At six o'clock in the evening, unlike usual, the church in Muxi Town was brightly lit and the chapel was packed. No one sat down; everyone stood and looked at the huge birchwood cross carved in the center of the church, their hands clasped together in silent prayer.

Having learned of the farmers' plight that afternoon, Todd immediately summoned their leader, Sassoon, an old farmer who had fled from the east and could no longer tolerate the exorbitant taxes. He ordered Sassoon to immediately inform all the farmers in Mussey Town to select one person from each household to enter the church at the six chimes (in medieval bell towers, the bells chimed every three hours; for example, two chimes would be around six in the morning).

Holding his Bible, Todd walked up to the pulpit through the side door of the chapel and glanced into the audience.

He had initially thought that life in the monastery was the most miserable place in the Middle Ages, but when he saw these farmers with their gaunt faces and sunken eyes, he realized that the depths of hell have no bottom.

A patched-up tattered felt hat, resembling a worn-out sock, and filthy linen trousers whose original color was unrecognizable—these were all the belongings of the farmers. These poor people, with their wet hair and water stains on their shoes, had clearly washed themselves hastily before coming to the church, but the stench of rotting mud and animal dung still permeated the room, forcing Todd to breathe through his mouth to dispel the unpleasant smell.

First came the customary daily praise. Todd opened the Bible and proclaimed, "Eternal Creator, you make day and night revolve, seasons change constantly, and life be colorful and pain be scarce..."

The crowd devoutly recited the scriptures.

After completing the ceremony, he counted that there were a total of 33 registered farming households in Muxi Town, but only 32 people were present.

"Why is one person missing?"

Sassoon, clutching his felt hat, stepped forward respectfully and replied, "A few days ago, a family went to the nearby woods to gather firewood, but they didn't make it back before sunset and were dragged away by roaming bandits."

What? !

Todd's eyes widened in surprise.

He was surprised that there were still bandits around Muxi Town, but what shocked him even more was that none of the farmers who lived next door to him showed any sympathy or sadness about the matter. Some were afraid, some were relieved, but most of them were indifferent and apathetic.

Todd glanced at everyone again and began to understand. Many of them had large heads, pigeon chests, hunchbacks, bowed legs, and distended abdomens—symptoms of long-term malnutrition. How could someone who couldn't even feed themselves have the energy to care about the lives of others?

With a sigh, he put down the Bible and started chatting with the farmers about everyday life.

As the conversation unfolded, Todd became increasingly alarmed.

He had heard of the darkness, ignorance, and backwardness of the Middle Ages before, but after truly understanding it, he found that the reality was far beyond his imagination.

These farmers drank raw water and ate wild grass every day to fill their stomachs. Their dwellings were nothing more than thatched huts or sheds cobbled together from logs and sod. Inside, the ground was bare earth, and the roofs had no windows, just a hole to let the cooking smoke out. Three generations of a family huddled in a small room, sometimes with livestock squeezed in to eat and sleep with them. People masturbated and ate in front of relatives and friends, satisfying their various physiological needs, ultimately living a wretched life and dying within this tiny space.

As for farm tools, forget about ironware; they only have crudely made, simple wooden implements that wear out quickly during plowing. Oxen are impractical for them; they don't know the proper way to control draft animals, simply tying the plow to the ox's neck with a rough leather rope. In the end, the rope might tighten during plowing, strangling the animal's throat, cutting off blood supply to the brain, causing ischemia-induced brain damage or suffocation. Therefore, when these farmers need to plow the fields, they prefer to use another kind of "livestock"—women.

Upon hearing this, Todd thought he had misheard. But he was right; the farmers present believed it was perfectly reasonable to use the women in their households—wives or daughters—as oxen for plowing.

Turning to the topic of this spring's crop failure, 29 out of 32 farming households were growing legumes, most of which are not adapted to the alkaline soil by the sea, resulting in reduced yields or even total crop failure.

Todd found this strange and asked the farmers why they didn't grow wheat, barley, rye, and oats, as these four types are less demanding in terms of soil and can also fill their stomachs.

The farmers' explanations left him speechless for a long time.

Because legumes are more valuable than the latter, and they need the money to repay their loans.

After Todd learned more, he understood the reason.

Unlike the free people who owned land and farming tools, these farmers had no fixed landholdings. In the past, they could only survive by depending on farm owners or noble families, renting land, farming tools, and seedlings. But a few months ago, the suddenly emerging town of Muxi offered such attractive conditions—offering land free of charge—that these farmers took a risk, broke away from their original landowners, and joined Muxi as free people.

But then another problem arose: while Muxi Town provided land, it offered no farming tools or seedlings for loan. Left with no other option, the farmers had to borrow money from merchants to purchase these items. To Todd considered the merchants' annual interest rate of 33% (33% of the principal per year) utterly outrageous, but the farmers seemed completely unfazed.

Finally, due to a lack of understanding of soil pH principles, all the expensive seeds they bought rotted in the soil.

After asking around, Todd sighed and returned to the pulpit. Since the founding of Twilight Town, he had left all affairs to the townspeople to manage themselves, burying himself in the laboratory, fiddling with flasks and reagents. He believed that everything outdoors was wonderful, and that people were capable of taking care of themselves. But he forgot one important thing: this wasn't the 21st century; this was the Middle Ages, a time of knowledge scarcity. People couldn't search online, and had few opportunities to learn, merely surviving in this dark world thanks to the meager experience passed down from their ancestors.

So, what should I do next?

If he only cares about himself, the mystery of the "Sutherland Relics" has been solved, and he is no longer in danger of losing his life. He can use his knowledge from his previous life to find a place to live a carefree and happy life. But if he wants to help the world... can he bear this mountain-like burden?

A deathly silence fell over the church. The priest seemed to be in meditation, motionless and silent. The farmers looked at each other, filled with unease.

Snap!

Todd suddenly slammed his hand on the pulpit, startling everyone. He stood up and said to Sassoon, "There's something I need you to do immediately! Find someone who can read and write down my request: list the loan amounts for all the farmers' households!"

Hearing the priest's words, the woman hidden behind the doorpost smiled softly and left the church.