When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

Chapter 577: No Pants Man

"Look, look!"

"A manuscript, an illustrated manuscript of the Latter Gospels, sold at a low price."

"Tell me again how much it costs to get a pair of horseshoes done? Are you sure you didn't say an extra zero?"

The noisy sounds still rose in the dim golden light of Huaqiu City, and priests in black robes walked hurriedly on the streets with books in their hands.

Shops on both sides of the street removed their door panels and began to lift out sewage and toilet buckets and pour them into the river or back alleys.

Hungover gamblers and drunkards rubbed their heads and climbed up from the street, staggering home.

More than two weeks have passed since the end of the Thousand Valley War, but the distant war has not had any impact on the prosperous capital of Fran, and has not even caused a few waves.

The biggest impact is probably that many more gamblers jumped into the river.

They took out all their belongings, even pawned their wives and children, to bet on Prince Kongdai's victory. In their view, the Thousand River Valley War was actually a replica of the Burning Winter Uprising of that year.

Once the paladins of the church arrive, the rebellion will be crushed to pieces!

What else is there to say? Just move in with all your family, young and old, with heavy equipment. Trust the Imperial Order, trust Prince Kongdai, and shoot all the crossbow arrows!

But what was unexpected was that Prince Conde's army was almost completely wiped out.

Who could have imagined that that group of peasants, that group of peasants who could barely stand, could actually overturn nine imperial decrees and the famous Leanian general, Prince Conde.

Almost every morning, the corpse catchers in the lower reaches of the Queen River would drag out several dead bodies from the turbulent river water under the bridge. The pockets of the dead bodies' vests would contain gambling tickets and suicide notes.

But the corpse retrievers are happy because they charge for retrieving the bodies.

The morning light shone on the sparse hair of the corpse fishers. They happily accepted the dinars from the disgusted eyes of the residents living near the river, and pushed several corpses on carts towards the mass grave outside the city.

After crossing the new bridge of the former king Chanos V, you can see two- and three-story buildings with white background and blue tiles.

The corpse-recoverers looked up and saw that as the land price in Huaqiu City continued to rise, the buildings were getting taller and taller.

Especially the college students who came from all over the empire to study, which made the housing prices near Huaqiu Xinqiao University soar.

When they arrived at the small square near the university, the corpse-recoverers pulled down the brims of their hats and did not dare to look at the gifted students of Xinqiao University.

If a conflict arises, the judge will simply handcuff them and put them in a cage for public display. This is the truth summed up by the lowly profession of corpse retrievers.

So every time they passed by here, they would run away quickly to avoid conflict with these college students.

"what!"

A stone flew through the sky and hit the calf of a corpse retriever. He curled up in pain.

The leading corpse-retriever looked up angrily, only to see several drunken college students in robes, each holding a pile of stones in their arms.

Although they were smiling, the malice in their eyes could not be concealed.

The next second, stones fell like rain, crackling and landing on the corpse lifter.

"Run, run! You lowly villains!"

"Look at them, they made me laugh so hard that my stomach hurt."

"Hahaha, take my crossbow arrow!"

Pushing the cart along with the bumps, several corpse lifters covered their heads and rushed left and right, screaming. They finally ran across the small square and avoided the rain of stones.

They rolled up their sleeves and trouser legs, looked at the bruises and purple colors, cursed, but still pushed the cart carrying the corpse forward helplessly.

The dispute between out-of-town college students and local residents has been an enduring topic in Huaqiu City, and it even led to a group of college students leaving and forming Shangheyu King's University.

We deliberately chose to move forward in the dirty alleys, passing through passages filled with garbage, feces, urine and mud, and the old bridge finally appeared in front of us.

After crossing the old bridge is the swamp area in the south city, a place that ordinary citizens from well-off families would not come to.

This was once a barren forest swamp, and during the Burning Winter Rebellion, it was also the camp of the peasant uprising.

Even though the knights had defeated their army, we couldn't let the noble knights go into the smelly forest to encircle and wipe out the remaining troops, could we?

The remaining thousands of farmers had no way to return home and no means of livelihood. The only things they had were the chain hammers and mail armor they had looted during the war. They immediately became bandits and began to rob travelers and caravans entering Huaqiu City.

In fact, the King of France was fully capable of clearing out the rebellion, but he took this opportunity to deliberately avoid a campaign of encirclement and suppression, and forced the merchants to pay for the construction of a new bridge on the west side.

