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

From him, I learned that these people were a group of merchants from a nearby tribe. This was evident from their brightly painted faces and their shabby clothes, which would be considered poor even in the impoverished wilderness.

However, judging from his description, these facial paints were not applied in an ordinary way. The more vibrant the color, the more distinguished the person needed to use it. And the special application method also represented the outstanding contributions made by the tribe members.

For example, the three vertical stripes on his face represent the three awards he received from the tribal chief. The five caravan members behind him, on the other hand, have only grayish paint on their faces, indicating that they come from ordinary families.

The caravan leader, who called himself Ganan, said to me smugly, "These honorary badges I have are the result of great service! Don't let my appearance fool you; I can't fight, forge iron, farm, or raise sheep. I've earned them all through years of trading experience... hehe..."

I said politely, "You must be a core member of the tribe!"

Ganan paused for a moment, then said softly, "No, not really... but the large amount of supplies I brought back for the clan allowed them to live without worry, so that's always essential."

The caravan members nearby quickly chimed in, "Of course! The tobacco and beer that Chief Ganan brought back were highly praised by the old chieftain! He even personally drew patterns on them for him!"

Ah... what this guy brought back were just some ordinary luxury items, weren't they? Bringing these things to the chieftain, isn't that just blatant treachery? These contributions don't seem to have much significance for the entire tribe, do they?

Having his truth accidentally exposed by his subordinate, Ganan was probably a little embarrassed and quickly changed the subject.

"By the way, young man, what's your name... what's it? Kotaro?" Ganan began his intermittent amnesia again.

“It’s Kojiro. Although we’re both good at running away, I don’t need a wig, and I don’t have the airhead attribute,” I said.

Ganan nodded, seemingly understanding, "Alright, little cowherd! If you've rested enough, let's continue on to the trading district. It's been a month since I left; I wonder what it's like there now."

Several young men from the caravan excitedly said to their leader, "Great! Chief Ganan! We've been wanting to see the trading district you've been talking about for ages. Does it really have everything?"

Ganan smiled mysteriously: "You'll see when you go and see for yourselves..."

…………

Standing in the bustling market, I stood frozen like a statue, completely bewildered.

Where...is this place? Have I come to the wrong place? Isn't this my desert tavern?

Judging from the huge wind turbine that was whirring and the three-room wooden tavern with a very familiar design, this place is undoubtedly the godforsaken tavern that I built myself.

However, the constant stream of tourists coming and going at the entrance, and the buildings that suddenly sprang up next to me, with their various sizes and shapes, all felt extremely unfamiliar to me.

Fortunately, apart from me, the other young men from the caravan next to me all had a dejected and country bumpkin-like expression, which effectively covered up my unusual expression.

Ganan, the most knowledgeable man in his village, stood proudly before us, waved his hand, and exclaimed with boundless pride, "Amaze, young people! You have arrived at the most dazzling pearl in this wasteland, which will also be the greatest reward of your journey—the Oasis Trade Zone!"

Standing here in a place that bears a striking resemblance to a market town in a third-tier city from my previous life, I felt incredibly naive and even a little embarrassed.

Before I left, this place was just a dilapidated building, two silly leopards, four goofy horses, and a bunch of silly residents. How did I end up in a completely different place, like a well-developed, legitimate trade zone that's been around for years?

Today, the area has expanded at least tenfold, with many buildings connected together, forming a very unique regional architecture.

In my view, caravans and transport teams came and went continuously, carrying bison and camels, bringing all kinds of goods, exchanging them for various necessities, and then leaving with smiles on their faces.

Inside the building, many people were working hard, sweating profusely. Some were blacksmithing, some were sewing, and some were making unique handicrafts. Most of them simply spread a blanket on the ground and started shouting to attract customers from the roadside to come and choose. After some haggling, they could pretend to be reluctant to pay the price and reach an agreement, or they could exchange a few dirty curses to end the conversation.

“Men, bring our goods over—we don’t need to waste time with these street vendors. Take our ore and we’ll go straight to the blacksmith!”

After calling out, which drew envious glances from the nearby vendors and customers, Ganan followed us, herding camels, toward the largest blacksmith shop right next to the tavern.

Chapter 438 Found on the Road

"Gana, you're here pretty early this time! Oh, and you even brought some helpers? Looks like your business is going to grow bigger and bigger!"

Upon seeing our camel caravan, the burly, black-bearded man in the blacksmith's shop laughed heartily, patted Ganan on the back, cheerfully accepted the two bags of unidentified ore, and began chatting idly.

