Lord of Rot

Luca felt a bit dazed as he followed the person ahead of him, leaving the food line.

Some people couldn’t resist eating as they walked. Having been starved for so long, Luca also couldn’t help but lower his head and take a bite of the dark bread, its rich aroma filling his mouth.

He greedily shoved a few more mouthfuls in, but the dry bread caught in his throat. Only then did he remember how little water he’d had on the ship; his lips were already dry and cracked.

Luckily, he had soup.

Luca gulped down two mouthfuls of soup. Droplets of oil clung to his lips, and the savory scent wafted straight into his nostrils.

"This is delicious!"

By the time he got to the next line, Luca had already stuffed all the bread into his belly and finished the soup.

’It wasn’t even salted, but I still want another bowl... even half a bowl would do.’

The line kept moving forward as more people joined from behind. Luca waited, bored.

About halfway through the line, Luca saw someone collecting bowls, so he went and put his down.

’Everything here has rules. As long as I follow them, things will go smoothly.’

The sky was already growing dark.

After inching forward in the line for a long time, it was finally Luca’s turn.

Twenty-some people sat ahead at desks, each holding a pen and writing something. Luca couldn’t read.

A lane was marked out in front of each person, manned by a guard with a wooden club.

When Luca approached, the guard stopped the slave who was trying to follow him.

"Stop here," the guard said to Luca, brandishing his club. "After you answer the questions, walk straight ahead down the path."

"Yes," Luca replied, maintaining his obedient demeanor.

Night had fallen, and small lamps were lit on the desks ahead.

They weren’t candles. The light was dimmer than a candle’s, and they gave off a pungent smell as they burned.

The person hunched over the desk writing looked up at Luca and asked, "Name."

"Luca," Luca answered immediately.

The person began to write on the paper.

"Age?" the person asked.

"Uh, 16, I think..." Luca wasn’t entirely sure.

But the person snapped, "Answer what I ask. No extra words."

"Yes!" Luca nodded obediently.

The person asked again, "Do you remember who your ancestors were?"

"Furnace!" Luca said. "Furnace the Red Dragon!"

This was a pride that flowed from his very bloodline, but the person writing didn’t seem to care in the slightest.

’He’s probably never even heard of Furnace. After all, it was so long ago.’

"This is your tag," the person said, handing Luca a wooden tag on a string. "The people up ahead will tell you what it’s for."

He waved his hand impatiently.

Luca thanked him several times before walking away.

Clutching the wooden tag tightly, he walked with the group for a long time.

It should have been just a few steps, but a winding path marked by posts and ropes made the journey so long that by the time Luca finally rejoined the group, the sky had gone from dusk to complete darkness.

"Men, this way."

"Children, over here."

"Women, this way."

There were people at every checkpoint to guide them, ensuring no one went the wrong way.

Torches burned in the distance, and the small lamps were lit up close. All in all, it was enough to ensure the slaves could see the path as they walked.

"Why can’t I go through?" the slave behind Luca asked, his voice full of confusion and grievance.

This was the second time he had been stopped while following behind Luca.

At first, the Soldier had answered patiently, but after being asked dozens of times, his patience had worn thin, and his tone soured.

"Wait! You can only move on after the group ahead has left."

Hearing the impatience in the Soldier’s voice, the man immediately fell silent.

Luca turned back and stopped at the rear of his new group.

At that moment, Big Beard, who stood at the front of the group, raised his voice. "All 50 of you, hold on tight to the tags in your hands. If you’re unlucky enough to lose it, you’d better remember what’s drawn on it. This thing is your voucher for food from now on. Without it, you’ll go hungry."

The slaves immediately hid their tags, terrified of losing them. Luca quietly wrapped the string of his wooden tag around his wrist twice. The tag was unsanded and had a splinter, which pricked his hand and made him wince in pain.

"I’ll take you to the barracks to sleep."

Big Beard turned and left, and Luca and the others followed him obediently.

After a few steps, Luca glanced back and saw another man standing where Big Beard had been, speaking to the next people in line. He would be leading a new group of 50.

The slave who had been behind him but was held back was right there in that group.

Big Beard led the way, holding a torch high. He was a talkative man. "You lot are in for some good luck! The Porcupine Territory is developing well right now. There’s food to eat and water to drink. It’s impossible to starve here."

After that first meal, Luca and the others were indeed filled with confidence for the future. At the very least, life here wouldn’t be any worse than in Gaoxue City.

"That over there is the latrine. Everyone must use the latrine to relieve themselves," Big Beard said, pointing his torch forward to illuminate an open-air enclosure in the distance. "There are latrines near all you slaves’ barracks."

Work points? Latrines?

The slaves only half-understood, but they grasped the meaning of Big Beard’s next sentence loud and clear.

Big Beard emphasized, "Remember this! Anyone caught relieving themselves outside the latrines will have all their work points deducted, and you’ll get a few lashes of the whip, too."

"Sir, what are work points?" one slave asked, seeing that Big Beard seemed approachable.

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