Dimensional Supermarket - Chapter 76

Sunlight filters through the trees as Ye Zhou walks along a forest path. Fortunately, the temperature isn’t too high, so he doesn’t feel particularly hot.

Ye Zhou has no plans to appear in front of the slaves during the day—they believe he is the Moon God, and they’ve already given him a role and a personality. All he needs to do is play the part.

It’s still morning, far from nightfall. After discussing with Zou Ming and the others, Ye Zhou decides to go down the mountain to take a look around.

There’s a village at the foot of the mountain.

Perhaps because it’s so far from the country’s administrative center, only a scattering of houses can be seen from the mountain, covering a large area. The largest cluster of buildings spans just two streets, and even from afar, Ye Zhou doesn’t see any signs of commerce.

The houses are all wooden structures, but they aren’t the pastoral cottages imagined in modern times.

These wooden houses are shabbier than one another. Looking through the telescope, Ye Zhou sees cracked boards and roofs that clearly can’t keep out the rain. It’s as if these houses have been battered by natural disasters time and again, leaving one to wonder if they’re even livable.

Since their appearance is so different from the locals, Ye Zhou can’t go down directly. He can only observe from a distance.

Scattered farmers work the fields. Vast stretches of farmland lie in front of them, but with limited manpower and no cattle or mules, they can only farm using the most primitive methods.

This place is even poorer than the Daliang Dynasty.

Back in Daliang, people are displaced by natural disasters. But without such disasters, they still live with more material comfort than the people here.

Cao’er Niang’s family has been poor too, with high taxes and rent, yet they can still afford to buy a red hair string.

Here, there isn’t even a place to buy one.

The red hair string isn’t just a rope—it represents a pursuit of beauty beyond basic survival, and the ability to buy and sell freely. It’s a small thing, but it shows that a market exists among the people.

Here, there doesn’t seem to be any market at all.

The land is vast and sparsely populated. Without enough manpower, its value is limited.

You can’t just sow seeds and wait—farming needs plowing, fertilizing, pest control.

If there’s a drought or flood one year and the harvest fails, people starve the next.

All the blood, tears, and sweat of farmers are condensed into those simple, brutal realities.

Ye Zhou sees ragged farmers in the fields, and children tied to trees with straw ropes. Some of the children reach out to grab insects and stuff them in their mouths unnoticed by their parents.

One child even picks up a stone and brings it to his mouth.

Ye Zhou watches nervously, worried the child will swallow it.

Thankfully, the child only licks it and doesn’t go further.

Ye Zhou: “…”

No wonder there are so few people here—the child survival rate must be extremely low. Those who live are the lucky ones.

“It’s too poor here,” Ye Zhou sighs.

Poor in both material and spirit. He can’t help but wonder, “I wonder how their lord is doing?”

The people in the territory are so impoverished—surely the lord isn’t doing much better?

Chen Shu smiles. “That’s not necessarily true. I’ve been to a plane where the lords were decked out in gold and silver, while the people in their territory were so poor they couldn’t even afford clothes. They were almost naked in the streets.”

Ye Zhou asks, “Are there no planes that are particularly wealthy?”

Chen Shu thinks for a bit. “There are. I’ve been to places with more advanced technology than my own plane, but it’s hard to do business there. They already have everything you have, and better. Unless you have something they don’t, it’s hard to sell. And things they don’t have? Their value isn’t stable. It’s actually easier to make money in poor planes. Most of them have a huge gap between rich and poor. What you consider cheap is priceless to them. Even though it’s risky, the bosses are still willing to take the chance.”

Chen Shu smiles. “A lot of bosses don’t even go back after they’re allowed to return to their original planes. They just keep doing business here.”

Ye Zhou nods. “I get it.”

Traveling between planes isn’t just about survival—it’s about building capital, earning profits. Once you start, it’s hard to stop.

If it were him, Ye Zhou figures he’d probably stay and do business in the Dimensions too.

It doesn’t really matter where he makes money, as long as he can occasionally go back home to see his parents.

In this sense, inter-dimensional trading is a good thing. If you’re brave, you can make a lot of money. You also get to see different worlds, understand different cultures, and learn new things. It’s like being in an adventure novel.

The only hesitation comes from the danger involved.

But if the system eventually unlocks something like a protective shield, even that danger would be close to zero. At that point, there’d be nothing holding anyone back.

They slowly make their way closer to the street.

This is a flat plain. Once they descend the mountain, there’s no high ground for observation. They have to stay in the woods behind the farmland, watching the people from there.

There aren’t many people on the street. Most are in the fields. No one seems to grow vegetables—only grains.

Grains can fill the stomach. As for vegetables, wild greens are enough. There’s no need to spend time or effort growing them.

No matter how long Ye Zhou looks, he doesn’t feel this place qualifies as a town—not even by the standards of his smallest village.

“I originally thought we might find an inn and try to stay the night,” Ye Zhou whispers to Zou Ming. “But now it looks like we really will have to sleep in tents.”

