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

I waved my hand, not wanting to explain further to him.

According to Mr. Rhodes from the parallel world, the Lord of Light is an entity that maintains relative order towards humanity. As long as one follows strict rituals and pays homage, one can not only preserve one's life but also possess extraordinary abilities. This is the most widespread sect in the parallel world.

Compared to the Thousand-Faced God, who is full of malice towards humanity, the Lord of Light is indeed quite friendly.

The Lord of Light seems extremely enthusiastic about expanding faith; he even chased me to this planet to continue expanding the influence of faith through the bald man.

However, judging from the Lord of Light's actions, he lacks the domineering presence of directly descending upon the Arctic Circle in parallel worlds. He can only exert influence on this world through indirect and subtle means. Even when the bald man misinterpreted his name as "Shafulin," the Lord of Light showed no anger or punishment, continuing to use this medium to spread faith.

Regardless of their attitude, I have no fondness for these unknown beings—and this aversion stems from their indifference in viewing humans as ants, and their transcendent sense that humans cannot comprehend my existence, yet I know everything about humanity.

I asked the bald man, "There is something unusual about you. You're brainwashed every day, so haven't you remembered any information? For example, you've never heard of the name or origin of this unknown entity before? I can confirm that this state has absolutely nothing to do with Lord Shafulin."

"Eh! I thought this was Lord Shafulin's enlightenment, but I'm just too dull to understand! Because of my current state, which is clearly different from yours, sir..."

...You mean to say that we're alike, right? I am indeed brainwashed every day, but this is completely different!

The bald man looked at me, scratched his shiny scalp, and looked completely confused on his young face.

Oh, I almost forgot that this guy is not even twenty years old yet, and he was just a blacksmith's apprentice from the countryside.

However, considering that another great religious leader came from a carpenter's family and also achieved great fame, the two are evenly matched in this respect. Moreover, this story is widely circulated and even adapted into a famous Henan opera; an excerpt is selected below—

Joseph, sit down and listen to my heartfelt words. Joseph, let's both sit down and chat. Carpenter, after you married, you took Mary as your wife. She became pregnant before the marriage, knowing you had something on your mind. Who is the father of this child? You can't sleep day and night because of this. This child was created by the Holy Spirit, who went into the earth through his mother's womb. He is to pay for the sins of the world; he is Immanuel the Messiah. This is God's will; you must not doubt Mary.

The bald man thought for a long time before trying to explain to me, "Lord Seven, that voice once instilled a lot of information in me, but I couldn't understand it at all. It was more of a chaotic and pure mix of information and emotions. To me, it was like watching a tangled mess of threads change before my eyes, and the end result was a splitting headache..."

This situation is similar to running a computer program using a digital calculator chip. The King of Light can only rely on external forces to make the bald man understand and execute its instructions and demonstrate its supernatural powers. However, the result of running the incorrect voltage and mismatched instructions for a long time will definitely be that the entire chip will be scrapped.

Let alone the bald man, even the priests of the King of Light in parallel worlds eventually turned into deformed, inhuman lumps of flesh. This kind of ending is probably the inevitable result of having too much contact with the King of Light.

Just as I was about to give up asking, I heard the bald man suddenly say, "Oh, right, sir! There are some scenes that I can understand, and they keep flashing through my mind. Let me tell you... I vaguely remember one scene: in a world frozen solid, many people were worshipping the aurora borealis in the sky..."

I nodded. "Okay, then that's correct. Anything else?"

The bald man continued to think: "And... there seems to be another group of people, wearing yellow headscarves and yellow clothes, fighting the army all over the mountains... I vaguely remember this scene, which is why everyone wore headbands to distinguish themselves..."

Huh?! This must be a coincidence, right? Could it be that yellow headscarf I know?

"Oh, and there's another scene: a lot of strangely dressed people, who, like me, are bald, hiding in the mountains, chanting something like 'A home without air, never step into the womb of life and death'... Anyway, I couldn't understand a word of it..."

...Isn't this translated as "Vacuum Homeland, Unborn Mother"?

What exactly does this King of Light do? (╯°□°）╯︵┻━┻

Are they professional rebels?! And the kind that always meet a terrible end, yet have an incredibly strong will to live!

When the bald man vaguely mentioned in his later recollection that he saw a sick intellectual in the video, but the video cut off because the other person was too weak, I quickly covered his mouth.

Isn't this chaotic enough? Should I include the old man in the mountains in your family tree as well?

"Alright, alright, that's too unlucky." I waved my hand to stop him from talking nonsense. Judging by the lineage of this King of Light, the riot led by the bald man probably won't end well. I'll have to make amends for it.

I asked, "By the way, why do they call you Mentor Sada?"

The bald man blushed: "I want to hide my identity..."

Alexander cut in half? I shook my head: "No, your name is unlucky too. The last person with a similar name, who had 200,000 Republican Guards under his command, was captured and hanged. You're even one character shorter than him, so your legs will probably be cut off."

