Chapter 904: Preparations for the Settlement Celebration

As the aroma of the roasted chicken cooking over the campfire grew increasingly rich, the people nearby who had finished their work were unconsciously drawn in by the drifting scent.

Many were smelling such a rich chicken aroma for the first time; guided by instinct, they kept twitching their noses as they drew closer.

Rumble—many had eaten a simple meal before dawn, and while it was not yet noon, the stimulation of this aroma made their stomachs growl again.

Everyone discussed in low voices these roasted chickens that smelled so delicious, and no one thought the Cook was boasting anymore.

"Haha, it's just that the chickens in the village are raised well; their chickens are big and fat, which is why they taste good. I've only made a tiny contribution. Hehehe." The Cook was so busy his feet barely touched the ground, his hands moving so fast to control the rotation of the wooden skewers over the various fires that they became a blur, yet his mouth didn't stop either.

"You just focus on your work," Jier said with a laugh and a scold.

At this moment, shouting came from outside the Yingdi.

"The Bread is here! The Bread is here! Oh, someone come help us, there's too much!"

Bafute's voice arrived, and everyone turned their heads to look, only to discover that Bafute was leading a few people, each dragging two large baskets woven from twigs and vines, filled to the brim with a massive amount of Bread that was about to spill out.

Jier looked over and discovered that the Bread varied in size and shape, not produced uniformly; it looked as if the villagers had taken out much of the leftover baked Bread from their kitchens recently and given it all to Bafute.

Jier waved a hand, and immediately some of the crowd went over to help Bafute and the others carry the Bread back.

Once the Bread returned, everyone became happy again; although the Bread was what the villagers had prepared in advance for daily consumption and was dry and hard, the Bread made by the villagers of Torito Cunzi was plump and round, with a beautiful color transitioning from light brown to creamy white on the surface.

Moreover, whether the wheat flour used to make it here was good or not, everyone who came from a Farmer background could tell at a glance; the villagers of Torito Cunzi had carefully picked through their flour, removing bran and other impurities, making this Bread baked from high-quality, finely milled pure wheat grains.

Some unable-to-resist people subconsciously reached out to touch the Bread that looked so tasty, but were immediately slapped away by Bafute: "Wash your hands! Do you know you have to wash your hands before touching food? The Knight and the Priest have said it so many times: after finishing work and before eating, no matter what kind of work you did, or how hungry you are, you must wash your hands, even if you just find a Linen Cloth to wipe them."

The scolded people laughed sheepishly: "Forgot, forgot, look how good this Bread is."

"Exactly, this village is truly wealthy; even the big households in our village couldn't afford to eat Bread this good."

"Is so much really bought? Jier gave you only one Gold Coin, Bafute, how did you bring back so many fat chickens, and so much Bread—there are over a dozen baskets. By the way, these baskets are woven quite well too."

Bafute proudly stroked the beard on his face; although conditions were poor along the way, he still managed to groom his precious beard: "Doesn't this show my superior skills as a Merchant? To tell the truth, if I hadn't been robbed by Bandits on the Shanglu at the provincial border earlier, I would have made a fortune from that trade by now. It's a real pity; I have a blood feud with Bandits for this life. It's hard to say now, but in the future, I will definitely find a way to eliminate those plundering and murdering Bandits."

His words drew unanimous praise from the surrounding Refugee crowd; many had been harmed by Bandits, and almost everyone had a deep blood feud with them. It was just that they lacked the strength to take revenge, but supporting others with words or cursing the Bandits was something they could do.

Jier also came over to take a look; he took off his Glove and touched the Bread—no one said he hadn't washed his hands before touching the food—and found that the Bread wasn't freshly made. This was reasonable; after all, so much Bread couldn't possibly be made on the spot, and the village's bread ovens couldn't keep up even with an assembly-line operation.

"The Bread is dry and hard; it will take some effort to eat it," Jier said to those around him.

He continued: "Last night I gathered the villagers to resist the Dwarf, and that was the kind of Bread we ate then. The villagers heated it directly over the fire, then used a small knife to cut off the charred crust, eating only the heated inner core."

When he said this, the surrounding crowd was very surprised and said in unison: "That's too wasteful!"

Some people looked regretfully at the beautiful crust baked onto the surface of the Bread, muttering: "It looks so delicious, and they just cut it off and throw it away? Too wasteful, too wealthy."

Others said: "Those charred crusts can be eaten too; although they are black and crumbly, they can still fill your stomach!"

"Is that so? I didn't pay much attention to that, but perhaps they did it that way to save trouble at the time. So, everyone, how should we heat and eat this Bread? After all, these loaves are not small—bigger than a head—and they've been sitting for several days, so they are dry and hard overall. Eating them directly is bad for the teeth."

