Chapter 704: Clearing — Logging, Merchants, Women, and the Priest of the God of Death

Jier felt it was a pity; the letter paper in his hand was yellowed and brittle, clearly written several years ago. No matter how profitable the business might have been, it had likely gone cold by now.

He also didn't know if the transaction between the two families mentioned in the letter had ever been carried out. He hoped they hadn't abandoned future contact just because one trade request had been ignored.

Jier shook his head and packed the items away one by one. He took out the letter box of various sizes containing letters and parchment, as well as the upper half of the lethal mechanism, and held them, preparing to put them back in the carriage for safekeeping. As for the letters and documents, he would have to find someone who knew High Noble Language later to translate them for him or teach him how to read the text.

The back of his neck felt a bit itchy. Jier shook his head, feeling that he would inevitably have to deal with these people later; not knowing High Noble Language would always put him at a disadvantage in information exchange.

A similar example was the mark the bandit group led by Mountain Wolf Bani had specifically carved in the Shulin, which only their own people could recognize.

"I wonder if there is any Divine Art or Magic that allows a person to read and decipher signs or text without any obstacles," he muttered, walking toward the clearing.

By now, the sky was already beginning to brighten. Some young refugees were sleeping in a daze, some were sitting blankly, and others were sobbing in low voices; in short, the atmosphere in the clearing was not very good.

Yet, after being attacked and killing the bandits last night, some young people were exceptionally high-spirited. It seemed to be the first time they had grasped the power to control their own lives. Therefore, although there were heavy casualties overall, and they weren't all from the same Cunzi—and even within a Cunzi, relationships varied in closeness—many were actually quite satisfied with the current state of affairs.

Xueya Site found some of those who lacked physical strength and led them to the place where the lethal mechanism had been released earlier, guiding them to collect all the metal spikes scattered over a large area around it.

He looked at the Wooden Box that Jier had emptied and pointed to it, saying: "Collect all the metal spikes and put them all in there. Remember to clean off the soil before putting them in. After collecting them from the surroundings, everyone will carry it together to the Knight's carriage. How about that?"

These people were physically weak, but their spirits were good at the moment, and they were willing to work, so they nodded one after another in agreement.

"Alright then, be careful, do it slowly, and don't get pricked by the sharp metal. I have to go lead people to fell trees; otherwise, I don't know how much wood we'll need to prepare to burn so many corpses."

"My lord, do we really have to burn the dead? I'm not saying we shouldn't, after all, our Cunzi used to burn those who passed away too. But, there are so many people, and those hateful bandits! If we burn them, wouldn't that be letting them off easy?"

In many places, burning the corpses of deceased relatives and friends meant bidding farewell to the souls lingering in the human world. Once the corpse of someone who died in the human world was burned away, the wandering soul would step into the Underworld without hesitation. People did not love their relatives and friends any less; it was just that if a soul remained trapped in a corpse after death, or if the corpse was occupied and driven by the wandering souls of other beasts, it was ultimately a desecration of the deceased.

"This is the Knight's will. Go do your work. The sooner we finish, the sooner we leave, and the further we get from this bloody place."

Xueya Site waved his hand, shooing them away so they wouldn't overthink it, then walked toward the crowd himself, shouting for the young people with some strength to go fell trees with him.

Jier sat by the carriage to rest for a while. After dawn, he watched Bata'er Jiaoshi begin the morning Prayer with a group that had fewer believers than the day before, and the agricultural Divine Power within his body became active and surged for a while.

He didn't know the principle behind this, but it was a good thing regardless, especially since he hadn't joined in the Prayer himself and could still get the benefits for free.

Xueya Site gathered a logging team of over a hundred people, especially the most energetic and vigorous ones in the group. He didn't know what he had promised those willing to fell trees, but in any case, over a hundred people carrying all sorts of barely usable logging tools rushed over to fell trees in a lively manner.

He had previously returned to the place where he fought the Magic Image. As expected, similar to the Coin Image Warrior previously summoned by the Military Priest of the Church of the God of Wealth, that guy made of Magic Power had now turned back into a small doll.

Jier picked it up and discovered that this thing would glow all over only when it was close to that bell of unknown use. Only then did Jier realize that the two were a matching Magic Tool. Unfortunately, he didn't know how to use these things, and during a battle, it was impossible to obtain the method of use from the enemy.

