When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist-Chapter 644 - 605: Autumn Harvest Mutual Aid Team

The harvest season always passes so quickly; a week feels as relentless as Henderson's prostate, once it starts to move, it doesn't stop.

For Lalor, however, time accelerated to the extreme within that week.

Under a sky half-filled with sunset and stars, the neighboring wheat field still glowed with golden hues.

The farmers who once stole his wheat were still bending over, sweating profusely, swinging their sickles.

And yet, he stood motionless in front of the stubble, holding a sickle, while Ansel and Bryson were bundling the last sheaf of oats behind him.

Dusting off the dirt and grass flakes from their hands, Bryson and Ansel stood beside Lalor.

At that moment, Bryson looked at the empty wheat field before him, tired but inexplicably satisfied.

The 18-acre land was now completely harvested, and he had visited the lord's private plot several times in between.

At this point, there were still three weeks left before September; in the past, he'd be tirelessly running back and forth between the lord's land and his own.

For the first time, Lalor approached Ansel proactively and even shook his hand: "What do you want me to do? Just say it, as long as I can do it."

Lalor had prepared himself to accept the monk's preaching of the so-called Holy Path and perpetual lease rights.

But Ansel's response was unexpected: "We saved you two and a half weeks, subtract the week you'll work for the lord, and give you half a week to rest.

In total, seven days, if you have some free time, come work with me."

Thus, in the coming period, there was another pair of hands to help Ansel and Bryson in the fields.

Two days later, after they helped harvest the second poorest farmer's field, two more people joined Ansel and Bryson's team.

Everywhere they went, they operated in groups of five, four to harvest and one to bundle, managing to harvest 10 to 12 acres per day.

With the land already harvested by the farmers themselves, they could help a household lacking manpower finish harvesting all their wheat fields in about two days, using personal favors to keep them going.

By mid-August, following Ansel and Bryson, there were already 8 people, forming two five-person teams to help harvest, finishing about 20 acres a day.

In the week that followed, Ansel and Bryson's entourage grew by one or two people almost daily.

And Ansel took the opportunity to organize them into harvesting squads of five and let them elect their own team leaders.

In theory, some members of these harvesting squads had agreed to work for a week, others for three days, but eventually, almost no one left.

They realized that harvesting as a family unit was far less efficient than working in small teams.

Take harvesting, for example. Suppose two families each have 10 acres, with two or three laborers per family, laboring all day to harvest 2-3 acres, taking four or five days to finish.

If we follow Ansel's four-to-harvest, one-to-bundle method, we could finish yours in a day and mine the next, all done in two days.

The extra two or three days could be used to gather more hay or repair the house.

Not just harvesting; threshing, winnowing, gathering, and chopping firewood, or mending fences were all more efficient than handling these tasks individually by each family with just a couple of laborers.

Many even smacked their foreheads in regret: "Even wolves and foxes know to hunt together; why didn't we think to cooperate for farm work sooner?"

Though their promised labor time had passed, they still stayed in the squad to enjoy the benefits it brought.

Of course, when more people gather, issues are bound to arise.

During the population expansion, Ansel and Bryson dealt with several such disputes, where some were delaying or slacking off and were caught by others.

What kind of society is it, the mountain folk?

Once caught, social death is the least of concerns; with the mountain folk's fiery tempers, they'd circle and kick the lazy ones to the ground, and even if they kicked them to death, no one would defend them.

All Ansel had to do was calm the furious mountain people, then make a reasonable judgment and execute if unanimously agreed.

Unfortunately, Ansel and Bryson arrived a bit late, only coming in August, missing the mid-July soil loosening stage, and not all households needed help.

Ultimately, there were only 22 households in this "mutual aid group," making up about 30% of the manor farmers, and they were the poorest ones.

By this point, Bryson had to sincerely admit: "Where did you learn this trick? The previous village priest couldn't even step out of the church."

Ansel had just gone with other farmers to clear the irrigation channels during a lull. He was covered in mud, his face smeared, resembling the resurrected Nikosaks.

