9: Chapter 9 Overtime Pay: The Best Pre-Battle Mobilization

Levi's eardrums were stung by the cacophony of noises.

Desperate wails, the crying of children, the impotent, furious curses of men, and the incessant "chattering" of teeth trembling with fear.

These sounds converged into a chaotic wave, battering his thin aristocratic casual wear and assaulting the fragile authority he had just established.

His gaze swept over twisted faces, where bone-deep fear of the Bloodwolf Bandit Group intertwined with the immense sense of loss over the warm bread they had just received and were about to lose.

People's eyes darted around, searching for escape routes, or simply staring blankly at the ground, waiting for the end to come.

The flame of "hope" that had just been ignited was, before the name "Barak," as fragile as a candle flame blown out by the wind, leaving behind only a faint wisp of smoke.

He did not speak, nor did he even raise a hand to signal for silence.

Faced with such immense panic, any soothing words would appear pale and powerless, only serving to expose the ruler's lack of confidence.

What he needed was a sharper blade, a more primal force, to sever this spreading fear.

He simply turned around quietly and strode toward the makeshift platform erected at the castle gate for distributing food.

He climbed up without a word and stood beside the mountain of black bread, looking down at the chaos from above.

His extraordinary calmness stood in stark contrast to the surrounding clamor, like a block of ice dropped into boiling water, causing those closest to him to subconsciously shut their mouths.

The wave of noise began to subside from the center, spreading outward in ripples.

Everyone's gaze was involuntarily drawn to this excessively young lord.

They wanted to see whether this man, who had given them their first full meal, would be like the noble lords they had seen before—fleeing first with his trusted guards—or if he would kneel and beg for mercy, offering all his wealth in exchange for a chance to live.

Levi said nothing; he merely bent down and grabbed a heavy handful of silver coins from a sack beside him.

Under the dim sky, the light reflected by those dozen or so silver coins was not dazzling, yet like a magnet, it instantly captured everyone's attention.

He opened his hand, letting everyone see the metal that represented wealth.

Then, he spoke slowly. His voice was not loud, but it was like a precise scalpel, dissecting the most primal desires of the crowd.

"I know what you are afraid of."

His voice was calm, without a ripple, as if he were discussing a trivial matter that had nothing to do with him.

"Afraid of dying, afraid of having the bread you just ate taken away again, afraid of your women and children being violated. I understand all of this."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the crowd like a hawk, taking in the expression of every single person.

"But being afraid alone is useless. If you kneel and beg for mercy, a butcher like Barak will only treat your heads like wine skins to be kicked around."

His words were vulgar and direct, like a piece of coarse sandpaper, rubbing against the sensitive nerves of the crowd.

"Therefore, I am giving you another choice."

He dropped the silver coins in his hand back into the sack one by one, slowly and deliberately. The crisp "clinking" sound struck everyone's heart like a devil's temptation.

"From now on, I declare the 'Blackstone Territory Wartime Performance Assessment Plan' officially in effect."

The long and unfamiliar term left the refugees looking at each other, their faces filled with bewilderment.

Levi did not explain; he simply held up one finger.

"First, anyone who takes up arms and participates in defending the territory, regardless of gender, will have their three daily meals of black bread and vegetable soup upgraded to meat broth and porridge from today on! All you can eat!"

"Meat broth"! "All you can eat"!

These two phrases exploded like thunderclaps among the hungry crowd.

The dark cloud of panic seemed to be torn open by a small crack, letting in a sliver of greasy light.

Some of the young, strong men subconsciously swallowed hard.

Levi held up a second finger.

"Second, for all those not directly participating in combat—digging traps, hauling boulders, sharpening wooden stakes—all logistical work will be recorded by 'work points.' One work point can be exchanged for one pound of black bread after the battle. The more you work, the more you earn, with no upper limit!"

The commotion in the crowd grew louder.

This meant that even women and half-grown children could earn rations for their families to survive the winter through their own labor!

Fear still existed, but a tangible interest called "surviving" began to take root and sprout in their hearts.

Finally, Levi held up his third finger. His voice suddenly rose, carrying an unquestionable, seductive power.

"Third, and most importantly! On the battlefield, if you successfully wound a bandit and it is confirmed, you will be rewarded with a whole sack—fifty pounds—of wheat! If you can capture a bandit alive, I," he pointed at the sack full of coins at his feet, "will reward you with a silver coin on the spot!"

"Boom!"

The crowd completely exploded.

Fifty pounds of wheat! That was enough for a family of three to safely get through more than half the winter!

And a silver coin!

That was a fortune they dared not even imagine in their dreams!

Enough to buy the best food and clothes in any market town, and even have money left over!

The fear of death that had shrouded everyone just a moment ago was, at this instant, ruthlessly suppressed by a more direct, hotter, and more primal desire—the craving for food and wealth.

