Mystery: When the Lost Homelanders Meet the Lost Homeland Call

Looking at Jenny's current state, Klein felt a strange sense of peace.

He had heard the phrase "I started a guild at the docks" from Lynn, but only now did he truly understand what it meant. It meant that a girl no longer had to worry about whether her father would wake up tomorrow, and that she had the energy to think about things like "whether to reconnect with Melissa."

"So, lately... have you been planning to see Melissa?" Klein paused, "?"

Jenny tightened her grip on the rag for a moment, then nodded. "Mm."

"She would be very happy to know," Klein said.

Jenny smiled with her head down.

After saying goodbye to Jenny, Klein continued walking deeper into the dock. Leonard followed beside him, remaining silent for a while before speaking, "Is that girl Melissa's classmate?"

“That was true before, but then her father got injured, and they moved down the street, so they drifted apart,” Klein said. “Now her father can work again.”

Leonard nodded without asking further. But in his mind, Pales's voice echoed again: "That man named Lynn, he's giving these people 'hope'."

"Isn't this a good thing?" Leonard asked himself.

"It's certainly a good thing for them. But for someone in a high position, bestowing favors on ordinary people often has only one purpose—to cultivate followers. Haven't you noticed? Everything he does, including taking down gangs, returning stolen money, and rebuilding guild order, makes these people owe him favors, believe in him, and depend on him. This is the foundation for building an anchor."

Leonard paused almost imperceptibly.

"You mean... he's developing his own followers?"

"I haven't drawn a conclusion yet, but you can pay attention to the tone of voice people in the dock area use when they mention 'Mr. Lynn'."

Leonard did not say anything more.

Just then, a group of people in blue-black uniforms appeared at the street corner ahead. A silver-white lightning bolt emblem was embroidered on the left chest of their uniforms, shimmering slightly in the sunlight. The Punishers. A team of extraordinary individuals working for the Church of the Lord of Storms, specializing in handling supernatural events related to the sea and storms.

The middle-aged man at the front was tall and broad-shouldered, with short, stiff hair like a clump of wiregrass stiffened by the sea breeze. A short staff adorned with a sea-blue gem hung at his waist, more of a symbol of status than a weapon. Behind him were about three or four other burly men, their steps synchronized.

Walking next to the person taking the punishment was a young man wearing an old sailor jacket and holding a cup of sweet iced tea.

The coat was faded from washing, and the cuffs were frayed, but it wore him with a strange nonchalance, as if what he wore didn't matter much. He was tilting his head, speaking to the leader of the punishers, his tone relaxed, as if chatting with an old friend.

Lynn.

When Klein saw Lynn, Lynn saw him too. Those deep black eyes lit up for a moment as he looked over, then Lynn raised the sweet iced tea in his hand and waved it in his direction, making a "you've finally arrived" expression.

Leonard saw it too. He instinctively slowed his pace, looked at Klein, and asked with his eyes, "The one you know?"

Klein nodded. He stopped five or six steps ahead of the group of Punishers, tipped his hat to the leader, and said, "Excuse me. We are from Blackthorn Security Company, and have been ordered to investigate the changes at the dock guild."

The lead punisher stopped, his gaze lingering on Klein's face for two seconds before sweeping over Leonard and finally settling on Lynn. He said calmly, "The Blackthorns? The Church of the Night Goddess is interested in this?"

Leonard mimicked Captain Dunn, winking and implying, "After all, there's a regulated black market here."

The Punisher nodded, not pressing further, and briefly introduced himself: "Zeveslo, Deacon of the Tingen Punisher. I'm asking this gentleman—" He turned to Lynn, "—Mr. Lynn, to introduce us to the new guild system in the docklands."

Lynn finished the last sip of her sweet iced tea, casually tossed the empty cup into a roadside trash can, and clapped her hands. "Perfect, everyone's here. Let's take a look around together, we can talk as we walk."

He strode forward, and the Punisher automatically followed half a step behind him, somewhat like a group of bodyguards following an overly casual leader. Klein and Leonard followed behind the Punisher, a few steps apart.

  

"The Iron Hammer Gang's guild is essentially a protection racket," Lynn said as he walked, his tone as casual as if he were lecturing a group of students. "They control the entry requirements for dockworkers; every new worker has to pay a 'referral fee' to get work. Then there's the 'weekly tax,' a portion of their weekly wages going to the guild. Then there's the 'protection fee,' where cargo owners 'accidentally' damage their goods if they don't pay. There's also forced consumption; workers buy alcohol at designated taverns and tools at designated shops, where prices are at least 30% higher than outside, sometimes even several times higher."

