The cold wind blows the earth and shakes the grass stalks of the fields. The sky was overcast, and the earth was flying, forming tiny tornadoes. The farmer raised his hand to cover the biting tide and carried his farm tools from one pit to another.

This year's winter has been particularly cold, and the wrath of the frost goddess is getting stronger every day. But there was no snow in the sky. This is the worst-case scenario, meaning there will be a lack of water for the snowmelt to converge next spring.

The farmers have grease on their faces and hands to prevent their skin from drying out. But their bare skin was still red from the cold. Many people have chilblains on their fingers, which are swollen like carrots.

"Let's get to work."

When they got to the ground, the foreman came out and divided the tasks.

"We have to dig 50 meters of trenches today, and the amount of earth must not be discounted in the slightest. By next spring, the wasteland will be watered and more food can be planted. ”

The peasants, dressed in tattered but thick clothes, listened with sad faces but calm expressions. The wasteland beneath their feet was not even a field, it was uneven and mixed with stones.

This is not a good field, it can be found everywhere in the Northland, and even the grass does not grow. It takes a lot of effort to reclaim it into farmland, starting with digging irrigation ditches.

"Let's get started. Everyone takes a sip first, and it is convenient to have strength. The foreman took a tin pot from his waist and poured a large mouthful into his mouth. The farmers also drank.

After drinking, they all screamed, and they were sweating profusely because of the spicy medicine in the tin pot. Their swarthy faces were rosy, and even their wrinkled foreheads stretched out a little.

"Work, work, praise Victor. Sir Hugo, we will have a good life. The foreman took the lead and shouted.

The farmers echoed, and the fields resounded with shouts one after another. People praise from the bottom of their hearts, hoping that their lords will live a long life and lead them all the time.

A heavy wagon followed the farmers. The wagon had lignite dug out of the Black Forest and came from the terrible voodoo swamps.

That damn swamp is a big coal pond with all sorts of horrible monsters living in it. But now Coldwind needs coal, so hordes of coal diggers flood into the swamp.

Workers built houses, built villages, forts, and dug ditches and rivers to drain the swamps to make it easier to dig up lignite in the open air.

The monsters have lived in the voodoo swamp for not a thousand years but hundreds of years, and for the first time they have discovered that humans are not only not afraid of themselves, but also run to change the environment in which they live.

Is a swamp without water still a swamp?

Hordes of monsters have frantically attacked human villages. The two sides fought with teeth, claws, venom, knives and axes, crossbows and arrows, torches, and all the weapons at their disposal.

Hundreds of human settlers died. But they kept coming and coming, and they were more terrible than the goblins of the Black Forest. Equipped, organized, and disciplined, they forced the monsters who had lived in the swamp for generations to move.

The monsters couldn't figure out what was going on, they just knew that the water in the swamp was getting less and less, the living environment was getting worse and worse, and if they didn't escape, they would be extinct.

In the winter of the first year of the new calendar in the Northland, Coldwind City sent more than 3,000 people into the Black Forest to dig coal. Hundreds of heavy-duty wagons transport coal out every day.

The city is considering laying wooden rails with a larger capacity, and humans are beginning to use cheap coal in large quantities in their production and life.

The farmland to be cultivated has been marked with lime, and the farmers first lay dry firewood in the ditches, light them and then shovel the coals. The hard ground will be softened before it can be dug up.

The fire lit up, and the cold wind became stronger.

The farmers only felt warm. They had to move fast and be explosive, digging through a meter wide and half a meter deep before the ground was frozen again.

It's hard work, but the farmers of Coldwind City rush to do it, and they don't even need to be paid, just take care of the food. Because every additional acre of farmland cultivated, an additional acre of grain can be harvested, and the food that can be eaten in the stomach will be more abundant.

This is something that has not been seen in the past.

For half a year, the residents of Coldwind City have been full of enthusiasm for work. From initial resistance, to gradual acceptance, and then to active demand, their thinking has undergone a great change.

It all came from the unimaginable harvest this fall.

The rich and strong leaders have been cultivating farmland and training farmers since last winter. Due to the cold weather in the Northland, only one crop of wheat can be planted, and it is not until this autumn that people see the fruits of their hard work.

In the gentle autumn wind, the golden wheat waves are connected to the sky and the earth, and you can't see the edge at a glance. The residents of the city came out to watch the spectacle and sigh at this grand event that they had never seen before. They lingered around the wheat fields and prayed earnestly for the heavy ears of wheat.

Grain, grain, grain, the North has a perennial shortage of grain, and it has always been purchased from the South. But the grain purchased by the noble lord will never be given to the bottom, and there is no charity at all.

Every winter, the cities of the Northland starve to death. This is a tragedy not only for the poorest classes, but also for the middle class.

Except for a small number of nobles, the mortality rate of ordinary people is too high. In years of famine, some villages will suddenly and silently turn to death.

And this year......

"Praise to Victor. Your Excellency Hugo. ”

A farmer wields a hoe and digs, shouting from time to time, as if shouting a labor slogan. The other peasants listened to the amusement, and occasionally shouted along, as if they were full of strength.

Lord Hugo didn't actually do anything, he just eradicated the old aristocracy and took out the grain that had been hoarded for reproduction. He fed the people who worked, cleared more farmland, grew more food, and fed more people.

The lord didn't even divide the land, and all the land in the entire Coldwind City belonged to him. But he signed a formal labor agreement with the farmer, and he provided farm tools, seeds, fertilizer, and water conservancy in exchange for 30% of the harvest in the field.

In the event of a famine, the tenant rent can also be reduced.

The 'Harmony Chamber of Commerce' provides low-interest loans, allows tenants to purchase goods for production and life in advance, allows them to freely choose their occupation, allows them to have personal rights, and gives them and future generations the opportunity to receive education.

It's as simple as that, there's no big reason, and you can't figure it out if you have more.

In the past, most of the farmers in Coldwind City were dependent on nobles of all ranks. The aristocracy never took care of the organization and management of the cultivated land, but only collected the tax burden like a bone and a marrow.

In contrast, the emancipated and free peasants were determined to follow Hugo and have a strong enthusiasm for production.

Your Excellency hires farmers to do the work, and they will bring their own dry food, and they don't even need to pay for it. They know very well that every time a ditch is dug, they are the ones who benefit.

Last year, the farmers were reluctant to be gathered, but this year they are happy to work in the fields.

They went out early in the morning, braved the cold wind to the ditch construction site, and ate their lunch by the pit, and the hard bread was baked soft on the fire, and they ate it in their stomachs with the potion of physical strength.

In the afternoon, when it was dark, the farmers went home singing with their hoes. Wait until dawn tomorrow and continue to come out, and the cycle will be simple and boring, but it will not stop all winter.

Last year, the rich and powerful leaders gathered the displaced people to reclaim 7,000 acres of land. This year, Coldwind City organized more than 50,000 laborers to re-cultivate the farmland of the old nobles.

According to the lord's plan, the sowing area of spring wheat in the third year of the new calendar will exceed 80,000 mu, which basically guarantees that nearly 300,000 people in Cold Wind City can eat half full.

This is unprecedented.