Hearing Bryson's comment, Ansel turned around, walking backward as he grinned with a mouth full of white teeth amid the black muck: "The Priestly Order in Langsande County summarized this experience while promoting the Hundred Households District, I merely adapted it."

"Tonight, let's call everyone over and establish this harvesting squad. You've completed the first step, haven't you?"

Ansel shook his head: "Still at the first step..."

Just as he spoke, Bryson frowned. It wasn't that Ansel had a problem, but a loafer following Henderson was approaching head-on.

A bad premonition arose in Bryson's heart.

With bright eyes, Ansel, who was facing away from the main road, was about to explain, but another foot suddenly inserted in front of him.

Caught off guard, Ansel staggered, unable to even cry out, and suddenly fell to the side.

There happened to be a patch of thorn bushes wrapped in a fence.

"Hey!" Bryson was shocked, immediately reaching out to grab, but it was too late. Ansel fell back into the thorns.

The thorns instantly pierced his skin and clothes. Although Ansel adjusted his posture, a hand-long wound quickly appeared on his cheek and arm.

Crimson blood dripped to the ground, and the loafer's insincere voice followed: "Oh dear, sorry, isn't this Brother Ansel? I didn't even recognize you."

"Bullshit." Supporting Ansel to sit up, anger appeared in Bryson's eyes for the first time. His finger pointed at the loafer was trembling, "Didn't see Brother Ansel or me?"

"How could you say that?" The loafer's expression was extremely sincere, even with a hint of grievance, "I didn't see clearly, accidentally bumped into—this outfit, I thought it was some beggar—"

"Aminias! (*Mountain County slang, from Beastman)"

"Ugh—"

The loafer hadn't even finished speaking when his waist was struck forward, and Bryson even heard the crisp sound of bones dislocating.

Amidst the flying dust, with a scream like a butchered pig, the loafer suddenly lunged forward, landing prone in front of Ansel.

"Ah—" Clutching his lower back, his whole face scrunched up like a giant maggot writhing on the ground, "Who, who dares to attack me?"

Others may not have seen it clearly, but Bryson did.

After Ansel fell, Lalor started sprinting from five to six meters away and delivered a flying kick directly to the loafer's buttocks.

The kick even tore the seams of the vest on the loafer.

Struggling from the ground, the loafer tried to stand up, but as soon as he lifted his head, several hairy calves filled his vision.

He hadn't even seen clearly when his fingers were stepped on repeatedly by the farmers.

The screaming hadn't even stopped when a knee hit his cheek and nose bridge, and bright red nosebleed flowed down, the farmers' mocking voices ringing in his ears.

"Oh dear, who's there? Almost tripped me up."

"No idea, I saw something black lying there, thought it was a dog."

"Some stray dogs don't even know their owner."

After being kicked repeatedly, the loafer finally clutched his back and got up, his face twitching in pain.

Still he stubbornly said, "Who kicked me? Who? Who kicked me? Come forward, let's duel!"

The farmwomen stopped herding chickens and ducks, farmers stopped carrying straw, and the area became quiet.

Even after asking several times, none of the farmers answered, and Lalor was long hidden behind the crowd.

The loafer was still glaring around fiercely, but every pair of eyes he met was cold or mocking.

For some reason, a strange fear enveloped his heart. He glanced around before stubbornly saying, "Don't let me catch you, I know who it is! Today I'm in a good mood, won't bother with you."

With that, he painfully grit his teeth and limped away along the path out of the area.

After he left, the remaining villagers immediately cast concerned glances at Bryson and Ansel, with several nearby farmers swiftly coming up to help. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

Turning to look at the villagers surrounding Ansel with questions and then at the retreating loafer, Bryson had to admit, Ansel had truly turned the situation around.

Could it really be hopeful? Though there were only over 20 households, it seemed they finally had allies.

Leaning close to Ansel, Bryson lowered his head and spoke in a hushed tone: "Is this considered the second step?"

"Still a long way to go." Ansel shook his head and raised a finger.

"Still the first step?" Bryson scratched his head, "When will you reach the second step?"

"Have to wait for something important to be delivered." Though his face was muddy and bloody, Ansel's gaze towards the estate was particularly bright.