There can't be a Harvest Moon in the RimWorld.

I said dismissively, "They were all slaves, right? When I entered the city today, I saw slaves crawling in the fields to work. In their eyes, these poor people are nothing more than expendable resources. Killing ten or eight of them wouldn't make them feel any pain at all."

The bald man chuckled and said, "Of course. People with urban residency status are taxpayers who work as loaders. Even if they make a mistake, they can usually atone for it by spending money or joining the army. They generally won't be killed."

From his words, I guessed that the loader's lord itself did not have a particularly sophisticated political structure. It relied on the old customs of the tribal alliance. The lord himself represented a force, under which other forces were united and checked each other, but his power was much smaller than that of the lord.

Because the core of this territory stemmed from a powerful military force, this system is generally referred to as "military aristocratic democracy," or a city-state-style "aristocratic republic."

While this approach is stable, its flaws are quite obvious. The trip I'm taking tomorrow is for a specific purpose.

He thought I was on the first level, just a brute who only knew how to use brute force and intimidation, while he, on the second level, knew better how to conserve his strength and avoid direct confrontation. But in reality, I was already on the fifth level, and my thoughts were far beyond what he could comprehend.

This trip, at least, definitely exceeded the bald man's expectations. Then again, shouldn't he be offering his opinions at a time like this?

"Baldy, you only know how powerful the loader is, but look at the forces in this world, who can be considered the overlord?" I asked with ill intent.

The bald man looked at me blankly, completely unaware of what I meant, and quickly waved his hand, saying, "I'm just a blacksmith from the countryside, what do I know about any overlords..."

"Don't be modest. You've lived here for so long, you must have heard of some powerful forces from other people—if you don't tell me, I'll kill you..."

"Oh... I've heard that the Godslayer Pirate Crew neither farms nor does business; they just love to plunder everywhere. Everyone who encounters them is terrified. They're practically overlords, aren't they?"

I immediately denied it: "These pirates are just bullies who pick on the weak and fear the strong. They steal chickens and dogs, and they can't even take down a small stronghold like the Loader's Head. They can't be considered overlords."

The bald man's eyes darted around, and he suddenly had a brilliant idea. He said, "The Andenavara faction has tens of millions of members and thousands of towns. It has enemies on all sides but remains standing. Its reputation is illustrious. It can be considered a hegemon, right?"

I still shook my head: "The Andenavara faction is large but ineffective, a mixed bag, technologically backward, and with outdated systems. It will be completely overthrown by me sooner or later. It can't be considered a hegemon."

The bald man thought awkwardly for a moment, then said with a boastful air, "What about... what about the Ghost Organization? They're made up of elite special operations soldiers, and they don't belong to any country or organization. I've heard that even when outnumbered, they'll hold the line with their lives, using their fallen comrades to cover their wounded, continuing to fight even after death, and even when they've run out of ammunition, they'll brave the darkness to pounce on the enemy with knives and fists. They've ultimately earned the title of 'Ghost,' so wouldn't you call them overlords?"

I shook my head in disappointment: "A force that is ruthless but lacks long-term vision, wastes its manpower, and executes dogmatic tactics will eventually run out of resources. Such a force is like oil on a raging fire; it cannot last and cannot be considered a hegemon."

The bald man's face twitched once, and he said helplessly, "Then I don't know. Boss, just tell me the answer..."

I chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. "Don't be so modest, young man. Guess two more overlords!"

Chapter 329 Something's Wrong

The bald man frowned and gritted his teeth, thinking that since he wouldn't be able to sleep all night anyway, he gritted his teeth and continued to guess: "What about the Elite Group? They are a group of homeless wanderers who, after arriving on this planet, have always been known for their ruthless pursuit of their goals, showing no mercy to either military or civilian victims. Moreover, they have their own strict system and program, spreading an evil religion with the intention of ruling the world, and they have military backgrounds on multiple planets. Wouldn't you call them overlords?"

I curled my lip, dismissing it as nothing, and said, "What you're talking about is just a terrorist organization. They're brutal but intolerant. A group that can't tolerate other voices won't have any real vitality. And the religion they use to win people's hearts is just a means for the upper echelons to whitewash themselves. If the evil and wickedness behind it were exposed, they would probably collapse and disintegrate on their own. They can't become a hegemon."

