Chapter 71: Professionalization

On the solid wooden table before Victor lay a pile of purification crystals. These transparent gems, clustered together, shimmered brilliantly like diamonds, yet their worth far surpassed any diamond. Victor paid little attention to the miraculous crystals; instead, he fixed his gaze on two clumps of dried mud, his brow furrowed in deep thought.

The clump on the left bore a distinct footprint—thirteen centimeters long, five centimeters wide, slender in shape, the toes rounded. By its size and form, it was clearly the right footprint of a human child. The right clump was several times larger, pressed with a claw mark forty-six centimeters long and thirty-eight centimeters wide. Four toes, each tipped with sharp claws, and webbing stretched between them; this was the print of a giant beast, amphibious in nature.

“Jack, are you certain this is a human footprint, not that of a halfling?” Victor looked across the table at the alchemical militiaman.

“Sir, though halflings resemble humans in form, they are all descendants of the magic rat Serpesis. Halflings rarely leave footprints; a select few can even walk atop water. So this is definitely a human footprint,” Jack replied.

Victor nodded. Just yesterday, the alchemical creatures sent to collect purification crystals had returned safely, bringing with them fifty-four crystals. Their collection process was uneventful; aided by alchemical ravens, they avoided most dangerous creatures, encountered no lizardmen tribes, and quietly harvested every crystal from several pools.

Afterward, they discovered a set of odd tracks: a human child’s footprint alongside the claw mark of a marsh beast. The tracks showed the child and the beast moving closely together; at times, the child's footprints disappeared, hinting the child had ridden atop the giant creature for part of their journey. Ultimately, the tracks vanished at a lakeside. Jack and his team abandoned the trail, excavated two pieces of mud bearing the prints, and brought them back to the rendezvous point.

“Do you know what animal left this claw mark?” Victor pointed to the giant beast’s print, questioning Jack.

“It should be a Marsh Drake—only, it's three times larger than the usual kind.”

Victor drew a sharp breath. Marsh Drakes measured five to seven meters long, weighed over a ton, armed with formidable teeth and claws, nimble and fierce predators. Their hide was exceptionally tough, sought after for crafting top-tier leather armor. Drake-hide armor was said to resist sword and blunt force alike; clearly, drakes were beasts of both high offense and defense.

Yet this drake was three times the normal size—over twelve meters long, weighing roughly three tons. It was likely a mutated creature.

“Why did you bring these prints back to show me?” Victor asked, puzzled. He wanted to understand why the alchemical militiamen had tracked these marks and brought evidence.

“Sir, when we undertake third-level collection missions, if we find signs of human activity in dangerous areas, we are required to investigate and report to our master. It's part of our will-side protocol.”

Jack’s response left Victor silent. It seemed the execution standards for the militiamen’s third-level missions were very broad—even including reconnaissance.

“I understand the situation. Let’s discuss your next task.” Victor reached out, gently pushed the two mud casts aside. A breeze circled, and the dry casts floated like feathers, landing quietly in a corner. Victor had neither the ability nor the inclination to meddle in the great marsh—especially not in such strange affairs.

“Jack, those four should already be mixed into the temporary encampment, correct?” Victor stroked his chin, asking softly.

Yesterday, at the rendezvous point, Victor had instructed four other alchemical militiamen to infiltrate the temporary camp as freedmen. The alchemical war mastiffs remained hidden forty kilometers away, while Jack followed orders and slipped into the upper camp overnight.

“Yes, sir. I saw them enter the temporary camp myself,” Jack confirmed.

“Jack, come look at this map.” Victor stood. Behind him was a wooden board draped in linen.

He pulled away the linen, revealing a huge, crude map painted on the board. Many areas were left blank, but several points were marked: Hill Camp, Chibman Camp, Flat Lake Village, Marsh Entrance.

“Jack, two days ago I ordered Bull and his team—ah, Bull is a recent addition to our militiamen—I ordered them to build a freedmen camp at this location, to recruit scattered mountain folk from the territory.” Victor tapped the map.

“Your primary task is to patrol the entire territory with the five mastiffs and two ravens, driving the wild folk toward this area, without revealing your connection to the mastiffs. Secondly, I want you to map the territory in detail—remote regions included—and survey all animal populations, monster communities, plant distribution, and mineral veins. Any questions?” Victor turned to Jack.

“Sir, if those wild folk refuse to move to the designated area, may I harm them?” Jack asked.

“No need. I simply don’t want them establishing settlements. If any threaten your safety, you may use force.”

For Victor, it mattered little whether the wild folk sided with Flat Lake Village or the mountain camp; they would all eventually be his to command.

“Sir, when shall I depart?”

“Check your gear, take your supplies, and you may set out.”

Jack sprang into action—two short swords, a dagger, a hunting bow, two quivers, a suit of leather armor, no rations—heading straight for the hidden door to the forbidden zone.

Victor watched Jack’s efficient movements with secret pride. Fierce close combat, accurate archery, a few dogs and birds—he could carry out missions alone in the wild. Such powerful soldiers, Victor would have many.

Once Jack disappeared through the hidden door, Victor headed toward the cave, aiming straight for the heart of the alchemical tower—the Elemental Extraction Platform.

“King, report on the current production status and financial reserves of the alchemical tower.” Victor connected with the tower spirit, sending his message.

