CHAPTER 817: CHAPTER 817: BEATEN TO THE PUNCH?

If we were to rank the moral standards of the various factions within the army, the Civil Official Group around His Excellency the Marshal would undoubtedly rank at the top.

While the Eastern Legion was still contemplating how to extract the last drop of oil from contract slaves, the Civil Official Group had already referenced the colonial management methods of the Southern Legion to devise a "systematic" way to convert contract slaves into debt slaves.

Don’t think of this as anything evil. Considering the context of the Wasteland era, turning people from livestock into commodities could definitely be considered a "benevolent act."

The poor in the Bugra Free State might at most complain about the long advertisement times when opening the fridge and the inhuman iris scanning devices, while the slaves in Poluo Province would probably be bewildered upon hearing their grievances, questioning what fridges and advertisements are, and why wasting 75 seconds of life doesn’t cost money?

In any case, although the civil officials in Triumph City didn’t let the survivors of West Sail Port use fridges, they at least opened a window in their hopeless lives.

These civil officials first cooperated with the nobles of Lion State, leasing their slaves for a monthly rent of 50 dinars from the noble race. At the end of each month, they would also give those slaves an additional "reward" of 50~150 dinars.

How much they could earn was purely dependent on their performance in work.

Of course, this money would not be stuffed into the slaves’ pockets, but would be recorded in their accounts, and they could redeem themselves and their families once they saved enough money.

Once these slaves redeemed themselves, they could be considered skilled workers, not only possessing rich work experience but also being more motivated in their work.

The Legion would continue to employ them for work, and the original reward would become their monthly salary.

For the Weilante people, the wages they paid these people did not change, and they even saved the 50 dinar monthly rent paid to the nobles, equivalent to hiring a more skilled labor force at a lower cost.

For the nobles, the amount of work the slaves did did not affect their income. Although selling skilled workers was somewhat a pity, the one thousand dinar redemption fee was not a loss, equivalent to a one-time buyout of 20 months of income.

Moreover, they could still earn a sum through the Labor Registration Bureau, a repackaged labor intermediary.

The only ones losing out were those free citizens.

Previously, they lived and ate on the nobles’ estates, but now everything depends on themselves...

...

West Sail Port.

Unlike the usual bustling and sweaty activity, today the atmosphere on the docks was eerily unusual.

A dark crowd squeezed into the port, blocking the entire road from the dock to the warehouse, their faces filled with repressed anger.

They were the first batch of workers who came to West Sail Port, each brick of this port was drenched with their sweat and blood. However, these people were not just content with trampling those bricks underfoot, they also trampled on their only bit of dignity and hope.

Orisa was not the first laborer to die at West Sail Port, nor was he the first free citizen to die on the job, yet his death was like the last straw that broke the camel’s back, making all the free citizens at the port completely outraged!

Why have they borne their burdens like donkeys all along?

Is it not for that piece of paper that proves they are free citizens?

Humans are creatures that live on hope. When there is hope, even eating dirt is bearable.

"As long as you work diligently, freedom is within reach" was like a carrot dangled before them. For this carrot, and so their families could also eat this carrot, they endured the overseers’ whips and insults, fell into lifelong illnesses, and even broke their backs...

But the lords of West Sail Port yanked that carrot from before their eyes, slamming their only hope to the ground.

What if they got it?

Does having that paper mean they can’t be controlled?

In the end, it was all the same. The true free citizens of West Sail Port were those who didn’t need a paper to prove their freedom at all.

No one would ask the Weilante people for that thing, nor would anyone ask the nobles for it, not even the pastors of Silver Moon Bay or the merchants of the Southern sea area needed it, likely due to some agreements with the Sticky Community.

Orisa spent a thousand dinars to redeem himself, and an unknown sum to redeem his family, possibly even borrowing some from the Weilante people.

Yet his death compensation was a measly eight hundred dinars!

Eight hundred!

At the worst 1:5 exchange rate, it wasn’t even equivalent to 200 silver coins!

This money couldn’t repay debts, nor could it sustain his family for long.

Once he was buried in the ground, his family would either repeat his fate or follow in his footsteps.

Or—

They would have to sell themselves again and start another desperate cycle.

If the new winds of the Wasteland never blew here, the people here might continue to bear their burdens and endure everything, perhaps only until the moment they entered the grave would they awaken, and in an instant, the pain might even be a kind of happiness.

However, unfortunately, the merchant ships from the east brought not only wealth and technology.

