prynovel Chapter 33 Rebellion
Chapter 33 Rebellion
The foreman lashed out with his whip, but it didn't land on old John's back. Instead, one hand gripped the barbed tip of the whip tightly.
The barb pierced old John's palm, and blood dripped down the muddy water, but he seemed to feel no pain.
It wasn't just old John.
The hundreds of laborers around them, who had been swallowing hard and completely lost their minds because of the aroma of the food, all stared at the muddy puddle on the ground with red eyes.
That was their hope for survival, but it was trampled underfoot by these overseers who usually acted like tyrants.
Seeing that the whip wouldn't move, the overseer flew into a rage: "Rebellion! Truly rebellion! You lowly maggots dare to rebel?!"
He reached for the knife at his waist, intending to use Old John's blood as a warning to others.
At this critical moment, Lynn, who was far outside the cordon, saw the movement in his hand.
A competent GM doesn't need to do the dirty work himself. He only needs to issue a quest at the most opportune moment to control these creatures called players.
"Ding!"
A red mission notification popped up on the left arm of all the players present.
[Urgent Mission: Market Stabilization Operation!]
[Mission Description: Bolton's overseers are harming our future high-quality workers, a serious provocation against the new dockland property! Repel or eliminate Bolton's armed overseers and protect the workers.]
[Mission Rewards: 20 Credits for each Overseer killed/repelled. Protecting injured laborers will grant additional compensation based on the severity of their injuries.]
The players who were complaining about the NPCs not following the rules just a moment ago went into a frenzy the moment they saw the emblem panel.
"Holy crap! A red-named monster! Kill him!"
"20 credits?!"
"Don't the hell move! That guy with the whip is mine! Don't try to take it!"
"kill!!!"
There was absolutely no need for pre-battle mobilization. Little Snail, the agent, Big Goose, and the others grabbed iron bars, shovels, and iron swords, and charged across Bolton's cordon like a pack of wild dogs, howling as they went.
Before the foreman's knife could fall, a gust of evil wind rushed towards them.
A rusty shovel struck his blade precisely, making his hand go numb.
"You dare touch the NPC I'm escorting? Who do you think you are!" The little snail slapped the overseer's helmet with the handle of its shovel.
Upon seeing this, the foremen nearby immediately drew their swords and fought back.
The little snail couldn't dodge in time and was slashed across the shoulder, leaving a deep, bone-revealing gash.
The overseers thought the bloody scene would intimidate the group of country bumpkins, but they found that the injured man not only did not scream and back down, but instead grinned excitedly.
"Hiss... 20% pain synchronization is pretty good, exciting! Agent, I've held off the monsters, you go around and take them out!"
The little snail, undaunted, charged into the overseer's arms, clinging tightly to his arm.
The agent then seized the opportunity to swing a brick and smash it hard on the back of the supervisor's head.
"Holy crap, how did this monster fall down? I haven't even touched it yet, does that count as an assist?!" Just as the roasted whole lamb was about to make his move, a supervisor collapsed to the ground, and he was so anxious that he gritted his teeth.
To the indigenous people, this wasn't a fight; it was a madman's carnival.
Players don't care about getting hurt; with the pain reduction buff, they treat the real combat as a hardcore holographic game.
Some even went so far as to shield injured laborers on the ground from the foreman's knife with their own bodies, just to get a few dozen more points of escort compensation during the settlement.
What drove the overseers to the brink of despair was that as soon as one of their companions was knocked unconscious, two country bumpkins immediately pounced on him with shining eyes, not to finish him off, but to frantically tear off his leather armor and boots.
"Poor bastard! He doesn't even have a penny to his name, except for these tattered clothes!"
"These red-named monsters are really useless!"
Bolton's overseers, who usually only dared to bully honest people, had never seen such reckless beasts before.
Their psychological defenses were quickly and completely breached by this group of lunatics.
"Demons...they are undead demons!"
Someone shouted, and the remaining dozen or so overseers abandoned their armor and fled desperately toward the upper city.