The bald man, repeatedly refuted, retorted defiantly, "What about the security forces? They're funded and established by the Tianzhou Group, equipped with advanced weaponry and superior tactics. They also have the backing of the entire Tianzhou Group, carrying out various shady missions. The riches and glory of the wasteland are nothing more than recyclable materials in a garbage dump to them; they don't even care about them. They're not swayed by personal gain, and with the edge of Sirius energy weapons to sweep away enemies, shouldn't they be considered overlords?"

I shook my head regretfully and said, "The security forces may seem dashing, coming and going high and wide, untouched by worldly dust, but they're just a bunch of nine-to-five corporate slaves. They appear superior to you homeless vagrants, but in reality, they're constantly being assessed by KPIs, monitored for performance, and audited internally. They might not even live as freely as you. How can they be considered heroes?"

The bald man took a sip of water, looking dejected, and then lay down on the sand in a self-deprecating manner: "Spare me, boss. I can barely understand what you're saying anymore, let alone what constitutes a tyrant. Asking me again won't help..."

I slapped his head with a look of exasperation and said, word by word, “Listen carefully. A true overlord must not only have the ambition to conquer the world, but also the means to intimidate the world, and the vision to be unparalleled. Only those who meet these three conditions can be called the overlord of the three heavens.”

I turned to look at the bald man's bewildered eyes, gripped my steel halberd, and swung it into the ground, leaving a deep mark. "Remember this: we will be the sole overlords of this wasteland, now and forever. And you, stand tall! You are also part of the strongest force in this wasteland. The reason I'm taking you to the Loader's Territory for negotiations tomorrow is to let you know what the name behind you represents!"

“…But boss, there are only two of us in total, and with Burnett, it’s only three,” the bald man cautiously reminded him.

I shouted, "Shut up! We have many more small animals!"

...After saying that, I felt a bit embarrassed. Indeed, my own strength was too weak. With only a handful of people, my words weren't very convincing. No wonder Xiao Beibei wouldn't fall for Cao's tricks; this kind of boasting was really inappropriate.

Of course, all of this is based on the premise that he hasn't completely succeeded. If Cao Cao had already unified the nine provinces and dominated the world by this time, then everyone who hears this would have to shout, "To be fair, that's true!"

Look at Qin Shi Huang after he unified the six kingdoms. He claimed every day that his achievements surpassed those of the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors, but no one ever jumped out to say that he was unworthy of the title.

Oh, there must have been some dissenting voices, but unfortunately they were quickly silenced.

Don't worry about the details; you'll find out tomorrow.

I said casually, but I found that he was still very nervous. "Feeling uneasy? Then go to the door and recite the secret I taught you. You are not allowed to sleep until you have recited it a thousand times!"

I kicked the bald man out of the campfire, then lay down with my back against the dromedary camel, preparing for tomorrow's solo meeting, and soon fell soundly asleep.

Faced with a life-or-death crisis, the bald man was indeed wide awake. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the image of being sent to the gallows. As a result, the chanting of sutras really did resound outside all night.

…………

"Boss, did I not sleep well last night? Is my head still a little foggy? Something doesn't feel right here..."

The bald man followed me cautiously, not daring to relax for a moment, watching nervously as the city gate of the loader's territory drew closer and closer.

But when he stepped through the collapsed south gate, he didn't see a scene of swords and spears, guns and cannons clashing, but rather a group of smiling residents standing along the roadside to welcome him. He didn't see a single person gritting their teeth.

Is this still the familiar territory of the ruthless loader? Could it be that during his absence, this place also collectively embraced Boss Seven's strange religion, instantly gaining knowledge far more profound than his own and reaching the realm of ultimate enlightenment?

That's impossible!

Thinking about how he had boasted last night about how cruel, ruthless, and vicious the loader leader was, and how he had been so frightened that he couldn't sleep all night, his face flushed.

"Does this mean I know less about the town than the boss does?" the bald man muttered incredulously.

I deliberately slowed my pace and lowered my voice to say to him, "Remember to say less unnecessary things. Just come with me today. There's no danger to your life."