The bald man was startled by what I said and looked at me for help.

I pondered for a moment, then suddenly caught a glimpse of his signature bald head…

I've got an idea!

I picked up a pen and quickly drew a distinctive mark between his eyebrows. Then I taught him to adjust his expression to make his eyes appear deep and bright.

"Starting today, your name is Yuri X! I feel this name will guarantee you a smooth journey to lead them straight to their heart's enemy!"

The bald man asked, "Oh... I'll announce it to them later. By the way, sir, what should they call you?"

I confidently declared, "Let's call him Seven X!"

…………

After reviewing and analyzing the situation, I found that the bald man's actions this time have incited a riot involving no fewer than 20,000 people.

These small tribes and free people scattered on the edge of the Great River tribe have been reduced from struggling to survive to the brink of extinction by the combined effects of toxic dust and exorbitant taxes. They have no other way out but to fight to the death.

The question that stands before all other issues is still survival.

The thirteen allied tribes were also powerless to withstand the disaster. They could only rely on launching wars against external forces and diverting social conflicts to temporarily delay the outbreak of the problem. At the same time, they forcefully shouted the slogan of "launching the war to reclaim the holy mountain and dividing the miraculous life-saving food equally" to firmly grasp military power.

But the problem of food still hasn't been solved.

Therefore, under the influence of tribal chauvinism, smaller tribes were abandoned first. Their able-bodied warriors were conscripted by the sacred covenant, and their stored food was seized by the requisition order, leaving only a group of elderly, weak, women, and children, left with nothing but tears, trapped on the yellowing grasslands, waiting for death to slowly descend.

In this situation, everyone tacitly agreed, but according to the prescribed procedures, all kinds of stone figures, stone horses, stone drums, and stone tablets had to be dug up from the ground, and the number of warnings and prophecies engraved on them also surged, almost surpassing the number of Lu Xun quotes of unknown origin on the Internet.

The sudden appearance of so many stone tools makes one wonder about the exact time when the Stone Age ended and the Bronze Age began: was it during the Shang and Zhou Dynasties, or just last week?

Then the animals in the soil became unusually restless.

Cattle, sheep, mules, horses, cats, dogs, chickens, and ducks all made bewildering noises regardless of the season, as if they had collectively learned human language and were about to become a New Type that rebelled against human tyranny.

Of all these animals, the fox is the most popular, so everyone asks each other, "What does the Fox say?" before giving the standard answer, "The Great Chu will rise, and Chen Sheng will be king!"

Further developments will essentially lead to the following scenario:

To die now is to die anyway! — That's right! Exactly! That's right!

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Even those who embark on grand schemes will perish! — That's right! Exactly! You're absolutely right!

???)ノ—(???(???(???

What should we do? — Resist! Fight! Die for our country!

???)ノ—(???(???(???

Something's wrong with you... — Huh? What's wrong?

?д?)?д?)?д?)—(???

The remaining members of the Great River tribe weren't much better off. With food scarce, Bertholdt's plan was undoubtedly to prioritize military supplies before trying to preserve the civilian population. Therefore, most of the requisitioned grain was distributed with the main legions of the Thirteen Covenant tribes, leaving no surplus in the tribes' strongholds.

According to the bald man's previous tally of the battle results, as of now, the total amount of food seized from the six strongholds captured in the past half month is not enough to feed 20,000 people for three days—and that's after digging three feet into the ground and even stripping tree bark back.

The only way to find enough food is to cross a long distance and launch a frontal assault on the siege base camp at the foot of the mountain, directly confronting the main force of the Thirteen Covenant tribes.

But for these 20,000 people—the elderly, women, and children—it was an impossible task. Driven by their faith, they could charge into fortified camps and villages without regard for their own lives, but they couldn't cross the vast grasslands on empty stomachs.

What's even more serious is that the organizational structure and management model of these tribes are extremely inefficient and chaotic.

The flag-bearing vanguard warriors appointed by the bald man are like NPCs issuing missions, responsible for proposing all sorts of outlandish strategies. After recruiting enough manpower, they launch a team battle. If they fail, all is over, and all they can do is say, "Please, hero, try again."

But if they won, the distribution method was to let these tribal people freely loot and burn down the camps, and then voluntarily hand them over to the bald man as a form of "offering" as their gratitude to Lord Shafulin.

This system of combining political and religious elements resulted in a further lack of grassroots cohesion and control within the already weak fighting force of 20,000 men. Although the fighting seemed vigorous, the number of men dwindled and the territory became increasingly impoverished, with no hope of victory in sight.

In response to this situation, I had my mentor, now known as "Yuri X," formally introduce the new "Seven X," and I urgently organized the flag bearers to issue a unified order to launch my planned "Summer Offensive"!

The specific operation involved me leading a dozen or so vanguard warriors to launch orderly and purposeful attacks on the surrounding fortresses, camps, and strongholds, prioritizing the occupation of the major river basins that still had production capacity, and connecting the territories into one!

