15: Chapter 15 Saving lives is possible, but a labor contract must be signed first.

Levi's gaze swept over the dumbfounded dwarves, then glanced at the productivity revolution that had been temporarily interrupted by urgent military intelligence. For a moment, he felt as if he stood at a crossroads of fate.

In the sweltering forge, the air seemed to solidify, leaving only the weak wheezing of the bellows and the heavy breathing of the scout kneeling on one knee.

Risk and reward.

These two words immediately popped into Levi's mind.

Just like the risk assessment matrix page that had to appear on a PPT before any project decision in his previous life.

An injured elf, followed by a squad of heavily armored knights.

High-value technical talent, accompanied by a high-threat unknown enemy.

The risk exposure of this 'investment' was terrifyingly large.

But he made his decision in less than three seconds.

Risk always coexists with opportunity. A manager who only knows how to avoid risks will forever guard their small plot of land until being completely submerged by the tide of the times.

And a good-for-nothing lord on the frontier, what he lacks most is opportunity, and what he fears least is gambling.

"Where is the person now?" His voice broke the dead silence in the forge, calm and unruffled, as if he was just asking about today's lunch menu.

"Reporting, my lord, they are at the edge of the Misty Forest to the south. Our people have set up a temporary Caution, but dare not get too close." The scout's voice was still hoarse.

"Pass on my order." Levi's voice was not loud, but every word clearly reached the ears of everyone present. "Scout Team One, immediately take a stretcher and bring that elf back to the castle as quickly and covertly as possible! Scout Team Two, retrace the pursuers' tracks, clear all footprints and broken branches left by our own people, and erase all traces. Scout Team Three, trail that squad of heavily armored knights from a distance, maintain a safe distance, and ascertain their numbers, equipment, route, and final destination. Remember, strictly no contact. Report any situation at any time."

A series of commands, precise and swift, without the slightest hesitation.

The dwarves, who had just been immersed in the shock of the productivity revolution, hadn't even reacted when they saw several guards from the scout team leave upon receiving orders, their figures quickly disappearing into the mine entrance.

"This... my lord!" The scout's report also startled Blackfinger. His face, flushed red from losing the bet, now showed a few more traces of anxiety and anger. "An elf! You want to bring an elf back to our territory? No! Absolutely not! Those pointy-eared fellows only bring bad luck!"

Levi glanced at him, ignoring his outdated racial prejudice, and simply instructed Rogge beside him: "Rogge, you stay here, supervise the production of assembly line battle axes, tally the numbers, and ensure that each team's rewards are distributed. Tell everyone, no matter what happens, production cannot stop, and the supply of whiskey will not be cut off."

With that, he turned and walked towards the castle.

Blackfinger watched his departing back, his beard trembling with anger. He slammed the perfect artistic battle axe onto the ground with a loud thud, but ultimately did not pursue him.

Production cannot stop, whiskey will not be cut off—these words were like a curse, firmly pinning him in place.

When Levi returned to the castle, the elf had already been settled on a bed in the guest room.

As he entered the room, a strong smell of blood and herbs assailed him.

The castle's only physician, an old man, was trembling as he used tweezers to extract a metal arrowhead deeply embedded in the elf's pale back shoulder.

With a crisp 'clink,' the arrowhead was dropped into the white porcelain plate beside it.

It was an oddly shaped arrowhead, with intricate runes engraved on its triangular shaft, and its tip had a strange silvery-white color, gleaming coldly in the candlelight.

Levi's pupils constricted slightly.

"My lord, the wound has been treated; there is no immediate danger to life," the old physician said, wiping sweat from his forehead with lingering fear. "But this arrowhead... it's too strange. The power attached to it has been continuously destroying the healing of the wound tissue. If it weren't for this lady's special constitution, an ordinary person would probably have died by now."

Levi nodded, signaling for the physician to go and rest.

He walked to the bedside and, by the candlelight, carefully observed the unconscious elf.

She had a cascade of silver hair, which, even stained with dirt and blood, still flowed with a moonlit luster.

Her features were as delicate as a divine sculpture, and her long, pointed ears were the most prominent sign of her identity.

Even in her unconscious state, her brows were tightly furrowed, carrying an lingering pain and vigilance.

A beauty, and also a huge trouble.

Evelyn had appeared silently behind him at some point, her gaze falling on the arrowhead in the porcelain plate, a flicker of unusual color in her purple eyes.

"Demon-Slaying Silver," she said softly, with a hint of subtle gravity in her voice. "An expensive alchemical product, smelted from mithril, holy water, and several rare herbs through a complex alchemical array. It doesn't possess strong magical energy itself, but it can cause immense damage to any creature with magic or divine attributes and inhibit its self-healing ability. Usually... only the most elite heretic Inquisition organizations, or certain wealthy church knight orders, would be extravagant enough to use such material to craft consumable arrows."

Levi picked up the cold arrowhead and slowly twirled it between his fingers.

The information Evelyn provided elevated his assessment of the pursuers' strength.

Well-organized, financially powerful, and with a clear objective.

"Go, gather all the intelligence we have on organizations within the Radiant Empire that use heavy armor and might be equipped with such weapons. I want a detailed risk assessment report," he ordered without turning his head.

"As you command, my master." Evelyn bowed slightly, her figure dissolving into the shadows outside the door like a wisp of smoke.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Just then, the wooden door of the room was pounded like a drum, and Blackfinger's thunderous roar came from outside: "You brat surnamed Li! Get out here! Hand over that pointy-eared jinx!"

Levi frowned, tucked the arrowhead into his embrace, and turned to open the door.