Ganan pushed him away in displeasure and said loudly, "The new chief trusts me very much and has given me more trading authority. This trade route of the tribe will be even more prosperous in the future."

Blackbeard the blacksmith chuckled, unperturbed, "Great! That means we'll have enough ore for the future! What will we be exchanging for this time? Weapons, farm tools, or building materials?"

Ganan said with a disdainful look, "Who wants your junk! This time it's money, currency! We need to buy what we need ourselves!"

Blackbeard the blacksmith chuckled and said, "Not bad, Ganan, you blockheads of the tribe, you've finally stopped bartering?"

"Nonsense! You guys have been making all the profit from the previous trade. If I hadn't come to the market area last time, I wouldn't have noticed how ridiculously expensive your prices are!"

"Our tools here are all made to standard military weaponry, using materials that are military-grade, so of course they're expensive!"

"Get lost! Besides, we just need it to cut down a tree and dig some dirt; we don't need such a fancy tool at all!"

"........."

After chatting for a while, Ganan left the blacksmith shop satisfied, ignoring the shouts behind him that "you must sell me the ore next time," and said to us with a smug look on his face.

"Young men, let's go! We'll go to the market to buy some things. After we're done shopping, I'll take you to a tavern to broaden your horizons!"

One of Ganan's young men said to me, "Little...what was it again...little wolf? Since you're homeless, come with us."

"I can't promise you anything else, but I can definitely get you into the caravan. With your strength, I guarantee I can introduce you to the tribe if you make some contributions!"

I said absentmindedly, "Thank you for the promotion, Brother Ga."

Ganan nodded in satisfaction and led us, a few country bumpkins, around the market, looking at everything.

…………

This oasis trade zone is now divided into three distinct areas.

The first part is the core tavern area, which, according to Ganan, is the residence of the leaders and guards of this trading district, and setting up stalls is not allowed. There are two tall date palm trees and a huge agave grove that stretches all the way to the coast. The interconnected paths almost form a green Great Wall, creating a rare and lush scene in the Gobi Desert.

This is also the reason why the Oasis Trade Zone got its name.

The second part is the workshop complex adjacent to the core area. Many skilled craftsmen set up workshops here, recruited apprentices, and produced goods. Every day, they consumed raw materials with extremely high efficiency, transformed them into goods, and transported them to all directions.

These people are already permanent residents of this trade zone. After establishing themselves here through their skills, they have obtained legal operating rights and are protected by the trade zone.

The third part, which resembled a rural farmers' market to me, had many merchants setting up stalls and hawking various goods they had brought. Inside, there were tools, medicinal herbs, machine parts, clothing, and more; I also saw people selling live livestock, all sorts of food, and a jumble of leather goods transported from other places.

These inexplicable things caused the market area to smell terrible and breed flies and mosquitoes. Getting close enough to smell the stench would sting your eyes, but it did nothing to dampen the enthusiasm of the merchants who moved through the area.

"Chief Ganan, why is it so lively here! I've never seen so many people before!" someone nearby exclaimed excitedly.

Ganan, feeling the heat in the crowd, took off his hat and explained to us behind him, "This trading area is the safest place in the Riegomi Bushland! That reason is enough!"

He took out the money he had earned from selling ore, bought a bag of rock-hard toast from a street vendor, handed it to us, and continued.

"Once you set foot here, all trade activities will be protected by Lord Shaflin. Whether it is production or trade, you can carry out them freely without worrying about the high taxes in your original territory."

"Taxes? Is that our tribe's communal grain?" the young man from the caravan asked.

Ganan sighed, “Our tribal rations are for our bravest warriors. Their taxes, on the other hand, are collected for the most useless people in the territory to squander. The two are completely different.”

The subordinate asked in confusion, "Feeding cripples? That doesn't make sense. Don't they know how to resist?"

Ganan smiled helplessly: "Resist? Their only resistance is coming here! Enough, young man. When you're out doing business, you need to listen more, remember more, and talk less, understand?"

After saying that, he stopped talking. Ganan bought another batch of leather and rations at the market. Looking at the rising sun, he felt that the surrounding temperature was becoming unbearably hot, and then he spoke to us.

"Young men, I'll take you to the tavern. They have the best food and the finest wine!"

"Really, Chief! But didn't you say that's the heart of the Oasis Trade Zone? Can we just go in?" the subordinate asked.

This question hit a nerve with Ganan, who said smugly, "Of course not ordinary people can enter! There are powerful warriors guarding the area, and except for resolving some intense disputes, no one is allowed to go in."

