Don't Mess with That Dragon-Chapter 669 - 057 Work

Above in the sky, the sun was like an enormous furnace, emitting endless heat.

Since early spring of this year, not a drop of water had fallen from the sky, and the vast drought had left everything in sight scorched yellow.

On the huge and noisy construction site, Bill stretched lazily, easing his weary muscles.

Beside him,

his fellow refugees, who had once been refugees like him, were working fervently, using their iron hoes and spades to dig into the dry and hard ground, forming a channel that stretched into the distance.

As long as they dug through this channel and led the river water from afar, the drought in the village fields could be alleviated, just in time to plant another crop before the cold winter.

Although he had been working in this scorching weather all morning, drenched in sweat and exhausted, Bill's heart grew ever warmer.

Because it was almost time for lunch.

The aroma of food from the canteen was wafting through the breeze, tempting his rumbling stomach.

"This Kingdom is truly wealthy, thanks to the great His Highness Austin!"

Honest Bill silently recited a phrase in his heart, secretly grateful for the benevolence of His Highness.

About ten days ago, Bill's family, along with a massive wave of refugees, moved south, struggling to survive along the way, and finally, as their food was about to run out, they entered the territory of the Blue Dragon Kingdom.

Initially,

when passing through the countryside, seeing those tall, hairy Beastmen, Bill's group was anxious, and some families with children even made the kids cry.

Fortunately, those Beastman adults did not trouble them.

After distributing some unknown, crispy dry food to everyone, they organized them all and sent a human official to ask if they wanted to continue south or try to make a living here, registering them in the process.

Those who continued south were probably people who had relatives somewhere in the Blue Dragon Kingdom and wanted to seek refuge there.

The Blue Dragon Kingdom officials didn't make things difficult and directly supported them with some dry food to continue their journey south. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

As for Bill and others who had no connections and were merely fleeing, they chose to stay here and be organized by the Beastman adults.

After undergoing some disinfection,

simple adaptation training for a few days, and rudimentary indoctrination, they were integrated into the work crews to repair the water facilities in the nearby village fields.

Their food was directly provided by the Beastman adults.

In short, after tossing about for a few days, Bill's family was finally temporarily settled here.

During the day, he and his wife separated to work with their respective groups, while Little Bill gathered with other children under supervision, and at night, the family stayed together in their assigned simple housing.

The daily collective work was exhausting, even more so than the work Bill used to do.

But as for returning to the life they had before, Bill was absolutely unwilling.

Absolutely, extremely unwilling.

Because,

here, meals were served three times a day,

once in the morning, once at noon, and once in the evening.

Moreover,

every meal was genuine food, without any wood chips or tree roots mixed in, and there was no limit; you could eat as much as you wanted!

God knows, after learning about this, how ravenously Bill devoured his first meal here.

As if he were trying to make up for all the meals he had missed before.

Nearly bursting his stomach!

If it weren't for the brief training at the start that allowed their bodies to recover over a few days, such binge eating might have cost lives.

One could hardly blame Bill and the others.

The waves of disaster victims gathered here were basically impoverished peasants who fled with nothing, surviving on merely two meals a day, barely half-full.

Even if they wanted to eat more, they couldn't, because without careful rationing, their food supplies wouldn't last until the next harvest season.

Moreover,

the staple food for these lower-class people at each meal was mostly small amounts of unhulled wheat or millet mixed with lots of wild vegetables, bark that could be eaten, all boiled into a green paste.

One can imagine the taste.

The infamous black bread mixed with wood chips, hard as sticks, was a 'delicacy' only occasionally enjoyed during festivals.

For these perpetually hungry peasants, those shelled, skinned, white grains provided by the Beastman adults, unlimited in quantity, and even occasionally featuring bits of meat, felt like living in paradise.

Despite the hard work, how could they complain?

For these struggling peasants, the greatest happiness was simply to eat their fill, to satiate their stomachs—it was all so simple.

But then again,

the current projects were about to be completed,

once the work was done, would they still be able to eat their fill?

Maybe during lunch, he should do like the others,

secretly stash some food, let it dry, and save it for a rainy day?

Bill suddenly felt anxious.

In fact, some people did exactly that, storing surplus food, drying it out to become preserved rations in preparation for any unforeseen changes.

It's typical peasant mentality, but understandable.

Those who haven't experienced famine find this behavior incomprehensible, but Bill, being a lower-class farmer, understood it well—everyone was just emerging from a hand-to-mouth existence, naturally worried about facing such situations again.

"It shouldn't be, the great His Highness Austin is so benevolent, he wouldn't abandon us,"

Bill thought,

and after just a few breaths of rest, he continued to tackle the dry, hard soil in front of him, working together with the others to dig out the channel.

Using iron tools now, Bill found what used to be arduous work to be surprisingly easy.

The great His Highness Austin allowed them to use such valuable iron tools, showing that they were valued, and surely they would be able to continue making a living under his rule.

Thinking this way, Bill felt much lighter at heart.

Iron, to these lower-class farmers, was certainly a precious commodity, so precious that many farms owned only a single thick kitchen knife.

Everyone knew iron tools were more efficient, but most lower-class people couldn't afford them and had to rely on wooden implements.

A kitchen knife could even be the most precious possession of a farming household.

In recent years, among the Southern Countries, the Blue Dragon Kingdom had been selling iron goods extensively, and by far the best-sellers weren't the bright, sharp, newly-forged knives, but rather thick knives resembling cleavers with no advanced technology involved.

Even though both had the same price,

sales of the latter far exceeded those of the former.

Because to many lower-class rural households, the latter contained twice as much iron.

At the same price, it was like striking a bargain.