The twisted lightning passed between the beech trees, brightening the previously gloomy fog.
A faint smell of rain lingered at the tip of the nose, as heavy moisture gathered into droplets at the tip of Horn’s hair.
In the clearing by the woodland, Jeanne’s golden hair danced with the lightning, as she continuously sent bolts of lightning from her hands to strike the metal plate armor hanging on the trees.
Stopping Jeanne’s thunder and lightning, Horn quickly walked in front of the metal plate armor and lifted it with a branch.
A squirrel sprang out, its bushy tail flicking as it darted away so fast it nearly left a shadow.
Reaching out to feel the edges of the armor, Horn stared incredulously at the areas melted white-hot from the strikes.
"How is this possible?" Horn muttered, bewildered. "Why doesn’t it conduct electricity?"
Yes, Horn had already sensed something amiss when Jeanne pierced Barnett’s chest.
Jeanne’s pitchfork shouldn’t have been able to break through Barnett’s armor defense. If the electric current was strong enough to melt iron armor in less than half a second, then Barnett inside the armor would have been charred to a crisp.
Barnett wore a half-plate armor similar to a three-quarter plate. It had iron boots but no thigh guards, meaning it wasn’t grounded.
Yet, the lightning Jeanne released merely heated the iron armor instead of conducting through the metal to electrocute him.
The lightning would enter Barnett’s body only when Jeanne pierced his armor and made contact with his body.
Could metal conducting electricity only heat up mean that metals in this world might be high-resistance semi-insulators with a high temperature coefficient of resistance?
Or perhaps, the lightning Jeanne held was merely cloaked in lightning’s appearance and was entirely different in substance?
Suddenly thinking of something, Horn turned sharply: "Jeanne, have you ever heard of things like magic tides or divine disasters?"
With dark circles under her eyes, Jeanne looked confused as if awakening from a dream: "What are those?"
Seeing Jeanne’s puzzled face, Horn didn’t pursue the topic further.
He stepped forward and closely observed the dark circles on Jeanne’s face: "Does using this electric arc Divine Art consume your mental energy that much?"
"No, if it’s just aimed in one direction and only striking continuously for a while, then I’d start feeling dizzy, but resting for a bit would make me feel better again."
"Then why are your eyes so dark?"
"Why, why do you care... the ground was too hard, can’t I just not have slept well?"
"If you didn’t sleep well, you didn’t sleep well. Why are you shouting so loudly?" Horn said, puzzled, while scratching his ear. He patted his empty stomach, "It’s about lunchtime now, let’s eat first."
Leading Jeanne, Horn headed from the woodland clearing to the hillside where the villagers gathered.
On the clearing, an elongated grass shed had been erected early on.
Hanging over the stove fire, several large black clay pots were bubbling, sending out steaming vapor with the sweet aroma of rice grain wafting over the small hill.
Rice grain is Thousand River Valley’s staple crop.
It’s a cereal similar to rice, but considerably larger, with each grain being as big as a pinky fingernail.
Unlike elsewhere, the hot monsoons from Jade Sea and the cold currents from Furnace Highlands converge in this mountainous region, making the Thousand River Valley warm, humid, and abundant in rainfall.
The Imperial People commonly consume drought-tolerant crops like wheat, while rye, which can handle humidity, struggles with the heat.
If not for the ancestors of the Thousand River Valley People bringing rice grain from the Blood and Flesh Royal Court, the Thousand River Valley might be as abandoned as the southern Black Snake Bay by now.
Although rice grain can be eaten directly, the locals are accustomed to cooking it into porridge for consumption.
This rice grain was Barnett’s inheritance. That old fellow hoarded a full four hundred pounds of rice grain, stubbornly refusing to share.
Horn knew that the Armed Farmers, to some extent, had also stored some food; Barnett’s hoarded food was likely meant to control these Armed Farmers.
To the people here, stabilizing the Armed Farmers meant the others were of little concern.
Little did Barnett expect two miraculous entities, the Saint’s Grandson and Saintess, to emerge out of thin air.
One mentally destroyed his status, the other physically annihilated him.
In front of several clay pots, the villagers lined up in a chaotic formation, noisily receiving the rice porridge.
Seeing this situation, Horn shook his head, picked up the rice porridge that had been prepared for him, and while shoveling it into his mouth, walked towards the Hunter’s Hut.
The door of the Hunter’s Hut was wide open, and a clay pot was set on the fire bed in the center of the hut, cooking aroma-laden fish soup, with green wild vegetables tumbling in the milky broth.