After saying that, he mysteriously added, "Because the supreme leader of this trade zone lives inside, an unimaginably powerful warrior. I heard that he single-handedly defeated an entire army, which is how he established this unrestrained trade zone!"

This story sounds familiar...

"Are we really okay going in?" I asked.

Ganan proudly said, "Good question, little camel! Of course, ordinary people can't enter, but my old friend Burnett, whom I've known since our tribe, is now the de facto manager of this trading area! I'll go visit my old friend, and then there won't be any problem!"

The young man under his command said with admiration, "Boss, you are truly amazing! To know such an important person!"

Ganan nodded reservedly, though he couldn't quite hide the upturned corners of his mouth, and led us through the market area and workshop area, straight into the core area.

Along the way, two groups of guards passed by, but they did not stop us from entering the familiar tavern.

...What are these guards doing? Did I tell you to patrol here with your noses in the air? A group of people walked in openly and you didn't care. Do you think it's unlucky for an assassin to run into me?

"Burnet, your old friend is here to see you again!" Ganan shouted as he entered the tavern, calling out to his friend.

Before anyone even appeared, a familiar voice came from inside the house: "Which bastard is yelling like that? Is it you again, Ganan? If you disturb Boss Zoffy's afternoon nap, believe me, you'll be stuck on a stake and yelling for a whole day and night?"

Ganan laughed loudly, "You bastard, are you still trying to lie to me? You clearly told me that the ruthless and unreliable boss in the house has been missing for two months!"

Burnett's voice grew closer, but he hadn't yet stepped out of the house: "Keep your voice down, you bastard! If anyone hears us, we'll... oh, it's okay, there are plenty of people in the know around the Core District tavern, hahahaha!"

He pushed open the door in a cheerful tone: "Want some tequila today? Before that unreliable boss comes back, I'll pack you a whole keg to take home...go...go..."

He suddenly froze as he pushed open the door, rubbed his eyes hard, and then looked at me, who had walked into the pub with my arms crossed and was giving me a cold look. His expression slowly turned into a Σ(?д?lll) look.

Meanwhile, Ganan, unaware of the situation, was still laughing carefree: "What's wrong? Are you stunned to see so many young men? These are all great young men sent by the tribe!"

"Why are you staring at one person? Oh... I forgot to introduce him again. He's not from the tribe. I found him on the road. His name is Little... Little Spinning Top!"

"Hey, hey, hey... Burnett, why are you kneeling? We're not that close... Get up..."

"Why are you rolling your eyes? Doctor... get a doctor right now! Burnett looks like he's going to die... you can't die like this... you have to give me the tequila you promised before you die!"

Chapter 439 Revisionism

"Sit down and tell me, what have you been doing here?"

I pulled up a chair and sat there all afternoon, observing Burnett, whose complexion had clearly improved considerably. Because he was looking down at me guiltily, I could only see his bald forehead, but not the expression on his face.

Ganan and the caravan boy stood awkwardly to one side, unsure whether to sit or leave, glancing at me and Burnett somewhat uncomfortably, vaguely sensing that something was amiss.

"Stop looking, sit down. You'll get the tequila Burnett promised. How about we introduce how you two met?"

Ganan sat down cautiously in the spot closest to the door. The young man beside him tried to pull out a chair, but Ganan kicked it away and said carefully, "Burnet and I... we're not actually that close! I was originally in charge of trading goods with the Cedar Clan in the south, and when Burnnet came to our area as a merchant, I saw him trying to sell things but couldn't, so I bought some tobacco and beer from him..."

According to Burnett, the Fir Clan were a group of barbarians living in the southern mountains, who were keen on internal wars and raiding strongholds and had no interest in buying and selling things.

It seems that he ran into Ganan, who was quick-witted and unlike any other member of the tribe. The tribal chief happened to take a liking to the cigarettes and alcohol they were trading, which led them to become business partners.

"I don't know who you are, sir..." Ganan asked in a somewhat hesitant voice.

Before I could speak, Burnett quickly interjected, "This is Lord Shafflin's most powerful warrior, the Bloodthirsty Butcher of the Loader's Territory, the sole leader of the Oasis Trade Zone, Zoffy..."

I glared at him and continued, "Yes, that's the heartless and unreliable bar owner he described."

Burnett immediately broke out in a sweat: "Boss... I just... I just..." He stammered for a long time before being unable to speak.

"Just kidding?" I said with a forced smile. "I see you've managed this place 'very well,' turning my perfectly good tavern into a farmers' market. Aren't you going to show me your 'achievements'?"

Before Burnett could even speak, I bombarded him with questions.

Where have my pets gone?