Chương 71: 71：Rewards and Restructuring

Of these three, one was a monk capable of tearing apart black iron armor with his bare hands. Another was a commander who had mastered the art of the cavalry charge. The last was a Silver-tier mage captain who controlled scarce magical resources. Soren reached into a pouch hanging on the wall and pulled out three transparent glass vials. Inside the vials sloshed a viscous, dark-green liquid intertwined with threads of blood-red. Soren set them on the wooden table and pushed them toward the trio.

"Basic Troll Serum."

"Drink it. Don't leave a single drop." Renn didn't hesitate. He stepped forward and popped the cork. Even without knowing exactly what this concoction was, he threw his head back and downed it in one gulp. Buck and Victor exchanged a glance before following suit, pouring the thick green liquid down their throats. Arms crossed over his chest, Soren watched them quietly.

"Urgh!" Renn was the first to let out a stifled grunt. On his bare upper torso, those gruesome scars began to fade in a bizarre manner. Beneath his skin, his muscle groups expanded and writhed at a visible rate! A vigorous vitality, carrying the tyrannical aura of a ferocious beast, erupted from every pore on Renn's body. This was the high-speed regeneration and physical enhancement granted by the Troll Serum! [Ding!] A crisp system notification rang out in Soren's field of vision. [Target Detected: Monk Renn. Consumed Basic Troll Serum.] [Talent Update: [Hardened Skin] has been catalyzed by the Troll Serum and has advanced!] [Current Status: Grants 70% immunity to standard physical damage (swords, bludgeoning weapons, standard arrows). (Previously 60%).] Looking at Renn, who was panting heavily with a faint red glow in his eyes, a surge of ecstasy washed over Soren. 70% physical damage immunity!

This meant that even if dozens of orcs hacked at him with cleavers, as long as they didn't land a fatal blow on his vulnerable throat or eyes, they would at most leave shallow white marks on Renn's bronze skin! With his sharp judgment, Soren deduced that if the current Renn encountered an orc wearing Black Steel armor—which was even harder than Black Iron—Renn could absolutely shatter that Black Steel with a bare fist, turning the organs inside into mush!

Meanwhile, the changes in Buck and Victor were slightly milder. The vitality Buck had overdrawn after days and nights of trekking through the swamp was now completely replenished. The hidden injuries he had sustained from cavalry charges in his early years were purged by the serum's effects like a raging fire. But the most visual transformation belonged to Victor, the mage, who had the weakest physical constitution.

"Cough, cough... bleugh!" Victor coughed violently, hacking up a clot of dark, congested blood that had been lodged deep in his lungs. His ashen complexion, caused by long-term malnutrition and mana overdraft, instantly turned rosy. His shriveled muscles bulged slightly, and his breathing became long and powerful. Although the Troll Serum couldn't directly upgrade their commanding abilities or magical talents, it endowed them with physiques rivaling those of elite orcs!

"Thank you, Lord Soren!" Feeling the power surging through their bodies like roaring rivers, the three bowed their heads to Soren once more. However. As Soren observed their formidable transformations, a logistical issue regarding military organization surfaced in his mind. [Basic Troll Serum: 32 vials] The problem was the new recruits who had just joined today: seventy-six arena veterans, thirty of Buck's remnants, and twelve refugee guerrillas, totaling one hundred and eighteen soldiers.

In an army, soldiers do not fear scarcity; they fear unfairness. I must establish a promotion system with absolutely no backdoors, where everything is exchanged for military merit! Soren issued an order to Renn:"Have Kyle ring the alarm bell!"

"Order all soldiers to assemble in the plaza!" Ten minutes later, on the muddy clearing of the plaza, over two hundred soldiers stood in tight formations under the falling rain. Carrying a square wooden box, Soren leaped down from the treehouse. Clack! The lid popped open. The thirty-two neatly arranged vials of Troll Serum were instantly exposed to everyone's sight. Soren didn't waste words.

"You have all witnessed the terrifying physical prowess of the village's sixty-four frontline elites!"

"This substance is called Troll Serum."

"As long as you drink it, even if you were previously a farmer who couldn't lift a sword, you will be reborn overnight. You will possess monstrous strength on par with an orc!" The moment those words were spoken. The breathing of the two hundred-plus men in the plaza instantly grew heavy. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. This was a treasure that could protect their lives and make them unstoppable on the battlefield.