The rich scent wafted outside, and even those villagers who had just had lunch could not resist peeking in.
In the steamy vapor, five people sat around the fish soup; they were the newly chosen four Ten Households Leaders Busak, Hezi, Jeska, Chap, and Priest Kosse.
Jeska sat cross-legged with his head down, looking absent-minded.
Priest Kosse, pale-faced, traced cross marks on his forehead in prayer.
Hezi held his palm to the side of his mouth, tilted his head, and spoke mysteriously with Busak.
As the only Armed Farmer, Busak sat properly, gazing at the people before him with disdain in his eyes.
As for the last Ten Households Leader Chap, he stared woodenly at the firewood under the clay pot.
Entering through the door and sitting at the head seat, Horn surveyed the four Ten Households Leaders in front of him and showed a satisfied smile: two Public Register Farmers, one wanderer, and one Armed Farmer.
To modern people, choosing these four Ten Households Leaders by population ratio is very normal. In the Divine Ael Empire, it’s common for all four Ten Households Leaders to be Armed Farmers.
Swallowing the last bite of rice porridge, Horn used a wooden bowl to scoop a bowl of fish soup, adding the fish head, looked around, and handed the fish soup first to Busak.
Busak appropriately and contentedly straightened his back, respectfully accepting the fish soup.
With his hands free, Horn didn’t waste words and straightforwardly said: "The four of you are trusted and respected leaders within your respective ten households. In the future, if I have any tasks, I will instruct you to execute them. There will be rewards for successful completion and penalties for failures.
Today, I have gathered you here also for the believers within each of your ten households.
To be honest with you all, the food hidden by Master Knight is only about a hundred pounds left, barely enough for another day, so the matter of famine must be resolved quickly.
As I have mentioned before, I allow you to enter the forest to forage, but there must be a plan for foraging; if everyone enters the forest, not only will the game be scared away, but their vainly wasted efforts won’t even compensate for the consumption of finding food."
At this moment, Busak finished the first bowl of fish soup; Horn picked up the empty bowl and scooped another for Jeska.
"Thus, I decided to divide the tasks: Jeska, recruit some with hunting experience to form a Hunting Team, responsible for hunting beasts and birds."
Jeska accepted the fish soup: "Willing to serve you, Master Saint Grandson Pope."
Busak and Hezi both stared jealously at Jeska.
Since the previous Master Knight offered the forest land to the High Castle Archbishop, it has been nearly twenty years without allowing anyone in; the Armed Farmers who originally hunted have turned to opening spinning workshops.
But there are many poachers among the wanderers, or those who used to be hunters. Jeska himself is an old poacher, often dealing with the nobles’ Forest Patrol Officers.
To form a Hunting Team, the leaders and main forces naturally should be selected from the wanderers.
"Hmph, filthy outsider," Hezi muttered.
"Each ten households, select four to five sturdy and swift young men to join the Hunting Team; about twenty people should be sufficient." Horn handed the third bowl of fish soup to Hezi.
He wiped his hands on his pants and continued: "Besides the Hunting Team, there’s also a Gathering Team. Similarly, each ten households select fifteen agile and keen-eyed people, both men and women, responsible for gathering wild vegetables, turmeric, wild fruits, garlic, acorns, firewood, and mushrooms."
The Gathering Team does not need to act collectively; each ten households divide areas, each gathering their own, managing themselves."
The fourth bowl of fish soup was given to Chap, who didn’t even say thank you, simply received the wooden bowl woodenly and drank the fish soup in one gulp.
"Aside from gathering and hunting, there must be a Support Team, selected daily from each ten households based on the situation, responsible for cooking, taking care of children, mending clothes, fetching water, building and repairing huts, etc. It was too wasteful to cook individually before; henceforth, we’ll cook communally, and everyone will eat the same food."
While speaking, Horn handed a bowl with fish tail to Priest Kosse: "As for the remaining people, let them not sit idle. If they cannot work, they should sing hymns and pray. As for what to sing and how, Priest Kosse will stay behind to discuss in detail."
Priest Kosse, tasting nothing of the soup, sipped a mouthful.
Stirring the soup with the ladle inside the clay pot, Horn raised his head to look around: "I’ve said all I need to say. You all go about your tasks... Oh, by the way, there’s one more thing."
The Ten Households Leaders, about to leave, turned around in confusion to look at Horn.
"If there are any orphans unadopted within your ten households, you can send them to me to serve as my attendants and guards."