The West Quarry was one of the earliest and most arduous projects undertaken at the shelter.

The area is covered with hard, dark blue rocks, and the cold wind howls through the valley without any shelter.

When Fu Hancheng and the others were brought here, their nightmare truly began.

Their dwellings were a few makeshift shacks made of stones and animal hides, leaking from all sides.

The ground was covered with only a thin layer of dry grass, which was not enough to keep out the bone-chilling cold of the night.

Their food consisted of a cold, sticky, unidentifiable paste brought by the guards in wooden buckets, and black bread so hard it could break teeth. They were given only two meals a day, just enough to keep them from starving.

Their job is to use the most primitive and heaviest tools to mine those hard rocks.

My first day's job was moving things.

On the other side of the quarry, the shelter's regular workers were using semi-automated cutting tools provided by Lin Feng to cut huge rocks into standard blocks.

The slave laborers' job was to carry these stones, each weighing over a hundred pounds, in pairs using simple poles to a designated storage area a hundred meters away.

These women, who are "fat and big-eared" and usually lazy, even finding walking tiring, have never done such heavy work before.

Fu Hancheng and another woman worked together to lift the first stone.

The heavy weight made their knees buckle instantly, almost causing them to kneel on the ground. The rough surface of the bar made their delicate palms burn with pain.

"Hurry up! You bunch of useless trash! Haven't you eaten?!" A burly woman brandished her leather whip, whipping it through the air with a loud crack, and roared viciously.

She dared not actually whip these slave laborers, because if she injured them and it affected the progress of the work, she would be the one to suffer.

But this kind of psychological intimidation is enough to make these women, who are already terrified, fight with all their might.

Fu Hancheng gritted his teeth and used all his strength to lift the rock, albeit shakily, with his companion.

For them, a mere hundred meters felt like walking on a mountain of knives and a sea of ​​fire.

Their steps were unsteady, their breathing like that of a broken bellows, sweat and tears mingling together, blurring their vision.

When they finally placed the stone in the designated spot, the two of them collapsed to the ground, feeling as if all the bones in their bodies were about to fall apart.

However, they didn't even have a chance to catch their breath.

"Get up! Keep going! Today's quota is fifty yuan per person! If you don't finish, your dinner will be halved!" The guard's cold voice was like a death knell.

Fifty dollars!

This number brought a look of despair to the faces of all the slave laborers.

The grueling labor began.

Screaming, crying, and pleading are meaningless here. The only response they receive are the guards' cold rebukes and relentless urging.

By the end of the first day, everyone's palms were blistered and bleeding. Their shoulders were red and swollen from the weight of the bars, and their legs felt as heavy as lead.

At night, they dragged their battered bodies back to the cold shack. The cold wind seeped in through the cracks, keeping them awake all night.

Physical exhaustion and mental despair, like two venomous snakes, were frantically gnawing at their will.

The next day, the work became even more brutal. Their task became using heavy sledgehammers and steel chisels to break up irregular pieces of rock that could not be cut by machines.

"Clang! Clang! Clang!"

The dull, resounding hammering echoed across the empty quarry, like the tolling of a hellish bell.

The hammers were heavy and slippery, and they often smashed their own hands and feet in exhaustion, eliciting painful groans. Flying shards of stone occasionally cut their cheeks and bodies, leaving streaks of blood.

Fu Hancheng mechanically swung the hammer. Her face, once so popular for its sharp tongue and sarcasm, was now covered in dust and grime, unrecognizable. Her eyes held no trace of their former arrogance and calculation, only endless numbness and emptiness.

She couldn't understand why the world had become like this.

She couldn't understand why that god-like man would hate them so much.

On the third day, the weakest woman, while carrying stones, suddenly blacked out, foamed at the mouth, and collapsed.

"She's fainted! Help her!" the slave laborer screamed.

The captain of the guard walked over expressionlessly, kicked the woman, and found that she was no longer breathing.

“Dead.” He said it in a factual, flat tone.

Then, he pointed to the two terrified slave workers beside him: "You two, drag her to the ditch behind and bury her. Don't delay everyone's work."

After saying that, he turned and left, as if he were just dealing with a piece of trash.

This scene dealt the heaviest blow to all the slave laborers.

They finally realized that here, their lives were less valuable than the pebbles beneath their feet. If they died, they were truly dead, and no one would care.

Fear, like a plague, spread through their hearts.

In order to survive, they dared not slack off in the slightest. They could only squeeze out the last bit of potential in their bodies like livestock being driven by a whip.

At night, as they huddle in their huts, the menacing, deep growls of horned wolves would rise up outside without fail.

These beasts of the night, like the most dutiful jailers, completely extinguished any thought of their escape.

Death is so easy.

But living is so painful.

This torment of being unable to live or die is the cruelest punishment Lin Feng inflicted on them.

The news quickly spread within the shelter.

The emergence of slave laborers and their tragic experiences became the most frequently discussed topic among all members during their leisure time.

Inside the supply and marketing cooperative, several female workers were drinking Coca-Cola and talking in hushed tones.

"Have you heard? Another slave laborer from the West Quarry died yesterday. I heard he died from exhaustion."

"My God, it's only been a few days! Mr. Lin has been too... too ruthless this time."

"Ruthless? I don't think it's ruthless at all!" A woman working in the cafeteria immediately retorted, "You didn't hear Captain Qin Lan say how arrogant they are outside! They think we should serve them like slaves, treating the homes we've worked so hard to build as their comfortable haven! People like that should be taught a lesson about what real hardship is!"

“That’s right! Our good life now was given to us by Mr. Lin, but it was also built brick by brick by ourselves! Why should those lazy women enjoy it for free?”

"Exactly! Making them do the work is letting them off easy! They deserve to die!"

Li Luoshen sat quietly to the side, listening to the discussions of the crowd, her heart filled with mixed feelings.

She couldn't feel sympathy for the slave laborers because she knew that if these people were allowed into the shelter, their virus-like minds would quickly corrupt the hard-won, positive atmosphere.

However, at the same time, Lin Feng's absolute ruthlessness, which treated human life as worthless, also made her feel a chill from the depths of her soul.

She realized that the "home" she lived in, although warm, safe and full of hope, was also a hierarchical kingdom built on absolute dictatorship.

Here, Lin Feng is the only law.

His whims determine everyone's fate. Obey him and you'll live in paradise; defy him and you'll be cast into hell.

The presence of the slave laborers was like a mirror, a living, bloody mirror. It constantly reminded everyone in the shelter how precious and fragile everything they possessed was.

This stark contrast and psychological impact are far more effective than any generous reward or mobilizing speech in inspiring people's enthusiasm for work and their absolute loyalty to the leader.

Because they knew that next to heaven, Lin Feng had also prepared a hell that could be opened at any time for them.