MoP: Ch. 181

---Third POV---

The player in charge of cooking puffed out his chest proudly.

"Of course it's good. Look at whose cooking this is."

The rye flour from the granary was unbelievably coarse. Not only did it contain bits of straw and wheat that hadn't been fully milled, there were even small stones mixed in. The player had spent most of his time just processing the ingredients, sifting and picking through everything. He'd even added quite a bit of homemade yeast powder. Only then had he managed to reduce the hardness from "literal stone" to something slightly softer than a compressed biscuit.

The player rapped on the pot's edge. "If you're going to eat, come get it. Stop staring."

The line began moving faster.

A hunched middle-aged man swallowed hard, staring at the thick soup steaming with vapor.

"Could I just have the bread?"

Compared to the thick vegetable soup, the black bread, already proven edible by the old woman, was far more appealing. The player immediately took out three baguettes.

"Next."

To his surprise, it actually worked. The woman behind him, her eyes dull with hunger, hurriedly spoke up.

"I want bread too."

"Sure."

"Me too."

Very quickly, more than half the black bread in the basket was gone. But the pot of steaming vegetable soup remained full, completely ignored. To avoid being robbed once they left the city gate, almost everyone who received food chose to find a spot nearby and eat on the spot.

The old woman who'd finished her black bread first found it too dry to swallow and finally reached for the vegetable soup.

Because the player had added dough lumps, the soup looked extremely thick and sticky.

She took the first bite. A strange light burst into her eyes.

"There's spice in this?"

In their eyes, seasonings like salt and pepper were extremely luxurious. Even the "better-off" residents in Nary Town's commoner district might only eat spiced food once a month. And The Watchers were giving it away for free?

It was sheer madness.

The old woman clutched her bowl and kept chewing, as if trying to force her tongue to remember the flavor forever. Suddenly, she bit into something even harder than the dough lumps.

This taste was...

She froze for several seconds, then without hesitation plunged her bark-like hand into the bowl. The nearby player saw this and immediately frowned.

"Hey, no wasting food."

The old woman didn't listen at all. She pulled out a strip of meat from the bowl.

"Meat. There's meat in it."

The strip was extremely thin, only about the length of a pinky finger joint. It was cured jerky the player had added for flavor. There wasn't much of it. But everyone's attention was instantly drawn.

"What?"

"You've got to be kidding."

This was even more shocking than the softened black bread. After all, no matter how soft black bread became, it could never compare to fine white bread.

But meat was truly a rare treasure.

Once they clearly saw the shred of meat in the old woman's hand, the refugee at the front of the line immediately changed his tune.

"No, I don't want bread anymore. Give me the vegetable soup. I want the soup."

"I only want the soup."

"I want both."

No matter what kind of scheme might be behind this so-called free food distribution, even if they died from overeating, it would be worth it. The crowd began showing signs of chaos again.

The players maintaining order grabbed civilians who had already taken black bread.

"Finish what you have before lining up again. Anyone who wastes food loses their place in line."

Even so, they barely managed to stop the starving masses from surging forward like zombies in a siege. Hedgehog was overwhelmed, shouting toward the front of the line through the crowd.

"Child, didn't you tell them today's menu?"

"I've told them hundreds of times already. They don't listen at all!" Child shouted back just as loudly.

The ladle in his hand moved so fast it left afterimages, and he kept repeating, "Don't rush. There's enough for everyone."

When he ran into someone who wouldn't listen, he even had to use force to drive them away.

"Your bowl can't hold any more. Finish it and then come back!"

After rejecting another civilian's request for seconds, he shouted toward the back.

"What about the next pot? I'm almost out of vegetable soup here!"

"Coming, coming. It'll be there in a moment."

Child scraped the pot walls and shouted back without even looking up. "Next!"

"I want a bowl of vegetable soup." A hoarse, weak voice came from the front.

He skillfully ladled out a scoop of soup, raised it, and aimed it toward the pair of hands cupped together like a bowl. He froze, then looked up to see someone actually trying to catch soup with bare hands.

It was a boy, seven or eight years old, filthy all over, his lips pressed together in nervous tension.

"You need your own container to get soup," he reminded the child.

The boy nodded and pushed his hands forward a little more. Child fell silent. People behind them were still shoving.

"No bowl and you want vegetable soup? Do you expect someone to prepare dishes and feed it straight into your mouth?"

