The Boss King actually disguised himself as a novice village chief?!
Chapter 133 - 133 123 Small Commodity Processing Town

133: Chapter 123 Small Commodity Processing Town 133: Chapter 123 Small Commodity Processing Town “Squee~”

The burning-hot blade fell upon the spread-out Earth Dragon leather on the ground.

After descaling and tanning, the leather made from the Earth Dragon’s hide was easily cut open by the sharp blade, as if it were a thin sheet of paper.

Bard wiped the sweat from his forehead with one arm, while his three other arms continued working.

Creating a set of dragon leather armor was not an easy task, and the knife in his hand was no ordinary knife.

Carved with special magical runes, the blade possessed the dual effects of “Sharpness” and “High Temperature.” It was only with the strength unique to those of Upper Rank that he could barely cut through the dragon leather.

In one go.

Bard casually tossed the knife into a barrel.

The high temperature ignited the air in an instant, causing the empty barrel to burst into flames, the enormous noise attracting frequent glances from the others around.

“Phew~” Bard turned around, picked up the wine that had long cooled in the cold wind, and gulped it down his throat, easing the fatigue and heat building up in his chest.

The dragon leather armor being crafted for Lord Lind was Bard’s labor of love.

Just considering the materials alone, such a use for the skin of an Earth Dragon—killed and skinned—was something the Rand Kingdom had never dared to imagine before.

More elegant, more comfortable, more beautiful.

Bard remembered the requirements given by Lind; none of these were problems for him.

Being able to cast aside reservations and create the things he wanted—that was his true motivation for it all.

After capturing Holy Water Town, they didn’t stay too long at the watch tower in the Former Territory.

Bard was soon arranged to travel through the water route, moving past the Red Dragon Foothills and into Prey Town.

A group of Soldiers was arranged to forge defensive fortifications.

Now that the Undead also knew of the water route’s existence, it was hard to guarantee they wouldn’t betray this information to the NPCs of the New Nobility.

Therefore, the ninety soldiers of the Second Legion—now they should be called Lion Soldiers, or Star Dragon Ridge Soldiers—were responsible for the defense, with watchtowers, hidden outposts, traps, and so on erected within a single day, preparing for the worst-case scenario.

At that moment, Bard was enjoying life in Prey Town, wearing the NPC-exclusive Lion Badge on his chest, bearing the prominent word “NPC.” It glowed at night, a clear distinction from the badges of the Undead.

As the functionality of the “Gold Badge” expanded, Lind wasn’t concerned about disrupting immersion.

In his view, if the whole world was about immersion, then being unimmersed was the greatest form of immersion.

Lind even planned to develop more new features, such as NPCs being able to issue quests without having to use a scroll.

Instead, an “!” could pop up directly from the Lion Badge, certainly eye-catching.

If the algorithm was good enough and many brains helped the “Gold Badge” to compute, he would even add a “?”, monopolizing the quest system in a real sense, with each individual Undead given a unique identifier.

But this required immense computational power.

The “Gold Badge” had the capability to achieve all this but couldn’t become a computer; it seemed to need a bit of brainpower.

Currently, however, Lady Serene seemed somewhat listless every day, and the computational load Lind required her to process had expanded from 60 Undead to 120 Undead + 600 residents of Prey Town + 90 soldiers + 200 residents of Holy Water Town.

A computational load more terrifying than brutal torture.

Serene’s brain was being involuntarily borrowed for thought, and she couldn’t control her fatigue.

She was now pleading, but Lind, who had no use for a tool, would basically pretend not to hear.

Designing all this was also important for Lind.

When the time came, who would dare to say that the New Nobility were the legitimate ones?

If you don’t even have exclamation and question marks, you’re nothing but monsters!

After draining the wine, Bard hadn’t experienced such a relaxed life in a long time.

He packed up the dragon leather; even the smallest offcut could be crafted into something interesting.

Marching bags, leather boots, straps, or other little gizmos and clasps—this was the leather from an Upper Rank Earth Dragon!

“Luckily, Earth Dragon leather isn’t afraid of flames.” The Lord, when fully erupting in power, would be enveloped in terrifying flames, which would undoubtedly deform ordinary armor.

Bard regretted the absence of the Heart of Calamity; otherwise, he could have borrowed a bit of the Earth Dragon’s ancient power, maybe granting the dragon leather armor a touch of magma power.

But this was not bad either.

After cutting, the armor still needed to be soaked in a Magic Potion and then go through an Enchantment process—quite a waste of time.

Bard turned and left, for crafting dragon leather armor to please his Lord was important, but he had an even more vital mission.

Prey Town, packed with nearly a thousand people, seemed to have returned to the bustle it had before the apocalypse.

Everyone was working with bustling enthusiasm.

Those skilled in crafts were always the most sought after; Bard headed towards the blacksmith factory.

In the open-air blacksmith factory, nearly a hundred strapping men were hammering with their mallets.

In the cold winter, they were shirtless, sweat droplets tracing their skin and muscles, flowing down like rainwater.

“Clang!”

“Lord Bard!”

The ‘Hammer Carriers,’ engrossed in their work turned their heads towards Bard and quickly stood up to salute him.

The other blacksmiths also paused and mimicked the action.

Although Old Cheli was still the mayor, everyone knew that it was the iron-blooded soldiers from outside, the true confidants of their Lord, that held real power.