Perhaps he could ask Kendall Baron later to understand how to use these things. So, Jier hid it carefully, leaving it for later use.

After resting enough, Jier stood up from the campfire by the carriage and strode over to help with the logging.

He took out the blue Cleaver and carried it on his shoulder, taking off his Helmet and hanging it on the hilt of his sword.

"I'm coming too, ah, I have endless strength to use."

Jier, his eyes emitting a cyan glow, called out loudly, strode to catch up with the logging team, and walked to the front, pointing and gesturing: "This, this, this, this patch of trees, leave them all to me!"

He took on the whole task, which actually reduced the workload of the logging team significantly.

"Take it easy."

Xueya Site laughed twice and advised Jier not to brag, but Jier just patted his chest, indicating there was no problem.

The ten-plus kilogram Two-handed Axe was as light as a slender twig in Jier's hands at this moment, and he tossed it up and down to play with it. He arrived in front of a large tree and, without being polite, planted his feet firmly and twisted his body to swing the axe.

The Tree Spirit Pattern on the axe became active, and after a few back-and-forth swings, Jier had hacked halfway through a trunk thicker than a person's waist.

It seemed even more powerful than it was last night.

"Looks like you all ate your fill last night?"

There was no extra beast pattern of a giant snake on the axe; clearly, when the Cleaver killed that wild python, it hadn't taken a fancy to the opponent's soul, but had instead let the Monster Beast Soul residing within it split the spoils and eat the giant snake's soul entirely.

That was why the tree spirit soul on the axe was exceptionally active today.

After finishing the hacking, Jier went to the other side of the large tree and, with a few simple strokes, cut through the trunk of the large tree almost completely.

He shouted loudly: "Watch out—, the tree! Is falling—!"

Even though there was no one else around him helping to cut the tree.

Whoosh, crash!

The large tree fell in the direction away from the Shulin.

At this moment, Xueya Site finally directed some young people holding Cleavers and Short Knives to come up and help, cutting off all the branches of the large tree except for the trunk. The trunk was an important fuel, but the branches could also be burned. Now they were in urgent need of firewood to burn the corpses, so these branches and leaves with high moisture content had to be used as well.

Jier subsequently went to the other side of the large trees he had designated for felling. There was no one here, so he could swing his axe wantonly and display his strength.

Many people were watching Jier, who was working with great enthusiasm, from near or far. In some people's eyes was confusion; they didn't understand why a young Knight who was a Knight Lord would also do the work himself? Wasn't it enough to just sit or ride a horse and watch them work?

They didn't know that Jier was not a true Knight Noble; he himself was still only in the midst of Knight Training. If it weren't for the need for a Knight's status to manage these young refugees, Jier wouldn't have claimed the status of a Knight at all.

After all, they were in the wilderness now, where no one cared, but once they reached a city, it would be hard to say.

Perhaps he could use his identity as a Kendall person to deal with it?

As for the others looking over, their eyes were full of envy. They also longed to possess such power, a tall stature, strength far exceeding that of ten ordinary men, a suit of armor without a single flaw, and a tall, fine horse.

These were all symbols of strength, and precisely the kind of real, undeniable power that many people longed for but could not obtain, the kind that could change and master one's life.

The rescued Merchants sitting by a campfire at the edge of the clearing were currently listlessly tinkering with the hot porridge in an iron pot. Early in the morning, someone had stuffed a large handful of plump wheat grains that emitted a faint glow into their hands. After testing for a while whether this thing was edible, they finally managed to boil a pot of edible breakfast.

Most of this group didn't speak, and even if someone opened their mouth, it was just muttering to themselves in a low voice.

The old Merchant, however, was different from the others; he was teaching the boy hand-in-hand how to make a pot of top-notch wheat porridge.

"You have to add some salt! That's the secret."

He said this while taking out a small pouch he had hidden last night, which contained half a bag of salt grains.

It seemed strange not to hide some coins on his person, but half a bag of salt instead, but the old Merchant who had been in business for a lifetime understood that this was the truly useful, practical secret.

Salt could bring people strength, and it could also ward off evil and protect the body, and no matter where this thing was, as long as there were intelligent beings, it would have a certain value. Especially the finer the salt, the higher the value.

