Dimensional Supermarket - Chapter 72

It takes at least five days to walk up the cliff. Ye Zhou calculates his strength and considers the children and elderly in the supermarket. It should take about ten days on average.

However, in this plane, Ye Zhou doesn’t dare let the children or the elderly go out. Even women and men who aren’t very strong—Ye Zhou doesn’t dare let them go either.

So now, the only people who can go out are Zou Ming, Chen Shu, and Ye Zhou himself. Zhou Yuanhe is too thin. Although he’s a man, Ye Zhou always feels he’d be easily knocked down. Even if Chen Shu uses only one hand, he wouldn’t stand a chance.

“I don’t want to go either…” Zhou Yuanhe says when he sends them off. “Why deal with those primitive people?”

In his view, anyone who treats their own kind as slaves is a savage—only savages do such things.

Ye Zhou smiles at him. He’s wearing a light-colored casual suit, a pair of hiking boots, and overalls with the legs tied up, making him look particularly neat. He shakes the bag on his back and says to Zou Ming and Chen Shu, “Let’s go.”

This time, they’re relying entirely on drone-generated maps—Kane isn’t going to be helpful. That guy essentially flies down from the cliff and doesn’t know the way at all. He can’t even clearly describe where this place is. Back in times when transportation and communication aren’t developed, many people can’t tell east from west and often don’t even know the exact name of their hometown.

“Just take the gun,” Ye Zhou says, feeling safer with an AK in hand.

In situations like this, where conflicts can happen at any moment and there’s no time to find cover, carrying a submachine rifle like an AK is safer.

Zou Ming brings a pistol, while Chen Shu still carries her sniper rifle.

“Why are you looking at me?” Chen Shu asks, noticing Ye Zhou’s gaze. She smiles and adds, “If there’s a head-on conflict, I can use it as a regular rifle without opening the scope.”

Ye Zhou envies her. “I can’t do that yet.”

Chen Shu shrugs it off. “It’s easy. You just need to practice for a few days.”

They don’t bring much, just sleeping bags and dry food.

Ye Zhou rarely goes on a “long journey,” so he feels a little excited.

Unfortunately, that excitement fades quickly—the scenery is the same everywhere: just small ditches, uneven ground, and cliffs. Even mammals are nowhere to be found, only a few insects.

They set out early in the morning, and by nightfall, they make a fire to rest. The three of them discuss how to take turns keeping watch.

“I’ll keep watch for the first half of the night,” Chen Shu volunteers. “Zou Ming, you can take the second half.”

Zou Ming nods, busy making the fire.

Ye Zhou asks, “Then what should I do?”

Chen Shu waves him off. “Boss, you just rest. With the nature of our work, we can handle this.”

Ye Zhou laughs and says, “No, we came out together. We should discuss everything. I’m paying your wages, not treating you like indentured workers.”

Chen Shu doesn’t press it. She glances at Zou Ming, who doesn’t speak, and then says, “Alright, boss. You start keeping watch. I’ll sleep for a while and take over when I wake up.”

Ye Zhou nods, feeling much more comfortable now. “Okay.”

Chen Shu unrolls her sleeping bag and walks aside. She puts in earplugs and falls asleep almost immediately.

Ye Zhou and Zou Ming are the only two left sitting by the fire, the vast night sky above them, dotted with bright stars.

Ye Zhou looks into the fire, pulls out a bag of biscuits from his bag, and asks, “Do you want to eat?”

Zou Ming replies, “Not hungry.”

Ye Zhou nods and looks up at the horizon. “I rarely look at the sky like this. Actually, back when I was still studying, my friends never understood why I wanted to open a supermarket,” Ye Zhou reminisces, suddenly talkative. “They thought the idea was a bit lame.”

Zou Ming glances at Ye Zhou’s profile, frowning. “Why?”

Ye Zhou smiles. “They thought if you were going to do something, it had to be grand. If you wanted to open a supermarket, it had to be a big brand chain. Only then would you be considered successful. Or join a big company and become an executive, or start your own business and become a boss.” Ye Zhou continues, “But at that time, I didn’t care what they said. If they said too much, I’d just tell them to shut up. Heh, I didn’t have a good temper back then,” Ye Zhou adds. “I think I’m much more patient now.”

Zou Ming says, “You’ve always had a good temper.”

He has never seen Ye Zhou get angry, and most of the time, he just calmly discusses things with others. Ye Zhou isn’t domineering. But he isn’t indecisive either.

He appears gentle, but once his mind is made up, he won’t change it.

“If you’re sleepy, go to bed,” Ye Zhou says, glancing at Zou Ming. “You still need to keep watch in the second half of the night.”

Zou Ming shakes his head slightly. “I’m not sleepy.”

Ye Zhou doesn’t press him. He says quietly to himself, “It’s still hard to believe. We’re all humans, so how can the slave owners of this era exploit and abuse slaves without even seeing them as people?”

To look at someone with the same facial features and limbs, and still be able to enslave them like that—is that really something a person can do?

Ye Zhou knows that this kind of thing isn’t uncommon, but he can’t imagine how anyone with a conscience could do it.

