10: Chapter 10 Congratulations, you passed the stressful interview in Blackrock Territory.

Barak’s pupils suddenly constricted, his scarred face contorted in shock.

He wasn't a fool; he could smell the sour stench of fear, suspicion, and betrayal mixed in the air.

The vanguard's collapse was much faster than he had imagined, and even more fatally, the almost deliberate slowness of the rear forces pierced his heart like a poisonous thorn.

What in the world was Iron Hook doing?

And why were those minor leaders, usually so loyal to him, all lowering their heads, afraid to meet his gaze?

That damned rumor!

Barak instantly recalled the nonsense that had been circulating in the camp these past two days, saying he was going to embezzle the treasures and abandon everyone.

He had thought that a meal of meat and the impending victory would easily crush such absurd rumors, but now, reality had given him a resounding slap in the face.

And Levi stood not far away, at the edge of the high ground, like an indifferent spectator, enjoying the farce he had personally directed.

Only old butler Klaus and a few guards stood beside him, looking so fragile, so vulnerable.

"Damn it!" Barak could no longer endure the humiliation of being toyed with.

The violent Battle Qi within him erupted, veins bulged on his muscular arms, and his broad-bladed greatsword carved a bloodthirsty arc under the dim twilight.

"Whoever retreats, dies!" His roar was like a wounded beast, sweeping across the field with intense killing intent. "Iron Hook! Block that opening with your men! I'll go kill that pretty-boy lord!"

However, what answered him was Iron Hook's gloomy voice, tinged with a hint of schadenfreude.

"Boss, I think we should just forget it." Instead of obeying, Iron Hook took a dozen of his confidants and slowly retreated a few steps, widening the distance from Barak's personal guards.

"The brothers are having terrible stomachaches; they really can't charge anymore. Your martial arts are superb, why don't you personally go and bring back that lord's head, and let us little brothers witness your skill?"

These words were nothing short of open betrayal.

Barak trembled with rage, the muscles under his scar twitched violently, and his bloodshot eyes glared at Iron Hook: "You're looking for death!"

"Boss, you were the one who was unjust first." Iron Hook sneered, raising his scimitar. "Brothers! Barak wants us to be cannon fodder and hog all the benefits himself! We fight to the death, why can't we even get a sip of soup?!"

This highly inflammatory statement completely ignited the already precarious morale of the army.

Just at this tense, chaotic moment when the bandit group was on the verge of splitting, a clear and resonant voice, like an arrow piercing through dark clouds, came from the high ground, accurately reaching the ears of every bandit.

"Lay down your weapons! Join Blackstone Territory!"

The voice belonged to Levi; he used a crude tin horn to make his words override the clamor of the battlefield.

"Food and lodging included! Distribution according to labor!"

These twelve words, simple and crude, struck the hearts of all the low-level bandits like twelve heavy hammers.

What were they bandits for?

Wasn't it just for a full meal, a shack to shelter from wind and rain, and a livelihood to survive?

And now, this young noble lord promised them all of it.

"Don't listen to his nonsense! Not a single word from a noble can be trusted!" Barak roared frantically, trying to suppress this fatal temptation.

But Levi's voice followed closely, with a cold logic that dismantled his last shred of authority.

"Look at the people around you, and look at your own bellies! Who made you charge to your deaths at the front? Who forced you to charge even when you were suffering from severe stomach pain? And I, I gave the refugees meat soup, I gave them weapons, I gave them dignity! My promises are visible to everyone!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the refugees responsible for logistics, who had not directly participated in the battle, began to shout in unison, led by the guards.

Their voices still trembled slightly, but when gathered, they formed an undeniable force.

In the valley, this slogan echoed repeatedly, like the most wicked curse, eroding the bandits' last bit of fighting spirit.

One bandit finally succumbed to the severe pain in his body and his mental breakdown; he dropped his axe with a clang, covered his head with his hands, and squatted on the ground.

This action was contagious; a second, a third... more and more bandits gave up resistance.

They were not warriors; they were just ruffians trying to survive.

When the threat of death was so real, and another way to live seemed so tempting, the choice became remarkably simple.

"Traitors! All of you deserve to die!" Barak went completely insane, brandishing his greatsword and beheading a bandit who was about to surrender next to him.

Warm blood splattered on his face, making him look like a demon crawled out of hell.

However, his brutality not only failed to deter the crowd but instead incited stronger resistance.

"Brothers, he wants to kill us to silence us!" Seeing this, Iron Hook immediately seized the opportunity and shouted, "Fight him!"

Infighting erupted without warning.

The "Diarrhea Faction" led by Iron Hook and the disgruntled bandits engaged in a bloody internecine struggle with Barak and his remaining dozen or so confidants on the narrow mountain path.

Swords flashed, screams rang out, and former companions now became the fiercest enemies.

Barak was brave, but abandoned by all, he was outnumbered. He couldn't fight with just two fists against four hands.

Watching his men fall one by one, only endless despair and resentment remained in his heart.

He suddenly looked up, his bloodshot eyes locked onto Levi on the high ground.

Capture the king to capture the thieves!

This was his last chance.

As long as he could catch this pretty boy, he could instantly reverse the entire battle!

"Die!"

Barak let out a thunderous roar, his Battle Qi erupting without reservation. He forcibly took a blow from Iron Hook, a deep, bone-visible wound appearing on his back, but he used that momentum to rush towards Levi's position on the high ground like a mad bear unleashed from its cage, all alone!

His speed was extremely fast; every step left a deep imprint on the ground. His fierce, indomitable aura made the guards and refugees along the way involuntarily change their expressions, instinctively clearing a path for him.

