"politics!"

When Winters heard the beggar monk say this word, he completely lost interest in dialogue.

"Bad politics." The second lieutenant in the town threw his boots with a bad attitude, and the sole of the boots hit the floor and made a thud. "It's just such a small place that there's a fart politics!"

"Where there are people, there is politics. Even in this small room, there is politics." Monk Reed stroked his beard and said with a smile: "You represent the authority of the military in Langtun, and I am an evangelist sent to the bottom of the public church. Isn't this politics? Since you and I have politics, there are naturally Langtun Town."

Winters subconsciously wanted to refute, but he felt that what the other party said made some sense.

"So an old charlatan teaches me politics class? It's ridiculous." Winters looked down on him and began to make the bed and prepare to go to bed.

He did not notice: his attitude had unconsciously softened much more than when Monk Reed first entered the bedroom.

"Young man, I want to correct one of your ideas." This level of irony obviously cannot hurt the face of the monk who begs. The old man smiled and said, "Although I am a charlatan, I am your charlatan."

"When did you become my charlatan?" Winters asked back.

The old monk replied in a natural tone: "Of course it was when you hired me. Wasn't you paying me a salary?"

"You are so embarrassed to say? Have you ever done even a little bit of scribe work?" Winters sat on the bed with his arms held high, deliberately using a respectful title and sarcastic: "How dare Mayor Mitchell trouble you, a saint, isn't Pan Weiche doing the paperwork? You eat at Mitchell's house, live at Mitchell's house, and have a white-collar worker's salary. To be honest, I want to change my seat with you."

"Someone is a scribe because he only knows how to copy, and the reason why I don't do copying is the opposite." The old beggar monk was not ashamed of shirking his work. He said with great sincerity: "If I do copying, it means that someone is wasting your resources. Of course I cannot allow this to happen."

"You can really say such shameless words!" Winters was shocked.

The old man said slowly: "Mr. Second Lieutenant, power needs the assistance of knowledge to operate. Why do imperial officials in the Far East hire scholars as staff? Why do you noble lords hire priests as consultants? All of them are the same. For you, my value lies not in the miscellaneous work of copying and accounting, but in the provision of knowledge you do not have."

“What knowledge?”

"Political knowledge."

Winters sighed: "Mr. Reed, it's getting late, please go back and rest."

"Let me ask you a question, your garrison." The old monk had no intention of leaving: "Do you know why the people in the plateau call this place a new land?"

Winters thought for a moment, and based on the literal meaning he speculated: "Because it is newly reclaimed land?"

"Newly cultivated?" The beggar monk chuckled and looked straight into the lieutenant's eyes: "Where is the original owner?"

The old man's eyes were dark and deep, and I don't know how many secrets were buried.

"How did I know?" Winters didn't know much about the history of Paratu: "Bornless land."

The old monk laughed loudly, laughing so hard that he leaned back and forth, as if he had heard the ridiculous joke.

"Little guy, I tell you that from the ocean in the east to the vast sea in the west, there is no land without a boss under the sky. There is no land without a man, but there is no one inch of the land without a single inch." Monk Reed wiped the tears of laughter with his palm: "The new land of the plateau people has been retreating for thirty years and has been the grassland of the Heid people. The Heid River, which divides the Langtun and the neighboring town, is the 'Dazi' in the mouth of the Heid people, which means nine curved rivers."

Winters returned from half-lying to a sitting position: "So... what does this have to do with the current Wolf Town?"

"It's related, of course, and everything today can be found in the past. Only by knowing the history of this place can you understand the 'politics' here." Monk Reed asked an irrelevant question: "Have you been to the village under Langtun?"

"I have been to every village."

"Then have you paid attention to their land?"

Winters didn't understand what the other party wanted to ask: "Land? What does it mean?"

"I ask if you have noticed the amount of cultivated land in each village." The beggar monk smiled: "In other words, it means the amount of wealth."

"Nanxin and Beixin villages look a little worse." Winters recalled his experiences in each village and replied: "Hedong and Hexi villages are better, and Dusa villages are the richest."

"Wrong!" The old man took out a vine stick from somewhere and knocked it at Winters' head: "The richest one is where we are sitting, the Mitchell family, the Wilkes family, the Benting family... the owners of these manors! Secondly, the village of Dusa. Then there are Hedong, Hexi, and the poorest ones are Protestant villages."