But also the ideas that awaken everything.

These free citizens standing here may not recognize many words, but from the pastors from Silver Moon Bay, they already knew of a settlement thousands of kilometers away called Giant Stone City, and an Awakener named Pol.

The strength of one person is insignificant, yet when half a million survivors unite, even walls hundreds of meters tall will tremble, and skyscrapers a thousand meters high will collapse!

The survivors in West Sail Port amounted to not just half a million, but a full million!

Inspired by the power of example, the people who previously scattered at the sound of gunfire had once again united...

They had enough of those lies.

They would rely on their own hands to fight for their rights.

Faced with the ever-growing crowd, Nagi broke out in cold sweat, but still mustered the courage to shout at them.

"What are you crowding here for! Hurry and get to work... or are you itching for a beating again!"

The people didn’t speak, nor did they provoke the soldiers of the Weilante people like last time, but merely stood there in silence, watching him with their eyes.

Feeling uneasy under the countless gazes, Nagi swallowed nervously, his right hand holding the whip trembling uncontrollably, as if suffering from muscle weakness, unable to bring it down.

At least twenty or thirty thousand people gathered here, numbers ten times those of the day before yesterday.

Not only were these people not working themselves, but they also completely blocked the path back to the warehouse.

The entire port now resembled a broken alarm clock, with unloading operations grinding to a complete halt.

If he couldn’t finish unloading all the goods on the dock before nightfall, the Weilante shipowners and the local nobles would all come looking for trouble for him!

Just imagining the scene brought cold sweat to Nagi’s forehead as he looked imploringly at the nearby port guards.

The guards were whispering with one another, seemingly discussing countermeasures.

"Why not disperse these people first?"

"But the docks still need them for work."

"But they’re just getting in the way staying here now."

"But without them? With those slacking slaves, we won’t finish till tomorrow."

"The governor instructed us to ensure the production order here... We need to find a way to get them back to their workstations, and make them work obediently."

The captain of the guards glanced at the group of workers, with his brows tightly furrowed.

Previously, he had underestimated this bunch. Though they were timid like mice, they weren’t entirely useless.

For example, they were cunning enough.

In other Weilante people’s colonies, cases of "freemen" strikes had occurred as well, but those usually happened under circumstances where debt interest and income were completely imbalanced. It was rare during the initial transition phase of contract slaves to debt slaves.

This should have been the honeymoon period for both parties.

Yet it seemed as if someone had told them how this scam would develop next, and they suddenly awoke from an illusory dream.

Moreover, they learned the worst habit of striking.

They could drive these people from one cage to another with guns, but they couldn’t force them to work enthusiastically.

And whenever it came to this, even the Weilante people could only make some compromises by weighing the pros and cons.

Unfortunately, the governor went back to Triumph City to celebrate the New Year, probably still floating at sea now.

The captain of the guards strode up to Nagi, looking at the latter’s pale face, and said in a commanding tone.

"...This stalemate is not a solution, go talk to them and see how you can get them back to work."

Nagi hurried back to the crowd, trying to pick up the usual domineering expression, but couldn’t muster the fierce confidence, eventually lowering his stance and said kindly.

"What good is it just standing here? What exactly do you want? At least give me an answer!"

With the support of his companions, a worker stepped out, staring at him intently.

"One of our Orisa is dead."

Nagi gritted his teeth and said.

"We’ve already given compensation, what more do you want!"

The worker angrily said.

"...It’s too little! 800 dinars is nowhere near enough for his family to survive in West Sail Port!"

"Then go back to the countryside—" Nagi just opened his mouth to retort but was angrily interrupted by the other.

"Stop playing dumb, the fertile land of Lion State is covered with plantations, where is there land for them to survive!"

This statement resonated with many, especially those who used to work in the plantations.

If they really had a choice, they wouldn’t have come to this wretched place to toil.

They have farming skills, but unfortunately, there is simply no land for them to cultivate.

"That’s right! They don’t have a home to return to!"

"Do you want Orisa’s wife and daughter to go back to his former master’s plantation!"

"Then why did we buy our freedom! It all ends up the same in the end!"

The noise grew louder and louder, and people’s emotions became increasingly agitated.

Nagi suddenly panicked and shouted desperately.

"What do you want then? Are we supposed to support them for life? On what grounds!"

At that moment, the crowd erupted in an uproar, their gazes growing even angrier.

"On what grounds!"