The yellowish-brown Coarse Salt was, of course, worthless, but the half bag of refined salt grains he possessed was worth quite a few copper coins.

The boy used his right hand, which was missing no fingers, to grab a small pinch of salt grains and was about to sprinkle them into the wheat porridge.

The old Merchant shook his head and handed the salt pouch over, signaling the boy to put the salt back: "No need for much, just a tiny bit is enough. With that amount, heh heh, if you sprinkle it in, everyone won't be able to eat this pot of wheat porridge."

The boy blushed and hurriedly put the excess salt grains back. This time, he only pinched a few grains with his fingertips and sprinkled them into the porridge.

The old Merchant nodded. He began to stir with a long-handled wooden spoon, saying: "Most things have a suitable degree. Mastering this secret and knowing the required degree for each matter allows one to make a good meal. At the very least, it won't be too bad."

A young merchant sitting slumped nearby sneered, "What's the point of spouting these grand principles? What are we supposed to do now? And what are those bumpkins doing? Nobody knows; we're just sitting here. Waiting for what?"

Then came the fearful complaints about the hundreds of mangled corpses; when they had arrived in the middle of the night, they hadn't noticed them, but now that the sky had just brightened, seeing the numerous bodies lying on the ground at one end of the clearing, the merchants—not just this young man—were all startled.

Many people's nerves, which had finally relaxed, tightened once again.

"At least they gave us food; although it glows, it's edible, so that's enough. This signifies appeasement; do you understand that?"

The old merchant explained casually, handing the wooden ladle to the boy and letting the boy stir it himself to prevent the vigorous fire from scorching the wheat grains at the bottom of the iron pot.

The young merchant waved a hand to indicate he understood, but he had no further desire to speak.

Others tried their best not to look in the direction of the corpses, holding the wooden bowls they had scavenged when escaping the bandit lair, sniffing the natural fragrance of the boiling wheat grains, and gathering around.

Nearby, several weak rescued women had also gathered together, and Feiniya was pulling herself together, whispering to ask about the experiences of the other rescued girls.

The middle-aged woman who had been rescued along with the merchants was also there, and she muttered with some dissatisfaction, "In my view, we've just jumped from one fire pit into another. Some 'refugees attacked by bandits'—I think it was just two factions attacking each other."

Feiniya comforted this female companion who had quickly become intimate with her: "It's different. There are Knights and Priests, which means these people have order. They set out from the White Stone City Wall Guanka; although I don't know where the destination is, as long as they can drop us off when they pass through towns along the way, that will be fine."

"One can only hope so. Sister, you and I are the only ones still considering this matter; look at these young girls, they only know how to huddle together and wipe away tears. Isn't it just being played with by men for a while? What's the big deal? Think of it this way: those wealthy and noble ladies have the right to play with men as they please, picking and choosing, selecting only the handsome and good-looking ones. We are barely the same as them; although we have no choice, at least there are plenty of vigorous men. Stop crying, there are still long days ahead."

The middle-aged woman from a wealthy family comforted the others; although what she said was twisted logic, this rambling at least stopped the other rescued women from grieving and weeping. It was hard to tell if they truly believed this twisted logic, or if, in their most vulnerable moment, they just needed a pillar or excuse to support and comfort themselves.

Feiniya also put on a smiling face, encouraging these sobbing young women. But in her heart, she felt nothing but disdain; what had supported her before was revenge against that heartless wretch. And after the young Knight twisted the neck of Shanlang Bani, while she wouldn't say she was completely satisfied, it had at least basically filled the void of her revenge.

Now that the man she had directed—and who had also controlled her—was gone, she felt a sense of ease and freedom she had never known before. Although there was still a lingering, aimless confusion, she still felt light.

Looking around, everywhere were empty-headed puppets; she could easily distinguish who could be influenced and controlled by her words, and who could not.

Her eyes swept over the young refugees sitting aimlessly on the ground, and a soft snort escaped her nose.

Her eyes swept over the Priests and the large group of believers gathered for morning prayer, and she immediately clasped her hands together, putting on a show.

Her eyes swept over the young people chopping wood in the distance and the young Knight felling a large tree by himself, and a flash of wariness crossed her eyes.