Death was distant and void, but that white wheat and those shiny silver coins were so real!

"Is what the Lord says true?" asked a bold man, his voice trembling.

"My credibility is just like this gold." Levi kicked another chest full of gold coins beside him, producing a dull, intoxicating sound.

"All rewards will be honored on the spot after the battle!"

The crowd's breathing instantly became heavy.

Those numb, fearful gazes began to be replaced by a wolf-like greed and madness.

They looked toward the wilderness outside the castle; it no longer seemed like a road to death leading to hell, but a golden field of wheat scattered with wheat and silver coins!

Levi watched this transformation with satisfaction.

He jumped down from the platform, walked through the crowd, and went straight to the young girl with the most stubborn eyes.

"Sophia."

"Here!" The young girl subconsciously straightened her hunched back.

Levi shoved a rough map of the area around the castle, which he had just had his guards draw up, into her hand. The map only marked the terrain, rivers, and a few accessible paths.

"From now on, you are the commander." Levi's tone was devoid of emotion, as if he were assigning a mundane task. "I grant you the 'authority to mobilize personnel and supplies.' All the guards in the castle, all the refugees, and all the tools and supplies in the warehouse are under your command. I have only one requirement: hold them off."

Sophia's mind went blank. She stared at the parchment in her hand in disbelief, then looked up at Levi's bottomless eyes.

Let her command? Command this rabble? Against the notorious Bloodwolf Bandit Group?

The immense pressure was like a mountain, instantly crushing down on her frail shoulders, almost making it impossible for her to breathe.

She saw the skeptical and disdainful gazes cast by the old veteran guards around her, and she also saw the bewilderment in the eyes of the refugees.

But she saw even more clearly the calmness in Levi's eyes.

It was not trust, nor was it encouragement, but a nearly cold assessment, as if she were not a person, but a tool that had just been put into use.

She thought of her younger brother who was still running a high fever in the shack, and she thought of the "best care" that Levi had promised.

She gritted her teeth hard, and in those obsidian-like eyes, a fierce determination burned, born of being forced into a desperate situation.

"Yes, My Lord!" she replied hoarsely, gripping the map that would decide the lives and deaths of hundreds of people tightly.

Watching Sophia turn immediately and begin loudly deploying personnel according to the map with a decisiveness completely at odds with her age, Levi did not linger.

He turned and walked toward the shadows of the castle, where Evelyn was waiting quietly.

"Your mission is more dangerous." Levi's voice was very low. "I want you to infiltrate the camp of the Bloodwolf Bandit Group."

Evelyn's pupils constricted slightly.

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"No need for assassination, that's too foolish." Levi took a small cloth pouch from his robes and handed it over. "This contains a powdered herb. It's odorless and tasteless, but if mixed into food or water, it will cause even the strongest warrior to lose control of their bowels in six hours."

Evelyn accepted the pouch. It felt extremely light in her hand, yet seemed to weigh a thousand pounds.

"After this," Levi's lips curled into a cold smile, "your second task is to spread a rumor. Say that I am swimming in wealth here, and that your leader, Barak, plans to take all the spoils from this raid, go to the royal capital alone to buy Battle Qi manuals to enhance his power, and abandon all of you."

Evelyn instantly understood Levi's intention. He was pulling the firewood from under the cauldron, attacking their morale first.

"That's difficult. Their camp is heavily guarded," she said truthfully.

"I believe in the professional capabilities of a succubus," Levi said, gazing into her eyes. "Besides, you won't be alone. I'll have the scouts most familiar with the terrain provide support on the periphery. Remember, safety first. If you can't do it, withdraw immediately."

These seemingly caring words only made Evelyn feel the weight of the mission even more heavily.

She asked no further questions, carefully concealed the small cloth pouch within her robes, nodded, and then her figure vanished like a wisp of smoke, silently merging into the castle's shadows.

At dusk two days later, the Bloodwolf Bandit Group arrived as scheduled.

Nearly two hundred bandits surged toward Blackstone Territory like a filthy flood.

Their equipment was a motley assortment, but each carried a thick, bloody aura.

At the forefront was their leader, Barak.

He was built like a bear, with a vicious scar running diagonally from his forehead to his chin. Mounted on a muscular black warhorse,

he couldn't help but sneer when he saw the narrow mountain path, the only route past Blackstone Ridge.

Along the sides of the path, a few sparse pits had been dug, covered with crude, dry grass and loose soil.

On the hillsides, several piles of boulders bound with vines were stacked. Beside them stood some ragged refugees holding pitchforks and clubs, trembling as they watched the bandits approach.

"Ha! Is this the defense work of that little Byron whelp?" Barak mocked to his second-in-command, a one-eyed man named "Iron Hook," beside him. "Even a three-year-old's sandcastle is sturdier than this! I thought there might be some surprise."