Along the way, I transformed into a self-propelled howitzer and a human siege engine, finishing a battle in an average of half an hour. Within two days, I captured 31 enemy strongholds and single-handedly turned the tide of the entire battlefield. To be honest, this was also thanks to the fact that the defenders were mostly elderly, weak, women, and children, and that the tribal buildings were all made of wood.

In the past two days, my fame has transformed from a rising star into an extremely blazing supernova.

The difference of just one word clearly shows the status of "Seven X" in their minds. Some people even regard me as the human incarnation of "Lord Shaflin".

However, there's nothing wrong with how they treated it.

Throughout the battle, I maintained control over the participants' emotions, ensuring food was distributed equitably without taking lives, and minimizing damage to buildings. Captured individuals were welcome to stay or leave, but were never forced to do so.

With me in charge, the main job of these participants was simply to be passive and enthusiastic, so there was basically no overreaction, and they carried out my orders very well.

On the way here, I noticed that the soil toxicity hadn't decreased, but the river's fishery resources weren't significantly affected, and various migratory fish would provide excellent food. However, the Giant River tribe lacked manpower to further develop its fishery resources and didn't know the techniques for fishing at sea.

What is our advantage? It's our population!

Although these people lacked strong fighting capabilities, the tribe's inhabitants, ranging from eight to eight years old, were all capable of labor and production. Once this land was controlled, the elderly, weak, women, and children of the rebellious tribe could quickly be mobilized and support themselves.

Soon, I first declared these resources and lands to be publicly owned, and then promoted the development of fisheries based on the great river into a large-scale production movement, with everyone, young and old, joining in to explore every bit of potential in the land and the sea.

This vigorous activity, which was being carried out in the areas occupied by the insurgents, was named the "Great Production" movement by me!

Chapter 519 Ultra Legion's Cloning Plan

The Great Production Movement swept across the entire liberated area in full swing, and countless people threw themselves into it without hesitation in order to survive, putting all their intelligence and talent to the best of their ability.

It can be said that their past and future lives were merely a fleeting moment of their animalistic existence. Only the experience of this "mass production" movement gave them the urge to "be born as human beings" before midnight, the time for NetEase Cloud Music to quell their depression.

By the way, no one is allowed to be born, regardless of whether it's midnight or not!

As the great mentor "Yuri X" once said: To avoid poverty, have fewer children to feed the bears! To get rich, build roads first, have fewer children and plant more trees!

Desertification of the soil on the border is a serious problem, but we have no way to solve it yet and can only hope for the continued efforts of future generations.

If "Yuri X" is the guiding light that liberates them, the torch that illuminates their path, and the lighthouse that helps them navigate through the sea of ​​confusion and suffering, then "Seven X" is the punch that leads them to overcome difficulties, the Emerium Beam that sweeps away enemies, and the Ultra Ice Axe that shatters the shackles on their bodies!

In response to their praise, I could only humbly wave my hand, indicating that I had only made some insignificant contributions.

Compared to Emperor Chongzhen on Coal Hill, Li Zicheng on Jiugong Mountain, Chang... cough cough In short, what I can do is very limited. It's just to help them all achieve basic needs, a moderately prosperous life, and common prosperity. It's not worth mentioning at all.

But something about these tribal people, whose liberalism runs deep, struck me as odd. Perhaps because they were descendants of immigrants who had fled from a desert empire, their level of education was beyond my expectations. More than once, I heard people in the territory reciting works similar to narrative poems, told in the voice of an old man, about this not-so-distant event.

“I’m very old now, so old that I can’t remember many things, but I can never forget that bloody struggle from many years ago. It was a summer month when the toxic dust had just settled, a turbulent time. The people of the lake-blue hermit crab grassland were swept up in a profound, soul-stirring transformation. Many people revealed their true colors, many people became unrecognizable, and the eve of the revolution was cold…”

Admittedly, this riot has made some progress thanks to my efforts, but it absolutely lacks this epic, weathered feel. At most, it's qualified to have a voice-over narrate, "In the summer of some unknown year, my hometown grassland faced a food problem."

"These seemingly pointless cultural creations further prove that the creativity of the masses will only be transferred, never disappear, and certainly never be exhausted. In the boundless productive labor, boundless vitality will burst forth. Therefore, we must be more down-to-earth and go among the people to feel their power!"

After I finished speaking, the row of young people in front of me all looked confused, and one of them even yawned inappropriately.

I remain tolerant of young people because they are like the sun at three in the morning—you can't see it, but it will always rise, end your sweet dreams, and tell you that it's dawn, time to get back to work and school!

"It's okay if you kids don't understand. Just copy what I say a hundred times and you'll gradually get a better understanding!"

I assigned them homework on the spot, and then walked away.

Does it sound confusing?

It's alright, I'll start by explaining my actions during the "Great Production" movement.

…………