"Just because Orisa died while working for you!"

"We’ve shed blood and sweat for this port, why isn’t there a place here for us!"

"That’s right! We not only want justice for Orisa! We want justice for ourselves too!"

"Our wages must go up!"

"Either pay us at least 10 dinars a day! Or allow us to organize and contract the dock ourselves! Fair competition for everyone, the more we work, the more we get paid, we won’t cling to you!"

The whole dock roared with the workers’ angry voices, even the slaves wanting to squeeze through the crowd couldn’t help but stop.

Listening to those increasingly outrageous demands, Nagi felt a chill up his spine.

This bunch of outlandish demanders!

dinars a day!

That’s 300 a month! Double the previous maximum wage!

Just moving a few boxes for this much money, why don’t they just rob!

As for letting them organize and contract the dock themselves, that’s even more impossible.

It’s not just a matter of interests, there are more thorny issues involved.

Neither the Weilante people nor the nobles would agree to let this bunch of lower-class people organize themselves.

If today they dare ask to contract the dock, tomorrow they’d dare ask to contract the city hall, bank, and post office altogether!

By then, whose name would West Sail Port bear? The name of this bunch of rats?

Nagi’s brow twitched fiercely, mustering all his strength, he shouted at the crowd.

"Are you crazy! Do you know what you’re asking for? Why don’t I just give you this port!"

"Then give it to us!"

The worker standing at the front of the crowd wasn’t intimidated at all, nor did he intend to back down.

As if hearing a very funny joke, Nagi let out a cold laugh and said.

"Give it to you? You’d ruin everything here in less than a day!"

The dock worker glared at him.

"Then let it be ruined, anyway, nothing here ever belonged to us!"

Seeing the crowd’s emotions getting more and more agitated, the Weilante guards standing aside finally couldn’t take it anymore.

The captain of the guards walked up to Nagi, pulled him aside, stared into his eyes, and said word by word.

"Are you a pig? I told you to negotiate conditions with them, to coax them back to work, not to quarrel with them! How should you do it? Do you need me to teach you?"

Seeing the Vellante people getting angry, Nagi hurriedly explained in distress.

"Sir, you don’t understand... You must not show them a good face! Once they get a taste of the sweetness, they’ll climb up your baton like snakes."

"I don’t understand?" The guard captain sneered, tapping his head with a smile, "How many colonies have you been to? You’ve only been a foreman for a few days and dare to talk to me like that?"

Nagi was sweating profusely, lowering his head with a pale face.

"I wouldn’t dare..."

The guard captain looked at this clueless guy with disdain, his expression growing more contemptuous.

He didn’t mind obedient dogs, but at least this dog should be of some use, right?

He had been a guard in the Southern Legion for over ten years and had many dealings with the local natives around the colonies. Although he hadn’t directly participated in the bigwigs’ games, he understood some basic consensus.

Whether it was the Southern Legion, the Civil Official Group, or those local native chieftains or nobles, they all preferred to fatten the cow before milking it.

This way, it’s good for everyone.

Yet these folks acted like they had never seen money before, eager to slit the cow’s throat with a knife, skipping the milking step, and directly drink the blood.

Having no patience for this guy’s enlightenment, the guard captain spoke in an indisputable tone.

"Raise the standard for death compensation, increase their wages, but don’t give it to them all at once; you can negotiate with them... you handle this yourselves. I have only one requirement: resume work as soon as possible and don’t let things get out of hand, or if the governor finds out, none of you will have a good outcome!"

Upon hearing these words, Nagi immediately looked pitiful, pleading.

"But Sir, our profit margin is already very thin. If we raise their wages, how will we make money?"

"Don’t take me for a fool!"

Seeing this guy still playing dumb, the guard captain couldn’t help but scold, pointing at his nose.

"You get paid based on the weight of the goods! The wages you pay them are not even a tenth of what you earn! What happens if you give out a tenth? The time and money you’ve wasted here are far beyond this amount! Do I need to teach you how to do business?"

The guard captain sighed at the foreman who was too scared to breathe deeply, and then spoke with a softer tone.

"...Be a little kinder to your fellow countrymen, don’t push them too hard, and don’t always think about winning the last dinar, or it won’t be good for anyone."

"Yes..."

Nagi reluctantly answered, though deep down, he didn’t consider these snake, rat, insect, and bird folks as his countrymen.

After all, he was a Lion Clan person.

Even if not a noble, he felt far more noble than these guys.

