Black Sail
Chapter 495: CXXIV. Rabbit Meat

Chapter 495: CXXIV. Rabbit Meat

Front section of the Mulong Railway, Black Rock City.

In Mulong Royal City, churches cannot be built. According to the conditions agreed upon between the Royal Court and the Sect, construction is limited to along the railway.

If one wishes to continue further, the Army will not provide any support, nor will it take responsibility for any sectarian encroachments; it is completely disconnected.

Even in the agreement signed with the puppet government, though it has been changed to a duchy, it is still not enough.

In the treason treaty, the land along the railway entirely belongs to Aran territory, not requiring any tax payments to the Mulong Prince, and there is a garrison agreement ensuring that the Aran Army will maintain national security in the cities along the railway.

Even when Beima Duchy was defeated in the past, they did not allow Aran troops to garrison. Knowing that the East Shore was a critical trade hub with the Far East, they had the foundation to rise again. If they allowed Aran troops to garrison, Beima would be a country in name only, never to exist again.

Considering the united dying counterattack of Beima after the martyrdom of the old king, Aran did not press the advantage but relinquished the garrison provision.

Clearly, as of now, the Mulong people are not as spirited as the Beima people, at least not within the elite class.

Black Rock City is the first city on Crocodile Island with stationed troops, serving as the rear base for the Army.

It’s also the first place where the church was built by Zote.

The local lord had long been completely subdued by Crocodile Island, complying with any demands without resistance.

At this time, the local temple to the Holy True God was being violently demolished to make way for the construction of the Eternal and Time Dragon church.

The sun blazed down.

For the first time working, it has to be done beautifully.

The Heavy Priests of the Judgement Court, these black iron cans wielding warhammers, were incredibly strong. Even if building debris fell on them, the several centimeters thick super heavy plate armor would only scratch a harmless mark.

Smashing walls, breaking statues.

The rubble and debris were continuously carted outside the city.

Meanwhile, many residents of Black Rock City, upon hearing the news, gathered here to watch. Yet, due to the immense influence of Aran, even the believers dared not say anything, except for some truly devout individuals who wept bitterly.

"I used to think Mulong was very poor."

Zote glanced at the crying faces and the khaki-colored stone residential buildings, three or four stories high, stretching unbroken through the city. Amidst the development of the age, it was indeed wealthier than Old Aran in the past, let alone that Mulong had been prosperous historically.

Aran had discerned an irresolvable internal conflict within Mulong, straight decapitating and annihilating the old king’s family. Though one woman escaped, it didn’t matter. The newly supported king was near total subservience, avoiding widescale war.

Therefore, most regions were unaffected by the war flames.

"Now they indeed seem much poorer. After talking with this area’s lord, it seems Crocodile Island’s money-grabbing intensity was beyond expectation. I’m sure the military funds allocated to him by the Royal Court were hardly used. The grain supplies, military provisions, even soldier wages were plundered from the occupied land."

The deputy responded.

"So many days have passed, yet only a small soldier came to liaise with the work. What about him?"

Zote, with instincts erased by the Northern Prison, felt like he was back in the murderous storms of Old Aran. There’s no one who could treat him with this sort of attitude.

"He’s on the front line in a tough fight with the Seventh Amendment forces. But to say it’s a tough fight is overstatement; more accurate to say, they’re crushing them. If it weren’t for the railway construction, Kelor Highlands would’ve been flattened long ago."

The deputy, seeing the broken-down Holy True God followers, instructed the Heavy Priests to be careful with rubble, not hitting bystanders.

"That makes things easier."

Zote, having grown tired of killing, acknowledged that, for now, the Eighteenth Formation did not need to war; they just needed to propagate their faith.

The countless lives in his hands, over years of suppression, always allowed him to see who in a crowd was ready to sacrifice everything to act.

A few men hidden in the crowd were approaching slowly, armed with firearms—suicide attackers?

Yet, the vast majority were intimidated by the fully armed black iron cans, not daring to approach the demolition site, but praying weepingly.

"Do we still have Church Coins now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Battle Zone Tickets, looks like you don’t get it. The Sect’s war potential has not been tapped for so long. Necessities and monopolies mean currency issuance rights. Now to show the Dragon Lord’s grace and subdue the heretics here, we can only carry out almsgiving, though handing out Golden Dragons would be overly generous. Thirty or forty years ago, in areas occupied by the Sect, obedient people received Church Coins monthly to exchange for food and living supplies at churches."

What Zote left unsaid was that labor could also be exchanged for Church Coins. For those loyal, allowing them to use the purchasing power of Church Coins, exceeding their previous quality of life, would naturally lead to their assimilation.

And the entire process would incur very low costs.

Noticing the movements of those few individuals, Zote addressed the surrounding Mulong people formally and officiously. In this foreign country, he could say whatever he liked.