"And we have to distribute them to everyone; we can't really let everyone sit in a circle and gnaw on these things raw, haha," Jier finally laughed.

Bafute pulled a silk scarf he had been hiding from his waist, carefully wiped his hands, and then tapped the Bread with his finger. The Bread made a solid, thudding sound, clearly indicating it was made with plenty of ingredients, and the dough had not been over-fermented, so there were not many air bubbles inside.

He tapped a few others and found they were different; although the other loaves were also made with plenty of ingredients, they sounded slightly dull when tapped. Clearly, the dough for those had been fully fermented. On the surface, the loaves looked similar in size, but in reality, the latter were fluffier and of a higher, softer quality inside.

Bafute finally picked up both to compare; as soon as he lifted them, he understood. The former was clearly heavier; although the size was the same, the technique of the farm woman who made the Bread and the desired result were different.

As a Merchant, he had traveled, seen, eaten, and experienced much, so just through this small difference in the Bread, he gained some insight and realization.

Jier, after discussing with the crowd, concluded that the Bread should be split with an axe, broken into small pieces, and soaked in soup to eat with the chicken.

So he immediately sent someone to call the Lumberjack in the group. After finishing this, he saw Bafute guarding the Bread baskets, holding a loaf in each hand that looked identical, with a thoughtful expression on his face, so he walked over curiously and asked: "Bafute, looking at your expression, did you have some unexpected discovery?"

Bafute came back to his senses, and seeing it was Jier the Knight, he immediately put a smile on his face, handed the two loaves to Jier, and said: "Knight, compare these two loaves; what is the difference?"

Jier couldn't help but smile; it was just two loaves of bread, what difference could there be?

But as soon as he took them in his hands, he easily noticed the difference in weight: "Hmm? The loaf in my left hand is clearly heavier. The one in my right hand looks identical in size, shape, and appearance—at least mostly identical—yet it is actually so much lighter?"

Bafute didn't keep him in suspense and gave the answer directly: "The secret is that one loaf was fermented. After the dough is fermented, it is full of air bubbles, and after being baked in the oven, it expands with heat, so they look about the same size."

Jier immediately understood. Of course he knew about fermentation; in his previous life, he ate this kind of fermented bread, buns, and steamed buns. In fact, the unfermented bread in his left hand was the rarer kind.

He had never even eaten anything similar.

"So, you discovered this difference and started pondering it? Haha, what is there to think about?" Jier laughed.

"Jier, I suddenly thought: on one side is bread that hasn't been fermented much, and on the other is fermented bread. Behind them, don't the families they belonged to also have differences?" Bafute narrowed his eyes, his tone somewhat lingering.

Jier caught part of his meaning: "You mean?"

Bafute explained: "You know, Bread is an essential staple for us Humans. Although it varies from place to place, people have to eat it, right? And this one."

Bafute gestured to the unfermented loaf: "This one is dense and hasn't been fermented; at the same size, it uses more wheat flour, so it will clearly be more filling. And this one."

He pointed to the fermented loaf: "This one is fluffy and soft—well, it was soft; after all, no matter how soft bread is, it becomes hard after two days. It was fermented, so clearly the person who made it cared more about the texture of the food than just using it to fill their stomach."

Jier understood somewhat: "You mean, one type of bread isn't fermented, making it easier to carry and more filling, so the family that made it is a Farmer household that needs to do physical labor? And this bread was fermented, made with more care, and has a better texture, so the family that made it doesn't need to do physical labor, or only a little, and they aren't Farmers? Hmm, that does make some sense. So?"

Bafute was a bit stumped: "Uh, so, so, yes, that's why I was just thinking that even in such a small village with a population of less than five hundred, the villagers who seem to have the same living conditions actually have significant differences."

Jier's mouth curled up: "Dishonest. You want to say that different means of survival lead to different wealth gaps, right? Even if the people of Torito Cunzi don't even use coins, they still have significant differences in wealth and status?"

Bafute wiped his sweat with a handkerchief and smiled slightly: "That's what you said; I didn't see it on that level."

Jier laughed out loud: "It doesn't matter; the world is just like that."

The Lumberjacks had gone out to chop wood when they were building the Yingdi; after all, their job was to provide firewood for the whole group and maintain the campfire.

They had just chopped down a small tree near the edge of the Huitou Forest and hadn't yet turned it into firewood when they were called back by people sent from the Yingdi.

They were originally reluctant, but upon hearing it was to process the Bread bought from the village, and that there would be fragrant roasted chicken to eat in a moment, these young men immediately dropped the half-processed tree and rushed toward the Yingdi, carrying their axes.

"Leave it to us!"