After saying that, I strode up to the crowd that was lining the street to welcome me and said in a deep voice, "I've given you your time. Why isn't that one-eyed guy here today? If I don't get the explanation I want, don't blame me for taking matters into my own hands."

Hearing my words, the crowd gradually parted, revealing an old man with a white beard but exceptionally bright eyes, dressed in a comical, flowery outfit. He took a few steps forward to greet me: "Honorable guest! I apologize for their rude behavior. That brute Derek Byrd has been punished by the lord and sent to perform a difficult task in the wasteland. Today I have come for peace!"

I snorted in dissatisfaction: "All you're saying is empty talk. You came here for peace? Then I've come here with an olive branch and the gun of a freedom fighter. Don't let the olive branch slip from my grasp!"

An old man named Arafat suddenly possessed me, and I successfully mastered the "taking advantage of someone's kindness" negotiation method.

The elderly man in the flowery clothes rubbed his hands nervously and said cautiously, "Honorable guest, that's not what I meant... I meant that the lord of the Loader's Domain will give you a satisfactory answer... Why don't you and this guest behind you move to the lord's hall together? We have prepared a sumptuous meal... Hey, why does this guest behind you look a little familiar...?"

The old man spoke slower and slower. I turned around and saw that the bald man also looked embarrassed. After a long pause, he finally managed to stammer out, "Master, I'm Alex..."

Chapter 330: Courtesy first, then attack

Inside and outside the loader's collar, sand and dust were scattered like a sandstorm by the strong wind, then fell freely, obscuring the scenery along the roadside. In the dim light, one could vaguely see strangely shaped red boulders rising from the vast desert, and towering red stone mountains.

From what we can see now, this is a strange town that blends elements of barbarism and civilization. The town has carved out the undulating sand dunes of the desert, quarried oddly shaped and protruding sandstone to lay the foundation for the city, and laid a well-equipped urban water and electricity system.

Oddly shaped generators can be seen everywhere, constantly working on rooftops to supply electricity to the city using wind and solar power.

In addition, those several incredibly large deep wells were dug on rare water veins in the desert, and it took countless people to reinforce them into their current steel behemoth form. Every day, engineering machinery is used to circulate and extract groundwater, which flows to every household.

However, despite such basic infrastructure, there was no corresponding luxurious and beautiful decoration. As I approached the loader's quarters and passed those towering buildings rising from flat ground, I discovered that the exterior walls of these buildings were merely crudely painted or covered with burlap blankets, serving as decorations with limited function.

The furniture in the house was extremely simple. Apart from everyday household appliances such as electric lights and fans, there were only lonely tables, chairs and beds, which contrasted with the rough and primitive floor and walls.

The elderly man in the floral shirt walking beside me gave an apologetic smile: "Our conditions here are harsh, and we barely make ends meet. I'm sorry to have troubled you, esteemed guest." He then added meaningfully, "Since I'm here as your apprentice, I won't have to suffer with us."

My face remained hidden beneath the stone war mask, and my voice echoed through the air: "I heard from Baldy that you are one of the top craftsmen here, so how come you have to suffer like this?"

Hearing such far-fetched praise, the old man in the flowery clothes had a very interesting expression. If I weren't here now, he would definitely rush up and question this apprentice about why he had suddenly become the squire of a powerful knight, and also ask him what kind of adventure he had encountered.

But now he doesn't dare. As long as the bald man is still behind me and I am in front without falling down, he can only treat us with utmost respect.

At this moment, the bald man looked extremely embarrassed. He walked forward with his head down, his face showing a mixture of shame and a desire to maintain appearances. But whenever he saw the blacksmith's suspicious gaze, he would lower his head again.

However, I could discern some predictable emotions in the expressions of the old man and the group of people behind him.

…………

The noise outside disappeared behind me after I stepped through an exquisitely carved stone gate.

This is a stone house located at the highest point in the city. It has a three-story structure with incredibly sturdy stone pillars supporting each floor. The interior is noticeably high-ceilinged and decorated with a cathedral-style dome, highlighting its grandeur.

I could tell from this room that the owner must have an extraordinary obsessive-compulsive disorder. Because in this large first-floor living room, apart from eight marble pillars, there was no decoration at all, and the walls were painted a uniform gray-white.

There were no curtains, no drapes, no murals, no antiques, and no ornate floor tiles.