The moment he was hit by a rattan stick, Winters seemed to return to the military academy class. He covered his head and asked, "So? Isn't it normal to be poor and rich?"

Friar Reed asked lightly: "Did you find anything wrong?"

"What's wrong?"

"Pa" the old monk gave Winters another vine stick in his head: "Think about it, what is planted in the owner's field? What is planted in the Dusa village? What is planted in the other villages?"

"How can I know? I can't even tell the difference between wheat seedlings and weeds!" If the other party was not an old man over 90 years old, Winters really wanted to snatch the vine stick and beat him up.

"[Selica] The four bodies are not diligent, and the grains are not divided." The beggar monk muttered in a language that Winters couldn't understand. He no longer tried to guide Winters to think, but directly instilled: "The landlords' homes are all tobacco and beets that can sell money, and only have very little arable land to grow food. Why? Because they do not lack food, how much can they eat with one mouth open? The owners of the manor occupy the best, the most land, but the least population, so most of their arable land is used to grow cash crops."

This chapter is not over, please click on the next page to continue reading! The old man breathed a sigh of relief and continued: "In Dusa Village, Dusa Village has fewer people than other villages, but their land is second only to the owners of the manors, and more than the other four villages combined, even more than the three-bed system. Do you know what the three-bed system is?"

Winters, who leaned forward with his elbow on his knees, shook his head.

"The three-cultural system is rotating farming, which divides the cultivated land in three equal parts, one part planting staple food, one part planting auxiliary food, and one part fallow as a pasture, and it rotates every year." The old monk thought for a while and asked, "Have you seen the public pasture in Dusa Village?"

“See.”

"That's the fallow land this year, as a public pasture in the village. So Dusak can afford to raise horses and feed pigs with oats because they don't lack arable land."

"What about the other four villages?"

The begging monk sneered and said, "The other four villages? Those four villages have to rent horse-drawn carts every year in Dusa Village because their arable land is used to grow grain and cannot afford to raise large animals. The arable land in Hedong and Hexi villages is barely enough.

The two Protestant villages had the most people, but the least cultivated land, and even every inch of land was planted with food, wasn’t enough to eat. Aren’t the long-time workers of the Mitchell family all Protestants? If they could be self-cultivated farmers, who would be willing to be hired?"

"The more people, the less farmland?" Winters frowned: "How could this happen? Why didn't you go to reclaim land? I clearly saw a lot of wasteland!"

"Do you think the wasteland here can be reclaimed just by trying to cultivate it?" The old monk's smile became colder and colder: "I have told you that every inch of land, every tree, every river here...even the rabbits in the forest, the fish in the river, and the birds flying in the sky have their own masters!"

"Whose?"

The beggar monk pointed at Winters' nose with a rattan stick: "Your."

Winters was confused first, then surprised, and finally displeased: "Do you think this is interesting?"

"Or I'll say it another way." The old monk leaned on the rattan stick with his hand: "You are part of the real master of this land."

Winters was finally awakened: "You mean... Army? Paratu Army?"

"You are not too stupid." The old monk patted the lieutenant's shoulder with a rattan stick: "Of course it's the military, otherwise why would you, a small family, hold the power of life and death in Langtun? Do you think you are here to manage the policing? No! You represent the authority of the real owner of this land."

"Wait... the power of life and death?" The young Venetta was confused: "I'm not a fat man, I was sent here! Didn't the resident officer in Wolf Town have been vacant for more than ten years before me?"

"The vacancy is because Langtun is not rich, not because the position of the garrison is not fat. In the system you are in, you are sent here to be exiled. But for the people here, you are the master who has fallen from the sky.

The status of the Palatu Army in Xinqing District is almost equivalent to that of a feudal lord, here you are half a lord. So the landlord and Dusak welcome you, Hedong and Hexi Village are in awe of you, and the Protestants do not trust you at all."

"Why don't you trust me?"

The monk begging monk smiled and said, "There are some Protestants and there are wastelands in the wolf village. What prevented them from clearing the land?"

"Uh... it's me?" The answer was obvious, but Winters didn't understand: "Why?"

