Conquering OtherWorld Starts With a Game

Had it been other organizations composed of living people, an attempt to deal with the lethal wooden carving hidden in Redwall Farm would inevitably result in heavy casualties.

Just entering would trigger a curse that killed people at such a high frequency it could claim a life every few minutes. This threshold alone was insurmountable for 99% of organizations.

Even if an organization managed to withstand the curse and find the baby wood carving in the compartment under the wooden bed, the carving's rule of death upon direct sight presented yet another… A stroke of bad luck in directly uncovering the carving could lead to the demise of an entire team.

Such a perilously malevolent sealed artifact would undoubtedly continue wrecking havoc at Redwall Farm if not for the calamitous players that came from a different dimension—but once the players came, it was the end of the matter.

Phantom bid a "high" of 800 copper, and Blossoming Strokes, short on cash, had to regretfully pass. After resolving the ownership of the sealed artifact, the players continued their search of Redwall Farm.

This time, in addition to eliminating the ghosts lurking in every corner, the players also engaged in some opportunistic thievery…

Originally, investigator "Goldfish" and the other five survivors had fled the place in a hurry, the threat to their lives leaving them with no time to gather valuables. Over time, the catastrophe within the farm worsened, deterring anyone from coming close.

In other words, the Redwall Farm mansion still housed many valuable items…

Several hours later, undead laden with large and small bundles left the farm and squeezed into the carriage.

The players, eager to monetize (sell back to Old Yang) their "plunder," strongly insisted on directing the carriage not back to Indahl but straight to Weisshem.

As dawn broke, a large tented carriage loaded with undead and valuable items entered Weisshem town.

As the carriage full of undead passed along the town's main street, Sam Hank, who was replacing roof tiles on a building, adjusted his dust-covered straw hat and glanced over.

Sam was used to seeing the undead, but his brother Paul still seemed uncomfortable, instinctively shrinking back.

Sam glanced at his brother and, while laying tiles, said softly, "Calm down, Paul, they won't harm us."

Paul Hank nodded hesitantly, focusing on his work.

Sam was somewhat frustrated by his brother's timid and reticent nature, even toward him, but ultimately said nothing more.

Today marked the sixth day since the Hank family had followed the convoy to Weisshem.

Six days ago, when the disheveled convoy entered Weisshem, all the soldiers' families were extremely anxious about this unfamiliar town.

Whether it was the rumors they had heard about Weisshem back in Indahl or the reality that the soldiers had personally verified—the presence of the undead in the town—all of it made the former city dwellers, accustomed to a stable life, feel despair.

Fortunately, Lord Rex showed enough warmth toward these exiles from Indahl. He allocated an entire alley on the north side of Martin Street to the soldiers and their families. The houses, though in need of repair, were a much better option than being homeless.

Having familiar faces as their neighbors, along with the bustling daily market on Martin Street, comforted the soldiers' families; the efforts of their former superior, Mr. Wagner Pitt, in arranging jobs for them and their families gradually instilled confidence in making a long-term life here.

But Weisshem wasn't without its imperfections, such as the undead that occasionally appeared on the streets, openly and unapologetically.

These undead weren't just freely roaming around the human town of Weisshem, where they shouldn't be, but they were also engaging in similar tasks as the living—some of the construction sites for rebuilding the town's main street were even managed by them!

And the people of Weisshem seemed oblivious to this eerie and terrifying reality!

Were it not for the cheap prices of essentials like salt, sugar, spices, and tofu, which significantly reduced living costs, plus the fact that every family had some members with new jobs, there would have been deserters among the families already.

Sam and his brother had replaced the roof tiles of an entire small building. After using a simple hoisting device to move the old tiles down to a handcart, a male clerk from the town hall supervising the site waved at them. "Lunchtime, Hank brothers. Come wash your hands and get your work meal."

"Alright, sir." Sam took off his hat, shook off the dust, and gestured for his brother to follow.

Those working temporarily on the construction site were entitled to a free lunch, a benefit reportedly added by Mr. Rex for women who came to earn a wage just like the men at home. Without the free meals, these women would have had to end their morning work early to go home and cook, reducing work efficiency.

The Hank brothers had been tasked with fetching lunch for their coworkers from the town hall since their first day on the site; they both were tall, strong, and more hygienic than the other workers.

Today, as usual, they dusted off their clothes, washed their hands at a well outside the construction site, and headed toward the town hall at the end of the main road with buckets and wooden basins to carry the food.

On the way, Sam ran into many of his former colleagues—these fellow ex-soldiers brought in by Wagner Pitt were well trusted by the clerks at various sites and were tasked with the important job of collecting lunch, just like Sam.

"I wonder what's for lunch today. It would be great if there are those flour-and-egg-coated fried chicken legs like yesterday," said a young ex-soldier, licking his lips. "Back when we were prisoners, we had our share of good food. Now, it's harder than before to get such treats."

"The work we do now is much easier than before, after all. If they continue to feed us like wealthy people, I wouldn't dare eat." A fellow veteran ex-soldier chuckled.

"If you want meat, I think the best deal is the 'dumplings' from the delicatessen," Sam added. "Sadly, Lyka is the only one working there, so it's always too busy. The dumplings are limited each day and hard to get."

