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In the plaza, a middle-aged man walked over and said to Lin Zheyu, "Hey, are you new here? We're short on hands over here. Come and give us a hand!"
"Yeah, I just got here. I've been chopping trees all morning, so I'm exhausted and taking a break right now. I can help you, so just tell me where you need help. I'll head over once I've rested," replied Lin Zheyu in a slightly weak tone.
His face was smeared with black mud, leaving him grimy and dirty, and his clothes looked disheveled. The man did not doubt him. Many of the new refugees here looked just like that.
"Alright, then get over as soon as you can. There's an open patch about 200 meters ahead. We need a lot of people to clear it and turn it into farmland. Once the work's done, the deacon will hand out meat-filled flatbreads to everyone, and I doubt you'd want to miss that," said the man.
"Got it. I'll rest a bit and head over right away!" replied Lin Zheyu with a promise.
By now, there were few people left in the plaza. Most had gone off to work. Whatever the Nine Nether Sect's true goal was, they had at least given these refugees...
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