Dimensional Supermarket - Chapter 73

Ye Zhou lowers the muzzle of the gun and hands the sniper rifle back to Chen Shu.

The sun blazes, yet Ye Zhou feels cold all over—not from fear after pulling the trigger, but the opposite. In the instant he fires, the man he aims at seems to overlap with the first person he ever kills.

The feeling he tries to catch but can’t grasp now slips away from him.

It’s hard to describe the feeling. Before it leaves him, he doesn’t sense anything wrong. But once it’s gone, his whole body feels lighter, as if something that always binds and confines him has finally let him go.

“Should we move in?” Chen Shu lowers her voice and suggests, “It’s not the right time to approach. I think we’d better wait until dark.”

Ye Zhou has no intention of rushing in either. “Let’s wait.”

Hill lies on the ground where he is struck. He hasn’t even realized what happens—blood suddenly starts seeping from his abdomen. He gasps for breath, his ears filled with the sound of his own panting and heartbeat. The voices of his companions seem to come from far away, even though one of them is holding his hand right now.

“Hill! Hill!”

Someone is stripping his clothes. They see the blood on his body, but can’t tell where it comes from.

“Stop the bleeding! Quick, is there a witch doctor?!” someone shouts.

The stewards are busy, but there is no real concern on their faces, only annoyance at the situation and fear of the unknown.

“What happened just now? Did someone shoot an arrow? I didn’t see the arrow, and there’s no arrow wound on him.”

“Hurry up and drag him into the house!”

The stewards suddenly realize there is a “murderer” outside. Compared to the “murderer,” they feel weak, so they hurry to carry Hill into the wooden house.

The wooden house should be able to block arrows.

The stewards finally find a sense of security when they close the door behind them.

“Could it be some strange metal shard? I once had a neighbor who was walking down the street when a metal shard came flying out of nowhere and slit his throat. He died right there. No one ever figured out where that shard came from. I think Hill’s situation is very similar to that of my neighbor,” says another steward.

Fortunately, the companion who has the closest relationship with Hill never gives up on him. The companion tears off Hill’s clothes and searches his abdomen with blood-soaked hands.

It is a bloody hole.

There is no weapon residue, no arrowhead, and no iron piece. Hill’s abdomen seems to have been pierced by the air itself, leaving a bloody hole behind.

Hill opens his mouth wide, looking at the wooden beam above him, panting heavily. He tries desperately to grab his companion’s hand, just like the slave who earlier struggles to grab at the mud. He whispers with difficulty, “Save… save me…”

He doesn’t want to die.

The companion turns to the stewards, who have gathered in a circle around them. With a calm expression, he says, “I’ll go down the mountain to find a witch doctor. You keep an eye on him and find a way to stop the bleeding.”

The stewards, unimpressed, half-heartedly reply, “Okay, okay, we know.”

“You don’t know,” the companion snaps. “He is the nephew of the lord’s personal attendant. You usually have conflicts with him and dislike him—those are small problems between us. But if he really dies, how will you explain it to his uncle?”

In a way, the personal attendant transcends his class. They have more freedom, status, and property than commoners. A respected valet can use his position to enter politics. The lord can take him to meetings, and as long as the lord allows, he can discuss matters with other noble lords. His power is second only to that of the lord and the butler, and a valet is often next in line to become the butler.

If Hill’s uncle becomes the butler, Hill naturally becomes the next valet.

The stewards all hope he gets into trouble or dies. If he dies, they have a chance to change their own fate and class. Otherwise, from birth to death, from them to their children, they remain stewards. And if their children aren’t treated differently by the lord, they might not even have the tiny power of stewards. They become ordinary freemen—doing heavy labor, paying taxes, and receiving a meager grain output. After paying taxes, their family can only survive by borrowing grain from the lord.

But the lord’s food cannot be exchanged. They borrow it every year, and after repaying it, they must borrow again. Over time, they become serfs.

When the king calls for them to participate in wars or pay taxes, the lord can order them to do so.

For the lord, the more slaves in his territory, the better—it’s better than having more free people. However, if the territory becomes filled with slaves, it isn’t reasonable. So, the lords usually let their favorite and obedient stewards and their families become free people to manage the serfs for them.

So, most of the serfs are actually the lord’s own “people,” except for the ones he buys.