But what's most incomprehensible is that this room has twelve windows of the same size for lighting and ventilation, yet there isn't a speck of dust on the floor, as if the dust storms outside and this place are two completely different worlds.

In this godforsaken place where you swallow half a bowl of sand with every sip of water, how much effort would it take to maintain such a spotless hall? If the hall remains like this for a long time, the only possible explanation is that the owner has obsessive-compulsive disorder.

The moment we stepped through the door, the welcoming party of businessmen and craftsmen who had been following the old man quietly disappeared, leaving only him and us as we stepped into the hall, accompanied by the heavy sound of the stone door closing.

A gray-robed servant appeared mysteriously from behind the door, suddenly standing in front of us and blocking my view of him as I tried to peek inside.

"Honorable guest, the lord is waiting for you inside."

He spoke his welcome in a calm tone, but there was no sincerity in his voice.

"To show his sincerity, the lord has withdrawn the town guards from the surrounding areas, hoping to have an equal and fair dialogue with you. I hope you will also show your sincerity..."

After saying that, his gaze fell squarely on my steel halberd, his meaning was quite clear: I needed to disarm myself before entering.

I was quite satisfied with this straightforward style. This lord was more flexible than I had imagined, and he even took the initiative to remove the visible guards and come out to talk to me.

This was a very clever move. As the dominant power in the area, he possessed more armed forces than I did and had more trump cards up his sleeve, making him the one with the apparent advantage.

If he chooses to cramm this hall with thugs and deploy twenty-four snipers to continuously aim at me, he can certainly guarantee my safety, but he will lose face.

As a leader, it is essential to appropriately deify oneself; one cannot allow others to immediately think, "I can take his place."

"no problem."

I walked up to the gray-robed man, stared into his calm and lifeless eyes, and suddenly slammed my steel halberd to the ground.

The base of this steel halberd was also crafted into a conical structure, which could be used for thrusting and as a counterweight. With my immense force, the halberd's tail broke through the cracks in the floor layer by layer, descending half a meter before finally stopping and embedding itself deep in the ground.

I nodded slightly and walked past the dazed servant into the room.

There won't be any dramatic body searches later on. This kind of confrontational meeting isn't a gathering of friends. The so-called disarmament is just a show of force. Only a fool would believe it.

As for the actions behind the scenes—such as whether he hid five hundred axemen or I was wearing a bomb—these are all actions tacitly permitted by the rules. Those with ability will naturally find ways to use their advantages to win, rather than waiting for the strong to condescend and engage in a fair duel.

After passing through the entrance hall, I arrived at the front of the hall, and the view opened up before me. The true face of the Lord's Hall finally appeared before my eyes.

In my imagination, I'd meet a shrewd middle-aged man wearing a crown, a haughty and hot-blooded young man, or a sinister-looking man with a hooked nose. Anyway, I have absolutely no capacity to imagine the lord of this godforsaken place. It's as ridiculous as a slum tycoon. If he actually carried a golden carrying pole while tilling the land, and ate two cornbreads a day even when he wasn't hungry, would I have to praise him for being approachable?

But I never expected that the person who ended up in front of me would be a foodie.

Chapter 331 Wolf's Gaze and Eagle's Vision

Perhaps I should first organize my thoughts to describe the person in front of me.

He was a man who seemed both young and old, whose age was impossible to pinpoint. He had a head of gray hair, but not the kind that gradually changed color from black to yellow to white; rather, many white hairs would suddenly sprout from his black hair, creating a stark and unsettling contrast.

Like his resolute hair, his face was also covered with deep, sculpted wrinkles, from deep forehead wrinkles, crow's feet, and nasolabial folds to the continuous wrinkles on his face, all of which were clearly visible with his facial movements.

However, he sat upright, his whole body like a statue carved from rock, with sharp lines and a hard shell.

This statue doesn't have the exaggerated muscles and graceful figure of the Apollo statue, but the cold aura emanating from it makes you feel that the person moving in front of you is definitely not a human, but a stone statue, a puppet, a relief, or some other thing that merely has a human appearance.

The only sign of his anger was his deep-set eyes. These eyes would occasionally move stiffly from side to side, but his attention was entirely focused on the food in front of him.