"If you're alright, accompany me for a stroll around the city later."
"Alright, Lord! Look at my spirits, I'm really perfectly fine, hahaha!"
Raymond said, patting his chest vigorously, but his hand landed squarely on the spot where the hooligan had kicked him earlier, making his smile instantly freeze, his facial muscles twitch, and he almost couldn't maintain his cheerful demeanor.
"Alright, stop pretending. You should still go let the doctor take a good look later, so you don't leave any hidden ailments or problems," Link said, giving him a helpless glare.
"Okay, hehe!" Raymond scratched his head, smiling sheepishly.
"Lord, are you the Lord who built our new houses?"
At this moment, Sarah, with the other children, timidly gathered around him, their eyes sparkling with curiosity and reverence.
"That's right, this is the Lord that Uncle often talks about with you!" Raymond said, smiling as he ruffled the children's heads.
To Link's surprise, the children all knelt down to him in unison, their small bodies prostrated on the ground, respectful and devout.
"Get up quickly! Why are you kneeling to me? All of you, stand up!"
Link quickly stepped forward, pulling the children up one by one.
"Lord Link, we are penniless and truly have nothing to repay your kindness. You not only built houses for us, but also gave us food and clothes. No one has ever cared for us like you have, we..."
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Sarah looked up, her small face full of grateful tears, her voice choked, and she was already sobbing before she could finish her sentence.
Link squatted down and said slowly, "Listen well, the future of Winterfell City rests on your shoulders. You young people are full of vigor, like the sun at eight or nine in the morning. All you need to do now is grow up well, and in the future, use your own strength to serve Winterfell City. That will be the best way to repay me!"
Upon hearing Link's words, as expected, Sarah and the orphans beside her looked at Link with undisguised adoration in their eyes.
Who doesn't know how to brainwash?
The toxic chicken soup I drank before transmigrating was much stronger than this...
After inspecting the progress of the housing construction in the slum, Link, Raymond, and Agnes strolled to the area outside the North Gate.
At this moment, Link saw from a distance that in the vast fields outside the North Gate, a group of farmers were clasping their hands together, their expressions devout, mumbling something as if praying.
"What are they doing?" Link asked, full of curiosity, his gaze sweeping over the figures.
"My Lord, autumn has arrived. They must be praying devoutly to the Goddess of Harvest, wishing for a great harvest next year," Raymond explained quickly upon seeing the scene.
"Crops...?"
Speaking of which, ever since he came to this world, he had been busy with territory construction and various chores, and had not even stepped foot in the territory's farmland.
This was the foundation for the prosperity of the territory.
After all, food is the paramount concern.
"Raymond, take me to see the farmlands of Winterfell City."
"Yes, My Lord," Raymond respectfully replied, then led the way.
Led by Raymond, Link arrived at the edge of the farmland.
This farmland was adjacent to the northern city wall of Winterfell City, originally a barren land. Now it had been cultivated, but the soil looked very poor and dry, showing no signs of fertility.
The news of the Lord's visit to the farmland spread quickly, and the surrounding farmers gathered around, their eyes full of awe and anticipation.
Raymond pointed to the land before them and reported to Link: "My Lord, this is our territory's farmland, totaling one hundred and fifty-four mu. Now, next year's seeds have all been sown, and we only hope that the Goddess of Harvest will show mercy and favor, allowing for a bountiful harvest next year, unlike this year, where we harvested only a tiny bit."
"That's right, this year's grain harvest was truly pitifully small. It must be because our prayers to the Goddess of Harvest were not sincere enough," a farmer said with a worried expression, echoing the sentiment.
"I prayed for a full ten hours this year! The Goddess of Harvest will surely feel my devotion and grant us more grain next year," another farmer said with a confident tone, puffing out his chest.
Listening to the devout words of the surrounding farmers and Raymond, Link felt speechless, the corners of his mouth twitching involuntarily.
The level of grain yield is closely linked to soil fertility; this is a very simple truth. What does it have to do with the illusory Goddess of Harvest?
He remembered that in the game's plot, he had never seen those so-called gods appear to solve problems for living beings or help with harvests.
Could it be that by praying devoutly to these nonexistent gods, the land would become fertile, and grain would grow abundantly like mushrooms after rain?
It was simply an absurd joke!
Link didn't believe in any of that. In his opinion, rather than placing hope in gods, it was better to find practical ways to increase production.
He slowly squatted down, reached out, and grabbed a handful of soil from the farmland, examining it closely in his palm.
The soil particles were coarse, and the color was dull, showing no signs of fertility; it was clearly extremely barren.
With such land, even if next year had favorable weather and no disasters, there would be no possibility of a good harvest, let alone producing a large amount of grain.
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