Given their knowledge, lengthy speeches were pointless; effective information transmission was key.

Since Crocodile Island treated him like this, he had no need to indulge them.

"The Army’s actions have caused everyone many troubles. From today onwards, the Eternal Sect will provide free alms, offering free grains, eggs, meats. You can come here daily to receive them. During these special times, the Sect will ensure the interests of believers."

After Zote’s announcement.

The few men with firearms hesitated momentarily but didn’t proceed with their action.

No one truly believed in Zote’s plans—free alms? Offering back what you’ve robbed from us? You and the Army, playing both sides, isn’t that ridiculous?

Instead, it had a counterproductive effect, arousing further anger among some linked Holy True God believers, squeezing against the surrounded Heavy Priests. At this point, it was truly a great shame; dying would be considered salvation.

"Items taken from the Sect will come with receipts. If the Army demands from you, come find me. I am arguably the most influential person in the Sect within Mulong. Desecrating the Dragon Lord’s will is punishable by death."

Zote spoke calmly.

Throughout the long journey, he had understood human nature.

No matter how fervent your faith, no matter how strong your nationalist hatred, it was futile.

In the face of life and death power, as long as their loved ones lived, their lives were tolerable, with a glimmer of hope, most people dared not resist—even those retaining the beast-like instinct to farm.

The unrest was briefly quelled.

At least for now, the Eternal and Time Dragon seemed far more generous than the Holy True God, whose deity had never protected this land.

Zote immediately arranged personnel to execute the plan, the issue of Church Coins to be addressed after these people got accustomed to the situation in ten days to half a month.

"By the way, when we got off the train, I kept one Mulong person alive. Let him handle the almsgiving as well. Fresh meat is expensive during wartime; we’ll have to take it from our reserve stocks, smoked meat, sausages—there has to be meat daily."

He ordered his deputy thusly, the Eternal Sect’s funds seemingly endless. As long as it wasn’t ridiculous, the budget for this operation was extremely sufficient.

Half an hour later.

The almsgiving site outside the demolition area was ready, offering eggs, grains, meats—a almost sumptuous spread, but there were still few takers.

Only poorly dressed, inherently impoverished people lined up to receive.

But Zote didn’t mind; hunger was the best motivator. When they realized the Sect was the final refuge, the place would be overcrowded by the day after tomorrow at the latest.

The first Cardinal Church would also start construction.

This move seen by the stationed Army would naturally be reported to their superiors.

Just as Zote intended, he wanted an excuse to eliminate Crocodile Island.

Nevertheless, Zote did not see the survivor he had spared that day at the almsgiving site, presumably unwilling to face his kin as a traitor.

He returned to the Sect’s temporary base, forcibly requisitioned land from the lord within Black Rock City.

Rows of Heavy Priests rested here. They didn’t need to assault; their mere presence could deter an overwhelming army.

Zote found a detained, dejected young insurgent, around sixteen, a young Mulong man.

"Didn’t I tell you to handle the almsgiving? Afraid of embarrassment?"

"No, you might as well kill me with one shot."

"Killing someone is easy, but I always prefer more challenging things. You know Eastern Chess, right? That chess from the Far East, it is said the Aran Sword King is an expert."

"I know."

"Good, then you should understand the situation Mulong is in, thoroughly cornered, with all subsequent moves doomed to be captured. At this point, decisive abandonment is needed to forge another path."

Zote’s eyes flashed with reminiscence.

The young man stayed silent, noncommittal.

"Indeed, it’s exceedingly difficult in practice, even beyond imagination’s reach. It took me over twenty years to grasp this completely."

Zote’s left eye was missing, leaving a hollow void, and he brushed his hand over the gruesome scar slashed across his face, as if clawed by a wild beast.

"Did you know, only eating rabbit meat can make you starve to death?"

"How is that possible?"

"It’s true. In the Northern Prison, they called it rabbit meat starvation. Consuming only rabbit meat over a long period leads to weakness, emaciation, and finally death. I contributed to this research, though I survived in the end."

The young man frowned; was this person a former convict?

"During that period, I met many interesting people, sharing their criminal insights. The most amusing one was a perfectionist guy; his father killed his pet dog, and he unknowingly ate it. Upon learning this, he believed he could never be a good person again, deciding to become a murderous butcher."

Zote stood up to leave.

He found the whole thing meaningless.

"Do you know the Sergeants from the Witch Hunting Secret Department?"

"Who doesn’t?"

"Good, I just want you to know, Hell’s blood won’t drown them because they’re standing on my shoulders, and so are you.

The priest to oversee this Cardinal Church is a beauty, so go help her with the almsgiving sooner.

Zote patted the young man’s shoulder before turning to leave.

The young man felt his hairs stand on end. It had to be him, the one rumored to have escaped from the Northern Prison eleven years ago.