The man flashed a fawning smile at Child.

"Sir, just give this brat a piece of bread and send him on his way. I want a bowl of vegetable soup."

The people behind him all chimed in.

"Exactly."

"Hurry up, I'm starving to death."

Only the boy stood at the very front, shrinking in on himself, his toes caked with layers of dried mud. His hands stubbornly refused to lower.

Child glanced at the steaming soup, poured out half a ladle, and tipped it into the boy's hands.

Then he shoved a piece of black bread at him.

"With your hands, this is all you can get."

The boy pulled his hands back gratefully.

"Thank you."

"Next."

The line moved extremely fast.

---

Viktor stood at a high vantage point, watching the line below grow shorter and shorter, feeling deeply satisfied.

"Looks like the players' cooking is pretty good."

Besides refugees struggling on the brink of starvation, there were also many observers in the line who had merely come to check the situation and weren't desperate for this meal. Being able to quickly win over these people required not just decent ingredients, but good flavor as well.

As pot after pot of large cauldrons was switched out, the big eaters in the crowd had already lined up for a second and even third time. Their bellies were swollen, and they sprawled on the ground, unable even to sit upright. It seemed the food distribution was nearing its end.

Suddenly, the ground began to rumble.

In the distance, clouds of dust rose half a meter high as a massive wave of refugees surged toward the city gate. New figures also appeared inside the city.

"Wait for me. I want to eat meat too."

"I want bread."

Child, who had just put down his ladle, showed an expression of despair.

"More people?"

What kind of superhuman could possibly serve thousands of mouths all by himself?

He would never again complain that cafeteria workers had shaky hands.

Viktor understood immediately. "The main group has arrived."

The first batch had only been testing the waters. Only after they ate without incident and carried the news back would the hesitant, largest middle group finally be brought in.

He looked at the refugee leader sprawled against the wall, burping loudly from overeating. The man had likely called over every refugee in the surrounding area.

With such powerful credibility and mobilizing ability, no wonder the players had chosen to cooperate with him first.

He was someone worth recruiting.

The number of people in the second wave coming to collect food far exceeded the estimated five thousand. The players could only light extra fires midway and add more dishes, even reaching a point where cooking couldn't keep up with the growth of the line.

Only when the last streak of orange-yellow on the horizon was about to fade did Viktor begin ordering the unattended teams to pack up their pots.

"Anyone lining up after this gets no more food."

If the refugees were allowed to keep coming endlessly, those in the first batch who were already full would be eating a second round by now. The food distribution was just a means. His real objective came afterward.

Viktor handed the flyers in his hand to the players.

"Post these on the city walls. Make sure to put them up both inside and outside."

The players moved quickly.

People who had only just managed to digest a bit of food and were preparing to get another serving of vegetable soup panicked when they saw the iron cauldrons being carried away.

"What's going on? We're not full yet."

Child dodged the hand reaching toward him, clearly bored with the complaint.

"There's no more today. If you want to eat, wait until tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" the other person pressed. "Will food still be handed out for free tomorrow?"

"Wait a little longer and you'll find out."

As Child spoke, he dragged the iron cauldron away and left at a brisk pace. When the last of the line dispersed and the food was completely gone, the players had finished putting up all the notices.

Without iron cauldrons or long queues, the city gate suddenly became empty. Suddenly, a white pillar of light shot into the sky, illuminating the entire city.

Except for the South Gate, translucent, water-mirror-like screens appeared in midair above the other gates. And within the screens stood an undead figure clad in black robes. It was as if a dull thunderbolt struck everyone's minds.

"An undead wearing clothes... Is that the Butcher?"

A full stomach and a comfortable life had numbed their brains. They had almost forgotten that the food they ate belonged to The Watchers.

Viktor ignored the anxious crowd below and shifted aside, allowing the former mayor of Nary Town to enter the frame.

"Good evening. I am Viktor, the new lord of Nary Town. Greedy ambition will ultimately be destroyed by desire. Nary Town must usher in a new order. For the next three days, as long as you can memorize the notices posted on the city walls, you may continue to receive food here. Three meals a day. Miss the time, and you miss the meal."

After these words were spoken, the water-mirror screen immediately dissipated, and the players quickly scattered.

For a moment, the crowd didn't react.

