"First, murderers will be executed."
"Second, those who inflict harm upon others will be punished."
"Third, thieves will be punished."
"Fourth, no one shall oppress the weak."
"Fifth, no one shall keep slaves."
Gosuke finished reading aloud, and the others, who had been craning their necks to listen, exchanged bewildered glances.
"Is that all? These are all the rules our lord has?"
"That's all."
Suzuki Makoto understood that these people didn't need long speeches; they only needed the simplest order.
The men possessing spiritual power shed their doubts and curiosity, bowing respectfully to him.
"Alright, there's no need for bows or honorifics in the future. From now on, if any refugees wish to join us here, welcome them all. But just as we did today, register them first, then issue them identity plaques."
"Yes, Lord—no, Mr. Suzuki."
Gosuke reacted quickly.
"Mm, you will be responsible for the militia. I'll also select a village chief from those without spiritual power. When I'm not here, you two will handle everything together."
"Yes!"
While Gosuke had been somewhat indolent before, it was only because he disliked the previous leader's domineering approach. Now, this Mr. Suzuki, though a touch eccentric, was at least agreeable to work with.
When everyone gathered for lunch, those possessing spiritual power ate normally, while the others cautiously tasted the food, struggling to swallow it.
"Everyone, just don't waste it. There's no need to force yourselves. Start with a little, and gradually accustom yourselves to larger portions."
Suzuki Makoto watched as a few people, their faces flushing red from the effort of swallowing, ceased their attempts.
After satisfying their need for Reishi, the sense of fullness indeed made it difficult to swallow more, yet they couldn't bring themselves to waste it. After all, they had all known hunger.
"Gosuke, read those five rules again."
"Yes!"
Once Gosuke finished reading, a flame called hope finally ignited in the eyes of the ordinary people.
"Gosuke and the others will form the militia, responsible for the village's safety. Now, I want to ask: if you were to elect a village chief, who among you would you choose?"
Heads turned, and the one chosen was a middle-aged man nearing forty, who had previously served as the hidden leader of the slaves.
"What's your name?"
"Mahito, Lord Suzuki, my name is Mahito."
"Don't call me 'Lord,' and don't use honorifics. Mahito, since everyone recognizes you as the village chief, are you willing to take on this position?"
"I am willing to try."
After lunch, Suzuki Makoto called Gosuke and Mahito aside.
"From now on, Mahito, as village chief, you will have decision-making power over camp construction, land reclamation, and planting. Gosuke, as militia captain, you will have decision-making power over hunting and combat. If a situation involves crime or something you're unsure about, the two of you should discuss it together."
The two men shook hands. They clearly knew each other from before, and there was no animosity between them.
"Then that's settled. You two manage things for a few days first. If any problems arise, come find me."
"Mr. Suzuki... shouldn't we have a flag and a family crest? Or some symbolic decoration and emblem to signify that this is the territory of the Suzuki family?"
Mahito asked cautiously.
"Don't use the term 'Suzuki family.' As for a flag and emblem..."
He paused.
"Use 'Master' as the emblem. An ordinary yellow flag will do. If you need to venture out, you can use a yellow headband for identification."
Though this request was a bit strange, neither of them raised any objections. Upon their return, they immediately began preparing these items.
Suzuki Makoto simply sighed.
He only felt a pang of regret that he couldn't lead them under a more vibrant flag.
—
Suzuki Makoto returned to the cave. The four individuals were still there, and upon seeing him, the boy happily waved.
"I've seized that water source from the previous leader. If you wish to go there, you can live there. If not, that's fine too."
He handed over two bags of water and two bags of biscuits.
"I want to know about all the water sources you're aware of."
The old man's gaze held a hint of surprise, but he said nothing, quickly informing Suzuki Makoto of all the water sources within a hundred li.
"After this, I likely won't return. Compared to this kind of existence, at least consider the children."
Suzuki Makoto offered a final reminder, then turned to leave.
"Wait, Lord, what's your name?"
The boy couldn't help but ask.
"Suzuki Makoto. I'm not some grand person, just a demon-slaying swordsman."
As the man's figure vanished, the two children turned their gaze to the old man.
The old man gritted his teeth, making up his mind.
"Then let's go. We'll go see what Mr. Suzuki's camp is like."
"Okay!"
They took a brave step forward. Meanwhile, the bandits who occupied those water sources, upon Suzuki Makoto's arrival, wished they could take countless timid steps back.
However, among these water sources, only one could barely serve as a stable supply. The other locations were either intermittent or yielded pitifully small total amounts.
Consequently, Suzuki Makoto eventually sent half of the slaves liberated from these places to the first village.
After that, relying on the people living in other areas, he began to inflict nightmares upon the owners of all the water sources throughout the entire Zaraki District. As more and more yellow 'Master' flags fluttered, the 'delirious ravings' spoken by those who had fled earlier transformed into intelligence that all the warlords of the Zaraki District had to take seriously. The power he had established was uniformly called the 'Yellow Turban Army.'
What angered these people most now was the large-scale escape of slaves and the dwindling number of refugees in the surrounding areas. After all, compared to being treated as slaves and livestock on their territories, the Yellow Turban Army truly allowed everyone to eat and drink their fill. Although it was impossible to enjoy any special privileges, for slaves and refugees, such days were already a dream come true.
On the shore of the largest lake in Zaraki District, several forces that had been vying for control of the lake chose to unite and launch an attack on the Yellow Turban Army's territory. Simultaneously, they organized an elite decapitation force, solely intending to kill Suzuki Makoto in one fell swoop when he appeared!
The Zaraki District does not need order!
_____
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