Farming in a Parallel World and Becoming a God-Chapter 41 - 38 Using Food as Bait_1

41: Chapter 38 Using Food as Bait_1

41 -38 Using Food as Bait_1

“Get up, everyone, get up.” Seeing them look so pitiful, Gaven felt a bit reluctant to torment them any further.

“Thank you, esteemed sir, woof.” Gos hurriedly spoke, “Whatever instructions you have, esteemed sir.”

“Just ‘sir’ will do,” Gaven pondered briefly before continuing, “Send someone to gather some firewood.

Let’s cook first and have something to eat.

After that, we can discuss other matters.”

This was a delaying tactic.

The other side had surrendered too quickly, disrupting Gaven’s original plans, so he needed to devise a new strategy.

It gave him time to ease the atmosphere between the two sides and at least allowed him to understand the situation with Blackwell.

“Go fetch the firewood!” With a wave of Gos’s hand, the Gnolls scattered in all directions, filling the hills with their barking.

Seeing this, Gaven immediately regretted it—what if this was the enemy’s delaying tactic?

These Gnolls, once they ran off, might never return.

Gaven’s expression gave nothing away as he methodically set up two large pots by the riverbank.

He filled them with water, added a variety of vegetables and meat, sprinkled a handful of salt, and started cooking over the fire.

Most of these Gnolls, at first, might have actually considered bolting at the first sign of trouble, even abandoning their Leader.

Every man for himself was always the prime survival tactic of their species.

The few juvenile Gnolls clearly had not inherited this wisdom; they obediently collected nearby twigs and branches, bringing them back in repeated trips, working quite diligently.

Even the persistent eye signals from their Leader Gos went unnoticed—especially once the pot started bubbling and the aroma began to waft, their enthusiasm only grew.

The adult Gnolls who were loafing around in the distance, once they caught the scent, also grew restless.

They stealthily returned, each clutching a bundle of firewood, and hesitantly started to add to the fire beneath the pots.

Seeing his ‘food strategy’ achieving remarkable results, Gaven became even less anxious to talk business.

He stirred the pots more vigorously.

To increase the aroma, he grabbed a couple of handfuls of spices from the wagon and tossed them in.

The scent, buzzing to life, carried far on the breeze.

Even Gaven began to feel hungry, let alone those Gnolls who would go from hungry to full in cycles.

The Goblin Sorcerer Vick was no exception, as he stood drooling over one of the pots, not willing to budge an inch.

In other aspects, Vick had improved by leaps and bounds, except when it came to eating—he had hardly changed at all—well, he at least stopped eating bones.

These two were large pots used for cooking for the caravan, a half meter deep with a diameter of one meter, capable of holding several hundred pounds of water and food.

Cooking them was naturally quite a chore, taking no less than two to three hours.

For those Gnolls, those two or three hours were sheer agony.

Not fleeing.

Unaware of what fate awaited them next.

Fleeing.

Reluctant to leave behind the enticing aroma, which only intensified their hunger.

“Time to eat!”

With Gaven’s shout,

Whoosh.

The Gnolls, young and old, all hopped and skipped back, with the number of individuals having changed.

Gaven remembered distinctly—there were only thirty-four Gnolls who had knelt with Gos, but now, waiting to eat, there were no less than fifty-three.

Gaven said nothing, simply flashing a meaningful smile at Gos, who wasn’t far away.

This smile made Gos’s skin crawl, and the back of his head tingle.

He cursed his tribesmen inwardly for their lack of resolve, unable to resist the temptation of a single meal.

But the problem was, it really was delicious.

He had lived nearly fifteen years but had never smelled food this enticing.

“Line up, no pushing!” Gaven banged on the pot, calling out loudly.

Gaven had thought that the Gnolls had no concept of queuing, but to his surprise, after he shouted just once, the Gnolls seemed to understand and formed a long line in the blink of an eye, obviously in the order of age, but unlike the respect for the elderly and love for the young, the order here was young adults first, followed by the young and the aged.

In their eyes, ensuring the survival of the species always came first, with the young adults surviving to the end being the optimal choice.

Gaven didn’t immediately correct their thinking; as long as it wasn’t a chaotic scramble like a pack of dogs fighting over food, he was satisfied.

As the wooden bowls were distributed, the population of the Blackwell Tribe was essentially accounted for: not fifty-three, but fifty-seven.

A few who were more tolerant survived the first round and couldn’t endure the second, quietly joining the food distribution line.

It took five turns to distribute the food from two pots before everyone had their share.

The Gnolls resembled Vick when it came to eating: as soon as they got their bowl, they would leave, then immediately toss back their heads and pour the contents into their stomachs, even if it was so hot that it made them yelp; they still drank vigorously.

It wasn’t just one or two of them doing this; it was every single one without exception.

Before the first round was even finished, the one who started first had already run to the end of the line with his bowl.

For those who tried to be clever by throwing away their wooden bowls, Gaven refused to give them food until, looking dejected, they went to pick up their own bowls; only then did they receive a second helping.

With frequent memory recall, Gaven’s memory had improved astonishingly.

Although these Gnolls all looked similar, Gaven only needed to take a close look for a few moments to clearly remember them and distinguish them from a group of Gnolls.

Seeing their appearance, most had only eaten enough to be half-full.

Gaven hadn’t planned on filling their stomachs in one go; this was an effective way for him to control them in the beginning.

The Slave Masters didn’t use this method to control their slaves for no reason.

Though Gaven had no intention of becoming a Slave Master, without sufficient awe and trust established initially, he had to resort to such despicable methods for the time being.

After a session of food distribution, the distance between them was somewhat narrowed.

At least the Gnolls no longer shrank back, trying to keep their distance from Gaven.

Initially, Gaven wanted to deliver an inspiring speech, but now he had completely dismissed the idea.

Aside from that Gnoll called Gos, the rest had a very limited understanding of the common language, limited to the simplest words concerning food and drink.

Though Gaven knew some Gnoll language, he didn’t want to give a speech that was half full of various barks.

Better to start from what he was best at.

Gaven asked Anna and Vick to stay behind to guard the cart, and he went out for a walk with his warhorse.

When he returned, there were two lean Rock Sheep on the horse’s back.

This type of sheep was a special product of the mountains, possessing a special ability to scale walls and roofs; the steep cliffs were their escape from predators.

It was precisely because of this ability that they remained numerous despite the hungry horde of Gnolls and Goblins surrounding them, especially on the cliff of the mountain to the east where at least a hundred could be seen sitting, with likely even more undiscovered.

Woof woof…

woof woof woof…

Upon seeing the two Rock Sheep Gaven had brought back, many Gnolls drooled.

They knew the taste of this food very well.

Constantly evading Hunters by climbing and jumping on mountain slopes and cliffs, they hardly had any fat on them from top to bottom, all were lean meat with a good chew, especially their four large, unusually plump hooves, with the climbing pads beneath soft and fragrant.

They couldn’t even remember when they last tasted this kind of food; it seemed like before the families split, the youngsters had never had the chance to eat such food.

“Where are they?” Gaven quietly asked Anna.

The number of Gnolls had dwindled, with about half missing, many of whom were youngsters.