From the moment they heard that The Watchers were distributing food for free, they had guessed countless possible motives. They had come with anxious hearts, prepared for the possibility of death. And yet, after letting them eat their fill, The Watchers said a few words and simply left?

"What does this mean? Did the mayor offend The Watchers?"

"The notice says the mayor sold The Watchers' siren into an underground auction house."

"Abel must've gone mad. No wonder they came after him."

"You can read?"

"Just place your hand on the notice, and you can naturally understand what it says."

People of different backgrounds looked at one another, completely unable to fathom the black mage's intentions.

They could only take advantage of the magic before it faded to carry the news back. Yet, whether intentionally or not, everyone touched the notices on the wall a few times before leaving.

"You're saying The Watchers are handing out free food at the city gates, and all you need to do is memorize a few naive laws?"

"And the food is delicious too, with rare spices and dried meat?"

"Ridiculous. How could such a good thing exist in this world? Don't forget where the title 'Butcher' came from."

The refugees who had been discussing earlier turned their heads to look at the well-dressed city dweller mocking them with folded arms.

"You talk so much. Didn't you come too?"

The third man immediately flushed red.

"I'm only here to expose their conspiracy. The Watchers are infamous, hated by all, I..."

"The Watchers are coming," someone shouted from afar.

The third man instantly fell silent and took a long stride forward, joining the neatly formed queue. The first two glared at him furiously.

"As expected, scheming, deceitful city folk."

The third man ignored them completely. He had earned this head start with his own abilities. If anyone was to blame, it was the refugees for reacting too slowly.

---

The city gates opened.

Hedgehog pushed out carts piled high with food, and the line stretched as far as the eye could see. His mouth fell open.

"Why do I feel like there are even more people than yesterday?"

"Who says illiterate people have bad memories? Their memories are way too good."

Aside from describing how the former town mayor built an underground city, opened auction houses, and captured The Watchers' siren, the notices also contained the new version of Nary Town's laws prepared by Viktor. To make them easier for the natives to understand, the first edition included only the simplest ten articles.

They covered personal safety, fair trade, maintenance of public order, and so on. Though simple, they differed greatly from the natives' usual way of thinking. The fact that over a thousand people had memorized them overnight was astounding.

Garble was shocked. "With this many people, do we have enough food?"

Hedgehog chuckled.

"You just revived and haven't checked the granary yet, right? The mayor embezzled a ton of grain. There's enough to eat for a whole year."

NeverShowOff patted Garble on the shoulder.

"It's fine. The most important thing is extracting the strategy system. So, did you go see White Dove's siren?"

Garble sighed. "Next time, I suggest changing the question."

When the time came, the players naturally stopped chatting and began distributing the food.

Breakfast consisted of mixed-grain oatmeal. The oatmeal was made mainly from various grains, with dried fruits to enhance the flavor and texture.

"I want..."

"Wait." Child stopped him at the very front.

Because he had been ladling soup all night yesterday, he had switched tasks and was now responsible for testing people on their memorization of the notices.

"I'll ask you this. Bob and John were drinking in a tavern. Halfway through, they got into a dispute, and Bob, emboldened by alcohol, punched John and injured his nose."

"You've now arrested Bob. How should you sentence him?"

Without hesitation, the man replied, "Obviously hit him back. Cripple the hand Bob used to hit him."

The corner of Child's mouth twitched. "Wrong. Get out of line."

The first person was brimming with confidence.

"John obviously can't beat Bob. The weak have no voice. Let Bob go."

Child threw him out of the queue as well.

"Wrong."

"Then hit him lighter, just break Bob's nose too?"

"Arrest John too and let him file a complaint. More work for us."

Child pulled each of the speakers out of the line one by one.

"He should compensate the medical expenses, and Bob must work at the blacksmith's shop for three months."

"All of you, go back and reread the notice."

Behind him, Hedgehog, holding a ladle, laughed so hard his stomach hurt.

"Didn't you pick the most troublesome task again?"

Child stared numbly at the questions on the game interface and snapped back without turning around.

"In an hour, you'll behave yourself."

"Next."

The next person stepped forward confidently.

"I know this one. Pay the medical expenses."

"No, that was the previous question."

Child scrolled down the game interface.

"Bob encountered a robber at night. In the panic, he stabbed and injured the assailant, then immediately reported it to the guard unit. In this situation, how should he be judged?"