My Players Are So Fierce

“What’s wrong with you today? Why are you so absent-minded?”

In the small office of the administrative department of Crimson Citadel, which Miriam had just moved into, Murphy frowned at the distracted Baroness of Morland, who had come to discuss the settlement of the prisoners and Northern ruffian soldiers about to return to Transia:

“Are you too tired these days? Or did the recent siege disturb your mind? I see your complexion is poor, why don’t I give you a couple days off?

Or should we ask Grandma Marianne to perform a calming ritual for you?”

“It’s nothing, I just… feel a bit anxious today,”

Miriam rubbed her brow, somewhat puzzled. The red-haired girl who always strived to maintain a state of vigor said:

“It’s as if something has happened, but I can’t tell if it’s related to me or not. It’s hard to describe that feeling. You don’t need to worry.

I’ll go to Avalon Cathedral for a calming ritual after work.”

“That’s good. You are now the core of Transia’s entire ruling system. In terms of importance, you’re even more crucial than me as the lord.”

“What do you think about the proposal I just mentioned to you? Is it feasible?”

“It’s hard to say.”

Miriam took a sip from her teacup, then replied thoughtfully:

“Having the gnoll prisoners build that road planned by Professor Chen is already a set plan. Those barbarians have no rights in the eyes of the locals anyway, even if they work themselves to death, many civilians would applaud.

But having the released Blood Servants and soldiers from other countries work alongside the gnolls seems a bit too much.

You need to understand, Lord Murphy, Blood Servants are people too!

Many of them have relatives right here in Crimson Citadel. It’s one thing not to let them reunite with their families, but to make them do hard labor after fighting for the Blood Vulture Clan – that would seriously damage your image in people’s eyes if word got out.

I think we should consider a different approach.”

“They are unstable elements, Miriam. You know this very well.”

Murphy pointed at the planning map of the Count of Kadman domain drawn by Old Chen himself on the table, saying:

“We need time to identify which of them are willing to submit to the new order we’ve established. The Blood Servants are an extremely radical group, you can’t just casually let them back into the domain.

Besides, I’m not asking them to do hard labor indefinitely.

After their identities and occupations are registered, those with skills will be given jobs, and those who perform well during one week or half a month of labor can also obtain new identities.

Then there are those Northerners sent as support into Transia. Even Lady Shani bluntly said they’re a bunch of scum that were cut loose, thrown into our domain like garbage by the Northern generals just to make use of waste. I don’t think you should have any optimistic expectations about their character.

With Transia’s current manpower shortage, I don’t want to waste time on them. They came to support us, not to enjoy themselves.

Isn’t building roads, bridges and villages support? I’m already being generous by not throwing them directly into Foul Swamp to dig trenches.”

“That may be so…”

Miriam was also getting a headache.

This was her first time dealing with such a complex situation. She didn’t fully agree with Murphy’s one-size-fits-all approach, but at the moment she couldn’t think of a second, more reliable method.

As they were at an impasse, the office door opened and Professor Malcolm walked in carrying a stack of documents. He greeted Murphy with proper etiquette, then smoothly joined the discussion.

The professor quickly offered his view.

He said to Murphy:

“Your thinking is very correct, my lord.”

“But?”

Murphy asked in return.

Professor Malcolm smiled and waved his hand, saying:

“Well, but this method is indeed too crude. I’m not referring to the inhumane part of this plan, but rather that assigning all of them as basic labor to do repairs is a waste of manpower.

The gnoll and kobold prisoners are enough for those menial tasks.

Even the most worthless scum have more intelligent minds than gnolls, they can create more value, especially in manpower-starved Transia.

I just did a quick survey among the Blood Pact Knights, Witch Hunters and Thorn vampires, and found they all praise those large, useful and easy-to-store ‘gray tents’ produced in our camp.

These aren’t difficult to make. Perhaps we could set up a processing factory near the collective farms you’ve planned, specifically to produce such supplies.

I imagine once the Black Disaster war begins, there will inevitably be a shortage of such military-friendly supplies.

Having those soldier ruffians make tents is much more valuable than having them dig ditches and fill holes. Moreover, a penal system must have priorities.

If you start by making them do hard labor, how will you punish them if they cause trouble?

You can’t really kill them, can you?

Look, those unwilling to work can become miners, if they still cause trouble then send them to build roads, and those who don’t even want to build roads in the safe rear areas can be thrown into trench digging.

This tiered punishment is enough to frighten most people with weak wills, and the remaining troublemakers filtered out can be used as examples to kill the chicken to scare the monkey.

You’ve already given them two chances, but they still don’t cherish them.

This way, they bring about their own demise, and even if the Kingdom of Nordtov questions us through diplomatic channels, we can respond very properly.

The history professor eloquently said:

“Violence is certainly an extremely effective tool of rule, but if you can make good use of the meaning of punishment, your rule will inevitably be more stable.”

