Small Market Town had not changed much, only becoming cleaner and tidier than before.
No one relieved themselves wherever they pleased anymore. Even the droppings of chickens, ducks, cats, and dogs were picked up spotless. Civilized behavior had already taken root in everyone's hearts—nothing more than Lord Master's long-term, unlimited purchase of urine and dung. Everyone treasured waste like gold.
If chickens, ducks, cats, or dogs dared shit or piss outside, they would inevitably get a sound beating. After enough beatings, they naturally no longer dared relieve themselves outdoors.
That evening, the Tunic Chiefs from every tunic were summoned by Charles.
They held a meeting that lasted roughly half an hour.
Afterward, the Tunic Chiefs hurried back to their respective tunics, gathered the serf overseers, and called together the serfs who had spent the entire day working the fields.
Before he had even taken a bite of dinner, Old Barton was dragged by a serf overseer to an open space in Magic Potion Tunic.
Fortunately, he had brought his pipe. He lit it and took small, leisurely puffs.
"What's going on? They won't even let us eat dinner before dragging us here for a meeting." Beside Old Barton, another elderly serf leaned over, complaining as he held out a hand. "Lend me a light, Old Barton."
"I heard it's something good." Old Barton handed over his pipe.
Using Old Barton's pipe, the man fiddled around for a moment and successfully lit his own pipe, then took a satisfying puff.
Only after blowing out a smoke ring did he say, "What good news could there be? Could Lord Master be buying dung again? I really can't squeeze any more out. These past few days, my son and daughter-in-law have watched me every day. If I don't drink three big cups of