Outside, Blackfinger's burly figure blocked the doorway like a wall. Behind him were a dozen or so Grey Dwarves, armed with mining picks and warhammers, all looking ominous and fierce.

"Lord!" Blackfinger's spittle almost sprayed onto Levi's face. "I don't care what damned contract you signed with us! But dwarves and elves are natural enemies! Her presence will bring curses and disaster to my tribe! You must hand her over to us immediately so we can purify this evil in the oldest way!"

Levi watched him quietly, his face devoid of any expression.

He offered no comfort, no explanation, and certainly no anger. He simply waited for Blackfinger to finish all his harsh words, until the production director's chest heaved with heavy breathing, then slowly took out the Demon-Slaying Silver arrowhead, stained with elf blood, from his embrace, pinched it with two fingers, and dropped it at Blackfinger's feet.

He offered no comfort, no explanation, and certainly no anger. He simply waited for Blackfinger to finish all his harsh words, until the production director's chest heaved with heavy breathing, then slowly took out the Demon-Slaying Silver arrowhead, stained with elf blood, from his embrace, pinched it with two fingers, and dropped it at Blackfinger's feet.

"Clink."

The arrowhead bounced a few times on the hard flagstone floor, making a crisp sound.

Blackfinger subconsciously looked down. When his gaze met the oddly shaped arrowhead, his thunderous roar abruptly ceased, as if he had been choked.

His large, bell-like eyes instantly widened, and the anger on his face was quickly replaced by an expression mixed with shock, fear, and disbelief.

"This is... the Inquisition's 'Demon-Slaying Thorns'!" he shrieked, his voice changing pitch.

Levi caught the key information in his words: Inquisition.

"It seems you recognize this item." Levi's tone was as calm as water. "Now, you can either continue to roar here with your people, or go back and tell all your tribesmen that a knight order equipped with such weapons will soon pursue them here. They might not find the elf hidden in the castle, but do you think they won't discover your clanking mine, lit up all night?"

Levi took a step forward, leaned close to Blackfinger's ear, and whispered in a voice only the two of them could hear: "By then, do you think they will conduct a purification trial on a group of 'evil underground creatures illegally occupying mineral resources,' or will they sit down and talk to you about shares and dividends? Director Blackfinger, think about it. When those knights' hooves flatten your forge, your whiskey, your roasted meat, everything you have, will turn to dust."

Blackfinger's body stiffened, beads of sweat the size of beans trickling down his rough skin.

As an underground race, he had a fear of the Inquisitions, who proclaimed themselves righteous and were cruel in their methods, a fear rooted in his very bloodline.

Levi's words, like a cold awl, precisely pierced through all his anger and prejudice, striking at his deepest fears and most cherished interests.

"Then... what should we do?" he asked with difficulty, a barely perceptible tremor in his voice.

"It's simple." Levi straightened up, his gaze sweeping over the equally terrified dwarves behind him. "From now on, to protect our 'common property,' all armed forces of the dwarf tribe must accept my unified command, unified training, and unified deployment. I will officially establish the 'Blackstone Resources Company Security Department,' with you, Director Blackfinger, serving concurrently as its first head. Your task is to immediately go back and organize all able-bodied dwarves to prepare for battle."

"Se... Security Department?" Blackfinger was once again somewhat bewildered by this new term, but this time, he did not question it, merely nodded instinctively.

Protecting whiskey was reason enough.

Watching Blackfinger and his people, transformed from aggressive protesters into worried combatants, hurry away, Levi's lips curved into a subtle arc.

He turned and returned to the room, gently closing the door.

The elf on the bed had awakened at some point, her clear, lake-green eyes staring at him with vigilance and hostility.

"Who are you? Where is this?" Her voice was weak, but carried an inherent arrogance.

Levi ignored her questions, and also ignored her aloof attitude.

He walked to the table, poured a cup of warm water, then took out a piece of parchment and a charcoal pencil from his embrace, leaning over the table to quickly write something.

After finishing, he carried the water cup and the list, walking to the bedside.

He offered no warm greetings or self-introduction, simply handed the water cup and the parchment covered in writing to the elf.

"Drink the water first." His tone was like giving an order to a subordinate. "Then look at this. The list details all the costs incurred to treat you, including: one portion of premium wound medicine, valued at three silver coins; three rolls of high-grade bandages, one silver coin; physician's labor fee, according to our Blackstone Territory's senior technician standard, two silver coins; and castle guest room accommodation and security fees, temporarily calculated at five silver coins. Total eleven silver coins."

He paused, looking at the elf's astonished face, which clearly read "What nonsense are you talking about?", and continued in his emotionless, flat tone: "I am not a philanthropist, and Blackstone Territory does not support idlers. Until you pay off this debt, you will need to repay it with equivalent labor. Of course, I will provide you with a suitable job based on your skills and pay you a corresponding salary to offset your debt."

The elf, Hill, was completely stunned.

She struggled to sit up, pulling at the wound on her back, and gasped in pain.

She had lived for hundreds of years and had never encountered such a human.

No greedy covetousness, no false sympathy, only cold, hard numbers and a 'debt' that appeared out of nowhere.

"You... you shameless human! You saved me, shouldn't you be..."

Before she could finish her sentence, there was an urgent knock on the door again.

A guard, without even waiting for permission, pushed open the door and rushed in, reporting frantically:

"My lord! A squad of knights has arrived at the territory's border... the border! Approximately thirty men, all in heavy armor! They have stopped at the border line and sent a messenger, flying... flying the banner of the Radiant Empire's Hammer Inquisition, demanding an immediate audience with the Lord!"