“Did you learn something?”

Murphy glanced at Miriam, who was listening attentively with her hand supporting her chin and taking notes. He asked, and the Crimson Regent rolled her eyes, saying:

“Of course, I’ve been learning from Professor Malcolm all along. This system can also be applied to the prisoners from the Goldflower Kingdom and those so-called ‘supporters’.

Why don’t you just promote Professor Malcolm to executive officer? I really feel like I haven’t fully grasped the essence of many good things yet.”

“This method isn’t my original creation either.”

The middle-aged professor laughed heartily, patting his notebook and saying:

“This is the experience I gained after talking with those camp supervisors. They say it comes from a management model called ‘concentration camps’.

I just took the essence and discarded the dross. After all, making soap from people is too heretical, and if the Witch Hunters hear about it, we’d easily end up tied to the stake.”

“I knew they could always come up with these brutal ideas.”

Murphy pursed his lips, inwardly grumbling.

This was the main reason he hadn’t dared to hand over administrative decision-making power to the little players so far.

Just listen to them come up with these rotten ideas. If he really let those three old brothers manage concentration camps, he feared that within a month, gas chambers and soap factories would be built one after another.

The moral bottom line of little players was too abstract, Murphy really didn’t dare to bet on it.

He was afraid that in a few years, “gnoll canned food” produced in Transia would sweep across the continent, and then he’d be branded with the infamous title of “King of Cannibals”. After all, vampires already didn’t have a good reputation in this world.

After discussing these matters with Professor Malcolm and Miriam, Murphy left the administrative building. He planned to hurry back to Blood Vulture Halls to prepare the rewards that would be given to the players later.

The gnolls’ humiliating defeat at Anderma Hills had become the hot topic in Transia recently. The gnoll deserters who escaped from there spread fear everywhere, and even the gnoll clans as far as the Countess of Seicob’s domain began to flee at the mere rumor.

The ones who ran the farthest had already crossed the border and rushed into Ice Bay and Kafhoka Plains.

Based on the intelligence gathered by Revnor’s constant aerial surveys across Transia, Murphy estimated that the “Gnoll Disaster” activity he launched would come to an end within a week. Currently, the number of gnolls in his domain was decreasing at a visible rate.

This made Murphy marvel at the peculiarity of gnolls as creatures.

Their intelligence allowed them to understand defeat and fear, and imagine the mad slaughter they would face next, but their intelligence couldn’t provide them with a second option besides “fleeing”. Add to that their extremely poor social organization, and when faced with the current situation, they could only scatter in panic.

This was a good thing.

Those panicked gnolls were always howling abstract phrases like “The vampire murderer Murphy is coming to kill us!”, which was enough to effectively and quickly spread Murphy’s reputation beyond Transia.

“Another big batch of equipment and rewards to subsidize, who can afford to keep giving out without getting anything in return?”

Murphy glanced at the personal score pool and team score pool on his character interface. Since the elite monsters killed in the raid on Kenport’s main camp also counted for points, the top 10 on the individual leaderboard each had insanely high scores of several thousand.

The scores of Brother Mao in first place and Sister Pomegranate in second added up to over 15,000. Calculating based on 10 points per elite gnoll or kobold, these two already had their hands soaked in gnoll blood.

Calling them “Blood-handed Wolf Slayers” was no exaggeration.

The large-scale operations of Joy Stick’s army were also beginning to show promise. This guy’s 30-person team had forcibly pushed the team score to 120,000 points. If the corpses of the gnolls they hunted were laid end to end, they could probably circle the Count of Kadman domain once or twice.

“The score pool mode is really a good thing!

As long as I can offer enough rewards, the players’ enthusiasm can be ignited without limits. It’s truly an effective way to command players.”

Murphy mused inwardly:

“Such a useful model must be promoted. The next stage is to quickly increase the population within the domain. Why not have another score pool? One point for every refugee found? No, no, no, they’d definitely come up with 100,000 points worth of activity that way.

Hmm, one point for every 5 refugees, then.”

The vampire lord rubbed his chin as he determined the next plan. He went to the family warehouse below the halls to quickly check the current equipment inventory, and came to a shocking conclusion!

If such large-scale activities were carried out two more times, his reserves in terms of equipment would be emptied! If the consumption of new players about to enter the game was also factored in, Murphy would soon have no physical rewards left to give them.

Damn!

Hiring players to work without giving rewards? Isn’t that already a path to death?

No way!

He had to quickly think of a way to increase income and reduce expenditure!

A sense of urgency surged in his heart as Murphy frowned deeply. Suddenly, he thought of the two family armories that the Blood Vulture Clan was said to have hidden in the north and south of Transia.

He immediately rushed to Tris’s office, intending to ask his grand duchess about this matter. However, as soon as he pushed open the door, he saw Tris sneakily stuffing two strange large boxes into her luxurious spirit bag.