Iron Hook leered in agreement. "Boss, it seems the intel is true. This kid knows nothing about warfare, just a soft egg who knows how to make money! The brothers can't wait to taste his wine and play with his women!"

"Then don't wait!" Barak drew the broad-bladed saber from his waist and pointed it forward, his voice thundering. "Men, charge! The first one into the castle gets ten gold coins! The women inside are yours to pick!"

"Ooooh!"

The bandits let out a beast-like howl and rushed toward the mountain path, jostling to be first.

To them, this wasn't a battle, but a readily available carnival.

However, just as the first few dozen bandits at the forefront stepped onto the path, a sudden change occurred!

"Urgh... my stomach..." The fastest-running bandit suddenly paled, beads of cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. He felt a violent, churning pain in his gut, as if countless venomous snakes were writhing inside. His legs gave way, and he fell to his knees on the spot, clutching his stomach.

Immediately after, as if a contagious plague, his companions around him began groaning in pain one after another. The momentum of the charge instantly stalled.

Their faces visibly turned deathly pale, their hands trembling as they gripped their weapons. Fighting was out of the question; even standing steadily became extremely difficult.

"What's going on?!" Barak frowned deeply from the rear.

Before he could figure it out, Sophia's cold and resolute voice rang out from the sides of the mountain path: "Release!"

The seemingly trembling refugees, upon receiving the command, erupted with a fierce light in their eyes, a mixture of fear and desperate longing.

With all their might, they hacked through the vines binding the boulders!

"Rumble—"

Dozens of massive rocks, carrying the force of a thunderous avalanche, roared down from the hillsides on both sides, crashing mercilessly into the bandit ranks, now slowed and disoriented by their stomach pains!

Instantly, screams, the sound of shattering bones, and cries of despair filled the valley.

Bandits struck by the rolling boulders were instantly turned into pulp.

Those who narrowly avoided the rocks had no time to feel relief before the ground beneath their feet gave way. They shrieked as they tumbled into the carefully prepared pit traps Sophia had arranged.

The pits were far deeper and denser than they appeared on the surface. Their bottoms were studded with sharpened wooden stakes.

Those who fell were instantly impaled, becoming human pincushions, emitting inhuman shrieks from the pit bottoms.

The vanguard, in a mere moment, descended into chaotic disarray and heavy casualties.

"Damn it, it's a trap!"

"Is the boss trying to use us as cannon fodder so his own men can pick up the spoils from behind?"

A bandit not far from Iron Hook, clutching his stomach and dodging falling rocks, muttered bitterly with a venomous expression.

His words were like a spark, instantly igniting the suspicion already smoldering in Iron Hook's heart.

For the past two days, a rumor had been circulating in the camp that sent shivers down his spine—Barak intended to keep all the loot for himself and then abandon them.

At first, he didn't believe it. But this morning, after everyone ate the uniformly distributed dried meat and drank the water, why was it only those charging at the forefront who suffered such severe stomach pains?

While Barak's personal guard remained safe and sound in the rear?

Coupled with Barak's usual greed and unfair distribution of spoils, Iron Hook's expression instantly darkened.

He glanced at the brothers around him, who also wore doubtful and resentful expressions. A malicious idea surged in his mind.

"Brothers, hold steady! Don't rush forward!" Iron Hook deliberately shouted loudly, while secretly signaling to his own men. "There are too many traps ahead. Let the boss's men clear the way first! Don't throw your lives away for nothing!"

His voice was pitched just right for the surrounding bandits to hear.

Those already inclined to retreat immediately found their excuse. The speed of the supporting forces visibly slowed, and even small-scale retreats began to appear.

Barak, watching from the rear, was furious enough to burst a blood vessel. He clearly saw the chaos at the front and the hesitation in the rear.

He hadn't expected these seemingly flimsy defenses to cost him nearly thirty men.

"Iron Hook! What the hell are you doing?! Charge!" He spurred his horse forward, roaring angrily at the dawdling support troops.

However, when he reached the front lines, he was met with faces full of fear and suspicion. Even some of his own trusted men avoided his gaze.

The army's morale was showing signs of collapse.

"Useless trash!" Barak roared, preparing to lead the charge himself, using slaughter to restore morale.

At that moment of distraction, from the other side of the mountain path, Sophia, who had been biding her time,

"Assault team! Follow me!"

She shouted hoarsely, the first to burst from the concealing bushes.

Behind her were several dozen of the strongest refugees, motivated by Levi with promises of double meat rations and priority in weapon selection.

Their target was not Barak and his solid main force, but the supply wagons at the rear of the bandit group, guarded by only a few men and filled with food and wine!

The front line's advance was stalled, the rear supplies were under attack, and internal morale was wavering.

Barak watched the assault team drive like a dagger toward his soft underbelly. For the first time, a flicker of astonishment crossed his scarred, ferocious face.

His situation, which he had believed to be foolproof and certain of victory, was now beginning to show signs of unraveling.