Zou Ming responds, “They don’t treat slaves as humans.”

Ye Zhou blinks, surprised.

Zou Ming continues, “In their eyes, people who aren’t in the same class as them aren’t human beings. It’s been like this since ancient times. Sometimes, the lower class people themselves feel they aren’t the same as the upper class, and they suppress each other while worshiping the upper class like gods.”

Ye Zhou falls silent.

He exhales a long breath. “Anyway, I just need to earn enough here to unlock other dimensions. I don’t want to stay any longer than I have to.”

He has zero fondness for this dimension—only a strong sense of disgust.

Hill wakes up. He rarely gets up at this time, but today, the lord is coming, so he has to get up early.

He puts on his boots, coat, and sheepskin hat, then walks out of the cabin, shouting to his companion, who has already had breakfast, “Is the lord here?”

His companion shakes his head. “It’ll probably take a while.”

Hill can only pick up two loaves of bread and sit opposite his companion. He clicks his tongue. “It’s just a runaway slave. Why does the lord have to come here personally?”

His companion shrugs. “How should I know? Maybe it’s not even about the slave. The lord’s not going to make you pay for it. Besides, a single slave isn’t worth much. Your monthly wages cover it.”

Hill laughs. “With a month’s wages, I could buy a lot of drinks!” He doesn’t care about the slave’s life. After dunking a piece of bread in the water, he spits on the ground. “Even if I really killed him, you shouldn’t deduct my wages. It’s obvious that the slave is useless. It’s better to save food if he dies.”

His companion replies, “Just say this to me, don’t let anyone else hear it, or I’ll make you pay.”

Hill curls his lips. He knows there are factions among the managers.

A slave might not be important, but this particular one could become a tool for others to use against him.

After all, he works here thanks to his uncle.

His uncle is the lord’s personal manservant. There are many people who dislike his uncle.

Hill finishes the last bite of bread, stands up, and ties his cloth belt around his waist. He looks towards the direction the slave came from with interest.

When dealing with slaves, Hill is at his most relaxed. He doesn’t have to worry about saying something wrong, or about his uncle being implicated by him. He can do whatever he wants with the slave. Only with a slave does he feel a natural sense of power and control.

“I’ve got a piece of bread! First one to come gets it!” Hill shouts to the slaves.

But there’s no bread in his hand—just a black rock.

The slaves, with their poor eyesight, strain their necks, squint at the stone in Hill’s hand, and then begin to push each other to run toward him.

The first to reach him is a young man. He’s thin but fast, and squats in front of Hill like a dog, looking up at him with expectation.

Hill squats slightly, reaches out, and pats the man’s head, shouting to the others, “Okay, none of you are as good as him, so this piece of bread is his.”

The slaves lower their eyes in despair, though some still watch Hill hungrily, hoping to catch even a whiff of the bread’s scent.

But to everyone’s surprise, Hill stands up, raises the “bread,” and slams it hard onto the man’s head.

The man, crouching on the ground, is hit instantly, blood oozing from his head.

Hill kicks the man’s stomach viciously, his face twisted with rage. “A slave thinks he deserves bread?! Huh?! You think you deserve bread?!” Hill shouts. “You filthy things—how dare you dream of eating food meant for people?!”

The slaves shrink back, lowering their heads, too afraid to help the beaten man.

The man curls into a tight ball on the ground, cradling his head with his hands.

Hill steps on the man’s back with one foot, sneering, “A slave needs to know his place! Just because you look human doesn’t make you one!”

After saying his piece, Hill glances at a few people standing nearby.

Those are the ones who forced both him and his uncle away from the lord’s inner circle.

Finished venting, Hill doesn’t look at the man again. He gives one more kick and walks off.

The other slaves dare not intervene. They watch as the man coughs up water, struggles to stand on his knees, and then slowly blends back into the group of slaves, his head bowed even lower than before.

After “teaching” the slaves a lesson, Hill and his companion supervise them as they work. Anyone who works too slowly is immediately punished with the whip.

Some of the other managers don’t like to use the whip often.

But Hill enjoys the feel of it, especially the satisfying sound it makes when it hits someone.

So he doesn’t care whether a slave is slacking or not. If he wants to hit someone, he will. Who’s going to stand up for a slave?

If anyone were going to stand up for a slave, then slavery wouldn’t exist in the first place.

“There’s no point hitting him anymore,” his companion grabs Hill’s raised hand and frowns. “You’re about to beat him to death. The death of the last slave wasn’t your fault, but if another one dies, the lord will probably deduct your wages.”

Hill rolls his eyes, shrugs his companion off, tosses the whip aside, and grumbles weakly, “I’m full of rage right now. Can’t even take it out on someone.”

“What’s the point of being angry? Do you really think they can drive you away?” the companion asks.

Hill falls silent and irritably touches his head.

Just then, someone suddenly shouts from a distance, “The lord is here!”

Hill stands up immediately, instinctively putting on a flattering expression, smiling widely. He doesn’t care about the whip anymore, but eagerly runs toward the lord.

Hill’s expression is full of eagerness as he steps lightly across the grass, watching the lord approach from afar.