Chapter 40: state Owner is Truly a Good Person

After temporarily securing the green cocoon, Duan Wenxuan searched online for information about the Li Kingdom’s mountain deity sacrifice. He discovered that the news had spread quite widely and managed to find some relevant details.

However, traveling back to the Li Kingdom now would be challenging. The Li Kingdom recently implemented policies over the past few days, suspending many international flights. Only specific authorized personnel were allowed to land there, with these restrictions set to continue until after the sacrifice ceremony.

As a result, numerous individuals curious about the mountain deity sacrifice have gathered in Yilan City within Hanming Country. Originally just a small city, it has become bustling due to its proximity across the national border from the Li Kingdom.

Plainly put, Yilan City is the closest city in Hanming Country to the Li Kingdom.

Wave after wave of reckless people, whether drawn by curiosity or ulterior motives, flocked not only from Hanming Country but also from other nations, purchasing flights to reach Yilan City.

Duan Wenxuan checked online and found that previously, tickets to fly directly to the Li Kingdom cost around one thousand yuan, which was relatively affordable. Now, flights to Yilan City had skyrocketed to over ten thousand yuan, and most recent dates already showed no available tickets.

“We’ll need to find another way,” Duan Wenxuan swiftly closed his computer.

Having just completed the fifth world, Duan Wenxuan once again had ample free time at his disposal. After enjoying some snacks, he decided to revisit the Fourth World.

Moto’s father was a farmer, and his grandfather before him was also a farmer, so it came as no surprise that Moto himself became a farmer too.

From the day he opened his eyes at birth, Moto saw nothing but dilapidated straw roofs and muddy paths permeated with the smell of manure. As soon as he could work, he began tilling fields and weeding, like an indefatigable old ox tirelessly laboring just to secure basic sustenance.

Naturally, he once harbored a vague desire to seek a living in Westphalia, the nearest region. However, when he witnessed his uncle, a strong and skilled farmer, move to Westphalia only to become emaciated within two short years, returning home and dying less than half a month later, Moto abandoned that idea forever.

If asked about the happiest moments in his life, there were three significant events.

The first occurred when he was thirteen years old. His father received praise from the estate owner and was rewarded with a lavish dinner. Not only did they enjoy a sumptuous meal, but afterward, they were given plenty of soft, sweet bread, roasted meat, smoked sausages, and some alcoholic beverages. As the eldest son in the family, Moto was allowed to drink one cup of wine and indulge in a generous amount of food.

In the years that followed, his father often reminisced about that dinner, describing the abundance of delectable food as akin to heaven. However, he also expressed regret for not eating more at the time.

Even during occasional festive holidays when his mother would purchase some smoked sausages for the family, his father always sighed while eating and lamented, “No, no, ah… this doesn’t compare. You know, the sausages I had at the estate owner’s place were truly unparalleled…”

Hearing these words每次都让莫托觉得嘴里的香肠确实少了些滋味。

每当莫托做梦时，最美好的梦境莫过于得到庄园主的赞赏并获得与父亲相同的奖励。然而，并非每次都能做这样的美梦，但 whenever he did, it significantly improved his mood the next day.

The second joyful event occurred when he married at nineteen. His family offered one of their sheep and ten large geese to secure Shanfu as his bride.

In his dreams, Shanfu had a slender waist and ample hips, her freckled face blushing with shyness. On their wedding day, Moto couldn’t understand why his heart raced so fiercely whenever he looked at Shanfu.

Now, that feeling was gone. Shanfu’s waist and hips had grown equally wide, and her once soft-spoken voice had transformed into a coarse and impatient squawk, reminiscent of a large goose. She no longer bothered to maintain her appearance, often emitting a sweaty odor from neglect.

The final event unfolded, signaling what Moto believed would be the start of better days ahead.

The new estate owner proved to be remarkably benevolent. Initially, they had feared him as potentially difficult to work with, but amidst their apprehension, the estate owner surprised them by rebuilding all their houses first.

Under his direction, they organized themselves into groups to repair the muddy roads, leading to rapid improvements across the entire manor. Strangely enough, the pervasive smell of excrement began to dissipate gradually.

Moreover, the estate owner introduced composting techniques, promising bountiful harvests for the next year. Despite these increased yields, the estate owner insisted on maintaining the same share allocation for the first three years as in previous times.

What a wonderfully kind estate owner! With these changes, they might even have surplus food to sell, using the earnings to buy lambs, calves, and goslings. Although caring for these young animals would incur additional feeding fees paid to the estate owner, once they grew up, their wool could be sold, milk was valuable, and goose eggs were highly sought after as well… Just thinking about it, Mott felt that his family’s prospects would steadily improve.

Envisioning this imminent bright future made Mott increasingly cheerful, and despite years of carrying a weary and numb expression, a hint of liveliness began to show on his face.

”…What should we eat for lunch?”

As Mott indulged in his pleasant daydreams, someone tugged at the hem of his clothing. His twelve-year-old son looked up, stomach rumbling audibly.

“We’ll have flatbread at home without any fillers, ask your mother to cook it.”

The little boy sniffled happily, his face lighting up with joy. Holding a basket in one hand, he eagerly sprinted towards their home.

“What a truly wonderful estate owner,” Mott sighed again, filled with admiration.

The day before, the new estate owner had distributed five kilograms of grain per person to each farming household, without any reductions for elderly or children.

