Outside the warehouse in Mai Lang Territory, workers shouted as they carried bags of wheat grain into the warehouse door.
Footsteps, rope sliding sounds, and the dull thuds of cloth bags hitting the wooden fras echoed through the valley, interspersed with laughter and shouts.
On the drying ground in front of the warehouse, piles of golden wheat looked like small mountains, reflecting warm light under the sun.
The valley was dyed in gold, the valley bottom resembling a huge bowl being gradually filled, as the autumn wind swept through, carrying the aroma of wheat.
Louis stood at the top of the slope, squinting at it all, unable to hide the joy in his eyes. He then said to Green beside him, "Green, call all the representatives, we’ll hold the autumn harvest summary eting right here."
Soon, Mike, Green, and representatives from various village communities, workshops, and patrol riding teams gradually arrived, forming a semicircle as per custom.
A canvas was spread on the spot in front of the wheat stack, wooden stakes and stone slabs pressed at the corners, serving as the eting table.
Green stood at the front, his face still sweaty but he tidied his clothes, standing straight.
He looked at the wave-like grain mountain, took a deep breath, and raised his voice to say, "Reporting to the Lord and representatives, as of today, Mai Lang Territory’s autumn harvest is 80% complete. Here are the preliminary statistical results."
Then he unfurled the sheepskin ledger in his hand, his tone brimming with undisguised pride, "A total of 115,000 tons of grain harvested."
He then pointed line by line at the ledger page, "Green wheat, 51,000 tons, is our main staple, taking the largest proportion. Mostly from flat grounds on the southern slope and fields beyond the greenhouse.
Rice, 19,000 tons, sourced from middle layers of the greenhouse and foot terrace fields. Mixed beans, 9,000 tons, all produced from dry lands and side fields of greenhouses."
He turned a page and continued, "Root crops, 23,000 tons, mainly cold potatoes, white-root turnips, and sweet carrots.
Dried vegetables and oil seeds total 11,000 tons; over 7,000 of oil seeds and over 3,000 of dried vegetables, primarily produced inside greenhouses and warm hills, enough for winter oil extraction and pickling.
Finally, fodder and miscellaneous crops, 5,000 tons, prepared for livestock winter feed and spring tillage."
Green closed the ledger, his tone softening, but each word felt like a stone dropping to the ground:
"It’s estimated that the total edible grain reaches 95,000 tons. Enough to sustain 100,000 people of Red Tide for an entire year. Plus, there are several tons of surplus grain designated for military storage or ergency use.
The portion of grain already stored in public warehouses is about 33,000 tons, accounting for four and a half of the required amount, with two out of five warehouses already sealed.
The drying furnace, ventilation walls, and other facilities have undergone several rounds of inspection without any issues. As long as the snow doesn’t co too early, the harvest is certain to be completed entirely, bringing this autumn harvest to a perfect conclusion."
Finally, Green surveyed everyone present: "This is the first truly aningful whole-area harvest since the foundation of Mai Lang!"
As his words fell, the crowd was initially silent, as if the entire valley was holding its breath to listen.
The wind blew a corner of the wheat stalk, fluttering against the heavy ledger page in Green’s hand.
Village community representatives gazed at that page, at the series of dry yet glowing hot numbers.
They were not unfamiliar with these grain varieties, already prepared ntally, having estimated the yield to so extent in their minds.
But at this mont, the numbers presented in such precise, stark form felt like a hamr constantly pounding into their chests.
This silence lasted a few seconds.
An old village elder’s Adam’s apple moved, finally unable to resist murmuring, "...Is there really that much?"
His voice seed like the first pin to break the stillness, imdiately followed by an almost uncontrollable burst of emotion among the crowd.
"Ten thousand households’ one-year rations..." soone murmured, repeating as if in a dream.
"We truly did it!"
"This is the grain we grew!"
"God bless, long live the Lord!"
"This warehouse is about to burst! Hahaha!"
Laughter and shouts intertwined, and soone even excitedly wiped their face, as if wiping away tears or sweat.
Village community representatives patted shoulders, a few old village chiefs simply squatted down, holding their heads and laughing, "Lived most of my life, first ti seeing so much grain!"
Soone shouted towards the valley, "Mai Lang will prosper!"
Others imdiately followed, "Long live the Lord! Mai Lang will prosper!"
Their voices echoed louder and louder over the golden fields, drawing attention from the working farrs, who also looked over.
Sitting in the main seat, Louis didn’t speak, only gazed at these people slowly, his mouth curved into a slight smile.
He was maintaining the dignity of the Lord, but his heart was also very excited.
Not to ntion in this barren and cold Northern Territory, even across the entire Empire, no territory could produce stacks of grain piled to the valley’s top within a year.
This was a complete reversal.
It was the result of a whole set of systems, a whole line of thinking, forcefully pressed down.
It wasn’t due to good luck or a blessed grain year.
From the first hoeing day in spring, Louis had been watching the timing, closely monitoring the rhythm, winning battles step by step.
Such a thing had never been done in the Northern Territory; let alone accomplished. But he did it and succeeded.
The villagers were also very aware that everything brought by Louis pushed this land forward since the day he stepped onto it.
He established rules and regulations, organized land ownership, integrated labor distribution, turning the previously scattered and chaotic refugees into a real production team.
He brought a nearly mad pragmatic approach.
Like constructing channels to divert water, promoting high-yield crops, changing farm tools from old wooden hoes to more efficient iron roller plows...
Even the timing of sowing and irrigation was segnted by tiliness, as precise as military logistics.
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