And there stood Bard, Lord with four arms, whose status was far above that of Old Cheli.

“Continue working,” Bard frowned.

“We must get everything done within the set time!”

“Yes!” The blacksmiths, well-fed, worked with vigor.

“How’s it going?” Bard approached Han.

“The skills of these blacksmiths are poor, and producing ninety sets of armor may take a few months,” Han felt powerless.

“Also, the quality of the armor produced is not good.”

“Start with producing iron-rimmed light armors for now, just to get our brothers into something thicker.”

Lind had made it clear multiple times the severity of the New Nobility; Bard, Lance, Han, and others also knew very well that the confrontation between the old and new nobles was inevitable.

Producing as many armors as possible to give their own side a bigger advantage in the war was the only thing they could do.

Unlike Lind’s certainty, everyone harbored a strong distrust towards the Undead.

They could not understand why the Lord put so much trust in the Undead to follow his commands, because occasionally, they would overhear the Undead making shocking remarks.

Remarks such as ‘Would killing the Lord drop equipment?’ or ‘Would killing Lance yield an Ice Bow?’ and so on.

Rebellion, high treason!

These Undead should naturally belong with the scoundrels from Leon Territory.

But the Lord’s command was absolute.

If they intended to betray, like at Frostfrozen Outpost, they would have done so already.

Those who hadn’t betrayed became even more loyal, their will to survive wasn’t the only thing keeping them alive.

There was also that slight glimmer of hope, or perhaps it’s more fitting to call it “what if.”

With Lind present, it meant the Rand Kingdom still existed.

All nobles tracing back several generations had royal blood; even if Lind were to become king of Rand Kingdom, it would be entirely legitimate.

Not to mention, Lind was very strong.

“How’s the production of traps coming along?” Bard hadn’t forgotten his other task.

Producing traps.

Hunting, tracking, delayed firing mechanisms – they weren’t big challenges for Bard.

He needed more materials, but the blacksmiths of Prey Town were always behind in scale and quality.

Out of ten products made, at most three were usable.

The rest were either too big or too small, utterly useless for the precision required by the traps.

To make use of them, manual adjustment of the parts was necessary, and this was extremely time-consuming.

“Have a drink with me tonight,”

Bard patted Han on the shoulder, then turned and left; he was busy, after all.

On the road, he happened to meet Old Cheli.

“Lord Bard!” Old Cheli knew very well how to position himself.

Lind never mentioned removing Old Cheli from his position as mayor, and Bard never said he wanted to seize power.

Their sights were simply set on the ‘New Nobility,’ on Goliath – the humble Prey Town was nothing more than a mere mud pit to them.

The unspoken agreement between them was for Old Cheli to manage the common folk’s lives and discipline, while Bard focused on production and commodities.

They didn’t interfere with each other, yet subtly, Old Cheli acknowledged Bard’s supremacy.

“Mayor,” Bard did not show contempt for the other’s frail figure, instead nodding and greeting him in return.

“Where is this going to…?” Bard looked at the group of people behind Old Cheli.

“We’re moving food,” Old Cheli said somewhat helplessly: “Prey Town now has to feed close to a thousand people; we must transport large quantities of food every day.”

With the current stockpile in the granary, not to mention a thousand people, even ten thousand could easily last a month.

But as the population of the territory increased, Old Cheli, in his position, inevitably started to worry, especially since it had been a while since any food had been added to the granary.

Facing depletion…

It might look vibrant now with thousands of people working hard, but if they were to run out of food, the situation would probably become quite ugly.

“Ah, speaking of food,” Bard also seemed to remember something: “The Lord once mentioned something about a recirculating water system to me.”

Lind merely mentioned hydroponics in passing, and not only Bard but also Mico and Brittany were assigned tasks – they were to research nutrient solutions for the cultivation.

Only by severing dependency on soil could they truly achieve self-sufficiency in food production.

But all this was still premature.

The Undead, as long as they received Points for their faction, would take on any job tirelessly, at most cursing “cursed cyber-serfdom,” before eager scurrying off to compete for work, more efficient than any slave.

For the time being, the Undead could perfectly deal with the food crisis.

After bidding farewell to Old Cheli, Bard headed in another direction.

The garment processing plant.

This was the most critical batch of goods at the moment.

Bard had never seen this type of clothing before.

It could pass as a dress, but it was too small, seemingly the size of a palm.

He had no clue what effect it would have when worn.

And he was also responsible for enchanting these clothes.

They had to be attractive, first and foremost, requiring more exposed skin, and then came various additional effects.

For this, Bard had to recruit a large number of female workers.

Women who had always lived at the bottom of society now had opportunities.

They could earn more food from their labor, leading better lives.

Beyond clothing, there were various ornaments and accessories to be made.

Gold and gems held no value in the apocalypse and were all turned into various accessories and ornaments through waste recycling.

There was no need to go to great lengths to enchant these trinkets; their sole purpose was to look good.

Nearly a thousand people now fully engaged, with production lines spread throughout.

The entire Prey Town had plunged into a fervent working atmosphere.

Eating well, living comfortably – they were too fond of their work.

The ruthless Lord exploited the NPCs with a piece-rate system, then turned around to exploit the Undead with the cheap labor-produced goods.

Yet not a single person felt he was in the wrong; everyone was singing praises of the Lord, the great Lord Lind!

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