Prompted by the guard captain, he had no choice but to return to the crowd once more.

"...Thank the merciful governor! We can raise your wages! But don’t push it too far; how about eight dinars a day? That’s 240 a month! Damn it, I’m jealous of your wages, you could buy a little wife after five months of work!"

Hearing the wages increased to eight dinars a day, a slight division began to appear in the originally angry crowd, with some people’s eyes showing hope for life again.

Just as Nagi said, 240 dinars a month is quite a lot!

However, not everyone is so easily bought.

There were still quite a few people staring indignantly at the foreman pushed to the front.

"What about Orisa?"

Nagi gritted his teeth, thinking that since he had already promised a lot of money, a bit more wouldn’t matter, and he resolutely said,

"The labor registration office will give his family an additional 3000 dinars... but this money is not compensation; it’s entirely out of goodwill and generosity! Those who have bled and sweated for West Sail Port should not have their hearts discouraged; his family should be supported by West Sail Port!"

dinars was already a good amount!

Even with the increased wages, that was a year’s salary!

In the eyes of the crowd, there was finally a glimmer of hope, unexpectedly realizing that there were good people among these nobles, and some even whistled and applauded in praise.

This time, even those who were previously indignant began to show a slight division, with only a handful left glaring angrily.

Seeing the wavering crowd, Nagi continued with a soothing tone.

"Alright, disperse now. If you still want to get today’s wages, hurry back to work, or are you waiting for the gold coins to fall from the sky?"

The crowd gradually dispersed, and Nagi finally breathed a sigh of relief, although thinking about the money spent made his heart ache.

Hopefully, the master won’t blame him...

If blamed, he could only use the Vellante people as scapegoats.

He would say he had held the line, but it was the Vellante guards who forced him to raise wages.

Seeing the troublemakers return to work, the Vellante guards in formation at the port also disbanded, each tending to their own business.

Soon it would be the year’s end, and after the year-end comes the birthday. They had little interest in working and didn’t want to make trouble, as their minds had long wandered home.

The guard captain returned to the police station, first sending a "Crisis Resolved" telegram to Evernight Harbor via a dedicated line, and then reported the incident to the secretary of the governor’s office.

Governor Hue had gone back to Triumph City, taking half of the governor’s mansion’s guard with him. General McCullen and the instructors had gone to Evernight Harbor to board a ship recently, leaving only the port guard and a local town defense troop in West Sail Port, making the defensive strength unprecedentedly weak.

If possible, he hoped the governor’s mansion could borrow a team from the Southern Legion.

Even a Servant Army would do.

The problem, however, was that there were no ships on the entire route; any available vessels had been sent east by the Civil Official Group, making it difficult to bring people over...

Meanwhile, having finally resolved the matter, Nagi returned to the labor registration office and reported the port situation and wage increase to several major shareholders.

After getting a scolding, he hadn’t even caught his breath before seeing his subordinate rushing up in a hurry, shouting while running.

"Sir, something’s gone wrong!"

His seat wasn’t even warm yet when Nagi’s heart skipped a beat, and he stood up from his chair, cursing.

"What’s happened now? Didn’t I already raise their wages!?"

His subordinate, anxious and pale, spoke quickly.

"This, this time it’s not the dock; it’s the steel mill... and the cement factory. Upon hearing about the wage increase at the dock, all the laborers in the factories stopped working, demanding a wage increase too."

Hearing this, Nagi almost spat out a mouthful of old blood, cursing.

"These greedy vultures!"

Just as he expected.

He knew it would end up like this!

Those Weilante people have no understanding of the situation in the Poluo Province; these mud-legged folks can’t be spoiled. Once their days get comfortable, they’ll stir up these little troubles.

When the factory wages rise, the dockworkers might start clamoring, saying things like moving goods is harder work, so how can it be the same pay as those in the steel mill.

If this goes on, they won’t be making any money. Might as well just shut down all the port factories!

Nagi was so anxious that sweat was forming on his forehead, while the head of the labor office standing next to him frowned and mumbled softly.

"I keep thinking something’s not right about this; it’s like someone is stirring things up."

Nagi was entirely taken aback.

"Are you saying the Alliance?"

The head shook his head.

"That doesn’t seem like it; there’s no connection at all."

The Alliance’s merchant ships also come here to buy steel and cement; both Jinjaron Harbor and Potato Harbor have significant demands for building materials, as do the rebuilding Southern sea area and Haiye Province, among others.