To those thirsting for revenge, it was the ultimate source of power! Countless pairs of eyes shone with fanatical light, like a pack of starving wolves. But there were only thirty-two vials. The clever ones immediately realized the scarcity of the resource. Looking down at the sea of faces filled with desire, Soren introduced his modern military merit system.

"I, Soren, do not care about your background! Nor do I want that bootlicking and flattery you used to serve noble lords!"

"In my territory, whether you are a former soldier of the Kingdom's regular army, a refugee turned bandit, or a captive who managed to crawl out of the gladiator arena alive!"

"I only care about one thing: Military Merit!" Soren propped his foot on the edge of the wooden crate, drew his longsword, and pointed it toward the endless depths of the dense fog.

"These thirty-two vials of serum are the stepping stones into my frontline elite unit!"

"I don't care what methods you use, whether you bite with your teeth or hack with your swords!"

"Whoever among you is the first to claim orc heads on the upcoming battlefield, accumulates enough merit, and brings it back to place before me!"

"You! You will receive this potion! You will be drafted into the frontline vanguard! You will wear the thickest Black Iron armor and wield the sharpest armor-piercing halberd!" Those words detonated directly in the hearts of the two hundred men.

"Kill!"

"Long live Lord Soren! I'm going to skin those greenskins alive tomorrow!" No background discrimination, no corrupt officers stealing rewards. Everything was dictated by the heads of their enemies! This fair promotion system was something all foot soldiers dreamed of, and it completely unleashed their lust for battle! Amidst the rainy night in Greywater Village, morale skyrocketed! By early morning, the cold rain of the misty swamp had finally ceased.

The push-window of the treehouse command post in Greywater Village was propped open, letting a cool breeze sweep into the room. In the village clearing, the dozen or so large iron cauldrons suspended over campfires had been scraped completely clean; not a single drop of meat stew remained. Soren sat behind his log table. On the other side of the table, Quartermaster Fina Hawthorne was rapidly flicking the beads of an abacus, her brows knitted tightly together.

"Lord Soren, the accounts are finally settled." Fina took a deep breath and pushed two sheets of papyrus covered in charcoal writing in front of him.

"The original population of our Greywater Village was four hundred and eighty-five."

"Among the group you brought back last night, there are seventy-six regular army veterans rescued from the arena, twenty-two cavalry remnants under Buck's command, twelve refugee guerrillas under Victor's command, plus the three of them. That makes exactly one hundred and thirteen people."

"Added together, the current total population of our territory has reached a massive five hundred and ninety-eight." As the one managing the finances, Fina felt a deep ache in her heart.

"My Lord, the sudden addition of these one hundred and thirteen strapping men—all of whom have been starving on the brink of death for a long time—means that last night's welcoming meals of meat stew and hardtack directly consumed what we had previously estimated as a fifteen-day supply of rations!"

"At this rate of consumption, if we don't resupply, our grain reserves won't last until the end of next month." Soren glanced at the ledger. It was a staggering number. In this swamp filled with toxic miasma at every turn, the livelihood of nearly six hundred people could easily crush even a Baron of the Silvermoon Kingdom. Yet, he didn't panic in the slightest. Instead, a smile formed on his lips.

"Being able to eat means they're able to work."

"I brought back one hundred and thirteen of the best able-bodied laborers. And what is the misty swamp least lacking in? This bottomless, acidic mud!"

"Next, we will massively expand the planting area for Swamp Tubers."

"Swamp Tubers are immune to acidic toxins. They ripen in sixty days and yield five hundred pounds per acre."

"Since they can eat, we'll just double the scale of land reclamation! As long as we can bridge the gap to the first harvest season, no matter who blockades us in the future, we'll have the capital to outlast them!" Fina's bright eyes, sharp with commercial instincts, instantly lit up. She quickly ran the numbers for the Swamp Tuber yields in her head, and her anxiety was swept away.

"Yes, My Lord! I'll go coordinate it immediately!"

"It's not just about food," Soren said, turning around.

"Now that we have ample manpower, the old military structure will no longer be able to handle the upcoming intensity of war. I am going to execute a complete restructuring."