Monk Reed sneered, "Because even if they occupy a little more land, you will take the Dusa people over and cut off their heads - don't worry, the Dusa people will be happy to do such things. If you are defeated by them, another team of soldiers will come from the county seat. If one team is not enough, ten teams and one hundred teams will come again until they are killed.

So they are afraid of you, they are afraid of you, they are afraid of you, they are afraid of you to find the land they have stolen, they are afraid of you to find fish bones and rabbit bones in their homes. You are the knight master of Wolf Tun, they are the despicable farmers poaching and stolen lands, how could they not be afraid of you?"

"I still don't understand." Winters still couldn't figure out some places: "Does Palatu's laws prohibit even hunting and fishing? They are also prohibited from privately opening up land?"

"Palatu's law does not prohibit it, but the law of the new land does not allow it."

"Why?"

"No," the old beggar monk had discovered that the political talent of the second lieutenant in front of him was lacking: "This land is the spoil of the Palatou Army, which has all rights from heaven to earth."

"Then what?"

"The best land was then sold to the rich to repay the loan, so these manors were born. As a reward for war and compensation for service for generations, Dusak also distributed the land, and Dusak village was born. Some poor people and tenants who dreamed of becoming self-cultivated farmers also came here, and their money was only enough to buy a small piece of land. These people were the two villages of Hedong and Hexi."

"Then the two villages of Nanxin and Beixin?"

"Those Protestants were originally imperialists, and they have escaped from the north one after another in the past ten years." The old monk smiled: "The Empire dislikes Protestants, and the country of galloping horses is short of people for the border. Therefore, every time the Public Church fights in the north, there are more Protestants in the newly reclaimed land. However, the Protestants here come late, and the land price in Langtun is not as cheap as in the early years, let alone other buyers."

"who?"

"What do you think?" The old monk begging monk had bright eyes: "The Dusa people teach the land system, and they don't have to worry about land. The little self-cultivated farmers only support their own family, and they have no spare money to buy land. So who can it be? So who has money?"

Winters was silent. He thought for a while and said, "Suppressing the land for selling land for money. No matter how you think about it, it will do more harm than good. How could the Palatus come up with such a system?"

"The disadvantages outweigh the benefits?" Cultivator Reed laughed in silence: "Boy, you really don't understand the power of this system at all. Among your republics, the country with the number of galloping horses has the smallest population, but the country with the largest territory, and it is growing more and more. What do you think it is based on?"

This chapter is not finished yet, please click on the next page to continue reading the exciting content behind! "Is it possible to make money by selling land?"

"Of course it's not that simple." The old monk tapped Winters' head with a rattan stick and said in a panicle, "I ask you, what do you think is the weapon that kills the most people in the world?"

"Uh." Winters replied tentatively: "Sword?"

"Wrong! The weapon that kills the most people in the world is called 'mobilization'. Swords are human weapons, and if you benefit again, you can only kill one person. Mobilization is a weapon that kills each other between countries. It can prosper and destroy a country." The old monk sighed: "Oh, you don't understand if I said it. I'll tell you something you can understand."

"Please say." Winters sat respectfully with his knees together.

"What you need for mountain search is manpower, and relying on your dozens of Dusaks is not enough. Dusak is your most reliable manpower, but the number is too small after all. We have to mobilize the other four villages."

Winters said bitterly: "Nanxincun and Beixincun are unwilling to send militias. Protestants are particularly hostile to me, and I don't know why."

"You are mixed with the Dusak people every day, it would be strange if they can give you a good look. Who do you think Dusak, the emperor's subordinate, is dealing with? Who do you think they were driving them out of their hometown?" The smile on the old monk's face was very subtle: "But I will help you solve the problem over there."

Winters was quite surprised: "Aren't you a Catholic Church? Carman thinks it will be dangerous for you to go to the Protestant side."

"Politics! Boy! Politics!" The beggar monk tapped the lieutenant's head with a stick again: "The focus of politics is not to turn the other party into your person, but to make the other party think you are his person. Do you understand? Go to the Protestant village with me tomorrow."

After saying that, the old monk left Winters' room without looking back with his head on the rattan stick.

"Please walk slowly." Winters stood up and watched.

The old man walked out for a while, and Winters closed the door before he realized: "[Veneta's swearing]! When did I really regard this old charlatan as a teacher?"
Chapter completed!