My territory is filled with block creations.

Chapter 36 What's the name of that village you mentioned?

Lester didn't consider himself a person of high moral character. Even if he had a little bit of basic morality, it wouldn't be of much use when his life was in danger.

Otherwise, he wouldn't have so directly and without any discussion taken the knife and killed the belt thief.

As for his personal morality, it wasn't very good either. His understanding of the so-called task of guarding the slave warehouse assigned to him by Baron was very superficial; it was simply to make the other slaves in the warehouse too afraid to move.

However, he couldn't fight more than 50 people by himself, even with a dagger, so he naturally chose an easy target with whom he had a slight conflict.

She was the woman who insulted him after he killed the belt thief, and then he knocked her unconscious with a dagger.

There was a little thought behind choosing that person. At least when I was in the crowd at the beginning, I could tell from their conversation that the woman was not from the same village as the other slaves in the slave warehouse. You could say that she was one of the few people in the warehouse, just like me.

outsider.

Normally, these two outsiders would probably form an alliance, but unfortunately, the woman either has a mental disability or has some connection with the belt thief.

In short, judging from her foul mouth, she probably had no intention of forming an alliance with me. Since she wouldn't ally with me, I could only be a pushover. And then…and then she ran away…

You could say that you're just a coward who's afraid of death, bullies the weak and fears the strong, and has no redeeming qualities. But now, in order to continue to eke out a living, it wouldn't be a problem for you to pick up an axe and chop down hard.

Lester looked at the little brat lying on the wooden table in front of him, his hand involuntarily reaching for the axe, then raising it high and gently bringing it down.

Barron wasn't surprised at all when he saw Lester raise the axe and then give up.

If Lester could do such a bastardly thing without even a moment's mental preparation, without batting an eye, then I really wouldn't dare to take this guy under my wing. He's either crazy or has been plotting something all along.

The current reaction is relatively normal and easier to control.

All that's needed now is to give him a little time to get over that hurdle in his heart, or perhaps he'll be smarter and come to me seeking another way to prove his loyalty. I'm not some devil, so maybe I'll agree if I'm in a good mood.

Ah, I really am a wise and capable leader.

Although Baron thought this to himself, he still wore an unhappy expression: "What's the meaning of standing here without moving?"

Lester looked at Baron in front of him with an innocent gaze; at this moment, the distance between them was exactly one meter.

And coincidentally, he happened to have an axe in his hand.

Just as he was mentally preparing himself to smash the man's jaw to pieces with an axe from top to bottom, Baron spoke up again.

"I'll give you some more time to think it over. I'll come back after sunset. Either I want to see a disabled little kid, or I want to see you disabled."

With Baron and his guards leaving the warehouse, Lester and the boy lying on the table escaped unscathed for a moment.

The atmosphere in the warehouse was a bit off. For some reason, Lester felt that someone was secretly watching him. He immediately looked up and saw the group of slaves huddled together.

"What's wrong?" Lester asked.

"Can you put him down? He's from our village," one of the slaves said timidly.

Lester raised an eyebrow: "From your village?"

The slave nodded: "But his parents are gone, and he's an idiot, so..."

"So you two have a good relationship?" Lester's mind raced for a moment before he suddenly asked this question.

"His parents died fighting off goblins, so we definitely have to take care of that child," the villager said hastily, as if afraid Lester wouldn't believe him.

To be honest, Lester didn't seem to really believe it. At least when Barron threw the axe in front of him, telling him to chop the boy into a cripple, not a single one of the villagers dared to say a word.

Lester bluntly revealed his feelings, even as if that wasn't enough: "I don't really believe you, after all, you didn't do anything just now."

"We...we can't do anything," one slave said. Then another, even more timid voice rang out, "We're just slaves. What can we do to that merchant? He has guards."

Lester's head, which had been slowly turning, seemed to be propelled and sped up by this sentence, as if he knew how to continue the conversation.

Thinking of this, he pressed his ear against the warehouse door and listened for a while, only continuing after confirming that there was no breathing outside.

"But they only have eight guards in total, while we have nearly fifty. Are his guards all capable of taking on ten men each?"

After Lester finished speaking, the group of slaves opposite him stirred a bit, but soon a man who was neither particularly clever nor stupid spoke up again.

"But even if we do manage to escape, where can we go? Our Langg Village has been destroyed by goblins, and our village isn't recognized in the noble lord's register. We have nowhere to go if we escape, are we to become slaves or savages?"

Lester loved this question-and-answer style of communication because it made him feel that his not-so-bright mind could accomplish certain tasks to the fullest extent.

"You can come to my village. Our lord has led us to plant an endless expanse of wheat, and everyone can eat bread until they are stuffed. There are also magical machines that continuously produce cotton thread, which can be used to weave cloth and make clothes."

"The lord would personally make tools and beds for us, work alongside us, repair the holes in our houses, and even personally give me my belt!"

It must be said that although Lester's eloquence was not very good, the fact that he said everything was true made up for it with his sincerity.

However, the group of slaves in front of them still couldn't believe it. After all, they knew what kind of person their village chief was, let alone a lord who controlled an entire territory.

He does no work every day but eats and lives in the best conditions, and has almost monopolized all the resources of the village. If a village chief is like this, how can a lord be a good person?

Fortunately, they hadn't had a good life before, and now that they were slaves, things couldn't get any worse.

At least if what this person in front of them is true, then they really have a chance to become free again, right? It's tough, but they're used to it.

Lester watched as the villagers huddled together, crickets chirping as they discussed their plan. Finally, one of the bolder ones raised his head and said, "Okay."

Lester instinctively wanted to scream, but he managed to hold it back. Just then, another untimely voice rang out.

"By the way, what's the name of that village you mentioned?"

"........."