Chapter 350: Chapter 350 - 244: Red Tide Type II Greenhouse (3)

Louis surveyed the surroundings; within the steaming light, the refugees were busy among the furrows.The elders bent over, clearing the weeds from between the wheat furrows one by one, while the women carefully watered with clay pots.There were also a few children, in tattered clothes, yet striving to mimic the adults, forcefully thrusting small shovels into the soil.Further afield, a few disabled individuals were visible, including a robust man on one leg leaning on a wooden crutch, gasping heavily while turning the soil.An old woman with one hand was using an iron rake, struggling to loosen the soil for a small patch of seedlings.If these people were in other noble territories, they would have long been driven out as burdens, left to wander the snowfields and die.But in Red Tide Territory, not only did Louis not drive them away, he also gave them a way to survive.As long as they could still move, they could work and receive a portion of bread and hot soup.They understood that this was a grace bestowed by Louis.Even more precious was that this grace was not charity but a dignified way of living.Not relying on begging, not relying on sympathy, but earning every bite with their own hands.This way of living gave them peace of mind and incited in them a feeling of gratitude and reverence toward the young lord.A little girl, about seven or eight years old, squatted by the edge of the field, intently watching a snow bone wheat seedling that had just broken through the soil, its stem like a bone spike in the snow, delicate yet resilient.The girl clasped her hands together, praying softly and devoutly in her heart: "Please, grow up quickly."Mike stood beside Louis, his eyes slightly red, his tone low yet sincere:"Lord. if it weren't for your fabrication of these greenhouses, gathering materials, manpower, and blueprints in advance. half the refugees might have starved this winter."His gaze turned toward the distant, smoke-shrouded cluster of greenhouses, under whose low, arched roofs the last hopes of this winter were being nurtured.Louis looked at the crowd before him, his tone calm as frost: "This is not a miracle."He paused, sweeping his gaze over those who were still persistently working in the mud and water."This is the result of everyone's concerted efforts."Emily stood beside him, having remained silent for a long time.She looked at the people laboring in the fields, at those figures weary yet unyielding from war, and then at the young lord who experienced saving the Northern Territory.Emily spoke softly, her voice as gentle as if it had been merged with warm mist, "They.