Chapter 703.2 Sneaky Bastards in Port Gallon

Seeing the four iron men in exoskeletons, the dozen or so ragged survivors were visibly frightened. They had just taken whippings from the Xilande Empire’s men and had no desire to take another beating from these iron monsters.

Yet no one ran. Staring at the rifles slung across their chests, their legs felt as heavy as lead, even though the guns’ safeties weren’t off and they weren’t chambered.

As everyone stood in uneasy silence, one of the exoskeleton-clad men stepped forward, and suddenly pulled out a cigarette case.

“Have a smoke and calm down. I don’t need to teach you how to smoke, right?” No Family said in halting Federation language, grinning as he handed a cigarette to each person.

On the wasteland, cigarettes were considered hard currency, second only to bullets and alcohol, sometimes even more valued than bread. Most importantly, they were easy to carry.

He didn’t smoke much himself, but he always brought a few packs on missions. They worked better than money at lowering local people’s guard.

The locals might be so poor they had to eat dirt every few days, but tobacco leaves and pepper weren’t rare. Some even processed and smoked their own leaves, or sold them for household income.

The survivors held the cigarettes under their noses and took a tentative sniff, immediately recognizing what they were. Their faces filled with astonishment.

They had never seen such fine cigarettes in their lives, and they were reluctant to even smoke them.

No Family thoughtfully pulled out a lighter and lit them all, sparing them the dilemma.

After leading the dozen people into an alley to smoke for a bit, No Family smiled and asked, “You folks worked pretty hard today. How much are those wolf bastards paying you?”

At that, the survivors’ faces darkened. One man cursed outright. “Pay? Those stingy bastards don’t pay at all!”

Several others quickly chimed in.

“Exactly!”

“Forget paying us, they’re doing us a favor if they don’t steal our stuff!”

“Damn it, they even took my dirt basket...”

As they spoke, several pairs of eyes kept drifting toward the lighter in the iron man’s hand, full of envy and longing.

No Family put on a surprised expression. “They don’t pay you? Then why do you help them dig?”

The blunt man replied bitterly, “Not only do they not pay us, we have to bring our own food!”

No Family pressed further. “Then why don’t you just refuse to go?”

The group shook their heads. “We can’t. They’ve taken over the red earth. If we don’t go, we won’t have any soil to eat.”

“They’re short on manpower, so they come grabbing people nearby. We all live here and we still have to go.”

“And if they come knocking, who knows what’ll happen.”

“My three daughters are already grown.”

“Those damn bastards!”

“Hope they end up buried in red soil themselves!”

The survivors complained over one another, growing angrier by the second.

No Family’s eyes flicked about as he listened. Suddenly he broke into a grin. “How about this? They don’t pay you, I will!”

The people in the alley froze, staring at him in confusion.

“You... you’ll pay us?”

“That’s right,” No Family nodded with a smile. “But remember, we’re paying extra, so you’ve got to work even harder! Starting tomorrow, dig like hell. If they tell you to dig a meter and a half, you dig two meters. If they tell you two meters, you dig two and a half! Give them an extra 50 centimeters for free!”

Several survivors were stunned.

The man who spoke first earlier eyed No Family with suspicion. “You really gonna pay us?”

No Family laughed. “Of course! Not only that, we pay daily! 20 Xilande Coins per person!”

20 Xilande Coins!

The group’s eyes widened.

They didn’t believe such good fortune would fall on their heads, but the cigarette dangling from their lips made them believe at least a little.

Maybe these iron men really didn’t lack money?

A young Ratfolk swallowed hard. “Is... is everyone included?”

No Family smiled. “Absolutely. Everyone’s treated the same.”

Someone else asked, “Can we bring more family members?”

No Family replied readily, “No problem. We pay by headcount... ah, but kids don’t count, we don’t include those under the age of 12. Tomorrow at first light, we’ll count you guys right here. As long as you do what we say, you get paid!”

His eyes darted, and he added, “You can help me recruit people. For every extra person you bring, we’ll give you another five coins. But keep this quiet. If those guys outside find out, forget the money, you might even lose your lives.”

Instead of fear, excitement spread across the survivors’ faces at his words.

No Family agreed on the time and place to distribute the money with them on the map, then sent them on their way.

The next morning, while it was still dim, more than 1,000 people gathered on the northern outskirts of Port Gallon and headed toward the Gray Wolf Army’s positions.

Seeing the dark mass approaching, the soldiers on sentry duty panicked, thinking the New Alliance was attacking, until the crowd drew closer and they realized it was just a swarm of settlement residents.

“Why are you here?!” the soldier shouted.

Several of the survivors at the front shouted back with righteous indignation.

“We’re here to work!”

“Your officer sent us!”

“He told us to come again today, said if we didn’t show up he would come into the settlement and grab us!”

“Hurry up and let us work!”

Hearing the overlapping shouts, the sentries were stunned, staring at the crowd in confusion. Unsure what to do, they quickly sent one man back to report to their superior.

At that moment, their superior was snoring loudly inside the artillery shelter that had been dug the day before. When he was shaken awake, he looked bewildered and hurriedly fumbled for the cap hanging by his bunk.

“The New Alliance is attacking?!”

“No,” the soldier said rapidly as he watched the officer pull on his boots. “A group of Port Gallon residents showed up at the positions. They say you ordered them here, to dig the earth...”

The officer froze for two seconds, stopped tying his laces, then nodded. “Oh. That thing. What about it?”

Now the soldier was the one who froze, not knowing what to say. Eventually, he eked out, “Then...”

“Hand out shovels and picks. Tell them where to dig and how to dig, do I need to teach you that? Damn it, making a fuss over this kind of thing. If the New Alliance attacks, then you wake me up!” Cursing, the officer kicked off the boot he had just jammed his foot into, tossed his cap back onto the bunk, and rolled over to lie down again.

He had gone to sleep after 3:00 in the morning and was dead tired. Waking him up over such a trivial matter was just inconsiderate!

After taking a scolding, the soldier looked aggrieved. Seeing that the officer was already snoring again, he had no choice but to jog off to find the logistics officer in charge of the frontline positions and distribute digging tools to the survivors.

Once they had tools in hand, the survivors immediately got to work, sweating profusely. Their effort looked nothing like the day before.

By the time the sun was high, the whip-carrying overseers arrived at the positions, only to discover in surprise that their whips were useless.

“How strange.”

“Since when did these animals get so diligent?”

Several overseers gathered together, curiously watching the group bent over in the trenches, sweat pouring off them. One couldn’t resist stepping up to ask, “This is rare. Why are you working so hard today?”

The survivor digging didn’t even look up, shouting back over his shoulder.

“Sir, if we slack off we get whipped. In the end we still have to work.”

“Yeah, sir. We’re afraid of pain.”

“Get the work done early, and once the fighting’s over, we won’t have to suffer anymore.”

Those lines were taught to them by the people paying them.

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