“Sir, Alchemical Tower No. 7 has produced seven militiamen, six auxiliaries, fifteen ravens, five war mastiffs, consuming 177 soulfire, with 4,823 soulfire remaining and 11,550 gold in reserve.”

These figures made Victor smile wryly. One never realizes the true cost of upkeep until in charge. He had once possessed a hefty 40,000 gold solars—now, including the tower’s reserves, he had less than 15,000.

“King, I need to discuss planning for the territory, so I can decide what alchemical lifeforms to produce.” Without advisors, Victor could only rely on the tower spirit to help him fill the gaps.

“Sir, please describe your current situation.” With autonomous intelligence enabled, the King did not refuse Victor’s request.

“I currently control about nine hundred people. Our grain reserves are nearly depleted—everyone relies on foraging and hunting.” Victor admitted awkwardly.

Originally, Hill Camp had four hundred people, self-sufficient with stored grain, foraging, and hunting. But as more joined Victor, feeding them became a major problem. To fill their bellies, more hands were sent out, venturing farther afield—some teams took until the next day to return.

Victor had also discovered a troubling reality: the renewable resources around Hill Camp had been devastated. All nearby crops had been harvested to exhaustion! This explained why wild boars began eating purple cane—and humans could not subsist on meat alone.

“Now, more people going out to forage, traveling farther, more guards and militiamen deployed, yet efficiency is declining,” Victor sighed.

“The farther they go, the greater the supply costs. Foragers and guards need food as well,” King responded.

“I was too impatient. Those freedmen camps scattered around the territory had their reason. Freedmen could meet their needs by relying on local resources and a bit of cultivation. Nearby wild crops would not be over-harvested.”

“I wasn’t ready when I gathered them all together. I should have sent people to take over the freedmen camps, dispersed the freedmen, then resettled them anew. That would have allowed Hill Camp to develop sustainably.”

Victor was deeply vexed. Fearing the freedmen would regroup, he had ordered their camps dismantled; even the materials were used to build the main camp and villages.

“At present, you can only rely on purchasing grain to sustain your people.”

“Indeed. The camp’s fields are sown with barley and beans, but harvest won’t come until the Wind Season. Flat Lake Village’s tributes are insufficient to feed so many.”

“My options for buying grain are limited to two places: the Yorks and the Chibmans. The Chibmans are out of the question—I can’t afford to expose my weakness to them. That leaves only Black Castle Town. What are the odds the Yorks will seize control through this?”

“One hundred percent,” King replied without hesitation.

Victor understood the ambitions of great families. Sylvia had once aided him with 40,000 gold solars (the Countess extorted ten thousand) and sold him equipment cheaply, so Victor still harbored a shred of hope for the alluring Countess.

“Then I must accelerate village construction, to disperse the population quickly. Yet the freedmen are not fully integrated—how can I ensure control over them?” Victor asked King.

“Sir, I suggest you temporarily loosen control, let the populace develop freely. Meanwhile, produce enough auxiliaries, gather them in a secret camp, have them fire special bricks, and rapidly build a castle. Once your castle is complete, you will naturally control the territory. Additionally, auxiliaries can forge Silversteel equipment, enhancing your army’s strength. I believe this is your best option,” King advised.

“That’s a terrible idea!” Victor retorted coldly.

“King, you likely don’t realize what special bricks mean to the lords. This technology could change the entire human world. If I reveal it now, I’ll soon face catastrophe. The same goes for Silversteel equipment. Until I can protect myself, I won’t expose these sensitive technologies.”

Special bricks would allow lords to build more fortresses and castles, gaining greater control of their lands. Every lord would go mad for such a technology, even waging war for it. To King, special bricks were commonplace in the Alchemical Empire—unremarkable, for an empire built on offense. But in the current human world, defense was paramount. This was a civilizational misjudgment.

“Moreover, alchemical auxiliaries may seem like basic labor units to you, but in this era, they are master-level talents. To have them focus on low-level work is wasteful; better to let them guide ordinary villagers to achieve greater results,” Victor added in his mind.

“Still, your suggestion gave me an idea for controlling villages—by forcing them into abnormal development!”

“Sir, you mean?” King asked, puzzled.

“Abnormal development—specialization. For example, in regions rich with sword hemp, build villages focused solely on linen production; in fertile lands, establish farms; near mines, create ironworks. These villages can’t be self-sufficient. With few people, they might supplement food by foraging, but as populations grow, they’ll depend on my regulation.”

Victor eagerly relayed his plan. Ordinary lords’ villages were administrative units made up of their vassals, loyal and self-sufficient. But Victor’s foundation was too shallow; if freedmen who’d only known him a few months established self-sufficient villages, control could easily slip. So they must develop abnormally.

“A fine idea. Specialized villages depend more on advanced technology. Auxiliaries with technical mastery will wield highest authority. With only a few managers, you can firmly control these villages,” King affirmed.

“King, initiate a construction task—produce twelve alchemical auxiliaries. Each will be equipped with Secret Monkey Morph and ranged weapons mastery. Then divide them into three groups, each loaded with a different production skill.”

Giving auxiliaries some combat ability suited Victor’s needs; ranged mastery and Secret Monkey Morph were ideal choices.

“As you wish, sir. This production will consume eighty-four units of soulfire and six thousand gold. Remaining soulfire: 4,739; remaining gold: 5,550,” King reported.

Now he was truly on the brink of bankruptcy. He wondered how much Nelson would bring back for him. Victor sighed inwardly.

And Nelson was already on his way home.