Moreover, in such a dilapidated Slums, individual samurai almost never came, so Lin Yu didn't have this opportunity.
Otherwise, with Lin Yu's current strength, dealing with a lone samurai would naturally not be a problem.
“Tap…tap…tap…”
Lin Yu walked on the street, and the crisp sound of his footsteps drew dark gazes from many rooms.
Not everyone was focused on labor; many were refugees from other fortresses, who had adopted a desperate attitude towards life, quietly staying at home waiting for death.
Every month, the Fujiwara Family's guard squad would carry away countless rotting and stinking corpses from the Slums.
Ignoring these lifeless gazes, Lin Yu walked for another seven or eight minutes, arriving at an intersection that was considered relatively “prosperous” within the Slums.
This was where the Fujiwara Family distributed porridge every day at noon.
Compared to the deserted streets before, there were significantly more people here, and many had the same goal as Lin Yu, setting up stalls.
Finding a slightly cooler and quieter spot, Lin Yu set up his small stall and silently sat on the ground, placing his wooden blade on his knees, closing his eyes, and beginning to meditate quietly.
He claimed to be doing small business, but in fact, Lin Yu had merely stumbled upon some herbs similar to those from his previous life.
In a place like the Slums, where medicine was scarce, these herbs, which could stop bleeding when chewed, were life-saving.
Lin Yu transplanted a few plants to grow at home, and new herbs would appear every so often; although he didn't earn much, it was enough to exchange for a good amount of food.
As time passed, the slightly cool temperature of the morning gradually began to rise.
The warm sunlight streamed diagonally across the rooftops onto the street, feeling cozy on the body.
Chapter 5: Human Lives are Like Straw
In a flash, it was already noon.
On the originally deserted street, gaunt figures began to appear at some unknown time.
These figures had sunken cheeks, deep-set eyes, and lifeless gazes, swaying as they walked.
If not for the fact that their chests did not glow with golden light, anyone would surely think these people resembled Kabane more than humans.
“Chh chh… chh chh…”
A small car, spraying white steam, with a very simple design and even no outer shell, drove from the distant street.
Behind this small car was a wheeled carriage, containing a large vat filled with steaming hot plain porridge.
Around the small car were several samurai, riding horses, well-dressed, with stern expressions, holding steam guns, and carrying nichirin blades at their waists, along with backpack-mounted engines for steam supply.
“Woo woo woo!”
The crisp and pleasant sound of steam erupting came from the small car.
For the people in the Slums, this sound was as beautiful as heavenly music.
Because it symbolized food.
The small car finally stopped at the intersection, and several samurai on horseback coldly surrounded the car, pointing their steam guns at the hungry commoners.
“One by one, come forward. Anyone who dares to disobey the rules and try to snatch,”
The leading samurai scanned the crowd around him, a hint of coldness and disgust flashing in his eyes.
“Bang!”
A puff of white steam shot out from the steam gun, rushing towards the sky.
“Just wait to die.”
Under the cold gazes of the samurai and the threat of their steam guns, the surrounding commoners immediately quieted down, and the crowd was no longer as chaotic as before, slowly moving closer to the porridge cart.
A bit of plain porridge was not a valuable item for the Fujiwara Family.
Sending these samurai to deter was merely a precautionary measure, as there had been incidents where these commoners, driven by extreme hunger, directly robbed the porridge cart.
The porridge didn't matter, but the cart transporting the porridge, in the eyes of the Fujiwara Family, was far more valuable than these lowly, worthless commoners.
After all, most of these steam-powered machines were produced in Xianjin Station; although the two cities were close, purchasing them was not a simple matter, and Hayajiro were not available every day.
These main samurai were responsible for the safety of the porridge cart; as for other incidents like people fighting over a bowl of plain porridge, they did not care at all.
For them, this was one of the few pastimes that could make them happy when they came here.
In their view, their willingness to come to a place like the Slums was already a great favor; if not for the Fujiwara Family wanting to keep more cannon fodder, they would never set foot in such a dirty place in their entire lives.
In their eyes, these fellows weren't even considered human.
Just as the crowd slowly moved, sharing the porridge from the cart, two gaunt figures ran out from the street corner; it was Ikoma and Chu Ying.
“Lin Yu Gege, we’re here~”
Chu Ying’s tender face showed a brilliant smile as she and Ikoma trotted to the stall.
Seeing their arrival, a gentle expression flashed across Lin Yu’s face; he took two bamboo-like containers from Ikoma’s hand and pointed to the crowded mass of people.
“You two stay here and watch the stall carefully. I’ll go get the porridge. If anything happens, call me immediately.”
“Remember, don’t try to be brave.”
Life in the Slums was not peaceful; sometimes, those who were extremely hungry would even fight desperately over a bowl of plain porridge where you could see your reflection.
That’s why Lin Yu repeatedly warned Ikoma and Chu Ying.
After all, both of them were still young and frail, and they would be at a great disadvantage against adults.
“Got it, Lin Yu Gege, you be careful too~”
“I’ll protect Chu Ying, don’t worry.”
Watching them speak with conviction, Lin Yu ruffled their heads and walked towards the crowded mass of people in front of him.
In front of the porridge-distributing steam car, there was a sea of people.
In a place like the Slums, the porridge distributed by the Fujiwara Family every noon was the fundamental means of survival for many, and this surging crowd was something Lin Yu was accustomed to.
If not for the series of benefits brought by the system and Lin Yu’s years of physical training, it would be difficult to even squeeze in.
The vast crowd of refugees was like an abyss that chose people to devour; from time to time, one could hear shouts of anger, or screams and wails.
Those were the last sounds of life made by those who fell after losing their balance in the pushing crowd.
In such an environment, once one loses their balance, they would fall to the ground.
At that time, even a strong adult would be trampled to death under the countless people's desire for food, let alone the weak and malnourished people of the Slums.
Every time the thin porridge was distributed, this was no exception; it was common to see some physically weak individuals being pushed in the crowd and eventually trampled to death.
After the crowd dispersed, a nauseating, meat-paste-like substance would be left on the ground, but no one paid it much attention.
It was eventually consumed by wild dogs and disappeared.