Chapter 67: Observe the entire territory

Phield took a white messenger pigeon out of the dovecote and cast Winged Beast Empathy on it.

A streak of silver energy shot from his fingertip and sank into the pigeon’s head.

In an instant, Phield felt his field of vision expand, as if he were watching a split-screen video. For a moment, he didn’t know which side to focus on.

“Interesting.”

Fortunately, Phield quickly came up with a solution. He lay back down on the bed and closed his eyes.

One side of the “screen” immediately went dark, leaving only the pigeon’s perspective.

“Ashina, release the pigeon.”

“Alright.”

Ashina opened the old wooden window of the grand estate, and the pigeon flew into the sky.

Phield immediately gained a god’s-eye view, taking in the entirety of Nightfall Domain. The overall tone was a muddy mix of dark brown and black, tinged with pale gray. The soil had been heavily eroded by the mist—though purified, traces of discoloration remained. Seen from above, it was like watching an old black-and-white television.

The slaves lived in tents cobbled together from broken wood, old cloth, and withered grass. The wood had been salvaged during cleanup and was a scarce resource—corrupted plants were already dangerous enough without expecting them to provide building materials. Some didn’t even have makeshift sheds and could only wrap themselves in torn burlap, sleeping huddled together for warmth.

The free citizens lived slightly better lives. Since they weren’t forced into labor, they had begun digging into the earth to build homes. Phield spotted the most classic feature—a hearth built at the center of the dwelling, used for cooking and heating. Women wove cloth beside the hearth, occasionally glancing at the pot of porridge simmering above it.

“Coo, coo…”

Drawn by the smell of food, the pigeon fluttered down and landed on the earthen wall the free citizens had built.

“Ah… I really miss the days back in Bull Territory. Even if we didn’t have enough to eat, at least we lived under a proper roof.”

“Shut up. Have you forgotten the five lashes you took last time?” The woman weaving cloth shot her husband a vicious glare. “Don’t expect me to nurse your rotten backside again. I’d rather marry a slave soldier from the guard than keep living with you.”

“Oh, damn it! You short-sighted shrew!” the man snapped angrily. “You’d marry a slave? Slaves can never rise up! Your sons will be slaves, your grandsons too!”

The woman spat a thick glob of phlegm onto the ground. “Pah! The lord said that once a slave earns one gold coin, they’re freed. Do you know how much the guard earns? They say Sam already has one full gold coin saved. I’ve never seen that much money in my life! Take that back to Bull Territory and you’d be the richest family in the village.”

The humiliated man nearly fainted with rage. “Then can you even leave? Nightfall Domain has no merchants, no taverns, no markets. What’s the point of money if there’s nowhere to spend it?”

“There will be, sooner or later,” the woman retorted stubbornly. “Stop using that excuse to avoid work. I’m weaving cloth already—I can trade it directly at the estate for oats!”

“Nobles never keep their word. Every year Baron Bull took away so many little girls, saying they’d be maids. Not a single one ever came back. Our daughter too—no news at all!”

Silence fell over the room.

Phield listened quietly from afar.

It was time to establish a market—or at least an exchange system—to get goods and resources circulating.

Otherwise, the productivity of the free citizens would inevitably suffer.

As for the daughter they mentioned… she had likely met a grim fate at Baron Bull’s hands. But Phield had no power over Bull—for now.

Lured by the aroma of porridge, the pigeon could no longer resist and swooped downward.

The pot suspended over the fire hadn’t begun to boil yet, but tiny bubbles had formed. Bran floated on the surface. In the modern world, this wouldn’t even compare to leftover white rice—but in Nightfall Domain, it was top-tier food.

“Heavens! Where did that bird come from? Shoo! Get away!”

“That’s for the children!”

The couple was perfectly united when it came to food. They immediately waved their hands frantically, driving the pigeon off.

This wasn’t Phield indulging in some twisted prank—he simply couldn’t control the pigeon. The spell only granted sight and hearing.

The pigeon fled in panic, circling repeatedly near the grand estate. Several times, Phield worried the stupid bird would fly straight into the gray mist and turn into some sort of pigeon monster.

Thankfully, animals were instinctively wary of the deathly fog. The pigeon eventually landed in the slaves’ farmland.

From its perspective, Phield saw crooked ridges where slaves were planting broad beans.

One male slave absentmindedly scraped a shallow pit with his hand, tossed a seed in, and stomped twice at random. The seed was even kicked back out of the hole. He didn’t bother looking and simply moved on to dig the next one.

That was still acceptable. Another slave was already asleep between the ridges.

Phield even saw someone eating the seeds raw.

“Fuck! If this produces anything, I’ll eat my own boots!” Phield nearly leapt out of bed in rage, ready to sprint to the fields and beat them senseless.

“No wonder slavery is doomed to be abolished—this efficiency is so bad even dogs would shake their heads.”

Just then, a shout rang out.

“Damn dog shit—get up and work!”

Tate arrived with two members of the security force—new recruits Phield had personally selected—wielding clubs and whips.

They kicked and beat the slaves mercilessly.

“Idiot who stole seeds—rations halved for three days. Anyone working carelessly, watch him and make him redo it. This acre earns no pay. As for the one sleeping—send him to haul timber. Once he’s running back and forth, he won’t feel sleepy. Move it! Don’t waste the lord’s bread!”

Tate delivered judgment swiftly. The two recruits grinned maliciously and moved in to carry it out.

“Good,” Phield observed with satisfaction. “Measured punishment—not cruel, not naïve.”

Orders were being executed properly, and Tate had acted almost immediately after Phield’s instructions. That pleased him greatly.

Someone who could correctly enforce policy was a treasure to Nightfall Domain.

“Sister, look—the pigeon over there.”

“Shh…”

Phield was still thinking when he heard a girl’s voice.

The pigeon turned toward the sound.

Two filthy little girls were staring at it with wide eyes.

“Rare,” Phield murmured. “Twins.”

After comparing them, he confirmed they were identical—though their temperaments were entirely different.

The one holding a stone looked tough and assertive. The one crouching beside her appeared timid and withdrawn.

“Wait… a stone?” Phield froze.

Jane clenched the stone in her hand, recalling the bird-hunting techniques her father had taught her before he died. She lowered her body slightly, gripping the sharp rock tightly in her right hand.

“Sister, don’t!” Clara cried out in panic, wanting to scare the pigeon away. But when she felt her sister’s gaze, she shrank back, too afraid to act.

Licking her lips, Jane thought of the smell of meat. Her stomach cramped involuntarily, saliva trailing from the corner of her mouth.

“Don’t make noise,” she whispered. “We’ll have bird meat soon.”

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