Her eyes swept over the large pile of corpses nearby, reeking of blood; she was not afraid, but rather slightly smug, because the corpse of Shanlang Bani, that man of hers from before, was piled up with the other bodies, and there were even others from Shanlang Bani's gang among them.

They were all dead, which was truly nice, and she was still alive and could scrutinize those dead wretches.

Her eyes swept over the group of rescued merchants nearby, whose atmosphere was terrible; other than the old merchant she couldn't see through, the others were, in her eyes, nothing more than new purses.

Finally, her eyes swept over the area near a few carriages, and a middle-aged merchant full of energy caught her eye. This person, she could not see through. Most of the other merchants looked like they had lost their ideals and souls, but this middle-aged merchant was, on the contrary, constantly performing, showing his own value.

Yes, in her view, this middle-aged merchant was deliberately performing his personal value; even though it was just a tiny task the young Knight had handed to him, the man acted as if he had received a reward, doing his best to personally handle every small thing.

What was he doing it for? What was he after?

It seemed she would have to find a way to figure it out.

"Sisters, smell that, the wheat porridge is ready; let's all go have some. We can't just keep grieving here. Tears need hydration to keep flowing, don't they?"

Feiniya stood up with effort first, then personally reached out to pull up the others who were equally weak.

"That's right, girls, go eat something. No matter what, you can't mistreat yourselves." The middle-aged woman said loudly; she was very familiar with the other rescued merchants, so she felt no embarrassment at all about going over to eat.

"Old man, do you have any extra tableware here? These ladies need to eat something too, right? After all, those people arranged for all of us who were rescued to be together. Since that's the case, we're all one family."

The middle-aged woman was not polite; after coming over and sitting down, she asked the boy to serve her a bowl of wheat porridge first.

"Young man, come, fill a bowl for your sister here. Sigh, I never ate these things at home before, but now I find them quite delicious. Oh my, when will I ever be able to go home?"

The people around curled their lips; this woman at least had a home to return to, which counted as being half-liberated. Many people had nothing at all, and some even owed a mountain of debt. Having a home but being unable to return to it—that was the most miserable, right?

White Stone City Wall Guanka, the local Church of the God of the Dead.

Several Priests donned relatively complete sets of ordinary combat gear for Priests, then boarded a donkey cart used for transporting corpses. The leading Shepherd Priest waved to another Shepherd Priest guarding the church, telling him to take the young Novice Priests back.

"Be prepared, don't worry. These weapons and equipment at the bottom of the chest, no matter what happened there, will certainly have no problem protecting us few."

Then the Priest driving the cart cracked the whip to urge the donkey to set off, and the donkey yawned and began to walk.

The Church of the God of the Dead was generally in the sub-center area of the town; they soon walked out of the remote streets of the Guanka and entered the main road.

The leading Priest keenly noticed that the number of refugees begging on the streets today had greatly decreased, which led him to an ominous thought: 'Could the soldiers of the Guanka have taken a large number of refugees to the uninhabited area in the eastern part of the Guanka and killed them?'

He hurriedly jumped off the donkey cart and walked a few steps to an old man begging for food with his grandchildren: "I ask you, where are the young people among you? Where have they all gone?"

The old man first comforted the child who was frightened by the strange equipment, then stood up calmly to answer the Priest; he seemed to have eaten his fill recently, and his body had some strength.

"In reply to the Priest, the night before last, a Pastor Priest and a Knight came; they were blessed by the great God of Agriculture and possessed the ability to bestow food. We old bones discussed it for a while; the young people were gathered in the Guanka and couldn't get through, and they would cause trouble sooner or later, so it was better to let those two noble ones take them and go do things."

The leading Priest who received the news asked other middle-aged women and men begging by the roadside with children, and they all gave the same answer.

The news left him with mixed feelings; what he was happy about was that at least the Founengliang aura he sensed was not a massacre caused by the Guanka soldiers, and these lackeys of the Noble had not committed the most egregious act.

But what he was worried about was that those people were in trouble.

A Pastor Priest, a Knight, and they were blessed by a god to bestow food?

Could it be that believers and Priests of an Evil God were taking advantage of the chaos in the Southern Province to stir up something big?