Munitions Empire

Chapter 493 475 raw cooked

"It's over, it's all over, it's over, it's all over...," a Chu Country refugee farmer muttered in despair at the scene before him.

He had just been escorted across a wooden bridge amidst a dense crowd of people, into the territory of the Great Tang Kingdom, where he was greeted by this frightening sight.

Everyone was lined up in a long queue, one after the other like criminals, being directed by soldiers wielding weapons, then queuing up to get their hair cut...

That terrifying kind of haircut! All men were required to have their long hair tidied up—those barbers were like madmen, shearing a person's head clean in just a few strokes.

He swore he had never had his hair cut like this in his entire life, to him, the process seemed more like a landlord's sheep shearing than a haircut.

Not to mention after the haircut, they were also arranged to soak in scalding hot water, just as if they were pigs being scalded in the village for hair removal. In his eyes, they were about to be butchered and turned into buns, or directly eaten!

He really wanted to run away and resist, but he just didn't dare—because someone had already tried it.

On both sides of them were strings of thin iron wire, seemingly fragile with small barbs on them, frighteningly sharp.

Someone had just freaked out from the scene of being "boiled alive" and tried to climb over those fragile iron wire loops to escape, only to end up hanging on them.

It was a gruesomely hopeless and desperate struggle, a person hanging on the barbed wire wailing for mercy, bleeding and blurring the more they struggled, unable to extricate themselves from the wire that resembled spider silk. In the end, some soldiers helped him down.

When he was finally taken down, the person only had the energy to moan, covered with dense wounds. Some areas had been torn repeatedly, which was chilling to the onlookers.

Having been a soldier himself and now over fifty years old, he closely examined the bloodstained wire and was so frightened that he gasped.

It seemed soft, but it left no leverage for the victim. Once caught, you couldn't tear or break free, and the barbs would dig into the flesh, incredibly vicious.

What was more terrifying was that because it was not stressed, it was also difficult to cut with an axe or sword, proving harder to climb over than a wall.

The disadvantage seemed to be that such material was incredibly expensive, requiring a large amount of steel, something ordinary people would not use on a large scale.

But when this old farmer looked at the endless iron wire fence, he sighed deeply, wondering what terrible place he had come to.

In the end, he had no choice but to stand before a huge wooden barrel, despondently monitored by a soldier, and get in.

It was indeed scalding hot water; the moment he entered the barrel, he felt as though he was being boiled alive. However, after a burst of stinging pain, a long-lost sense of relief followed. Find adventures at My Virtual Library Empire

Hair clippings floated on the surface of the water in the barrel. After soaking for a few minutes, he was finally allowed to stand up, then he walked, bare-bottomed, out of the barrel and awkwardly towards the next checkpoint.

Here there were only men, so everyone was stark naked, some skeletal with only skin and bones, and some still muscular and robust.

Following the crowd, the first stop was a stall full of underpants. Everyone was required to put on a pair, then take another pair, and continue to follow the flow of people.

Almost no one stayed here. Although the old farmer could write a few characters, he could not really be considered literate, so he continued walking forward.

After only a few steps, he heard someone yelling, "Blacksmiths! Those who understand metallurgy and have skills, come over here!"

The old farmer saw a robust man with his family stopping here. After a brief conversation, this family was allowed to walk down that fork.

"Those who know how to farm, come this way!" Soon, after passing several forks, the old farmer heard someone loudly asking for "farmers"—a word sensitive to him.

He raised his hand and shouted, "Me! I can farm!"

In his mind, he was sure he would be allocated to a landlord's property, becoming the landlord's slave, working the land for a lifetime.

But he really thought too much.

He and his daughter were quickly assigned to a barrack, which seemed to have been previously occupied by the border army of Zheng Country. Although only curtains separated the spaces, at least they were settled down, followed by a 10-day quarantine for disease prevention.

There they had two meals a day, rice and flour-based dishes they wouldn't have dared to dream of before. This quality of life was beyond their past expectations.

Previously, he only allowed himself two meals a day during the busy farming seasons, and his lean and gaunt daughter used to have only one meal a day.

It wasn't just his family that lived like this; in Chu Country, it was common for women in ordinary families to have only one meal a day.

Every day, someone sprayed unpleasant disinfectant in the camp, and without tiring, people confirmed each person's skills. Women were repeatedly asked whether they were willing to learn skills like textile work, while men were repeatedly confirmed on their willingness to join the national defense reserves.

When everyone thought these Tang People had gone mad, they were dispersed in groups and placed in various locations.

Only then did the old farmer realize that what had been repeatedly confirmed before truly affected their future lives.

He and his daughter were arranged to work on a farm, given their own small log cabin. They were then allocated a field that was neither good nor bad, and received well-crafted farming tools.

The next morning, an elder familiar with farming came with seeds to check if the newcomers really knew how to farm and to allocate seeds and assign tasks.

After the elder confirmed that the old farmer was indeed skilled in farming, he left behind plenty of seeds, along with ten days of rations, and departed.

This was the farm's rule, providing a maximum of ten days of rations to prevent newcomers from fleeing with the food.

After more than a month of turmoil and over thirty days of fear, the old farmer from Chu Country finally eased his mind.

Because his water jar at the door was now filled, and beside his plank bed leaned a bag of grain!

The last time his jar was full and there was rice under the hall was ten years ago. Back then, his wife was still alive, and he could still lift the heavy Shireck Flintlock Gun...