy working lose their tempers; they struck their single-handed axes into the tree trunk to fix them in place, then shouted loudly: "So we two can't do it, is that it? Fine, don't just stand around watching. Whoever thinks they can do it, come and try yourself!"

Dropping the axes, they crossed their arms and stepped aside to stand.

Immediately, someone who considered themselves strong stepped forward a few paces, grabbed a single-handed axe, and without a word, began hacking at the tree trunk with a rhythmic *thud-thud*.

But the weight of the single-handed axe was limited; it was fine for cutting smaller trees, but the trunks of these large trees were not only dense and solid but also thick in volume. For the small axe blade to cut an opening, it had to be buried entirely, and one had to strike from both sides.

In fact, work like sawing through large tree trunks actually requires a two-person saw pulled back and forth. It wasn't that these single-handed axes couldn't do it, but if forced, the efficiency would definitely not go up. At the very least, before dark, they wouldn't be able to cut enough firewood to light all the campfires for everyone.

When those who thought they could do it ended up in the same state, the others stopped saying anything.

The young refugees who were idle and waiting for dinner also gathered around, clutching their stomachs and asking when they would be finished, as everyone was hungry.

At this moment, Jier, seeing the situation in the distance, patted the arm of Bata'er Jiaoshi, who still wanted to say something: "That's enough. Be careful tonight; prioritize protecting yourself, and then protect the young believers under your command. As for the others, try your best to arrange them on the outer perimeter of the clearing."

Jier paused before adding: "Those young people who look like they'll stir up trouble and join gangs, don't they think they're very tough? Then put them on the very outer edge of the clearing. If there's no attack, we'll just pass the night like that; if someone attacks, let them be the first to clash with the enemy—it's perfect."

Bata'er Jiaoshi frowned tightly, looking at Jier with an expression of disbelief: "How can you be like this? If someone attacks, those on the very outside will definitely suffer heavy casualties!"

Shrugging his shoulders, Jier reminded Bata'er Jiaoshi: "It's as if I were the one killing them. Since you're unwilling, then arrange the young believers outside the clearing and put them in the very center of the clearing instead."

These words left the Priest speechless. After thinking it over, he said with a helpless expression: "Is there no other way? And you did this on purpose today, didn't you?"

Jier's expression changed: "What do you mean I did this on purpose? Let me make it clear to you: even if I hadn't decided to spend the night here just now and let everyone walk for a few more hours, how much further could they actually go? You're riding a horse and aren't tired, but they are walking on their own two feet. In the end, whether we spend the night here or there, we can't escape the attacks of those bad seeds that might be nearby. Tell me, am I right?"

Dizzied by this barrage of words from Jier, Bata'er Jiaoshi had to mumble that he was right.

"So you see, the knife is hanging over our heads and will fall at any moment. Whether you stretch your neck for the blade or pull it back, you can't escape it. It's better to let them rest for a while, warm themselves by the fire, and eat something to meet the enemy in the best condition. That is many times better than not eating a hot meal, walking all day until exhausted, and then being suddenly attacked by the enemy. In short, an attack is highly likely to be unavoidable, and placing those gang members who have some combat capability and are willing to fight on the outer perimeter of the clearing is the best measure under the current circumstances."

"Ever since these people decided to follow us out, this hurdle was unavoidable, do you understand? Especially since they are unarmed."

Bata'er Jiaoshi looked helpless: "Then why did you insist on accepting the request those old people made this morning, bringing so many people out? If they were still at the checkpoint, they might have been able to live."

Jier looked with sarcasm at Bata'er Jiaoshi, who was trying to shirk responsibility: "Live in the checkpoint? I'll tell you the truth: they couldn't! Even if these young people lived, the other elderly, children, pregnant women, and fellow villagers who fled to the checkpoint would all have died miserably. The Baishi Chengqiang Guanka is an iron cage that trapped many field mice. A large group of field mice are crowded together and locked up, yet every day only enough food to keep a portion of them alive is thrown in, just barely enough to feed a fraction of the mice. Tell me, what is the final outcome of this iron cage?"

The Priest could not speak. He had never thought about what it would be like to lock a group of field mice together; such a crazy thing was something he had never seen in his life.

Jier provided the answer to the silent Priest: "With insufficient food, those field mice will kill each other and even cannibalize one another. The first to die are the young mice that can't do anything, followed by the old and frail field mice. Perhaps the social morality of field mice drives them to give up their lives, and then come the mother mice pregnant with pups, who are protected by the strong field mice; in the face of their own survival, partners and offspring will also be abandoned. Finally, it is the young field mice who are injured and weak from fighting over food. *Hoo*—right, you understand I'm not talking about field mice, right?"

The Priest nodded heavily: "I understand. The field mice are these poor fleeing people. But if such cruel things happen, wouldn't the soldiers in the checkpoint do something? And the churches—not just the Agricultural God Church, but other churches are there too—they wouldn't just sit by and watch!"

