Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest
Chapter 112 - 16: Shooting to Kill

Chapter 112: Chapter 16: Shooting to Kill

Morry’s flexible method of transporting slaves to Sige Town was somewhat overwhelming for Roman.

But his behavior of paying out of his own pocket was very sincere.

It was not easy for them to come.

Not to mention, if Scarhead returned without success, just the delay in travel time would be a loss—the deposit and shipping costs provided in advance by Morry couldn’t cover the potential extra earnings.

It was clear what Morry meant; he had spent a lot of money and effort to bring a relatively reliable Slave Trader, and the specifics were up to Roman.

In Roman’s eyes, even feces could be used as fertilizer.

He said indifferently, "Do you want Gold Coins or salt?"

"Salt!" Scarhead was overjoyed in his heart.

The North Ice Pirates had a notorious reputation that kept people from doing business with them, especially the Salt Merchants, who simply would not send their ships to the North Ice Ocean.

Merchants who traded with pirates met with terrible fates.

Merchants were wealthy but lacked the means to protect themselves. The cargo on their ships was a rich replenishment for pirates, undoubtedly an ideal target for robbery.

But the pirates soon realized that the wealth they obtained through robbing merchants couldn’t be used to trade with them.

Scarhead was furious, wishing he could scold his peers—couldn’t they see the long-term benefits! Didn’t they understand lasting interests.

Not always engaging in the unsustainable depletion of resources!

"Just let me do the dirty, exhausting work of robbing merchant ships," he thought.

"Don’t they realize their barbaric actions will drive the merchants away?"

Scarhead was quite resentful, feeling that the pirates were just too unruly.

So, he changed careers to become a Slave Trader. But he soon found that the road was rough and nothing like the carefree joy of piracy.

Constantly changing jobs only added extra costs. With fierce industry competition in this era, he had no choice but to follow this dark pathway to the end.

Being a Slave Trader had its benefits.

He could transport not just slaves, but other goods.

For example, salt.

It was well-known that the Igo Land was notoriously frigid, with a harsh environment not suitable for large-scale agriculture, leading to overpopulation with many needing to venture out and plunder.

There wasn’t enough sunlight, making salt production difficult, resulting in low yields.

They still struggled along with the salt-producing areas found during the Conqueror Period.

Pirates had a huge demand for salt.

They often drifted at sea for ten days to half a month, with only brined dried fish and cured meat able to be preserved for extended periods, and their daily diet also relied heavily on salt intake.

Pirates were a group that consumed heavy amounts of oil and salt; otherwise, they’d lack the strength to wield their weapons, let alone be considered pirates.

It would be normal for a qualified pirate to consume a pound of salt a month, averaging over ten grams a day.

Salt was cheap, but they couldn’t buy it cheaply.

They could only buy expensive salt.

If the price of a pound of salt was a copper coin inland, it could soar up to two or even three copper coins in Igo Land. In certain freezing seasons, trading for half a sheep wasn’t considered strange.

Undoubtedly, large profits were hidden in this trade gap.

But regular merchants found it hard to trade with pirates.

All Salt Merchants feared that during a trade, the other party might attack with an axe, spit on their corpse, and say, "Fool! Kill you, and all this is mine!"

Of course, there were many merchants who took risks.

And the North Ice people also built many trade ports on Ice Island, which were very prosperous.

But in this era of low transportation capabilities, how much cargo could travel overseas, reaching the Igo Land?

Scarhead only knew that his cold, snowy homeland had at least several million people, all lacking salt daily. The shortage was too great, far beyond what little trade volume could fill.

Faced with the two options given by Roman, Scarhead decisively chose salt.

"Thirty pounds of salt per slave, Seth, go count the number of people."

Roman turned and left, heading for Origin Manor.

The number of slaves was quickly counted.

Scarhead was not good at math, only knowing that many bodies had been discarded along the way. He uttered an approximate number and was unaware that only 384 slaves had survived.

But it was certain that there had been more than five hundred people when they set off; there was no doubt about that. A hundred or more people had died during the transportation, dying in various ways. The slaves who had survived were basically those with tough fates.

In the time it took to eat a meal, ten thousand catties of salt were quickly brought over.

For Roman, it was merely a drop in the bucket.

Scarhead could not help but beam with joy. Those Nobles from the salt-producing regions would never give away cheap salt to the North Ice Pirates. Instead, they did everything possible to hike prices to the limit of what the Yige people could afford.

It was uncertain if he was the first pirate to obtain salt from the inland. Probably not, as those pirate leaders usually had two secretive channels under their control.

Scarhead directed his subordinates to toss those precious bags of fine salt onto the ship.

Just then, he felt a sudden chill down his spine that shot up from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head.

The young pirate next to him, ever vigilant, immediately raised his Round Shield.

Phut!

However, just as he took action, he was struck by a cold-flash gleaming arrow. The iron arrow pierced through the solid Round Shield as if it were paper; splinters flew, and the remaining force neatly pinned the man to the ground.

Blood poured out; arrow feathers buzzed in his chest before quickly ceasing to tremble.

Scarhead whirled around to look!

He saw a robust figure standing atop a hill, bathed in brilliant sunlight, bow bent and arrow nocked.

"Cross me again and make me suffer such losses, and I’ll shoot you dead!" For some reason, he felt these words emanating from those cold, determined movements.

In the midday of this summer, the sun was hot enough to seem cruel, as if the entire land had burst into flames.

Scarhead felt as though he had plunged into an icy cavern, his whole body chilling.

The macabre death of his companion and the shattered shield signaled that his life hung on the whims of that Divine Archer.

Probably a hundred and fifty meters!

His estimation of distances had never been wrong.

Not just on land, even at sea, he could gauge how far his North Ice Warship was from those fleeing boats ahead.

Such a range was not surprising. Landing a hit was also not surprising.

But why was the power so immense?

Scarhead could vaguely see that the young Lord was holding a Red Great Bow, and he quickly thought of a surname that was renowned throughout the land.

His fellow North Ice Pirates prepared for combat behind him, each finding advantageous terrain for a possible counterattack!

His eyes bulged, and anger flared within him, rage rising to his guts!

North Ice Pirates had no cowards!

"Off with their heads, leaving a bowl-sized scar!"

Valkyries of the Heroic Spirit Hall awaited him!

Eighteen years later, he would be a hero again!

"Go!" Scarhead furiously led everyone to board the ship and leave Sige Town.

A smart man doesn’t suffer at the hands of his enemy.

He was not a pirate now and had no reason to fight to the death; death on the battlefield would not lead him to Heroic Spirit Hall.

He was one of the Yige people, not well-versed in the land, but aware that the three Grand Dukes of the Black Iron Kingdom were formidable.

Over a hundred years ago, the First Duke of the Black Iron Land marched with the Conqueror to Igo Land and beat his ancestors senseless without breaking a sweat.

Was he crazy enough to start a war with the descendant of a Riptide Grand Duke?

The First Generation Riptide Grand Duke was said to be extraordinarily brave, easily beating his own ancestors just as if he were fighting the Dragon Clan.

One must not be reckless!

How else to make money if one were reckless?

His companion was dead, and so be it. His soul would certainly ascend to the Valkyries in the Heroic Spirit Hall after a heroic death, there to revel in joy and indulge in pleasures.

And he could only swallow his tears along with over ten thousand catties of salt, continuing to lead a life of meager existence and scraping by.