“What are you doing?”

Seeing Tris acting so furtively, Murphy immediately raised an eyebrow and called out. Tris was startled, and with a guilty conscience, her hand trembled, causing one of the boxes to slide off the table and crash to the floor.

It popped open with a bang, revealing a set of dark red protective leather armor nestled in black velvet lining inside.

Just judging from the exquisite quality of its appearance, one could tell this was no ordinary item. Even the gloves would ripple with a faint red aura when shaken, clearly indicating it was a very high-level spirit item.

“What is this?”

Murphy asked in surprise:

“Who sent it? Or did you find another powerful item in some nook and cranny of the halls?”

“Mm, it’s a gift.”

Tris sighed, seeing that she couldn’t hide it anymore. She put the box containing the armor back on the table and stroked this exquisite item with an appreciative gesture, saying softly:

“A gift delivered directly to Lady Lainnia’s hands 30 minutes ago through advanced spirit transfer techniques.”

“A gift? Who sent it?”

Murphy pressed further. Tris glanced at him and said:

“Edward Spencer Gongreau. Don’t you remember? Lord Payne demanded that Old Edward send gifts as a symbol of ‘temporary reconciliation’ and to thank us for helping him eliminate the traitor faction of the Wolfsbane clan.

There are two sets of under-armor made by Old Edward himself here.

One set is for me, and one set is for you.”

“Then why were you putting both sets of clothes into your bag?”

Murphy narrowed his eyes and said in a drawn-out voice:

“Are you even coveting my things? Tris, are you sure you’re a Descendant of Desire and not a descendant of greed?”

“I was just keeping it for you! Who wants to covet your stuff?”

Tris slapped the table, somewhat embarrassed and angry:

“Am I that kind of person? It’s too wasteful for someone of your current rank to use this kind of thing, you know? I was planning to formally give it to you when you reach the Silver rank.

Old Edward is a top-tier leatherworker on the continent. The protective gear he makes by hand is the most high-end armor in any country.

The two sets in our hands are no exception.

Perhaps Old Edward is unwilling to reconcile, but his dignity as a master craftsman doesn’t allow him to send out shoddy work.”

“Isn’t it precisely because I’m still quite weak that I need powerful protective items?”

Murphy pursed his lips and stepped forward to open the box that belonged to him.

The gender-neutral protective armor inside had seven components, but besides the whole set, there was also a black sword cane fixed to the side.

However, the top of the cane was not carved into the wolf’s head commonly used by the Wolfsbane clan, but rather sculpted into a blood-colored vulture with spread wings about to take flight, yet oddly enough, the vulture’s head was shaped like a wolf.

This was clearly specially sent by Old Edward, but its meaning carried somewhat of a provocative tone.

Sending weapons to potential enemies?

Tsk tsk, truly befitting an ancient one, so refined and proper!

Murphy picked up the black cane sword and held it in his hand. It felt quite heavy, but by weapon standards, its balance was perfect. Under Tris’s watchful gaze, he gripped the Blood Vulture sword hilt.

His finger pressed the spring catch and gently pulled, and a gleam of snowy blade light illuminated his eyes. Item identification activated, and the information label popped up:

Name: Buried Beastiality – Classic Wolfsbane Sword Cane

Quality: Masterwork – 【Unique】Sovereign

Traits: Transcendent Swiftness – Transcendent Sharpness – Extreme Cleave – Extreme Piercing – Wolf Plague

Special Effect: This weapon was tempered with the Wolfsbane clan’s unique wilderness plague after its formation. All living beings damaged by this weapon will be tainted with 【Wolf Plague】, which corrodes the enemy’s body while destroying their spirit, eventually twisting them into 【Blood Ghouls】.

This effect is considered a 【Disease】 and is difficult to dispel.

Usage Requirement: This item is an exotic spirit weapon that requires mastery of specific techniques for perfect use. Requires Agility ≥20, Intellect ≥17.

Crafter: 【Wolfsbane Grand Duke】Edward Spencer Gongreau

Item Description:

【The sword I used in my youth was called ‘Greyclaw’. I named Korando’s faction after this sword. Now Korando is dead, and what this sword represented has dissipated beneath the midnight sky. Even the sword itself no longer holds any value for collection.

I reshaped it into its current form and sent it to Korando’s destroyer as a blessing for the victor.

Young successor, congratulations on personally adding another stroke to the ancient hatred, turning that wheel of enmity to fill each other’s eyes with frost. And you and I both know that hatred will eventually end, just as every debt must be settled.

Edward Spencer Gongreau.】

“This thousand-year-old ancient being has issued a challenge to a successor with only a year and a half of blood age, and he seems to be quite pleased with himself for finding an ‘opponent’.”

Murphy held the sword cane and turned to Tris, saying:

“This old guy is really disgraceful, is he?”

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