After the Infected Patrol Squad left, the village quickly returned to its usual state.
Even though the terrifying knight could return at any moment, the villagers had long given up on thinking about the future.
Compared to surviving the present, what came next was hardly worth considering.
What surprised Steven was just how fast they adapted.
That, however, played right into his hands.
With Alina, the local girl, introducing him, it didn't take long for the villagers to accept him under the guise of a wandering merchant.
But the real turning point was when he pulled out a large quantity of baked potatoes and various kinds of dried meat for trade.
In an instant, he became the most important figure in the village.
No—calling him their savior wouldn't even be an exaggeration.
If they had to carve a statue in his honor, they probably wouldn't hesitate.
After all, the Infected Patrol Squad had already stripped them of nearly everything.
The only reason they even had enough rations to survive a little longer was because that knight's arrival had driven the squad away.
But making it through the harsh winter was still an uphill battle.
Steven's arrival changed everything.
His bag seemed to hold an endless supply of food, and the conditions he set for trade were ridiculously simple.
So simple, in fact, that some of the villagers began to wonder if he was some kind of living saint—because all he asked for in return was wood.
Twelve hours of chopping trees per day could earn a three-person family enough potatoes to last three days or a small portion of beef or lamb.
To these villagers, this was nothing short of a miracle.
In weather this cold, the elderly, women, and children usually had no work available. Their only option was to huddle together in their drafty homes, hoping to survive the season.
Now, as long as they worked, they wouldn't go hungry. How could they not be grateful?
"Man, they actually think this work schedule is a blessing? Did I set my prices too high? No wonder capitalists are on another level—I can't even begin to comprehend their lack of conscience."
Steven himself was shocked.
He had only come up with this deal because he was too lazy to chop wood himself, and yet, he had unintentionally mobilized the entire village into working for him.
He had even raised the workload to make it more demanding—996, the bare minimum of what he considered acceptable for laborers—and yet, these villagers jumped at the chance.
"I don't get why you need so much wood. Didn't you say you were a doctor? What are you planning to build with this much lumber?"
After spending the past few days together, Talulah had gotten used to Steven.
Both were outsiders, and while neither was particularly easy to get along with, at least they weren't at each other's throats like he was with Kal'tsit.
With Alina—the gentle, warm-hearted girl who was like a walking central heater—acting as a buffer, Talulah was at least willing to acknowledge this slightly deranged guy as her friend.
And not just any friend, but one who had a ton of secrets and was absurdly strong.
"Not at all, I'm just making charcoal."
"Charcoal? What do you even need that for? The villagers have gathered so much wood for you over the past few days that it's practically burying your front door!"
Talulah was even more confused.
Why would a doctor need that much charcoal?
Was he planning to burn down his own house?
At this rate, he had enough wood to set the entire village on fire.
"Ah, that's where you don't understand. Charcoal is for making steel, of course."
Sitting in a chair outside the collection station he had set up at the village entrance, Steven explained his plan in a completely relaxed tone.
Being the boss and letting others do the work for him was a whole different experience. Sure, he could chop trees faster than all hundred villagers combined, but where was the fun in that?
After all, the biggest driver of human technological advancement was laziness. And for a "Minecrafter" like him, automation research came from the same motivation.
If he could sit here and still get the resources, why should he care if the production rate was a little slower? He wasn't in any rush.
"Steelmaking?"
Talulah's face scrunched up in confusion.
She knew steel required charcoal, but even assuming Steven had the skills to make it, what was he going to do with it?
Did he even need steel weapons? This guy could probably kill someone just as easily with a wooden stick!
After witnessing him single-handedly carry an entire day's worth of logged wood—easily over a hundred logs—faster than a running horse, Talulah realized his strength was on an entirely different level.
"Even if I explained, you wouldn't fully get it. Let's just say this is the first step to making money."
When Steven saw the Infected Patrol Squad using longswords and cold weapons, an idea had already taken root in his mind.
And it was an idea that could make him rich—monopoly-level rich.
In a time of war, what was the most valuable commodity besides food?
The answer was obvious: weapons.
And as luck would have it, Steven had access to a modern warfare mod called Vic's Modern Warfare.
The firearms he could craft with it were practically toys to him now, but if he sold them as weapons…
Well, becoming the richest man in this world wouldn't be too far-fetched.
Of course, Steven had no immediate plans to become an arms dealer. Right now, it was just a concept.
His current goal was simple—use his resources to manufacture those guns first.
As for whether he would sell them? That would depend on his mood.
Besides, if he just pulled materials directly from the Transmutation Table, there wouldn't be any sense of challenge or accomplishment.
It would be far more satisfying to craft everything by hand.
As he watched the villagers tirelessly chopping wood for him, Steven couldn't help but think to himself—he really was working too hard. Just sitting here like this was already draining his energy.
"You…"
Talulah opened her mouth but quickly gave up.
"Forget it. If I try to figure out what's going on in your head, I'll probably end up crazy myself. But no matter what, you've practically saved this village again."
She glanced at Steven, who was lounging around like a slumlord, but her gaze was filled with gratitude.
She understood perfectly well—if Steven hadn't provided food and work, these aging villagers with little ability to labor might not have survived the winter.
And compared to the near-hellish conditions of Ursus' official labor camps, Steven's absurdly lenient work conditions were practically paradise.
"Wait, you're telling me working twelve hours a day with no breaks is 'saving them'?! You're making me feel guilty now."
Steven covered his face, feeling an odd sense of embarrassment.
He had set the longest work hours he thought were barely acceptable, yet somehow, these people were treating him like a benevolent deity.
Maybe he really wasn't qualified to be the kind of capitalist who gets strung up on a streetlamp.
"Work? No, what you're doing is charity."
Talulah responded seriously.
To the villagers, this was nothing less than a lifeline.
If anyone tried to stop them from working, they'd be making enemies of the entire village.
"What's a 'break'?"
Alina tilted her head in confusion.
The concept seemed completely foreign to her—why would anyone willingly stop working if it meant they could feed their families?
"Alright, that's enough Soviet jokes for one day."
Steven shook his head, deciding it was best to stop thinking too hard about it.
Even Talulah and Alina were calling his business charity—if this conversation went any further, he might really end up hanging from a lamppost.
Ursus had its own national conditions. He wasn't in a position to make judgments.
"Speaking of which, I almost want to go chop wood for you myself. But the old man said we should keep you company, try to build a good relationship with you, and see if we can get you to stay in the village a little longer."
Talulah gave Steven a shove, forcing him upright from his sun-soaked lounge chair.
If it weren't for the two elders in her house noticing how well she and Steven were getting along, she wouldn't have been stuck here chatting with this guy out of sheer boredom.
"I think it's nice. It's rare to see you talk this much with someone, Talulah."
Alina, on the other hand, didn't see anything wrong with the situation.
She often didn't understand what Steven and Talulah were talking about, but she could tell that their relationship was steadily improving.
"Ahem. Well, since you're trying to get on my good side, shouldn't you be showing a little gratitude? And yet you still dare to push me?"
Raising an eyebrow, Steven reached into his inventory and pulled out an empty glass bottle, setting it down on the table in front of him.
"You know the drill."
"Get lost."
<+>
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