Chapter 164 Refugees 1

In Kas Village, near the southern border of Arda, the atmosphere today is extremely tense.

On the main road south of the village, several roadblocks made of wooden fences were set up in succession, blocking the road tightly.

Makarov, who has been promoted to sergeant, led a hundred militiamen to form a cordon, facing the south and waiting for battle.

Today is the day when the refugees arrive, and the staff ordered them to line up here to "welcome".

However, their welcoming method is a bit special. Many people hold swords, spears, and those without weapons also hold farm tools such as pitchforks and iron drafts.

Everyone has a tense face, as if they are going to fight.

At the entrance of the wooden fence, there are several tents with tables and chairs inside. In each tent, there are two people who are dressed tightly and wearing large masks. They even wear gloves on their hands, and only their eyes are exposed.

"When the refugees come, please be alert!"

Sergeant Makarov yelled at the militiamen.

"Remember, be serious! Try your best to look scary, make them afraid of you, and give them a strong psychological sense of oppression."

"Don't let them have the illusion that they are here to enjoy themselves! Did you hear me clearly?"

The militiamen shouted in unison in response to him: "Yes! Sir!"

Susan in the tent next to him was speechless after hearing this: "Is it necessary to do this? Those outsiders have suffered from war and are displaced. Shouldn't we give them the warmth of family?"

She and her teacher, Doctor Wade, and several other doctors who participated in "medical training" in Huxin Town were requisitioned by the Government Affairs Council and sent here to "quarantine" the refugees.

Her tent was specifically responsible for checking women, while her teacher checked men in another tent.

A militia ran over from the south road.

"Report, Sergeant Makarov!"

He stood still, saluted and said, "The refugees are coming."

Makarov raised his hand and said, "Attention, everyone!"

Soon, on the road leading to the south, a large group of people appeared in everyone's sight. They should be the refugees received by the State Council in the south.

As they got closer and closer, the militia saw the appearance of these refugees. What kind of people are they? They are pale and thin, ragged, and even more miserable than the beggars in the Northwest Bay.

A few people on horseback ran out from the refugee group. They rushed to the roadblock and saluted Makarov.

"Sergeant, I'll leave these people to you first. We still have to report back to Lake Heart Town. This is the first batch, a total of 357 people."

Makarov saluted them in return: "Don't worry, we will be strict here."

These horsemen are from the internal security forces. This time they went south with Hansel, responsible for guiding the refugees to Northwest Bay, handling customs clearance procedures in the territories along the way, and trying not to let the refugees starve to death on the way.

After the handover, they bypassed the roadblocks and continued to head north.

Makarov ordered the militia: "According to the previous grouping, go and line up the refugees."

"Yes!"

Half of the militia divided into 5 teams and rushed towards the crowd in the south.

When the refugees saw a large group of people with knives, guns, sticks and clubs running towards them, they were suddenly terrified and stopped and whispered to each other at a loss.

"Listen to me!"

Militiaman Qiao Si put on what he thought was the scariest expression and yelled at the refugees in a ferocious manner: "You should line up in a column right now. Do you see the entrance to the wooden fence in front of you? When you get there, go through it one by one and go to the tent designated by the sentry. Don't rush through and don't disrupt the formation."

Perhaps in the eyes of these southern refugees, Qiao Si's northwestern accent and his ferocious appearance were a bit funny. Some of them were not frightened, but burst out laughing.

Qiao Si looked depressed, and the other militiamen immediately took out whips and swung them hard at the refugees who laughed.

"What are you laughing at! If you laugh again, I will whip you to death, you foreigner."

"Ouch! Spare my life, sir!"

The refugees who were whipped begged for mercy.

After the threat of the whip, the refugees became obedient.

But it was still not easy to get them to line up. The militiamen tossed for a long time before they formed a column.

The column continued to move forward and came to the roadblock.

The militiamen guarding the roadblock let six people go and drove them to six tents respectively.

The refugees who continued to wait suddenly smelled a delicious aroma. Following the aroma, they saw a big pot in a big tent on the other side of the roadblock, with hot steam coming out of it. It seemed that something was being cooked.

"There is food! There is food!"

"Food! It's real food!"

The news spread quickly, and the refugees' team was in chaos. There was a lot of noise, and many people ran from the back to the front of the team. .

The fragrance that came over was much better than the messy things they used to fill their stomachs on the road. The adults who led them on the road were only responsible for preventing them from starving to death.

"What are you doing? What are you doing? Don't you know you have to line up?"

The militiamen ran over and shouted loudly, waving whips at those who were running around, trying to restore order.

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"My Lords, please be kind and give us a meal first!"

Jos blocked the entrance with his body and shouted loudly: "Line up properly. As long as the doctor examines your body, you will have food."

But his voice was soon drowned out by the noise of the refugees.

"Sir, we have been eating pig food for nearly half a month. No, even pigs won't eat that."

"Yes, and there is only so much every day. We are almost starving to death."

More and more refugees gathered in front of the roadblock, and many people began to try to climb over the roadblock.

Seeing that the situation was about to get out of control, Makarov shouted: "Everyone! Get ready!"

There were 50 militiamen standing beside him, each of them holding a long wooden stick with a thick cloth wrapped at the front end of the stick.

The militiamen stood in three neat rows. After hearing the sergeant's order, they immediately held the wooden sticks in their hands horizontally. The people in the second and third rows stretched the wooden sticks forward through the gaps between the teammates in front.

Makarov gave an order: "Charge!"

They ran in small steps and quickly stabbed the wooden sticks in their hands into the refugee group.

The refugees near the roadblock were caught off guard and were stabbed to the ground.

For a moment, the sound of crying for parents was endless.

The militiamen turned around and pointed their sticks at the remaining refugees who were already frightened.

"Old... Master, spare my life!"

The man in the front fell to his knees and begged for mercy.

With a leader, the people behind him also knelt down.

Makarov came to them and stood still. He was tall and strong with his hands behind his waist, and the muscles on his face were tightly tensed.

Unlike the militiamen, the sergeant had killed a large number of pirates with his own hands, and his whole body exuded a murderous aura.

He glanced at the unfortunate people who were still lying on the ground groaning.

"Restore the formation within 10 minutes!"

"All those who were near the roadblock just now, line up at the end of the line!"

The sergeant's terrible voice hit everyone's eardrums fiercely.