But Jier shattered this last hope as well: "Who do you think gives that small amount of food to the field mice? Without the churches needing to compete for the faith of some of the people, even that small amount of food wouldn't exist. And the soldiers—to be honest, the refugees are not from the Western Province, but the soldiers in the checkpoint are all from the Western Province. I don't need to say anything more; I assume you understand what I mean."

The Priest suddenly deflated, squatting in the shadow of the carriage, feeling somewhat decadent and dejected.

Jier saw that the refugees not far away seemed unable to do anything about the thick tree trunks they had brought back due to a lack of tools, so he walked over to help.

The Priest looked up and asked one last question: "Must people die tonight?"

Jier said without looking back: "Did you kill them? Hmm? Or are you saying, did I kill those people? Neither. Then, whoever killed them, you find them to be held responsible. Accusations, criticism, beatings, punishments—it's all up to you. In the end, the foundation of all relationships in this world stems from the comparison of strength between the two sides."

Xueya Site, sitting on top of the carriage, heard the argument between the two clearly. At this moment, he was finally amused by Jier's words: "That's right, whoever kills, takes responsibility. Priest, please don't be so sentimental. Human life is sometimes like this: sometimes it is exceptionally precious, with killers facing death and those who injure others facing punishment. But sometimes it is even lower than wild grass, falling, withering, and dying in batches."

"Why? Why on earth would it be like this?"

Bata'er Jiaoshi looked up and asked the former caravan guard on the roof of the carriage.

"Uh, probably, maybe, perhaps. It has to do with the breakdown of law and order? Hmm, no, it's that the original order of a place has been destroyed? Right, I think that's it. Hey, Priest, don't ask me anymore, go get busy. Time waits for no one, it's getting dark. Show them a trick, give these young people something to eat, use food to drive them, and they will definitely listen."

Xueya Site scratched his head and ears before finally squeezing out the words above. After finishing, he felt that answering questions was indeed harder than making money.

He really wasn't cut out for this.

"I understand, let everyone eat their fill first."

Bata'er Jiaoshi rubbed his face hard with his hands, then stood up and remained silent for a while before striding toward the place where the Nongshen Believers were gathered.

He decided to distribute the food produced by the 'Blessed Grain' to the believers first, and then have the believers pass it on to the others, using this method to organize and control everyone.

Jier did not need to push aside the people blocking his way; the crowd spontaneously cleared a path for him leading to the tree trunk.

"Can you do it or not? Move aside, watch me."

Jier shook his head, tossing his golden-brown hair aside so it wouldn't cover his eyes. He then took the Yue Shui head he had hanging behind him and gripped it with both hands. He arrived at the spot cleared by the others, aimed at the marks they had hacked earlier, raised the axe high, and then brought it down with a heavy cleave.

*Boom! *

With a *crack*, a large amount of wood chips broke off and splashed out.

This heavy cleave was far more powerful than the previous attempts at cutting and felling. At least a quarter of the thickness of the trunk was split open.

Jier then circled to the opposite side and delivered another heavy cleave. *Boom*, *crack* sounded again; this time, half the trunk was split open.

Jier stretched out his foot and gave it a hard kick, causing the round tree trunk to roll forward half a turn. With one axe strike and a kick from Jier, *pop! * A half-meter-thick section of the trunk was chopped off from the main tree trunk.

"Someone, take this to the side and use the small axes to break it into firewood."

After Jier finished speaking, someone immediately stepped forward to drag the heavy section of the trunk to the side. The young refugees who had been unable to handle the trunk earlier now held their single-handed axes and, starting from the outer bark, bit by bit split the log apart, tearing it into long strips of firewood.

A campfire only needed four or five such long pieces of firewood to start a fire, so when the young refugees who were holding the newly chopped firewood and thin branches left, the campfires were soon lit.

While Jier was busy chopping wood, Bata'er Jiaoshi on the other side gathered among the faithful, raising his hands high and letting the plump grain seeds that kept falling from his hands land on a sturdy piece of Linen Cloth specially laid out on the ground.

Some cloth bags and leather bags taken from the carriage were in the hands of believers waiting nearby. When the grain piled up into a small hill on the linen, these young people, following Bata'er Jiaoshi's previous instructions, scooped the rations needed for twenty people to eat one meal into the bags handed to them.

When they were filled, the young believers carried the heavy grain away, followed by several close friends or brothers and sisters, and together they delivered the grain to the campfires that had already been lit.

Facing the villagers from other villages who were watching them distribute the grain with eager eyes, the young man carrying the grain bag said bluntly: "This is the ration given to you by the Priest. Don't skimp on eating it; the Priest said that if we complete the mission on this trip, we can eat these plump wheat grains every day! Take it. It's for twenty people; one campfire, one pot, eat the rations for twenty people. Those who are extra, gather at the next campfire and wait for the distribution. The order is: those who light the fire first get the grain to eat first. Go quickly and get your campfires lit."

This was something the Priest had specifically instructed them to do: let everyone spread out, twenty people per campfire, and not all gather together.

Moreover, the locations of the campfires were also specifically arranged; the gang members were to build their campfires on the outer edges, while they, the group of believers, could arrange their campfires in the center.

