“I’ve finished it. This job is really tiring, especially carving your scope; it’s just not friendly to my short, thick fingers,” Old Fegen said, wiggling his fingers. Dwarves’ fingers are indeed short and thick, and they are not good at extremely precise work.
“Thank you. Without your help, I wouldn’t have been able to complete this gun,” I said, trying to aim it. The weight was just right.
“So, aren’t you going to test fire it? I’ve already checked the barrel and caliber. I have bullets of this style,” Old Fegen said. He had finally finished this new gun, and he also wanted to see its power in actual combat.
“Forget it, sorry, I can’t use it right now. Just having bullets of the right caliber and size isn’t enough, so I can’t test it now,” I shook my head, suppressing the thought of test firing the gun.
“What a pity. However, I dare to guarantee with my many years of experience and craftsmanship that this gun is an absolute masterpiece. Both the design and the forging are flawless. You will have a miraculous effect if you take it to fight enemies,” Old Fegen assured me.
“Of course, I believe in your skill,” I smiled. Then, I asked Old Fegen to make me five spare magazines and a barrel for a revolver.
Thus, my purpose for renting the workshop was fully achieved. To thank Old Fegen, I specifically gave him one gold coin as a reward, which already exceeded the cost of the materials.
I wrapped the assault rifle in oilcloth and slung it over my shoulder. I left the workshop, thinking I should go find Older Brother Jayad first.
However, when I returned to the square, no one was there. The people from the Dawn Church had disappeared. After asking passersby, they told me that the Dawn Church had gone to the outer district in the west.
Perhaps they felt it was inconvenient to hold the sports meet within the city, so they went to the outer district. Thinking this, I headed towards the west gate.
It seemed that many people had gathered around Cando City, and there were many people at the city gate. When I went out, I was shocked by the scene before me.
On the plains of the outer district, many tents had been set up, looking like a military camp. However, they were not specially made tents; most were made of old cloth, and those entering and exiting were ragged farmers.
These were likely farmers from surrounding villages who had been forcibly gathered into the city. They had no houses in Cando City and were rushed into the city, so they could only stay in the outer district. I saw carts or livestock beside many tents, carrying their belongings.
Luckily, it was already autumn, and most of the farmers had harvested their crops. There was no farming in winter, so I could still see quite a bit of grain and flour on their carts or beside their tents.
However, it was hard to say whether these meager food supplies would be confiscated by the soldiers. The biggest problem troubling them now seemed not to be hunger, but cold.
These temporary tents could not withstand the cold wind and snow, and they lacked necessary cold-weather gear such as quilts and cotton-padded clothes. If this continued until deep winter, who knew how many people would freeze to death.
Of course, the farmers also had their own small wisdom, such as piling a large amount of straw into their tents and sleeping directly in the straw to keep warm at night. Many people in the Slums did the same.
They would also gather together to warm themselves by a fire, piling up gathered wood and wheat stalks in the center to create a bonfire. This way, they could gather for warmth and save on charcoal fire, thus enduring the cold winter.
Where had those people from the Dawn Church gone? I looked around but couldn’t see them. There was no choice but to go into these tent areas to ask. As I approached the camp, a foul stench of excrement and urine assailed my nostrils; the sanitary conditions here were worrying.
Moreover, as soon as I entered, many ill-intentioned gazes fell upon me. It wasn’t that someone was lusting after my beauty; most gazes were focused on my coat. It was a thick bear-skin coat, a spoil of war from Older Brother Jayad’s hunt, and it was very warm to wear.
Walking through the refugee camp in my bear-skin coat, I stood out like a sore thumb. If my coat could be stolen, the chance of surviving the winter would greatly increase. Therefore, many people cast ill-intentioned glances at me, and some had even picked up farming tools in their hands.
I directly took my hand out of my coat, holding the freshly modified Revolver. Instantly, those ill-intentioned gazes all focused on my hand and then retracted.
Even farmers should recognize a weapon like a gun. My modified revolver with its long barrel and Scope looked formidable. With a gun in my hand, I was enough to deter these petty criminals from acting rashly.
I walked through the refugee camp, and after only a few steps, I saw many injustices. First, someone was shouting loudly, and many people were watching.
I went closer and listened carefully. It turned out to be a farmer who originally lived here, scolding a group of refugees for setting up their tents on his land. Although his land was not planted with anything at the moment, he was still rudely ordering them away.
I could understand his thoughts.After all, if the situation deteriorated, and these refugees felt accustomed to living here and built houses to occupy his land, it would be troublesome.
But how could this group of refugees, who had finally managed to set up a tent, move so easily? The argument quickly escalated into a physical altercation, and the local household, being outnumbered, was quickly beaten by the refugees. Luckily, the Militia arrived quickly and separated them.
I couldn’t be bothered to watch the subsequent developments. After walking only a few more steps, I heard someone shouting, “Thief! Thief!”
“What was stolen?” a few militiamen went to question him.
“My belongings on my cart were stolen! Please, you must help me get them back!” the refugee said anxiously.
However, it was basically hopeless. There were so many people here, and most people’s possessions were left exposed, completely open to thieves. And the thief was likely another refugee who stole out of desperation.
Some important belongings might have been placed inside the tent, but these temporary tents were very easy to steal from. Older Brother Jayad could probably take anything in less than three seconds, without even needing to cut open the tent.
Then, a frantic SOS call came from over there, with flames soaring high into the sky. A tent caught fire. In a camp like this, with bonfires everywhere and tents packed with straw, a gust of wind could easily blow burning wheat stalks to the side of the tent.
The militiamen, unable to deal with the thief, hurriedly ran with buckets to put out the fire. Fortunately, these tents were relatively independent, and with some luck, the fire should not spread.
In such a short time, I had already witnessed so many emergencies. The Militia Group in the outer district alone could not maintain order. The collective defection of the City Defense Army exacerbated the already scarce troop strength.
