The Legend of Fatality

Slaves not traded on the temporary docks will be used to cut down trees, build bridges, and fight in the army. The Margarita coalition—or rather the invaders, took away their freedom, their families, their friends, and—most importantly—their dreams. But these are not important. For them, they can only continue to live.

Bai En stared at the slaves and took a stack of parchment paper from his apprentice Morris, which was an account book detailing the amount each slave should pay for the debts of the slave. Bai En glanced; the above record showed that no slave had ever repaid any amount.

This is normal. Most of them are newly captured slaves. They haven't had time to benefit the slave owners. But in fact most of the slave owners just treat this kind of thing as an extravagant expectation of slaves. If a slave is about to pay off his debts and earn enough money in exchange for freedom, guess what they will do?

Bai En may never know this himself-but even with the remuneration paid to them by the Fatalin Association, it takes ten to fifteen years for these 'employed' and Fatalinian slaves to save enough money . But this is not something that Bai En cares about.

Bai En dispatched most of the slaves sent to him to work in the forest. Wood is now the most consumed necessity. He also sent six or seven thinner people to the cafeteria to work, and food was a necessity second only to wood for heating.

"The ten people," Bai En said to the soldiers under his hand, and raised his finger to one of the prisoners. "Take them to the crew on the bridge. By the way, tell Netska that we need more people. Then you can find a place to relax."

The soldiers laughed, and several people began to push the slave-cart into the path. Bai En scolded them briefly, and the soldiers opened the prison car to release the people, and then led them to the temporary dock. These people have no reason to be gentle with slaves, but Bai En will not give them a chance to treat slaves more brutally.

The soldiers walked lazily, even those who seemed to be on duty, and the streets of the camp were full of garbage. Followers of the camp are everywhere: prostitutes, female workers, chicken farmers, candle merchants and shepherds. There are even children running on the streets of this half military camp and half prisoner of war camp.

And the Bill Pali. Do the work of picking water, digging trenches, carrying bags, etc. here. This surprised Bai En at first. Are they fighting the Bill Pali? Are they worried that these people will resist? The answer is obviously no. The Bill Pali people here work as meekly as sheep.

Bai En followed the escorted soldiers all the way to the northeast of the camp, which was a time-consuming hike. Although the barracks along the way look exactly the same, the boundaries of the barracks are clearly distinguished, like uneven mountains. The old habits made Bai En remember the route. Here, the soaring round city wall has been eroded by countless shells, and the eastern scenery is unobstructed. This open land will be a good gathering place, where the army can gather and then proceed along the **** to the plain.

There is a camp on the northern edge of the field, there are dozens of barracks, there is a wood factory in their center, all carpenters. They are chopping down some of the thick trees that Bane saw on the hills in the south and the plains in the east: peeling off their rough bark and sawing them into planks. Another group of carpenters assembled the boards into large, delicate installations.

"Are we going to be carpenters?" Someone in the slave team asked.

A soldier laughed rudely. "You want to join the bridge engineering team."

He pointed to a group of sorrowful people sitting on the stone in the shadow of the barracks, using his fingers to scoop out food from the wooden bowl. It looks strikingly similar to the swill that farmers feed their domestic pigs.

A soldier pushed the talking slave forward again, and he stumbled down a shallow **** through the field. The other nine slaves followed, driven by the soldiers. No one looked at the people sitting around the barracks. They wore leather vests and simple trousers, and some wore dirty shirts and some were shirtless. This group of poor looking and bad looking guys are not much stronger than this group of slaves, although their physical condition looks slightly better.

"The newcomer is here, the sailor is long." A soldier shouted.

A man sat lazily in the shade, some distance away from the person eating. He turned around to reveal a scarred face, and his beard was cut into pieces by these scars. He lost one eye and the other eye was brown, and he didn't wear an eye mask. The white pimple on his arm indicates that he is a sailor chief, or once was. But he also has the lean and tough temperament that Bai En can't learn, and the skills to quickly get together with people who are familiar with the battlefield.

"These thin guys?" Said the sailor, chewing something while walking. "They can't stop even a wave."

The soldier shrugged and pushed the **** forward again. "Sir Baien said, these ten people are assigned to you. The rest is up to you. Also, let Captain Netska tell you that the adult needs more manpower." Then the soldier told him Companions nodded, and they began to trot.

The sailor looked at the slaves. He finally focused on Bai En. "I received military training while in Fatalin Island," said the sailor. "I have seen you in the army of Fatalin."

"Really?" Bai En said lightly.

"I really don't care why you didn't tell me this directly." The sailor interjected, spitting something black at the edge.

Bai En hesitated. "Netska--"

"You keep mentioning that name." The sailor interrupted Bai En again impatiently. "I serve under an unimportant captain, don't I? I hope I was impressed by mentioning that name?"

Bai En sighed. He had met such a person before, a sailor chief with no hope of promotion. The only pleasure in his life comes from the authority to control people who are more unlucky than him, or to provoke people who he cannot reach.

"Okay ~ www.wuxiaspot.com ~ That's it." Bai En finished and turned to leave. He will not waste time and energy with such people.

At this moment, a loud horn sounded in the camp. The carpenters raised their heads, and the soldiers who escorted the slaves rushed back. Standing behind Bai En looked around anxiously.

"Damn storm," the sailor shouted, cursing. "Get up, get up, you fools!" He started kicking at several people who were eating. They scattered the bowl. They wear simple cloth shoes instead of suitable boots.

"And you, sir." The sailor said, pointing at Bai En.

"I--"

"I don't care what you talk about! You can command those people!" He pointed to a group of sailors who were leaving. "The rest of you, wait over there. I will separate you later. Go away, or I will hang you all with your heels."

Bai En shrugged and began to gather the surrounding soldiers. But many of these people gush out from the barracks or get up from the alleys. There seem to be many such teams. There are about fifty teams of soldiers, and each team has about twenty or thirty men. In this way, the number of soldiers in this camp is almost the same as that of the entire army of the Fatalin Association.

Bian's assembled team walked across the field, walking between the planks and piles of wood chips, and approached a huge wooden installation. It clearly withstood several battles. The dents and holes scattered along it look like a place hit by an arrow.

Then, Bai En brought people to a bridge, which was a wooden bridge, about thirty feet long and eight feet wide. Its front and back are inclined and there are no railings. The wood is very thick, supported by the largest plank in the middle. There are about forty or fifty bridges on this river. Maybe each team is responsible for a bridge, and there are about twenty bridge workers gathered here.