Chapter 292: Punishment, Family Business, and Nature

The night in Nagaryll was pitch black, the stars exceptionally bright. Unlike the Baylor Federation, where neon lights masked the sky’s true color, here the starry sky shone clearly.

The dazzling stars stretched across the night, captivating and overwhelming anyone who gazed upon them.

Asel looked through the transparent glass window at the peaceful night outside, while his mind churned turbulently.

Civilized and barbaric worlds are ultimately different.

He had prepared himself before returning, but still underestimated it.

The Nagaryll he remembered seemed gone, his past memories blurred. Most were happy memories—finding joy amid suffering.

Pleasure born of pain tends to linger, so his recollections of home were mostly positive, as if unpleasant truths had been deliberately erased.

During his years in the Federation, he had gradually adapted to living as a civilized man, despite the discrimination and flaws there. It was still a civilized country.

Laws protected the weak and restrained the strong. Even if people were rotten inside, they maintained a noble façade.

He had started to adjust, though it wasn’t an ideal country.

But here in Nagaryll, nothing seemed to have progressed; barbarism remained barbaric.

Police beat and chased pedestrians with sticks just to clear the way for the powerful’s car. Their real job was to protect the people, but they didn’t.

Demolishing others’ houses to expand a yard, forcibly evicting families, then boasting about it—what kind of cold-hearted people could do that?

Because he habitually said thank you, his father and eldest brother assumed his eldest brother’s wife was seducing him, and at night forced that poor woman to satisfy his brother’s lust…

Too terrifying, too barbaric.

Once someone has learned to sit at a table set with cloth and fine utensils, savoring carefully cooked food, it’s hard to accept a life of savagery.

He felt disgusted seeing bloody chunks of meat, corpses, and even putting food in his mouth.

At some point, Asel fell asleep. No one woke him the next day; he slept until nearly eleven.

In Nagaryll, except for a few factory jobs, most worked as day laborers or farmers. Life moved slowly. As long as you weren’t afraid of hunger, sleeping until noon or afternoon was fine.

When Asel woke, the sour, foul stench in his nose and on his body tortured him again. He changed clothes, feeling the odor clung to him. Coming downstairs and standing at the gate, his expression froze.

His eldest brother’s wife was hung from a tree in the yard. Asel’s brothers stood around watching. His eldest brother whipped the poor woman.

Each lash sounded sharply. The woman endured silently, biting her lips until they bled. Her eyes were vacant, as if she might faint any moment.

Asel’s mother and the other brothers’ wives knelt nearby, witnessing this ritual punishment.

When the last lash fell, the eldest brother put away the whip and handed it to a younger brother. He coldly glanced at the hanging woman and untied her hands.

She collapsed to the ground but after a few seconds forced herself up, kneeling before his eldest brother. With her hands palms up pressed to the floor, she kissed her husband’s toes, then lowered her forehead to the ground.

This was the standard ritual of repentance for women. His eldest brother’s shoulders twitched from the strain of whipping. Turning, he saw Asel.

A genuine smile appeared on his cold face—a smile Asel recognized, one he had worn before.

“My brother, did you sleep well?” He approached and embraced Asel warmly, but the hug brought no warmth.

Asel’s expression delayed for a second or two before responding, “Very well. I always thought of home outside. Coming back feels good…”

His brother nodded indifferently. “Home is best. This is your home. You have us.” He patted Asel’s shoulder and headed inside.

As they walked, he said, “Let’s eat lunch first. After that, I’ll take you to see our factory. You might find it interesting.”

This caught Asel’s attention. He hadn’t expected that his father and barely educated brothers actually owned a factory. Sensitive due to his profession, he casually asked, “What kind of factory?”

“Recycling and processing!” The eldest brother proudly answered as they entered the hall. “We’ve made some connections. It’s not an easy business; we’ve spent a lot on it.”

Through the explanation, Asel finally understood that the money he sent home over the years wasn’t wasted or spent frivolously.

When some people gain certain traits or qualifications, others seek them out to make money.

Since Asel’s father bragged about his son becoming a foreigner, he gained some local fame, attracting such people.

No society runs purely by the planners’ rules; there are always outliers. Nagaryll had them too—opportunists.

They were restless, wanting to change their situation. Without breaking Nagaryll’s rules, they tried every way to make money and raise their status.

Those who approached Asel’s father were such people. Unknown locally, they had found a business and wanted Asel’s father to represent them.

They didn’t need him to invest money but would share half the profits.

His father agreed quickly. Even if they were scammers, he wouldn’t lose anything.

This business was about recycling.

Every year, religious ceremonies produced many gold vessels. These weren’t entirely gold; some were gold-plated, others mixed gold powder with lacquer, brushed onto vessels.

The first type belonged to the wealthy; the second, to moderately well-off families, with further distinctions.

The number of lacquer coats reflected family status. Ordinary families offered small gold vessels with one coat.

Wealthier families offered larger vessels with dozens of coats.

Gold-plated vessels were easy to handle—just peel off the gold layer. Lacquer-coated ones were harder.

Though not worthless, these items weren’t extremely expensive either.

Recycling was complicated. Temples didn’t process these themselves but sent them in bundles to factories.

These factories were actually workshops of varying size.

Previously, people recycled lacquer-coated vessels by crushing and grinding them, then separating the gold powder through natural layering. The purest powder was calcined and recast into gold bars.

Now these problems were easier to solve. With the development of foreign technology, some chemical substances gradually appeared in Nagaryll.

Using a chemical reagent banned for civilian use and abuse in many countries internationally, it became effortless to break down the chemical components in the gold lacquer, causing the gold to settle.

When Asel heard this, his expression grew serious. After a quick meal, he drove with his eldest brother to the factory.

Even more than a hundred meters from the factory, a pungent smell hit them. Parking in the yard, Asel saw workers handling various chemicals without any protective measures. His heart was stirred.

The numb faces showed no emotional change. They didn’t care about their hands, some rotting or already showing signs of deformity. They just kept repeating their work.

Hands bleached and ulcerated from chemical exposure dipped in and out of liquids. Asel felt something grip his heart tightly.

His brother didn’t notice Asel’s expression and continued enthusiastically introducing everything. He took Asel to his office, introduced him to others, and opened the safe.

Inside, neatly stacked gold bars—or rather, gold sheets—about half a centimeter thick and palm-sized, gleamed with a heartbeat-quickening shine.

“Look, this is our business!” The pride in his voice showed no respect for life.

A familiar yet strange country.

A group of familiar yet strange people.

Only one thing remained unchanged: the pursuit of profit.