"I have the best technique, I'll do it. Come, come, put the Bread on the box; I guarantee I'll split the Bread for you without damaging the box."

"Wow, so fragrant, too fragrant!"

"This chicken is really fat; it's sizzling with oil. If only I could take a big bite."

Jier walked over at this time and took over the conversation: "Our Cook's technique really isn't bad; he could totally open a tavern later, selling this kind of fragrant roasted chicken in the tavern while selling local, refreshing, and delicious ale. Oh right, look at my memory; in a celebration, how can one of the most important things be missing?"

"Bafute, Bafute, come here, we are missing alcohol! The most important alcohol!" Jier hurriedly called for Bafute, who was in charge of the group's material procurement.

"Siter, Xueya Site! You come too; there isn't much alcohol in the village, and they are likely having a large-scale celebration today, so the amount of alcohol they can sell us is probably limited."

Jier said this to the two people squeezing over, and neither of them had any doubts about Jier's judgment.

"Siter, trouble yourself to bring the money jar from my carriage. You and Mr. Bafute take a few people and go find the Priest. Have the Priest speak with the village elders; we will spend a bit more money to have them set aside as much ale for us as possible. How can there be no drinks at a celebratory event? Right! Even if we have to spend more money for it, it is worth it."

"You, you, isn't all the money in the group hard-won from your battles with the Bandits? You're just going to spend it all here?"

Xueya Siter began to remonstrate with Jier, while Mr. Bafute did not speak, only mindlessly fiddling with his beard.

Jier waved his hand: "It is precisely because it was won through battle that it must be spent here. Otherwise, wouldn't the bloodshed and sacrifice during the battle have been in vain? How much pressure and danger has everyone faced along the way? These things have actually been weighing on everyone's Human Mind all along; although people don't say it, it exists."

"That is why we must celebrate properly, make some noise, and completely release everyone's pressure, dissatisfaction, and mental fatigue. Therefore, drinks are indispensable, you know."

"I can't win an argument with you; your mouth is full of sophistry, but there is some logic to it. Let me confirm one more time, I am to carry the money jar over to buy ale?" Xueya Siter confirmed one last time.

Jier waved his hand: "Yes, yes, yes, go quickly, and try to get it settled for everyone before the celebration officially begins."

The two shrugged and immediately went into action. Xueya Siter went to Jier's carriage to carry the money jar, while Mr. Bafute found a few people who were gathered around the Roasted Chicken and couldn't be pulled away, gathered them at the entrance of the Yingdi, and walked quickly toward Torito Cunzi.

"Let me think, to give everyone a greater sense of ritual, what else needs to be done?"

Jier leaned against his carriage, watching the people gathering in the center of the Yingdi, and began to ponder.

"Sing some songs, dance some dances? That works, but who will sing? Who will dance, and what dance will they perform? Commemorate the people who died on the road? Hmm, that should be placed at the beginning to show respect. What else? Should I give a speech on the spot? Better not, it's too awkward, and I can't think of the words."

Jier began to talk to himself, feeling quite troubled.

One shouldn't just keep the trouble to oneself; one must share the trouble with others.

Jier couldn't figure out the specific activities for today's celebration on his own, so he stopped thinking about it and simply delegated these tasks to others.

He opened his mouth and shouted: "Everyone, today is a good day for our group to settle down safely, so we must celebrate properly! But to celebrate, we need work, we need performance activities. Whoever has any such activities, come over and tell me, and I will organize and arrange them!"

"Don't be shy, this is a happy day worth celebrating, so you must be generous and noisily enthusiastic! Any kind of performance is fine." He added.

Jier had a loud voice, and basically all several hundred people in the Yingdi heard him. People discussed it in whispers; some were eager to try, while others wore troubled expressions.

Of course, there were also those who were more confident: "Knight Jier, my brother and I, does singing the ballads we sing while working count as one?"

Jier's face lit up with joy: "What kind of ballad or slogan? Tell me about it first, let me hear it."

The young man walked over, and the people around were watching him, which suddenly made this otherwise generous and brave fellow stage-frightened, but Jier encouraged him: "It's fine, don't worry about the people around you, just give me a small segment first, let me hear it."

The young man gathered his thoughts, took a deep breath, clenched his fists, and began to shout: "The gods scattered rain in the sky, and the earth sprouted green new buds."

"When the spring breeze gradually lessened, we wrapped ourselves in fur coats and came upon the earth to create our new fields."

Jier hurriedly called out: "Sing the climax directly."

The young man thought for a moment, then continued to shout: "Ah, let us bend down to hoe the earth; with the first strike, firewood is added to the home today."

"Ah, let us bend down to hoe the earth; with the second strike, tomorrow the home can buy salt."