He paused for a moment, as if giving the audience time to process what he had said.

Then he raised his hand and pointed to a small house by the roadside with a wooden sign that read "Dockworkers' Mutual Aid Station":

"Everything has changed now. The guild no longer charges referral fees. Workers can register for membership for free, and only need to pay a reasonable management fee each week based on their income to maintain the operation of the mutual aid station. Working hours are recorded based on actual working hours; you are paid for the number of hours you work each day, with overtime paid separately. There is insurance for work injuries, which comes from the guild's mutual aid fund, funded by the workers' regular insurance premiums."

What he didn't say was that this medical insurance system couldn't actually function with just this few people and current productivity; therefore, what truly provided a safety net was his extraordinary power.

Zevislow's fingers tightened slightly around his cane, as if assessing the veracity of these words. Then he spoke, his voice deep and resonant: "It sounds like a huge expense. Where will the money come from?"

Lynn pointed to the row of warehouses at the end of the port: "The security deposit paid by the cargo owners is 0.5% of the value of each shipment. This payment is voluntary; you don't have to pay, but the guild won't be responsible for investigating if there are any problems with the goods. In reality, very few cargo owners don't pay, because the guild currently has a 100% success rate in recovering goods."

When he said "100%", there was a faint smile on his lips, as if he had remembered some interesting detail.

Zevislow paused for a moment. As an experienced enforcer, he could certainly understand what "100% success rate in recovering the goods" meant. It meant that there was an extraordinary level of power supporting the guild's operations, far exceeding the level of ordinary security.

But Lynn spoke so naturally and matter-of-factly that it made it difficult to press for answers.

More importantly, the people from the church gave some hints, suggesting that they should not ask too many questions.

They walked through a loading and unloading area piled high with wooden crates and into a wide plaza deep within the dock. This was where the Hammer Gang members had been publicly tried, and now a row of brand-new bulletin boards stood in the plaza. The bulletin boards displayed the guild's income and expenditure details: income items included "Cargo Owner Security Deposit," "Member Management Fee," and "Dock Rental Fee," while expenditure items included "Worker Wage Settlement," "Mutual Aid Fund Allocation," "Equipment Maintenance and Upgrades," and "Management Committee Salaries."

Every account was written down clearly, down to the penny.

Leonard stood before the bulletin board, staring at the numbers, a new layer of confusion deepening in his green eyes. He tugged at Klein's sleeve, lowering his voice, "This system... I feel like I've never seen it in a book before? Is it Emperor Roselle's idea?"

"It must have been something Roselle wrote..."

Klein answered him with "confusion," because he himself was also secretly surprised by Lynn's description of the "new dock order."

Charging management fees instead of taking a cut, foregoing referral fees, maintaining transparent accounts, providing workers' compensation, and voluntary security deposits—this system, in the modern world before his transmigration, would be a highly condensed cooperative system combined with public service outsourcing. But in this world, in the Kingdom of Rune in 1349, running smoothly even among a group of illiterate dockworkers, it actually worked far more seamlessly than he had anticipated.

Moreover, he understood Lynn's operating logic: first, dismantle the gang and confiscate all illegal gains, then use that money to support the dockworkers, while simultaneously using cargo owners' deposits to establish a sustainable source of revenue. The first step relied on violence, the second on institutional design; when the workers discovered that the new guild could truly provide them with food and clothing, the system automatically gained a foundation for stability.

"What are you looking at?" Lynn's voice suddenly rang in Klein's ear.

Klein was startled and turned around to find Lynn had somehow broken away from the group of punishers and walked up to him. Deacon Zevislo was standing a dozen steps away in front of the bulletin board, carefully studying the account details. The other punishers were scattered throughout the square taking notes, seemingly not there to investigate at all, but just going through the motions.

Leonard was talking to a little girl playing in the dock area, and he seemed quite gentle.

"Look at the system you changed," Klein said in a low voice. "You told me before that you 'took down a gang,' but you didn't tell me that you restructured the underlying logic of the entire dock area."

Lynn smiled. "This is just returning what rightfully belongs to the workers. The Iron Hammer Gang has always been about sucking the blood out of the workers; my guild is simply letting that blood remain in their bodies."

Klein asked, "But what about the Punishers? Deacon Zevislo doesn't seem like someone who'll back down easily."

Lynn said, "He won't do it. He's a smart man; he knows the nature of this."

"What kind of nature?"

