154: Chapter 154 Invitation System

Qin Ce didn't look at that person again.

He turned around and continued walking forward.

The corner of his mouth curled up slightly.

Gaining the trust of a group of people is difficult, but gaining the trust of one person is not.

Then he would take them one by one.

Before he had even walked ten steps, he grabbed another person.

That person was disheveled and dressed in rags, squatting on the edge of the crowd like a pile of discarded trash.

His eyes were hollow and his face was ashen; he looked no different from the refugees around him.

But through Qin Ce's Nine-Star Insight, he saw fluctuations of a Pet Beast at the location of the man's Soul Talisman. It was very faint, but it was there.

Qin Ce crouched down to look him in the eye.

“Unregistered?” His voice was very low, audible only to that person.

The person's pupils constricted sharply, and his gaze shifted from hollow to wary.

“You've been injured. Your Pet Beast is an Ice-armored Rhinoceros. Its foundation was damaged by lava-type skills. Do you want to save it? Do you want to recover?” Qin Ce's voice remained low and flat, as if he were stating something very ordinary. “Come to my Seventh Squad.”

The person's breathing quickened.

He stared at Qin Ce's face, as if trying to recognize or confirm something.

His lips were trembling, his hands were trembling—his entire body was trembling.

“You... how did you...”

“Are you coming or not?”

The man's eyes reddened. He lowered his head, wiped his face with a filthy sleeve, and then looked up, his voice as raspy as sandpaper on stone: “I'm coming.”

“Go over there to sign up.”

The man stood up and walked toward that broken table.

He didn't walk fast, but every step was steady.

Qin Ce watched his departing figure, said nothing more, and turned to continue walking.

Then, he came before an old man.

The old man was squatting on the ground, holding a little girl in his arms.

The little girl looked five or six years old; her face was flushed bright red from fever, her lips were parched and cracked, her eyes were closed, and her breathing was rapid and shallow.

The old man wrapped her in his own tattered clothes, clutching her tightly as if protecting the last bit of warmth in this world.

Qin Ce crouched down.

“I can cure her.”

The old man looked up, his cloudy eyes full of wariness and distrust.

He had seen too many people like this—making promises, then demanding things, and finally giving nothing.

“When did her fever start?” Qin Ce asked.

The old man did not answer.

“If you won't say, I already know—it was three months ago,” Qin Ce answered himself. “It wasn't from a cold; it was because when you passed through that swamp to the North, she inhaled the miasma of a Rot-Swamp Fire Lizard. The miasma entered her lungs and damaged her foundation. Ordinary medicine is useless, and ordinary Beast Tamers can't cure it either.”

The old man's eyes widened bit by bit.

Qin Ce raised his hand and placed it on the little girl's forehead.

Energy circulated within his body—the Cold Character Formula of Seven Kills Chaos—and a wisp of cool energy was slowly channeled into the little girl's body.

The little girl's breathing gradually became a bit more stable.

The flush on her face faded slightly.

She didn't wake up, but her furrowed brow relaxed, as if she had felt something in her dreams.

“If you want her cured, join the 3rd Battalion, Seventh Squad.” Qin Ce stood up, looked at the little girl in the old man's arms, paused, and added, “I'm talking about her.”

The old man froze in place, watching Qin Ce's back as he walked away.

Qin Ce continued walking.

His pace grew faster and faster, and his eyes grew brighter.

He discovered that among these refugees, there were truly many talents.

Anyone who could survive in this harsh environment had some skill—some were born with special constitutions, some hid unactivated talents, some carried old wounds and stories, and some had even been Beast Tamers whose cultivation had fallen, like pearls covered in dust.

He pointed them out one by one, grabbed them one by one, and treated them one by one.

He didn't persuade, he didn't beg, and he didn't make empty promises.

He only spoke with facts—I can see your problem.

I can cure your illness.

I can save your Pet Beast.

Whether you believe it or not is up to you.

But more and more people began walking toward that broken table.

The crippled soldier sat in the chair, clutching the brochures, watching more and more people approach him; he could barely even hold his pen.

On his roster, there was finally a first name, a second name, a third name...

By the time Qin Ce finished a circuit and returned to the recruitment point, the situation was completely different.

In front of that broken table stood a dozen people, forming a crooked line.

Some were personally brought over by Qin Ce, some had followed the crowd after seeing so many people here, and some were recommended by those who had already registered.

The line wasn't long, but at least—there were people.

The crippled soldier was bowing his head, carefully writing something on the roster stroke by stroke.

His handwriting wasn't pretty—it was crooked—but he wrote very earnestly.

Qin Ce stood to the side and watched for a while, the curve of his mouth widening a bit more.

Then, he saw several refugees outside the line peering toward him.

After hesitating for a long while, they finally walked over, wanting to register.

Just as Jiang Mo was about to record them,

Qin Ce walked over to Jiang Mo's side and pressed down on the pen in his hand.

Jiang Mo looked up, his face full of confusion.

“From now on,” Qin Ce's voice wasn't loud, but it was clear, “the Seventh Squad will no longer recruit publicly. We will only use an invitation system.”

Jiang Mo was stunned.

The people in line were also stunned.

Those peering from outside the line were even more stunned.

No longer recruiting?

Only an invitation system?

Jiang Mo opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but seeing Qin Ce's expression, he swallowed his words.

He realized that this young Squad Leader was different from everyone he had ever met.

When Qin Ce said they would no longer recruit publicly, it wasn't out of spite or being difficult; he truly didn't need to anymore.

Every person he had pulled out today was someone he had carefully selected under his Nine-Star Insight.

They had potential, they had resilience, and they had the ability to survive in this hellhole.

What they lacked was only an opportunity, and Qin Ce had given it to them.

As for those who were still waiting and watching—they could continue to watch.

Once this group of people was cured, grew stronger, and survived, naturally more people would want to come.

At that time, he wouldn't need to beg; people would come looking for him on their own.

This was the 'trust' he wanted to establish.

Not by relying on a piece of wood or fifty gold, but by relying on true ability.

Curing one person was worth that fifty gold.

Saving one Pet Beast was worth that fifty gold.

So, there was no rush.

Qin Ce turned around and glanced at the roster.

A dozen names were already written on it.

He glanced at those names, then at the people he had invited who were still in line waiting to register.

In their eyes, there was something different.

It wasn't greed, and it wasn't calculation; it was a purer, more primitive kind of hope.

These were the people he wanted!

...