"Ah, let us bend down to hoe the earth; with the third strike, the day after tomorrow the home will have a new table."

"Ah, let us bend down to hoe the earth; with the fourth strike, the home will have a bleating lamb."

"Ah, let us work hard; a new life is beckoning ahead."

"Ah, every time the hoe is swung, the family gains joy."

"Ah, let us work hard; houses rise and fields expand, all because we are working hard."

Jier hurriedly took off his Steel Armor Gloves to applaud, and the other Refugee people watching around also followed suit and clapped their hands. Some people also knew this ballad from before tilling, and they spontaneously filled in the parts before the climax in low voices; other people indicated that such ballads were not passed down where they were from and hoped to hear them a few more times to memorize them so they could sing along later.

Jier was very satisfied and said loudly: "There is no problem with this. After the celebration starts in a while, when I call your name, you come out and perform. If you feel your own voice isn't loud enough, you can find a few more partners who also know it, and you can all come out and sing together."

He climbed back into his carriage, rummaged through it to find a small notebook and a set of dip pens: "Tell me your name and the name of the ballad, I will register them first."

The young man said his name, a very common and popular village name, and the name of the ballad was "Song of Spring Labor"; it wasn't long, just a few hundred words.

"Are there any more? Who else has a skillful performance program? Don't be shy, come here and register with me!" Jier had a smile on his face, holding the pen and notebook high.

"Lord Jier, does us dancing count?"

A few young girls boldly came up; they held hands and squeezed together, only then gathering the courage to stand out and register their program.

"What kind of dance? Let's get this straight, that kind of vigorous dance from the Red House won't do; at least not here with me." Jier teased.

"Lord Jier, what are you saying? How could we sisters do that! This was taught to us by a female traveler who once passed through our village; it's very beautiful. Would you like to see it first?" The girls said boldly.

Jier shrugged: "Of course, just dance a little bit first."

The girls didn't care about the many people watching around them; they gathered their courage, formed a circle, faced outward, held hands, slowed down for a moment, and then their steps began to move as they slowly turned in a circle.

At the same time, their tightly clasped hands swung, and their legs moved rhythmically with small, light jumps. They either hopped, stood on tiptoe, or kicked their lower legs forward, causing the coarse Linen Cloth skirts they wore to flutter slightly.

Many people watched, but there wasn't much discussion, because this dance looked somewhat beautiful—of course, mainly because the young girls were youthful and beautiful; it didn't have much to do with what they were dancing.

But Jier felt something was wrong.

Especially when the circle formed by the girls had turned slowly for a few rounds, they sped up, and at the same time, they began to hum a ballad.

"Nemumuha, Harifatata. Let us dance to attract His gaze."

"Nemumuha, Haritatatafa, let us dance to attract His earha."

"Gaze upon me, gaze upon us."

"Listen to me, listen to us."

"This is my wish, a beautiful wish."

"It is just to gaze upon me, listen to me."

"This is our wish, a beautiful wish."

"It is just to gaze upon us, listen to us."

Jier felt something was wrong, but he couldn't say what was wrong, so he had to quickly call for a stop: "Alright, alright, please stop, please stop."

The girls immediately stopped dancing and gathered around excitedly. Although they had circled many times, they all looked normal and didn't seem to feel any dizziness.

"Hey, you just circled so many times, don't you feel dizzy?" Jier asked, seemingly teasing.

"No, Lord Jier, we don't feel dizzy at all, and every time we finish dancing, we feel very energetic, and we eat less too."

"And we don't feel hungry at all!" Before the first girl finished, the next girl hurriedly added proudly.

Jier twitched the corner of his mouth and shrugged. Although the dance of these few was a bit strange, nothing seemed to happen after they danced just now. Since he was lacking programs, he had to count this dance in as well.

"Give me one of your names, just one person's will do. Also, does this dance have a name? Did the person who taught you mention it?" Jier held paper and pen, ready to record.

The young women gave the name of the eldest among them, then they said in unison: "The 'Dance of Invitation', that is what that very beautiful big sister told us."

Jier pondered: "'Dance of Invitation', huh? Inviting whom? And who would come?"

Hearing Jier's muttering to himself, the young women added: "We don't know who it invites, but it's a pity that no one will be invited to come by our dance."

"If only we could invite a prince."

"Aren't you ashamed? A prince would never see our dance. Only Lord Jier will see it."

"Lord Jier, do you want to be invited to come by our dance? Tee-hee."

Laughing and joking, the few young women ran off.

Jier shrugged and continued shouting to everyone: "Come, come, come! Whoever else has a performance skill, please tell me boldly! What about the Lumberjacks? There are so many of you, you must come up with a program!"