The Boss King actually disguised himself as a novice village chief?!
Chapter 144 - 144 132 NPC Ratman

144: Chapter 132 NPC Ratman 144: Chapter 132 NPC Ratman The version 1.03 update offered no further hints; everything was left to the players to guess.

But Lind was almost immediately certain it must be referring to himself.

Or rather, was his appearance also a part of the game’s progression?

No, that couldn’t be right.

If he hadn’t taken action himself, then perhaps the camp boss would have been Lance from the lookout tower in the Former Territory.

Moreover, besides his own area, bosses must have appeared in other regions’ main cities as well.

He quickly scanned through posts, not even noticing that his horse had already stopped.

“No!”

So far, only Lind’s Star Dragon Ridge had launched the “Siege Mode.”

“Maybe The Officials don’t really exist,” Lind speculated boldly, “The Version 1.02 update was unspectacular, but Version 1.03 must definitely be related to me.”

Perhaps the Old Nobility could also become officials?

For instance, after exterminating the New Nobility.

Lind finally noticed the changing scenery before him; he had ridden his horse to the entrance of Prey Town.

Prey Town hadn’t changed much on the outside since he last visited, except the gatekeeper soldiers had been replaced with regular army personnel.

Riding the Catastrophe Warhorse with the Volcano Monster Bird following, Lind appeared like the Calamity Knight stepping onto the scene.

Just now, when patrolling soldiers spotted a figure in golden plate armor riding a fearsome warhorse on the horizon, they were on alert immediately, and the newly constructed arbalests on the walls had aimed at Lind.

It was fortunate that someone recognized Lind’s identity in time, chiefly because they had seen his armor before.

“My Lord!”

The soldier reverently observed the Calamity Warhorse’s blood-red eyes.

As a soldier, he should lead the horse, but this creature’s teeth were not like those of ordinary horses; they looked even more formidable than a lion’s, possibly even man-eating.

The thick saliva dripping from the Catastrophe Warhorse’s mouth and the “purring” sound from its stomach, reminiscent of a feline, quickened every surrounding soldier’s heartbeat; their grip on their weapons tightened, but the weapons failed to provide any sense of safety.

Instead, the quickly secreting sweat made it hard for them to hold on.

Lind swung out a chain, anchoring the Catastrophe Warhorse and the Volcano Monster Bird together with “Carrion Queen’s Broken Sword” to the ground; the Broken Sword acted as an anchor.

Taking off his helmet, Lind revealed his golden short hair and a ruggedly handsome face.

He casually handed his helmet to a soldier standing by.

“My lord!” Old Cheli came running over as soon as he received the news, but the long-unseen Old Cheli didn’t seem to be in good shape.

“You’ve lost weight,” Lind said unexpectedly.

Old Cheli gave a sheepish grin, his hands nervously rubbing together as if he were a fly: “I’ve never managed so many people before.”

He indeed felt somewhat overwhelmed, never hold too high expectations for the nature of the desperate lower classes, from Old Cheli’s reports to Lind, he had already executed a total of eight people.

Public beheadings.

Yet it only served its purpose as a warning on the day of the killings; the predisposition had already taken root.

As their numbers grew, those rat-like individuals who abused their power to benefit themselves would conceal themselves, eluding even searches for positive outcomes.

Lind didn’t blame Old Cheli.

Just a few months ago, the man was just a corrupt merchant skimming food from the common people.

Now, he had to manage the food, drink, and welfare of over a thousand people.

With increased power, Old Cheli himself was too lazy to be corrupt, but he couldn’t stop his subordinates from being greedy.

Although Lind didn’t care about embezzlement of food since his profits were enormous.

Each time the NPCs produced an unremarkable trinket, Lind could exchange it with the Undead for points, and those points could in turn induce the Undead to grow vast amounts of food—enough to supply NPCs to produce baskets full of trinkets.

Both parties possessed an insurmountable information gap, but as the one holding the ultimate interpretation of points, Lind was the link where the interests of both parties could be exchanged.

Despite saying this, Lind couldn’t accept anyone encroaching on his interests right under his nose.

What seemed trivial to him was a staggering benefit to ordinary people, enough to exchange for numerous lives.

“Where is Han?”

“I’ll take you there, this way.”

“Hmm, talk while we walk.”

Lind walked forward, while old Celi, bent at the waist, spoke of recent conditions, his forehead slick with unstoppable sweat.

The sentry soldiers, who once were extorted by him, now merely hearing their breathing added greatly to the pressure, and Celi had the premonition that people would still die today.

“So, you mean to say, despite adequate food distribution and supervision, people still faint from hunger, and if not for roll call, no one would even know if they starved to death?”

He was a lord who liked to exploit, but that didn’t mean he lacked humanity, quite the contrary—it meant that as long as they worked for him and supplied enough labor, the NPCs could be well-fed and clothed.

He wanted to grow the population, but there were people who were going against him.

“Who is responsible for distributing the food?”

“There are 30 people.”

“Bring them all here.”

“Yes!”

Lind had already arrived in front of the blacksmith’s forge.

He didn’t comment on Bard and Han’s decision to produce armor to boost their combat capability, as the station’s construction was not yet fully shaped.

Only after his soldiers had tamed enough Catastrophe Warhorses would they really start on the related production.

The linked small accessories market, with 180 undead, had already become completely saturated.

Unless new products were continuously introduced, they wouldn’t sell out.

After the last round of linked accessory and clothing sales had nearly drained the undead’s points, they now clearly saved points for mounts, so Lind eased the production pressure.

Earning points wasn’t urgent; first, accumulate and nurture for a while.

He and Han chatted casually, touching on weapon modifications.

“For this aspect, you need to see Lord Bard, his creations are very attractive.”

Wiping sweat from his forehead, Han found Lind’s idea of modification somewhat puzzling.

More beautiful, more splendid, and ideas like adding a sheath for the sword and a case for the shield truly broadened Han’s perspective.

Could people really spend points just for beauty?

He had also somewhat understood points and grasped how they operated, but understanding didn’t mean he found it reasonable, quite the opposite.

To digitize honor in detail and then spend it like currency was, in his view, a disgrace to honor.

Moreover, the ability to freely leave or join a faction, with the zeroing of faction points upon leaving, was hard for him to understand.

Is this supposed to be a punishment?

There’s absolutely no penalty for betrayal!

Fortunately, it was only a rule applicable to the undead.

“Just some special designs,” Lind emphasized, “Like mismatching certain aspects during weapon crafting, adding small designs to make them appear as part of a series, and you can name them whatever you want—Han Set, Bard Set, anything.”

As long as there was a variety, there would always be someone willing to spend money, and all that the blacksmiths needed to contribute was a bit of creativity in the design.

“Just changing some appearances?”

“Just changing some appearances.”

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