Chapter 013: The Missionary

Li Zhan carefully examined the attributes of the militiamen and discovered that not only had their constitution and strength improved, but their loyalty and support had also risen sharply. Upon reflection, he realized this made sense; only soldiers with high loyalty can summon the courage and resolve to sacrifice themselves for their country on the battlefield, rather than fleeing at the sight of a formidable enemy.

However, the weapons in the hands of the militiamen were exceedingly basic—just a heavy wooden club (+2 attack), nothing more.

Better than nothing, he thought, consoling himself.

After making his rounds, Li Zhan’s gaze finally settled on Zhao Ming. He said, “Zhao Ming, I hereby appoint you as squad leader. You will lead these four militiamen and be responsible for the security of the tribe.”

Zhao Ming was stunned for a moment, then hurriedly bowed and said, “Thank you for your trust, Chieftain. I will do my utmost to ensure the safety of all our Yanhuang tribe’s villagers!”

Li Zhan continued, “Focus on the lumberyard and the shipyard by the water. The villagers working in those areas are far from the center of the tribe and are often attacked by wild beasts. Decide how to assign your men as you see fit.”

“As you command!” Zhao Ming replied.

Zhao Ming then instructed two of the militiamen to guard the shipyard, while he took the remaining two to protect the lumberyard. Before leaving, he reminded the two guarding the shipyard to train regularly and improve their martial skills. He would make unannounced inspections, and if he found them slacking, he would punish them severely.

With the militia arrangements settled, the villagers working outside could now carry on without worry for the time being. Li Zhan breathed a sigh of relief and surveyed the bustling scene throughout the tribe. Now, every villager’s loyalty was above eighty; a few, like Zheng Jun, Zhou Min, and Zhang Chong, had loyalty above ninety. Their enthusiasm for work inspired those around them, and everyone worked diligently and conscientiously.

Surrounding the center of the tribe were vast fields, now expanded to more than twenty acres. Six or seven acres had been cultivated outside the wooden palisade. The original five-hundred-meter radius of wooden fencing around the tribe’s center was clearly insufficient.

But Li Zhan was in no hurry to expand the palisade, as its defensive value was low and it wasted timber—ordinary militiamen could easily break through it. His next plan was to build stone walls, using collected stone to expand outward from the center, creating room for more military and civilian structures.

Yet stone walls could only be built after upgrading to the Feudal Age. For now, the wooden palisade must suffice, at least to keep wild beasts from invading the heart of the tribe.

He noticed Ruoyan working near Zhou Min’s cotton field and, curious about what she was up to, walked over.

The cotton plants had grown to more than two hundred stalks, their cotton balls swaying in the wind, creating rolling waves of white. Beside Zhou Min were two baskets—one for cotton, one for seeds. She moved carefully, treating each cotton plant as if it were her own child.

Li Zhan recalled the cold, indifferent expression Zhou Min had when he first met her, and how listless she had seemed at work. Now, her industriousness and professionalism were a stark contrast, stirring a sense of admiration in him.

Zhou Min’s farming and weaving skills had now reached intermediate level, and both the quality and yield of cotton had increased. The cotton in her basket was fuller and whiter. Li Zhan used his chieftain command to check the tribe’s cotton reserves, which had reached seventeen units.

He wondered what those seventeen units actually meant, and how much cloth they could produce. He resolved to check the official website next time he logged out.

Passing the cotton field, he saw Ruoyan tending wild vegetables. Three varieties, planted in three rows, had all been set in the ground and she was carefully watering each plant. Seeing this, Li Zhan curled his lip in disdain, utterly unconvinced by her efforts.

Returning to the tribe’s great hall, Li Zhan chatted with the injured villagers, offering words of comfort and urging them to rest and recover. The villagers responded warmly to the chieftain’s concern, and even the two newly joined “level villagers” showed gratitude in their eyes. Seeing their uplifted spirits, Li Zhan was pleased.

The berry trees had taken root and begun to bear a small crop of fruit. Li Zhan picked one and tasted it—sweet with a hint of tartness, quite good. He instructed the fruit farmer tending the trees to harvest all the ripe berries and let every villager, including those at the lumberyard and shipyard, enjoy a taste.

This small gesture further deepened the villagers’ gratitude towards Li Zhan; their gazes grew warmer, and their loyalty naturally rose a little more.

Just then, the south gate leading to the lumberyard was pushed open. Two militiamen escorted an elderly man in a brown robe before Li Zhan. One militiaman bowed and said, “Chieftain, while patrolling the lumberyard, we found this man lurking in the woods. We suspect he is a spy and brought him here for your judgment.”

Hearing that the man before him was in charge, the old man cried out, “I am innocent! I am not a spy—I am a messenger of God, traveling the land to spread His will. On my journey, I was attacked by wild buffalo; my beloved companion, Tom, was tragically killed and ascended to heaven, leaving this lonely old man behind. I barely escaped and reached your tribe, only to be mistaken for a spy. Chieftain, please investigate thoroughly!”

“Messenger of God?” Li Zhan looked at the old man with a puzzled expression. “Are you…a missionary?”

“Indeed, spreading God’s will is our life’s purpose,” the old man replied, drawing a cross over his chest and murmuring prayers.

“Can you heal wounds? I happen to have several injured villagers in need of treatment,” Li Zhan asked.

“Oh, that’s a trivial matter for me, but…” The missionary paused, and his stomach let out a loud rumble.

“I believe I need say no more,” the missionary shrugged and said to Li Zhan, somewhat embarrassed.

Li Zhan smiled and sent the two militiamen back to the lumberyard to continue their patrol. He led the missionary to the tribe’s great hall, where Zhou Min happened to be delivering cotton. Li Zhan instructed Zhou Min to prepare a simple meal for the missionary.

Soon, the food was ready: sorghum rice and boiled fish. The missionary was evidently famished; his eyes widened at the sight of the meal, and after hurriedly crossing himself, he grabbed the pottery bowl and began wolfing it down.

His ravenous eating was so at odds with his age and status that the villagers resting in the hall couldn’t help but cover their mouths and snicker. Li Zhan watched with a smile, but as time passed, his smile gradually froze—

This was no missionary at all. He was, without question, a glutton!