Zou Ming replies, “I’ll figure something out.”

What that means exactly, Zou Ming doesn’t elaborate.

For now, the three of them have to stay in the woods and wait for an opportunity. They eat simple meals—just dry food that’s compact and easy to carry, like compressed biscuits, jerky, and dried tofu. They also bring plenty of condiments, including Lao Gan Ma.

(Translator’s Notes: Lao Gan Ma or Old Godmother is a brand of chili sauces made in China and is credited with popularizing Chinese chili oil and chili crisp toppings in the Western world, and has inspired many Chinese-American chili-based toppings.)

They have some bread, but not much—and it’s hard black bread, not soft and fluffy. Still, it’s better than nothing.

Ye Zhou thinks back to the scene of Cao’er and her mother eating bread for the first time.

It looked like they were eating the most delicious treat in the world.

For the people here, even black bread is a delicacy.

The child in the distance has stopped eating insects. He seems tired and has fallen asleep on the ground.

His parents occasionally glance up to check that he hasn’t broken free or crawled off, then go back to work.

The free people who aren’t farming are repairing holes in their roofs, dripping with sweat under the sun.

It should be a peaceful rural scene.

But it doesn’t feel lively at all.

Ira is eating. He has been eating ever since he wakes up. He vomits several times, but still keeps eating.

He feels as though he’s already eaten a whole cart of black bread, but he still isn’t full.

The slaves around him begin to feel stomachaches, yet they keep stuffing food into their mouths.

“The stewards are here!” the slave sitting by the warehouse door suddenly shouts, dropping his bread and jumping up in alarm. His voice is filled with panic. “The stewards are here!”

The slaves who have been sitting inside the warehouse immediately stand up, gathering up all the black bread within reach and clutching it in their arms as they scramble to flee.

Ira is knocked down twice, but manages to catch himself with his hands and quickly gets back up.

Only after filling their stomachs do the slaves begin to feel fear.

They have eaten so much bread—far too much! If the stewards catch them, they’ll definitely be beaten to death.

Run!

There are so many of them—they have to be able to find somewhere to hide and survive.

Even if they continue being slaves, they don’t dare to hope for anything more—just having had this full meal is enough.

But Karl, who has just arrived, doesn’t even glance at the warehouse. He pays no attention to the slaves. Instead, he immediately asks where the Moon God appeared the night before.

“He flew up from the cliff!” the witch doctor says, stepping quickly to Karl’s side. He always wants to curry favor with Karl, but holds himself back at the last moment.

“He summoned the moon,” the witch doctor says.

Karl scoffs. “I saw the moon too. It was still up in the sky.”

“That was her sister,” the witch doctor replies. “It’s written in the myths—there used to be six moons in the sky.”

That explanation seems to make a strange kind of sense. Karl nods and says nothing more.

He walks to the spot the witch doctor points to—beneath the large tree at the edge of the cliff. The tree is unusually tall. While it isn’t rare for a tree to grow tall, this one stands alone among smaller trees, making it stand out.

It is fitting that the Moon God would choose this tree.

Karl doesn’t dare to stand where he has stood. Whether or not the Moon God is real, it’s better to be cautious.

“What’s that?” Karl suddenly notices something glinting in the dirt.

He doesn’t want to dig it up himself, so he turns to the steward behind him.

The steward understands, and although clearly reluctant, steps forward and begins digging with his bare hands. Soon, he unearths the object beneath the soil.

When the dirt is brushed away and the item is revealed in the sunlight, everyone freezes.

They forget to breathe. Their souls feel like they’ve left their bodies. No one speaks or moves.

The steward holds the object in his hand, motionless.

It’s a butterfly.

But not the kind you usually see—it has no background color. Its wings are open and translucent, shimmering with iridescent hues. Golden lines run through its wing patterns. Its delicate antennae look as if it might take flight at any moment.

It’s breathtakingly beautiful. Everyone holds their breath.

“A miracle… a divine sign…” Karl murmurs. “This is a miracle!”

This must be a creature punished and transformed by the Moon God.

But Karl’s eyes flicker with greed as he gazes at the butterfly. Still, he restrains himself and says, “Wrap it up. I’ll bring it to the lord.”

None of the other stewards speak. They’re too shocked to say a word.

“The Moon God has come!” Karl declares, eyes glowing. He grabs the witch doctor’s arm tightly, his expression fanatical. “Will he come again tonight?”

The witch doctor is stunned for a moment, then raises his chin proudly. “The Moon God said he would come.”

“Don’t touch it with that cloth!” Karl suddenly barks, seeing the steward about to wrap the butterfly carelessly.

Startled, the steward’s hands tremble—and the butterfly slips through his fingers.

Time seems to stop.

The butterfly falls, landing on a stone by the steward’s foot.

The crisp sound of impact rings out like a thunderclap in everyone’s ears.

The butterfly shatters—like fragile ice.