The stewards finally grimace and say to the companion, “Go quickly, we know what to do.”

The companion leaves the wooden house. He seems completely unafraid of the potential dangers outside. He mounts a donkey and rushes down the mountain eagerly.

Now, in Ye Zhou’s eyes, only the slaves remain—

The slaves don’t care if anyone is watching them. The day-to-day labor and hunger have dulled their minds. They are malnourished, calcium-deficient, and hypoglycemic, but they are still alive—like zombies, but able to breathe, walk, and work.

Ye Zhou observes them through his telescope, and he sees the same slave who earlier falls to the ground again.

Still, no one comes to save him.

He has fallen into the mud pit, but this time, he lies on his back.

Ye Zhou purses his lips and turns away, unable to bear looking any longer.

The slave, skinny and fragile, looks almost like a child when standing, but lying in the mud, he appears like a big-headed doll. His face is covered with mud and water, and Ye Zhou can’t even see his features or guess his age.

“He looks like he’s under 18,” Chen Shu seems to guess what Ye Zhou is thinking. She whispers, “Boss, don’t be sad. After dark, Zou Ming and I will handle it.”

Ye Zhou is taken aback. “What do you mean by handle it?”

Chen Shu blinks and says matter-of-factly, “Kill them all. That’s enough.”

Ye Zhou lets out a helpless laugh. “That’s not why I’m here. You forgot again?”

Chen Shu pauses for two seconds, realizing she’s forgotten something—but can’t remember what. She turns to Zou Ming.

Zou Ming adds, “We’re here to do business with them. Use their money to support their people.”

Of course, Ye Zhou can afford to support the slaves, but he doesn’t want to become a slave owner, nor does he want these slaves to simply change masters and continue their lives as slaves.

He isn’t a savior, and he doesn’t go out of his way to rescue every poor soul he encounters. But if he can save these slaves and accumulate enough points to leave this plane, that would be ideal.

“I need to think about how to deceive them,” Ye Zhou says with a smile.

The three of them are now behind the earth slope. The position is secure enough; unless someone climbs out of the cliff, they can’t be seen. But Ye Zhou still feels uneasy. The chill on his back reminds him that safety isn’t guaranteed.

Occasionally, he grabs Zou Ming’s arm.

At first, Zou Ming glances at him, but after a while, he stops reacting.

“I thought fireworks might be useful,” Ye Zhou says, pulling a small firework from his backpack. “Although it might work, it’s unlikely to fool them into thinking it’s a miracle.”

After all, he doesn’t know if fireworks are even known in this world.

“What about a high-intensity flashlight?” Ye Zhou muses. A high-intensity flashlight could be invaluable in this plane—almost like a magical tool.

It can light up the path and also serve as a weapon. If they pretend to summon a ghost, they can turn it on and make the whole area as bright as day, far outshining any oil lamps, candles, or torches.

“Just a high-intensity flashlight,” Ye Zhou says as he packs it away. He turns to Zou Ming and asks, “Do you think we need anything else?”

Zou Ming glances at Ye Zhou and shakes his head. “No need.”

Chen Shu sighs. “Boss, I don’t think it’s necessary.”

When she first meets Ye Zhou, although she thinks he is good-looking, he doesn’t stand out. Back then, he had a calm demeanor—neither rushing to act nor showing urgency, always with a gentle smile.

But now, he still smiles often, but the smile doesn’t linger as long. There is a seriousness about him, one that makes him seem more distant yet somehow more handsome.

Especially when his dark eyes lock onto someone—it’s as if he can pull them into his gaze.

Chen Shu snaps herself out of her thoughts. “Chen Shu, don’t get distracted. People who get distracted don’t end up well.”

Ye Zhou is used to deception. He just needs to clean the dust and sawdust off his clothes before working his tricks.

When the lights are switched on at night, the cliff lights up as bright as day.

Zou Ming and Chen Shu hide in the woods on either side. If anyone dares to attack Ye Zhou or approach him, they shoot without hesitation.

As long as Ye Zhou doesn’t stop them, they don’t care about taking lives—or how many lives they take.

Ye Zhou sees nothing wrong with this.

If this is peacetime in his own world, he’d think these two need some education. But this isn’t his world, and only force can guarantee their safety.

If they hesitate to take action, they end up suffering.