In this way, the Old Bridge area, where the old forces and old nobles were deeply rooted, began to be deserted little by little, and the New Bridge area, which was built from scratch, became a treasure in the hands of the King of France, and a group of new nobles who surrendered were born.

As for the area near the Old Bridge, it became a gathering place for gangsters, bandits, laborers, beggars and secret parties.

Unlike the city, this place is full of low, gray and yellow huts and sheds.

You can always see prostitutes wandering around the ruins of churches and houses.

The crooked-mouthed and crooked-toothed residents wore straw hats and grew banned herbs within backyard fences. Occasionally, even secretive wizards would raise piranhas in their ponds.

There are at least five hundred alchemists and wizards living in the Old Bridge area. Sometimes a black market can attract two to three thousand people, but the witchers always turn a blind eye.

However, compared with the prosperity and tranquility of the North City, the corpse fishers who walked across the bridgehead of the old bridge breathed a sigh of relief.

South City is different from North City. If you abide by the rules in South City, you won’t encounter any difficulties.

In North City, making things difficult for lowly people like them is an unspoken rule.

"Boss Moroka." As the wheels passed over the bridge, the leading corpse-recoverer took off his hat and bowed to the several strong men on the bridge. "I have paid the bridge toll for this month."

"I know you, come over." The bearded man was chatting with his friends and just waved his hand casually.

Most of these strong men are descendants of the uprising farmers. Due to poverty, they often only wear a robe that reaches their calves, without pants underneath, so they are also contemptuously called "pantsless men".

The trouserless men were laborers when they were busy and bandits when they were free.

Their main activities are extortion of merchants and travelers, protection fees and smuggling. Since the cost of suppressing them far outweighs the benefits, the sheriffs will not take action unless the situation goes too far.

After getting the response, several corpse lifters pushed the cart and continued to move forward. However, after taking only two steps, they were stopped by the burly man named Moroka.

"Stop, I heard one of you is from Qianhe Valley? Who is it?"

Several corpse lifters looked at each other and pushed out an honest young man. The young man staggered forward and stood in front of a burly man who was two sizes bigger than him, as obedient as a little rabbit.

"What's your name?"

"Kuvask, my name is Kuvask, boss Moloka." The young man took off his hat and pressed it against his chest, not knowing why the gangster boss called him.

"Very good, Kuvask, I will remember you. Do you have any relatives in the Thousand River Valley?"

Although it was strange, Kuvask hunched his back and answered stiffly: "Yes, I have an uncle, but his family has several children and there is nothing to eat, so I escaped."

"Have you ever heard of a name called Horn? Hmm? Horn Garrar, have you heard of him?"

Kuvask was even more confused: "No, I do know a few mountain folks with the last name Galar. This is a common last name among mountain folks. I'm from Kasha County, so I don't know them very well."

"Okay." Moroka patted Kuvask's shoulder with his big hand. "Go back. Someone will come to see you in the evening."

The young man walked away anxiously, and Moroka said to his brother, "At night, gather all the refugees in the Thousand River Valley together, and you lead a team to the Thousand River Valley to see if what the grandson said is true. If it is true, you can buy a house or a store."

"You mean, the Prime Minister will take action against us?" The man with a goatee was suddenly startled.

"The Old Bridge District is a good place, and the old nobles have all moved away. Now that the population of Flower Hill City is increasing, the land price is getting more and more expensive. Do you think Lorenzo will ignore our territory?" Moroka touched his chest pocket, "Make plans early."

The bearded man frowned: "But can they resist the attack of the Kingdom of Leia?"

"It's better than staying in the Old Bridge, right? We can prepare some backup plans anyway. We don't have to go to the Thousand River Valley. At least we don't have to hide our identities in the Thousand River Valley. If we get caught somewhere else, we'll be finished."

Watching his brother's departing back, Moroka looked back at the low, smelly settlement and couldn't help but sigh.

Taking out a folded piece of paper from his pocket, Moroka couldn't help but recite in a low voice the "Thousand Valley Declaration" written on it: "...in the past, the children of the nobility and the children of the common people sang hand in hand...haha..."

Shaking his head, Moroka didn't know whether to believe it or not. He put the paper back into his arms and stared at the golden sun rising over the tall tower of the Summer Palace.

"A country built by farmers..." As if remembering his father's and grandfather's persistent nagging in his later years, the gangster's eyes showed hope and trepidation for the first time: "Qianhe Valley..."

(End of this chapter)