Chapter 456: Only I Have My Own Law Chapter 456 Mining Area (4)

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Protagonist:

Chen Yi

Lights burned day and night on Xijiang Wharf.

Nine 1000-watt bulbs, like the sun's illegitimate children, glared down at the crowds working on the ground, giving countless porters new things to talk about.

Brown-skinned slaves bent deeply at the waist, carrying 100-kilogram rubber barrels on their backs, stepping one footprint at a time down the gangway until they reached the open space ahead, where they softly exhaled a "Hah."

The overseer, grinning, picked up a marker and drew a line on his left wrist, saying in the common tongue: "Big guy, twenty barrels—want to rest a bit?"

"I can still carry it." The brown-skinned slave glared fiercely at the overseer and said: "You caught us, wasn't it to make us work?"

The Mexican overseer chuckled and continued in the common tongue: "Slaves are our assets; of course they can't just die so easily. If we whip them nonstop and they drop dead, our losses would be huge. Like oxen and horses, you might even eat better than us—at least your nutrition keeps up. So if it's too hard, go ahead and rest."

"Can I rest too?" A white-skinned slave put down his wooden barrel and plopped down on his buttocks.

The overseer didn't hesitate, grabbed his whip, lashed down viciously, and shouted: "Want to rest? Carry twenty barrels first!"

The white-skinned slave jumped up like a startled cat and shouted angrily: "You said we could rest—I am a respectable..."

Another whip lashed his buttocks. The Mexican pulled out an electric baton with his left hand and said: "Who gets to rest is up to us. You're right—based on your muscular robustness, you can carry at least thirty barrels of latex without injury. Beastwood, that's your name, right? See, our doctors assessed your physical condition during the checkup. Don't think we're crude slaveholders. If the American South hadn't freed the black slaves, they'd have more advanced measures now."

The feeling of current passing through the body was like continuous incontinence—the brain lost control of the body, a very painful experience. But every slave had undergone at least one electric baton test, helping the overseers calibrate voltage levels and also cultivating fear in the slaves.

The white-skinned slave obediently returned to the ranks, head covered, and continued transporting.

Their management was actually more like the old Shanghai wharf porters. Dai Adi even allowed them to have a certain amount of internal circulating currency and to buy their freedom if the amount was sufficient—a good way to boost slave enthusiasm. In fact, American black slaves before the Civil War weren't as inefficient as books described; the key was finding the right management method. In this regard, Dai Adi seemed to learn faster and faster, while the Mexicans had some innate advantage—working in the barren desert and Gobi, they weren't much better off than the slaves.

In the wharf warehouse area, Huang Wei directed the Mexicans to use forklifts to move the unloaded latex into containers, then hoist the containers onto trains.

There were very few skilled workers on the West Continent, but "Knowledge Solvent" wasn't useless either. Although it couldn't instantly turn students using the solvent and Mexicans into skilled workers, after two or three months of slow training, they'd be about the same as lifelong dockworkers.

The temple priest looked admiringly at the huge gantry crane and said: "Alchemists are indeed the wealthiest profession in the world. Your luck is too good to have such a master; your future is bright."

"Without the rubber you prepared, our cranes would be useless no matter how many we had."

"This is what we should do. As High Priest Zhu Ji Ge said, from today on, Malacheng City-State and West River City-State are like family, the closest allies and friends." The priest recited exactly the conditions Yi Yaer had agreed to.

To win Chen Yi's support in the war, Yi Yaer shipped countless natural rubber and over ten thousand slaves for free. This was a method Earth politicians no longer used, but it well demonstrated their sincerity.

"We are indeed the closest allies and friends." Huang Wei's lies rolled off his tongue. His job, besides recording the details of supplies sent by the temple, was to accompany the temple priests; matters of policy were not within his consideration.

A 500-ton-class large ship left the main wharf unsteadily. The priest made a mark on paper and said: "Two more ships, and our work tonight is done. New ships won't arrive until dawn."

Huang Wei raised his hand to check his watch—at most four hours until dawn.

"At least I can get some sleep." He yawned repeatedly: "You've already prepared a lot of rubber, right?"

The temple priest smiled and spoke in the special voice translated by Konjac: "We are one of the top-ranked temples on the Continent. Collecting some special alchemical materials is just perfect."

"Alchemical materials..."

"The latex of natural rubber trees sounds like swamp bottom mud no matter how you hear it." The priest said proudly: "We've mobilized all the city-states and prepared a hundred ships in total. Fortunately it's wartime now, all farmers have been conscripted, so everything is convenient. So our union is exactly the best union."

It sounded like the priest had no concept of war potential at all. The Temple War of the West Continent should be a form of total war—simply put, a war that mobilizes all available resources to completely destroy the opponent's war potential. It's a fight to the death.