Butler Klaus's face instantly turned ashen. He instinctively shielded Levi: "Young Master, retreat quickly! He's gone mad!"

However, Levi did not retreat a single step.

There was no fear on his face, as calm as if the person charging towards him was not a Battle Qi master capable of splitting stone, but a pre-calculated data point.

His gaze passed over Barak's shoulder, landing behind an inconspicuous rock to the side-rear.

"Morey, now's the time." His voice was not loud, but it clearly carried over.

Morey, who had been waiting there, trembled at the words. He used all his strength to pull the trigger of a large, crude lever device beside him.

It was a simple lever trebuchet that Levi had drawn, and he and a few craftsmen had rushed to build it overnight.

"Buzz—"

With a rough mechanical sound, the trebuchet's sling suddenly whipped up, and a dark ceramic pot was flung high, drawing a not-so-graceful arc in the air, accurately falling towards Barak's front.

Barak, who was charging at full speed, caught a glimpse of the flying object from the corner of his eye. He instinctively thought it was a rock or an oil jar, snorted disdainfully, and prepared to endure it with his protective Battle Qi.

However, the ceramic pot shattered on the ground with a "CRACK" three or four steps away from him.

No explosion, no flames.

A cloud of yellowish-brown powder, accompanied by a large amount of sticky grease, instantly burst open, forming a wide-ranging smoke screen that enveloped him entirely!

"Cough... cough cough! What the hell is this?!"

An indescribably pungent, acrid, choking smell instantly rushed into Barak's mouth, nose, and eyes.

His eyeballs felt as if they were being stabbed by countless red-hot steel needles; in extreme pain, tears gushed out, and his vision instantly turned into a blurry, blood-red haze.

His throat and lungs felt like they were on fire, the burning pain making it impossible for him to breathe. He could only cough violently, coughing his heart out, unable to even straighten his waist.

His Battle Qi, powerful enough to deter a thousand armies, became utterly useless in the face of this pure chemical attack.

Just as his vision was stolen, his breathing became difficult, and he completely lost his sense of direction, another calm, hoarse female voice resounded across the battlefield.

"Charge!"

Sophia!

She had been leading the most elite assault team, lurking on the flank like a wolf, waiting for this golden opportunity.

At her command, dozens of refugees, whose morale was soaring from their previous victory, rushed out from their hiding places, shouting.

They held no swords or knives, but several heavy fishing nets woven from thick hemp rope and soaked in water!

"Whoosh!"

Several large nets fell over Barak's head, completely enveloping him as he wildly swung his greatsword aimlessly.

Immediately after, more than a dozen lassos with slipknots flew from all directions, precisely ensnaring his limbs and neck.

"Get lost! A bunch of ants!" Barak roared, struggling frantically, his terrifying strength almost dragging several rope-pulling refugees to the ground.

But more people swarmed forward, desperately pulling the ropes, using all their strength to haul backward.

One person's strength might be insignificant, but the combined strength of dozens of people was like countless tough vines, slowly and firmly binding this struggling giant bear in place.

Finally, as Sophia struck him hard on the back of his head with a wooden stick, Barak's burly body swayed twice, then unwillingly crashed to the ground, completely losing consciousness.

The Bloodwolf Bandit Group was annihilated.

The afterglow of the setting sun dyed the entire battlefield crimson.

Levi stood on the high ground, overlooking the devastation.

The surrendered bandits were disarmed and, along with the wounded, were gathered and guarded.

The surviving refugees were excitedly cleaning up the battlefield, stripping weapons, armor, and even boots from the dead, piling them up.

Every face was a mixture of relief at surviving the ordeal, ecstasy from acquiring spoils of war, and deep reverence for the young lord on the high ground.

Levi didn't make them wait too long.

When everyone had gathered on the open ground in front of the castle, he publicly announced the arrangements for all of them.

"From today onwards, Blackstone Territory will establish two core departments."

His voice, amplified by the tin horn, clearly reached everyone's ears.

"Firstly, the 'Blackstone Territory Production and Construction Corps'! All surrendered captives will automatically be assigned to this corps. Your mission is to build roads, reclaim land, quarry stone, and construct housing! You will exchange labor for food, and for freedom! Those who perform exceptionally will gain 'regularization' qualifications and become official residents of Blackstone Territory!"

Upon hearing this, the captives' faces showed complex expressions.

Although they became laborers, at least their lives were spared, and there was a clear path for advancement.

This was even better than the best outcome they had imagined.

Levi's gaze turned to the excited refugees on the other side.

"Secondly, the 'Blackstone Territory Guard'! All pioneers who performed exceptionally in this battle are eligible to join! The Guard will enjoy higher salaries, better food rations, and priority rights in housing allocation!"

He paused, his gaze fixed on the stubbornly upright young girl.

"Sophia! For your proper command and brave combat, I appoint you Captain of the First Squad of the Guard! Morey! For your outstanding technical contributions, I appoint you Provisional Director of the Magic Laboratory!"

Thunderous cheers erupted from the crowd.

Promotions based on military merit!

Such tangible rewards were far more motivating than any empty promises.

Sophia clenched her fists tightly, her chest heaving, and for the first time, the light of what was called "ambition" flickered in her obsidian-like eyes.

Watching the bustling scene below, Butler Klaus stood behind Levi, his face, which usually wore a standard noble's fake smile, was now filled with unspeakable shock.

He watched as those once disorganized refugees were now disciplined.

He watched as those once ferocious bandits were now laborers awaiting reform.

He watched Levi use some terms he had never heard of – "Production Corps," "Guard," "Performance," "Regularization" – to organize these hundreds of people with complex backgrounds into an orderly system, each with their own duties.