Lynn turned around and faced the workers loading and unloading goods in front of the square. They were chanting as they carried boxes of goods, their sweat glistening in the sunlight, their faces bearing an expression rarely seen on dockworkers of this era: a calm focus that knew they would have enough to eat that day.

"Gang fights do happen, but the government doesn't seem to want to get involved, and fights are quite common anyway. What I did didn't involve a coup, nor did it involve the illegal transfer of assets," Lynn stated calmly, presenting a fact that had already occurred.

"This is a guild that changed its leader and its management rules. The accounts are transparent and salaries are paid on time. No legal provision can find fault with this system. If the Church of Storms wants to take action against me, they can only investigate me on the grounds of 'suspected involvement of supernatural forces,' but clearly, the Scourge Lord doesn't want to get involved with me."

He patted Klein on the shoulder: "The world isn't ready to understand what I do. So they can only look at me in confusion and leave in confusion. Confusion itself is a kind of safety."

Klein was silent for a moment. The Scourge Lord didn't want to get involved? He remembered that this was one of the titles of the Storm Lord! Lynn had already made contact with the Seven Gods?

He said softly, "You're walking a tightrope."

"A steel wire? No." Lynn glanced back at him, her gaze as vast as the sea at night. "I'm walking a new path. It seems narrow now, only wide enough for one person, but once I widen it, others will be able to keep up."

Leonard stood to the side, talking to the little girl while secretly watching the scene.

In his mind, Pales's aged voice rang out again, this time with certainty: "He is cultivating the anchor."

"This system may be able to operate in a country on its own, but a small port must need external forces to maintain it. So, in places we can't see, Lynn must be using supernatural powers."

"And these deeds will all be transformed into faith in him, because Lynn's image is right in front of every worker, and he can draw faith without any kingdom, priesthood, or honorific name."

Leonard's fingers twitched slightly. "What does he need faith for? He's probably far removed from any divine authority, isn't he?"

After hearing about Lynn's situation, Pales gave him a slight hint about the meaning of faith. Leonard didn't understand at first, until Pales explicitly told him to think about why the Seven Gods all needed the church.

Pales paused for a moment, then said in a low voice, "Angels are also called those who follow God. I suspect Lynn is seeking promotion to angel."

Leonard fell silent. He looked at everything before him, took a deep breath, and said, "If that's the case, it doesn't seem so bad."

"Believe in the power of the gods, but do not believe in their mercy."

The two (or perhaps the insects?) remained silent.

After reviewing the accounts on the bulletin board, Deacon Zevislow returned to the center of the square. He stood there for a moment, as if weighing something, before finally raising his hand to signal the Punishers to leave. He walked up to Lynn and nodded: "The guild's accounts are fine. We will not take any action until the Church of Storms reaches a further conclusion."

He paused for a moment, then said, "But I will continue to monitor the situation."

His subtext was: We will pretend we don't know your power, but we will keep an eye on you.

Lynn bowed slightly, his demeanor casual yet not frivolous, and said, "You're welcome anytime."

The procession of punishers left the square in orderly fashion. Zevislo led the way, his steps steady, the azure gemstone staff at his waist gleaming softly in the sunset.

Leonard watched the substitute punishment taker walk away, then patted Klein on the shoulder: "Alright, mission accomplished. Are you leaving or not?"

Klein turned to look at Lynn, who shook his head slightly and mouthed "You two go back first." Klein understood: "You go first, I have some historical questions I'd like to ask Mr. Lynn."

Leonard glanced at Klein, then at Lynn, a knowing glint in his green eyes. He didn't press further, waved his hand, and turned to walk back along the cobblestone path of the dock area.

After his figure disappeared into the sunset, Klein turned to Lynn.

Lynn's expression turned somewhat serious.

Klein felt a sense of foreboding. Every time Lynn showed this expression, he would unleash his thunderous power and decisive actions to deliver a thunderous speech and accomplish a thunderous deed.

While dealing with the church, Lynn was thinking that, given his current situation, the fastest way to expand his order was to establish his own church.

Just like the life philosophy of the little snake or the islands of the sea serpent, as long as they do not invade the territory of the seven gods in the northern continent, it is easy to spread their religion.

Moreover, this was also an exploration for Lynn, an exploration of how a better society should function in a God-centered world.

But when he saw Klein just now, another idea suddenly came to him.

There are countless ways to accelerate digestion, and a large number of people can account for half of them. Since we're going to organize, why not bring Klein in too?

"The first step of the long march has been taken." Lynn clapped his hands, as if brushing away non-existent dust. "The organization has decided that you will be the fool!"