The conflict gradually subsided.
All that remained on the scene were the players panting heavily as they searched for the corpses, and the completely dumbfounded indigenous laborers.
Old John slumped in the mud, his eyes welling up with tears as he looked at the stranger standing in front of him, his shoulder bleeding, yet still boasting to his companions about how cool his moves had been.
In this world where human life is cheaper than grass, these people not only feed them food that is comparable to a divine gift, but now they are even willing to risk their lives to protect them, the lowest of laborers.
Old John wiped the grease from the corner of his mouth, feeling the strength within him, and was somewhat moved. He then turned and roared at the hundreds of laborers behind him.
"Bolton won't even give us a decent meal! Why should we risk our lives for her! Go to the new docks!"
"To the new dock!"
A long-suppressed powder keg is afraid of being ignited by the first spark.
Hundreds of laborers picked up crowbars and ropes from the ground, crossed the cordon that represented Bolton's rule without looking back, and surged toward the concrete floating platform of the shipwreck area.
Watching this thrilling scene of the uprising, the little climbing snail standing nearby nudged the agent's arm and whispered:
"Holy crap, that cutscene was absolutely amazing!"
The agent nodded repeatedly: "The voice acting for that old NPC is really captivating, the emotional delivery is perfect! Brothers, have we finished the main quest today?"
"It's not quite a complete breakthrough, but it has definitely made some progress."
Meanwhile, on the sea not far away, a dozen or so heavy merchant ships flying the flag of the Treasure Island Chamber of Commerce witnessed the entire incredible riot.
The fat captain, standing at the bow of the ship, was holding a monocular telescope, his hands trembling.
Bolton's docks are now deserted, while on the way to the new docks, laborers are chewing on greasy food, one hand holding a crowbar and the other holding a crowbar.
But what truly amazed the fat captain was the incredible miracle seen through the telescope.
There were no rotten, slippery wooden walkways, no stinking mud. It was a flat, hard, and wide expanse of greyish-white land, wide enough to run a horse across! Even at the edge of that flat land stood a huge steel crane, seemingly capable of lifting a dozen crates of goods at once!
"Captain, Lord Bolton has issued a blacklist..." the first mate cautiously reminded him, "If we go any closer, what will happen to the Treasure Island Committee..."
Fuck Bolton! Fuck the committee!
The fat captain slapped the first mate on the back of the head, spitting everywhere. "If I don't unload all my spices before dark, do you think that woman Bolton will compensate me for the losses? I only care about money! Besides, there's a lot of people involved, I don't believe these ships won't leave. Full swivel! Head to that gray stone dock to unload!"
With one merchant ship leading the way, the rest of the merchant ships were like sharks that had smelled blood.
No one cared about Bolton's ban, and more than a dozen heavy merchant ships turned around and lined up outside Lynn's new dock.
Bolton's painstakingly constructed economic blockade crumbled like a joke under the onslaught of a few pots of frying pancakes and a bunch of lunatics.
...............
A secret room deep within the black market.
The spy stammered as he reported everything that had happened at the dock to the old one-eyed man.
"No...no biological poison. Boss, they lured hundreds of laborers away with food! And their warriors...they're all fearless lunatics, laughing as they charged into the abyss! The merchant ships have all defected!"
The old one-eyed man paused, his hand holding the teacup still; he didn't understand.
He never expected Lynn to break Bolton's blockade in this way.
He suddenly realized that Lynn was several times more terrifying than he had imagined.
Using poison to kill someone is the most despicable and low-level method.
Using food to control people's most primal desires and building an army of fearless madmen is a move to fundamentally overturn the entire Pearl Harbor structure!
The old one-eyed man abandoned all his disdain. He abruptly stood up, his tone more serious than ever before: "Immediately send our best medicine to Lynn's camp as a congratulatory gift! From today onwards, the trade route to the new dock is fully open! No one is allowed to provoke those lunatics!"
This old fox, who had spent half his life lurking in the sewers, knew he had to increase his bet.