But in fact, although the priests didn't know what "total war" meant, they had firsthand experience of the cruelty of war.

Huang Wei couldn't help but wonder what conditions the Hall Master had given to make the Water Dragon Temple submit, and to mobilize all its strength to send so many supplies.

He had seriously read the article about the Temple War in the Xijiang Daily and knew the Water Dragon Temple was in a weak position. He couldn't help thinking: even if troops were sent directly to intervene, a few thousand Martial Arts Hall students would be powerless in a war of millions, especially with so many high-ranking Knights around. But still, a hundred ships, at least thirty thousand tons of latex.

After pressing his handprint on the receipt, he asked: "For this latex, did you not only conscript farmers but also all the slaves in every city?"

Tapping rubber was very heavy physical labor. Huang Wei had participated in the development of local natural rubber forests and knew the hardship well.

"Not only all the slaves in every city, but also newly captured slaves. After the latex is all tapped, we'll send the slaves over to help you mine."

"Ah, thank you so much!" Huang Wei habitually handed over a cigarette and said with a smile: "What can I say? Have one yourself."

The priest said thank you and, with Huang Wei's help, lit the cigarette.

He took a deep drag, closed his eyes, and exhaled a long smoke ring. A finger-length roasted cigarette was instantly reduced by a third.

"Is it okay?"

After a long while, the priest answered admiringly: "Really good, has the taste of a ceremony."

Huang Wei laughed foolishly three times, thinking: Ceremony, my ass.

"Woo—"

The train sounded its whistle and started moving slowly.

The overseers' shouts rang out again: "You ignorant bastards, start working, don't waste time. In the next two hours, fill twenty containers. Understand? Understand!"

Huang Wei smiled awkwardly at the priest, but the latter said unconcernedly: "These losers of the battlefield only deserve to end their lives in the mud. May the Dragon God bless us; we will surely defeat the enemy."

The refined gentleman turned cold and ruthless in an instant. Only fanatical religious believers would take such things for granted—like former Catholics, former *** believers, former Red Guards.

Huang Wei smoked and daydreamed, unknowingly falling asleep.

I don't know if it was the third or fourth train whistle that woke him from his dream.

"Morning... the alarm is getting more unpleasant." Huang Wei muttered, then scared himself.

The work chants of the wharf, the familiar sticky humid environment.

Huang Wei sighed, not knowing whether to be happy or depressed, propped himself up with his arm, and shouted: "Priest Na Da!"

His subordinate heard the noise and hurried over, saying: "The priest went to the wharf area; the slaves have disembarked."

"Are there many?"

"Very many." The student's expression was strange.

Huang Wei soon learned the reason.

The wharf was full of slaves, lined up in dense ranks, at least tens of thousands.

"How is that possible!"

"Slaves from several nearby city-states are all here now; the ones from the front line are still being sent over." Sacrificial Priest Na Da had gotten a pack of cigarettes from somewhere, clamped three in his mouth at once, and was smoking with gusto.

"So many."

"There will be even more." The words were clear and round, not coming through konjac.

Huang Wei turned around at once and saw none other than Chen Yi.

"Some doubts?" Chen Yi smiled and patted Huang Wei's shoulder.

"Yes, the temple people are too good."

Chen Yi gave a hehe smile and said, "They're not offering enthusiasm for nothing; there are conditions."

Huang Wei wanted to ask, but dared not ask.

High Priest Iyar also appeared at the bow of the ship in front of the wharf; this was a thousand-ton-class large vessel rarely seen at West Jiang Port, with two banks of oars extending out, and the speed was bound to be astonishingly fast.

He jumped off the ship, imitating a dragon's manner, walking with a crisscrossing gait.

Chen Yi took the initiative to go up to meet him. His movements were light and steady, without the slightest excess.

"Divine Art Knight, Your Excellency." Iyar performed a grand salute, touching his shoulder, elbow, and knee with his cheek.

"High Priest."

"I've brought a new gift — 40,000 slaves. If we win, we'll get even more."

"Many thanks to the temple."

"Fulfilling a promise is what I should do."

"40,000 slaves?" Chen Yi asked meaningfully.

High Priest Iyar nodded heavily: "40,000 slaves."

"All right, what do you want."

Finally getting a word of inquiry, Iyar swallowed hard and said, "The temple war is urgent; the High Priest hopes to have a Divine Art Knight join."

"Divine Art Knight?"

"Any Divine Art Knight."

Huang Wei thought: What kind of knight can be exchanged for 40,000 slaves?

Before he could figure it out, he heard Chen Yi say in a negative tone: "40,000 slaves and 100 ships of rubber cannot buy a single Divine Art Knight."

……(To be continued. If you like this work, welcome to Qidian (qidian. com) to cast recommendation tickets and monthly tickets; your support is my greatest motivation.)