The young refugee gang members were slightly dissatisfied, but everyone was hungry. Dissatisfaction aside, they still hugged their firewood and set up campfires on the outer edges of the clearing, lighting them.

"That bunch of guys, thinking they can show off their status like this? Ridiculous, they're just dogs for the Priest. They really think that once they put on a dog's skin, they've become someone's dog? They're still just being used."

Beside a campfire near the outer edge of the clearing, more than a dozen men and women, most of whom wore self-defense weapons at their waists, sat in a circle. A small iron pot snatched from the checkpoint was set on some stones, bubbling and emitting the fragrance of cooked grain.

The dozen or so men and women listened to the leader's complaints while gripping their own Wooden Bowl and wooden spoons, waiting for the boiled wheat grains in the iron pot to be ready.

They were the finest, plumpest wheat grains; when they were back in the Cunzi, they could never bear to eat them themselves. Often, the elders would pick out these plumpest grains specifically to save for the next planting season as seeds. How could they ever reach the mouths of the young?

The leader stirred the food in the pot with a wooden spoon while grumbling about the overbearing religious believers from before.

He sniffed the aroma, scooped a little out with the wooden spoon, blew on it, and put it in his mouth to taste. As he chewed, the plumpness of the grains surprised him: "Really, those Noble masters must eat this stuff every day. What are you all looking at me for? It's cooked, eat."

Once the leader spoke, the people around him immediately swarmed up, using their own wooden spoons to vigorously scoop the thick boiled wheat grains into their own Wooden Bowl.

Everyone was too busy to care about the heat, stuffing it directly into their mouths.

They puffed out hot air while their teeth continuously chewed the plump, springy wheat grains in their mouths.

Eating in large mouthfuls, a look of satisfaction appeared on everyone's face.

On the other side, some young people who had picked wild vegetables by the stream earlier added the handfuls of torn vegetables into the clay pot over the fire; the wheat grains inside tumbled and turned in the boiling water, looking very tempting.

The young people were somewhat cautious; of the twenty portions of rations, they only used a part, and aside from the portion for tomorrow morning, they only put a portion of the grain into tonight's dinner.

The remaining missing food would be supplemented with the wild vegetables they had gathered.

Bata'er Jiaoshi sat with his Nongshen Believer followers, eating the freshly made dinner together.

"Priest, do your companions not need to eat something?"

One true Nongshen Believer who was closest to the priest asked this question that they were concerned about.

Bata'er Jiaoshi shook his head: "There is some dry food in the carriage; they will find a way to fill their stomachs themselves. Don't worry about them. Come, everyone, eat more. After you're full, don't lie down yet; while it's not dark yet, go pick up some Stone and rock from the stream. I have a use for them."

"Oh, alright."

The crowd sitting around the fire passed on the order to collect stones, and soon some people finished their meal, shoved their licked-clean Wooden Bowl into their clothes, and went in groups to the stream to pick up Stone.

As for Jier, he sat by a fire closest to his carriage, putting a finger-long, brown-black stick-like object into his mouth and grinding it with his teeth.

The circle of people around this fire were all the young Refugee who had been rewarded with double rations by him at noon; at this moment, these people gathered around him, listening to the young 'Knight' tell them stories about the Kendall people's march.

"That region had a lot of rain, it rained every single day, and it didn't even stop for a moment. Fortunately, my teacher and Knight Lumi had prepared Rain Gear for the soldiers in advance, which allowed us to travel through that place where it rained every day quite well."

"When you stepped down, the ground was so soft that your entire foot would sink in. This deep." Jier gestured the depth.

"But fortunately, the ground wasn't mud, but grass; the roots of the grass in that place were particularly well-developed, and you could only see grass on the ground, not a single patch of soil exposed."

Jier's words drew exclamations from some of the young people who had never seen a grassland.

Just as Jier was about to tell them about the Baron's Magic Ring that could emit a floating flame phantom, Xueya Site on the roof of the carriage next to him called out to him: "Jier, you had better come over and take a look."

As soon as Jier heard this, he knew that the situation had changed.

It was now dusk, and the places blocked by the mountain forest had gradually turned pitch black, with only the sky on the east and west sides still showing some orange-red sunset glow.

Of course, in the due west direction, one could still faintly see a circle of white light rising from the ground and spreading toward the sky.

That was the ancient White Stone City Wall built by the Dwarf.

It emitted a lasting and constant radiance regardless of day or night; even after walking for half a day, they could still see that bright light.

Jier sat up from a Wooden Box he had taken from a carriage, and as he walked toward the carriage, he said to the people by the fire: "Everyone take hold of the Wooden Stick I prepared for you; tonight might not be peaceful."

The Wooden Stick were made before the meal; Jier had cut down a small tree on the wasteland on the other side of the road after finishing the logs, specifically selecting thick and sturdy branches to make into Wooden Stick that could be used for swinging and beating, and handed them to these young Refugee who listened to his orders.

Since these people listened to him, they had to be armed first. Even if it was just such a better-than-nothing armament.