However, this gesture wasn’t solely out of Duan Wenxuan’s intention to perform good deeds and win favor. The previous young noble had shown no interest in agriculture and lacked experience in managing the estate, essentially leaving it to its own fate. To make matters worse, just before selling the manor, he sold off all the accumulated grains from the estate’s warehouses, including crops that could be prematurely harvested for immediate cash.

This was a severe blow to the tenant farmers. In an effort to lift their spirits, Duan Wenxuan felt compelled to distribute the grain as he did.

As Mott entered his home with a joyful expression, he once again murmured, “What a wonderful estate owner.”

The house itself was built using methods from the city; the roof no longer relied on straw, and there was now a designated kitchen area instead of digging a pit opposite the bed where a pot would hang over for cooking. This eliminated the long-standing problem of smoke and soot turning the interior dark and dirty.

Looking around their home now, there was no longer the gloomy scent of straw; everything appeared clean and tidy. Even Shanfu, who previously disliked bathing, seemed to have become more hygienic. The dark grime on her neck had been scrubbed away, and her hair was neatly tied at the back with a rope, giving her a refreshed appearance.

It feels truly wonderful.

Moto placed his dirty shoes outside the door and walked in barefoot. Inside, his eldest daughter was helping her mother prepare dinner, the second daughter sat on the bed near the window’s light, shelling peas, while the youngest, still quite young, played by herself on the bed.

“Dad.” Upon seeing Moto return, the second daughter promptly called out.

The entire family was joyful today, their mouths watering continuously from the enticing aroma of baking flatbreads.

Shanfu leaned over, “Honestly, why waste good white flour for these flatbreads? Why not mix in some grains? We’ve finally managed to acquire better ingredients, yet you insist on spoiling them.”

“Let’s not dwell on it anymore,” Moto interjected. “I’ve thought about it; our lives will only improve from here. The Landgraf is a good man; he’ll bring us better days.”

“You always indulge in wishful thinking, but yes, the Landgraf truly is a good man.” Shanfu paused momentarily before echoing her praise for the Landgraf. A hint of relief softened her worried expression, which had been etched by concerns over feeding their children, making her appear more at ease.

“Dad, Dad!”

As Moto and Shanfu continued their light-hearted banter, their eldest son burst into the room, calling out excitedly. He wasn’t wearing his shirt, instead using it to carefully wrap something held securely against his chest.

“What is it?” Moto frowned, visibly displeased.

This rare moment of warmth was disrupted by his eldest son’s boisterous entrance. It irked Moto, knowing that his eldest, already twenty years old and nearing marriage age, should have shown more maturity.

The eldest son seemed secretive, closing the door immediately upon entering.

“Dad, I just found something amazing.” Under Moto’s puzzled gaze, the eldest son swiftly unwrapped the item concealed in his arms.

As he spoke, Shanfu, the eldest son, second daughter, and youngest son gathered around, while only the littlest daughter remained oblivious, continuing to play on her bed.

“It’s this.” The eldest son swiftly undid his tattered clothing, revealing an old, weathered teapot inside.

“What is it?” Moto curiously examined the teapot.

The teapot was roughly palm-sized, covered with rust spots. Its lid appeared fused to the body, making it impossible to open, leaving the spout as its only opening.

Moto shook the teapot; it sounded like there was water inside. However, when he tilted it to pour, no liquid emerged. Intrigued, Moto tried poking at the spout with a twig, but nothing seemed to block it.

“Strange, why can’t I pour anything out? Where did you find this?” Moto handed the teapot back to his eldest son.

With excitement written all over his face, the eldest son looked at Moto. “Just as I was coming home, I stumbled and noticed this object underfoot. When I picked it up and shook it, I also found that the water wouldn’t pour out. But Dad, did you hear any sounds just now?”

Moto shook his head.

“I heard it too,” Moto exclaimed excitedly. “When I shook it, it seemed to ask me about my wishes.”

“Really?” Moto’s interest piqued further. “Are you sure you’re not lying?”

The eldest son hastily nodded, “Of course not, how could I dare make something like this up? Dad, is this one of those strange items the Landgraf mentioned through the heralds?”

“It’s quite possible.”

“Then, Dad, let’s take this to the Landgraf immediately. He’ll surely reward us generously!” Along the way, the eldest son furtively looked around, fearing someone might discover and claim it before they reached the manor.

Moto pondered for a moment, ensuring once again that his eldest son genuinely heard the voice. Satisfied, he hurriedly instructed his son to wrap the teapot securely. “Let’s go, quickly! We hope this truly is what the Landgraf seeks. Oh right, if this teapot really speaks, Snow, do not respond to it, understood?”

Despite having no formal education, Moto was well aware of the hardships faced by independent villages without any protection. Vaguely, they knew the world wasn’t peaceful, although they couldn’t pinpoint exactly why.

Moto had more faith in the new Landgraf than in an old, peculiar teapot. Moreover, with a promising future beckoning, Moto didn’t want any strange greed or restlessness to bring misfortune upon himself.

His uncle’s fate served as a cautionary example.

“Mom, I’ll be back for dinner,” the eldest son cheerfully said as he followed his father out. Once outside, he asked, “Dad, do you think the Landgraf will give us more pounds of white flour again?”

“If you haven’t lied, I believe he will. The Landgraf isn’t stingy.”

“That’s great! I truly haven’t lied.” The eldest son’s steps became noticeably lighter.