Lord: Starting from the Pit-Dwelling Courtyard

Ron and Fanda were just about to head out to find the bison herd when Old Hall rushed over.

"Young Master! The wasteland is still too dangerous. What if we encounter danger?"

Ron thought for a moment and then nodded: "Hunting bison is indeed very dangerous, Old Hall, you shouldn't go."

Old Hall immediately panicked; this was hardly a reason for him to go or not!

Ron smiled and patted old Hall on the shoulder.

"Don't worry, I know how to protect myself."

Looking at Ron's smiling face, Old Hall recalled that he had the same expression when he killed his first person. He sighed, stopped trying to dissuade him, and could only obediently return to developing his territory.

Just before leaving, old Hall stopped Fanta.

"Remember, even if you all die, nothing can harm the young master!"

Fanta nodded solemnly, "Mr. Hall, please rest assured and leave it to me!"

Fanta gathered his men: ten guards, twenty militiamen who had just handled spears, and Mad leading the way.

Mad was a thin, middle-aged man with skin tanned a deep brown by the desert sun. He walked with a habitual hunchback, his eyes constantly scanning his surroundings.

"My lord," Mad pointed north, "there's a herd of bison over there, about seven or eight miles away. I heard the noise while patrolling last night, and I went to check it out this morning; there are at least thirty of them."

Ron asked, "What about the terrain?"

"A low-lying area, overgrown with weeds. Cattle graze in the low-lying area."

Ron nodded; he had already begun drawing a diagram in his mind.

It took more than an hour to walk seven or eight miles.

There were no roads on the wasteland, only gravel and thorns, and the militiamen's hands, gripping their rifles, were already sweating.

Sanlir walked in the middle of the group, glancing up at Ron in front of him every now and then. The lord remained silent throughout, walking at a moderate pace, as if he were measuring something.

Mad squatted down in front of a dirt slope and made a gesture.

Ron crouched down and climbed the earthen slope, where his view suddenly opened up.

It was a depression, about three or four meters lower than the surrounding terrain.

Sparse weeds grew in the depression, where more than thirty bison were scattered, grazing with their heads down.

The largest bull stood at the edge of the herd, its horns as thick as an adult's forearm. It would occasionally raise its head and exhale heavily from its nostrils.

Ron looked for a long time, not at the cows, but at the terrain.

The depression has gentle slopes on three sides and a relatively steep gravel slope on the other.

If a herd of cattle is startled, it will not run towards the steep slope, but will instinctively rush up the gentle slope.

He called Mad and Fanta to his side and drew a simple diagram on the ground.

"The depression has three exits. We'll block two of them and leave one open."

Fanta frowned: "Keep one?"

"Leave one for it to escape," Ron said, pointing to the scree slope, "but it can't get out. Damn, you stay here with the men."

He pointed to the top of the scree slope.

"I'm going to dig a ditch later, mainly to cut off the top of the slope, and then build two steep slopes to prevent the cattle from rushing up. It doesn't need to be too long, twenty meters will be enough."

Fanta thought for a moment: "When the cattle are startled, they will run in the direction where there is no obstruction. They can't go down the gentle slope, so they will rush up the scree slope to the top, where there is a ditch."

"He fell in," Ron said. "It's four or five meters deep, and he can't climb out."

Mad squatted to the side, listened to the whole plan, and his mouth was slightly open.

He had spent half his life hunting and never imagined he could play like this.

Fanta asked doubtfully, "Young Master, this is quite a project. There are two gentle slopes, each twenty meters long, and a cross ditch needs to be dug on the gravel slope, at least fifty meters long. Can you do all this by yourself...?"

"We don't need to dig it all at once," Ron said. "I'll be in charge of the two steep slopes. Fanta will lead the digging of the ditch on the scree slope. It doesn't need to be too wide, just enough to stop the cattle."

Ron's eyes lit up as he said this.

"Dig it up today, herd the cattle tomorrow, and we can eat meat tomorrow night."

Everyone's eyes lit up; clearly, no one was not looking forward to eating meat.

If it weren't for the fear of disturbing the bison herd, everyone would probably have jumped up and cheered.

Civil engineering work has plowed deep furrows into the wasteland.

The sand was pumped away like water, and the slope of the gentle slope changed from the original thirty degrees to nearly sixty degrees, making it impossible for the bison to rush up.

The excavated sand was piled up at the top of the slope, forming a mound about half a person's height, making the steep slope look even higher and steeper.

Mad crouched at a distance, watching with eyes full of awe.

He had seen architectural wizards build houses, but he had never seen an architectural wizard transform the terrain, and so quickly.

That hillside seemed to have been twisted into a completely different shape by an invisible hand.

Fanta, accompanied by ten guards and twenty militiamen, was sweating profusely on the top of the scree slope.

The soil on the gravel slope was mixed with a lot of gravel, and sparks flew everywhere when the shovel was used to dig it up.

Shanlier's palms were already blistered, but he didn't stop. The lord said to dig it up today and drive the cattle out tomorrow.

His younger siblings are waiting to eat meat.

Ron walked over and glanced at the progress. Less than a third of the trench had been dug.

He called Fanta aside.

"I'll come and help after I finish digging the other side of the gentle slope."

Fanta nodded, then hesitated for a moment.

"Young master. The biggest bull."

"I saw it," Ron said. "I'll save it for last tomorrow."

The project was completed that evening.

The gentle slopes on the west and east sides turned into two almost vertical earthen walls.

At the top of the gravel slope, a ditch fifty meters long, two meters wide, and three meters deep blocked the way.

The bottom of the ditch was covered with a layer of gravel dug down from the slope, with the sharp corners pointing upwards.

On the other side of the ditch, the excavated soil was piled up, forming a low earthen wall that would block the cattle even if they climbed out of the ditch.

Ron stood on the earthen wall and looked down. The ditch was four meters deep; even if a bison that fell in survived the fall, it wouldn't be able to jump back up.

Mad squatted by the ditch, staring at the sharp-edged pebbles for a long time.

"My lord, I've been hunting for half my life. I've never seen a hunt like this before."

Ron didn't answer; he was looking at the depression.

More than thirty bison are still grazing; who knows how many pounds of meat they will turn into by this time tomorrow.

It was already dark when they returned to the territory.

Ron called everyone to the courtyard of the pit house.

The flames in the brazier danced in the night wind, casting his shadow on the arched ceiling of the cave dwelling.

"Tomorrow we'll herd the cattle, not slaughter them," Ron said. "Drive the herd out of the depression and let them run up the scree slope. Don't block them head-on, and don't fight the bulls. Your lives are worth more than beef."

Ron's gaze swept over the militiamen holding long guns.

"Whoever is injured, the flesh will be divided equally. Whoever dies, his family will receive an extra share."

silence.

Sanlir raised his hand; the blisters on his palm had burst, and a dirty strip of cloth was wrapped around it.

"My lord, if I die, will my younger siblings have enough to eat?"

Ron looked at him.

"able."

Sanlir nodded and lowered his hand.

After the militiamen left, old Hall asked nervously, "Young master, shall I go with you tomorrow?"

Ron thought for a moment and nodded: "Okay, we'll need some help then. Don't worry, I won't get involved in herding the bison."

Hearing this, Old Hall was finally relieved.

In his eyes, it didn't matter if all the people in his territory died, as long as the young master was safe and sound.