"Yeah," others agreed. "With Brook and that undead lady not around, the delicatessen has fewer offerings."

Paul, Sam's brother, had a complicated expression on his face as he listened to the conversation between his older brother and his comrades…

"Oh, have you heard?" the older ex-soldier asked. "The town hall is recruiting staff. What do you guys plan to do?"

"I've already asked the clerk at my workplace to sign me up," Sam replied immediately. "The house we were given is in bad shape; I need to earn some money quickly to fix the roof."

"Me, too," another ex-soldier said. "There'll surely be a lot of applications. Not sure if I'll make it… But no harm trying."

"It would be great if Lieutenant Pitt could put in a good word for us." A young comrade sighed. "He seems to have connections with Mr. Lowell and Mr. Yang. Surely that would be helpful."Follow current ɴᴏᴠᴇʟs on novelenglish.net . Firᴇ(.)nᴇt

"It's best if we don't bother Lieutenant." Some older comrades immediately shook their heads in disagreement.

"I've heard Mr. Lowell hasn't been well lately and hasn't stepped out in days. I saw Lieutenant Pitt near the delicatessen the other day, and although he didn't say it outright, I could tell he's very worried."

"Yeah, Sarge never lets us know how much burden he has to bear. We shouldn't bother him with things we can handle ourselves."

"I was just saying…" the young ex-soldier muttered sheepishly. "Let's forget I mentioned it, then."

As they chatted along the way, the ex-soldiers arrived at the town hall.

In the town hall's courtyard, one side was cleared to set up a row of simple brick stoves and a large, semi-sheltered kitchen.

Bustling about the stoves of this open-air kitchen were the family members of the ex-soldiers; they were working under Miss Mia, who was in charge of logistics.

Besides preparing lunch for the temporary workers on the main street's construction sides, they prepared meals for the relocation zone and captives at the militia headquarters and assisted with procurement.

Mrs. Hank, the mother of the Hank brothers, was a capable woman. In less than a week of collective work, she had gained Miss Mia's trust and became the "sub-leader" among the families. Seeing the ex-soldiers arriving with their wooden buckets, she waved her spatula from afar. "Boys, hurry up and line up for lunch!"

Sam was pleased that his mother was adapting to her new job. He couldn't help grinning at Mrs. Hank from a distance as he dragged his brother into the queue.

Mrs. Hank caught it and muttered an endearing "Silly boys," while her spatula movements became brisker.

For these ex-City Defense Force soldiers who had enjoyed "model prisoner work meals" during their time as captives in Weisshem, the food cooked by their family members was admittedly not up to par. However, who wouldn't support their loved ones' efforts, even if the soups were either too salty or bland and the dishes were often a disorganized mess?

However, today's menu seemed different from the usual.

When the ex-soldier at the front of the line raised his bucket for Mrs. Hank to fill up, he was surprised to recognize the dish being scooped from the pot—braised eggplant! Although the eggplants were unevenly cut and the color wasn't as attractive as the "model prisoner work meals" they used to have, it was still recognizable as the most popular dish among the ex-soldiers, one that left a lasting impression.

"Did you cook today's food, Mrs. Hank?" the soldier asked bluntly.

"Of course, Locke," Mrs. Hank replied proudly. "I learned this new dish along with your mother, sister, and several other ladies. You'll never forget it once you've tasted it!"

The ex-soldier by the name of Locke was astonished. "My mom and sis can cook this too?"

A woman scrubbing pots behind the stove looked up and snapped, "Are you doubting your own mother, Locke!"

"Not at all!" Locke quickly shook his head.

Today's side dish was the familiar braised eggplant, while the main course was a thick soup made with potatoes, a small amount of chicken, vegetables, and those strange, curly noodles.

Compared to the rotating menu of blocky wheat bread, the soldiers clearly preferred the thick soup. After filling their wooden buckets, they happily returned to their work sites to share the meal with their colleagues.

Mrs. Hank and the other family members were just as busy as the hardworking soldiers. They quickly divided the remaining food among themselves, ate swiftly, and efficiently cleaned the kitchen utensils and the surroundings of the open-air kitchen. Then, they hurried into the town hall building as if pressed for time.

In the large meeting room on the first floor, Miss Mia was waiting for them.

"Thank you all for your hard work today. Pay attention in today's class and practice at home tonight. Let's try to introduce one or two new dishes tomorrow," Miss Mia encouraged, distributing small cuckoo flower badges to the ladies. "Mrs. Hank, please collect the badges back after the class as usual. Make sure none are lost."

"Of course, Miss Mia," Mrs. Hank replied respectfully.

These ladies, the family members of the ex-soldiers, with badges in hand, took their seats, and Miss Mia went to the back of the room to fiddle with a strange machine, the likes of which even Mrs. Hank, who had touched many middle-class households' gadgets, had never seen.

Soon, the peculiar machine emitted a beam of light, projecting a clear, moving picture onto the wall in front of the seated ladies. The moving picture even had sound—

"Hello, everyone. I am Wang Gang. In this video, I'll share with you a home-cooked dish…" [TL note: Wang Gang is a chinese chef and internet celebrity.]