Messing up West Sail Port doesn’t benefit them either, at most just giving the Army and the Empire a headache.

At this point, the servant who came to deliver the message suddenly had a thought, and quickly spoke out.

"Right, I heard that a few of those leading the trouble seem to be believers of the Silver Moon Church! Also, the few who were the loudest just now!"

Hearing this, Nagi was instantly enraged, swearing loudly.

"Are those religious nuts crazy!"

The head of the labor registry office’s eyes flickered slightly, speaking pensively.

"The doctrine of the Silver Moon Sect includes a credo of mutual help, the reason this matter got so out of hand... it really might be related to them."

The servant hurriedly continued speaking.

"Right! I always thought those religious nuts weren’t good people. By the way, I heard that Orisa is a follower of the Silver Moon Sect, and those leading the commotion this time often attend services with him."

Nagi’s eyes gradually narrowed, a barely noticeable hint of malevolence flickering in his gaze.

"So it’s because of this..."

This was indeed his oversight.

He almost forgot that a church is also a form of organization.

Not to mention that this Silver Moon Sect is not well-behaved, not only teaching those believers to read but also running some kind of newspaper.

Feeling as if he had grasped the root of the problem, he immediately began pondering over it.

"... I need to find a way to get rid of that church."

After hearing this, the head shook his head.

"This is not easy to accomplish... We cannot touch the people of Silver Moon Bay, they are residents of the Camel Hump Kingdom, protected by Sticky Community-related treaties. If we act without a reason, who knows what big trouble might arise."

"Why do it yourself..."

Nagi suddenly laughed sinisterly, speaking slowly and deliberately under the astonished gaze of the two.

"It was the residents of West Sail Port themselves who drove away the religious nuts, can’t pin that on us, right?"

...

Although the steel mill had quite a few orders, the work wasn’t as urgent as at the port.

Before the volunteer guards raised by the Weilante masters at the port took action, Nagi had already organized a "Long Stick Team" with about a hundred slaves borrowed from the labor office, not only promising them freedom and dinar rewards but also assuring them they wouldn’t be treated poorly in the future.

Hearing they’d be paid and valued by the masters, the slaves didn’t say a word and picked up sticks, dispersing the workers gathered and doing nothing.

Watching the rabble scatter in confusion, Nagi’s face revealed a ferocious, triumphant smile.

If they don’t work, they don’t work!

Worst case, close the steel mill for two days, see who starves first!

Having learned the hard lesson from the port, he knew he couldn’t hesitate with this; he must be tough when necessary, decisive when taking action.

It’s better to act early than late!

Even if some people die, it’s still better than having it blow up to the point where the Weilante masters each give you a beating.

After dealing with the trouble at the steel mill, Nagi replicated his method at the cement plant, instructing those loyal to his club to give the troublemakers a lesson too.

Under his vigorous actions, the powder keg-loaded West Sail Port seemed to finally regain its usual calm, yet appeared to be brewing a greater crisis in the endless greed...

In three days, with the dockworkers’ hard work in unloading, the cargo ships blocking the port were finally unloaded, and the dock became empty again.

The commercial teams, with the governor’s authorization letters in hand, rushed toward the legendary land of dreams — the distant eastern Haiye Province!

Meanwhile, Nagi, harried by the cargo handlers, finally breathed a sigh of relief.

The toughest days were over, and he finally had the time to get things done.

Whether it’s those striking workers or the Silver Moon Sect encouraging the workers to be lazy...

He swore he would make them pay the price!

As time passed day by day, West Sail Port seemed to fall silent for a period.

Meanwhile, the first commercial teams to set out from West Sail Port towards Death Coast gradually reached that coast of their dreams.

After floating on the sea for a full eleven days, Aryaman standing on the deck finally showed an excited expression when he saw the port on the coastline.

It’s the port!

They had finally arrived!

The nearest unit of the Eastern Legion was stationed just 100 kilometers from the coastline in Haibei City; as long as they took the governor’s letter to those people, they could acquire those arms sold by the pound!

"Quick! Dock the ship!"

Aryaman shouted to the sailors behind him, eagerly taking out his telescope.

Yet, the moment he pulled out the telescope and looked towards the coastline, he was dumbfounded.

He saw a row of pitch-black chariots neatly parked beside the containers, waiting for professional suspension equipment to load them onto the ship.

Each of those models—

Why do they look so familiar?