Chapter 137: A Great Surprise

In the mountainous region to the west of the Victor Territory, rolling hills are tightly connected, with the highest peaks reaching just over seven hundred meters and the lowest falling under one hundred. These hills have gentle slopes, resembling giants of various sizes lying prone across the earth. Between the hills lie dense ravines and winding mountain streams, creating a terrain as rugged and complex as a labyrinth.

The Wind Season is the time of year when the wind element is most active. Endless mountain winds whistle through the hills, causing the lush vegetation to emit sharp, howling sounds. Victor stands atop a high treetop, facing the wind, gazing toward a mountain several kilometers away. While the ridge blocks his line of sight, he knows that his secret base is built on the mountain’s reverse side.

Suppressing his excitement, Victor supports himself with one hand on the trunk and slides to the ground. A war mastiff immediately approaches, wagging its tail and panting as it rubs against him in a fawning manner.

Patting the mastiff’s massive head, Victor asks a nearby stranger, a militiaman, "What is your name? What are you doing here?"

"My lord, my name is Morey. This war mastiff and I are patrolling this area to prevent outsiders from accidentally stumbling upon the small fortress," the militiaman, wearing chainmail and carrying a heavy bow, replies respectfully.

Victor nods and smiles. "Morey, how many militiamen and auxiliaries do you have now?"

"My lord, we currently have 412 militiamen and 187 auxiliaries. Additionally, there are eight militiamen accompanying Captain Nelson," Morey answers.

"There are already so many!" Victor is overjoyed.

Back in the territory, Victor does not seek out Nelson. Instead, he immediately takes Reynard and Shaik into the mountains, eager to see his secret fortress. In truth, Victor and the two militiamen are not entirely sure where the base is built, but fortunately, the alchemical creatures have already taken control of the entire mountain range. Not long after entering, an alchemical crow discovers Victor’s group and flies over to guide them. Along the way, Victor encounters the patrolling Morey again.

Now, escorted by three militiamen and a war mastiff, Victor advances toward the secret fortress. From the treetop, the mountain opposite seemed only a few kilometers away, yet Victor has to wind along the valley for a full ten kilometers before reaching his destination.

Before arriving, the rhythmic clanging of iron reaches Victor’s ears. Rounding a mountain pass, he is greeted by a bustling scene. In this valley, over two hundred sturdy men are laboring amidst giant brick kilns, furnaces, livestock pens, vegetable plots, and smithies, sweating profusely.

As Victor walks forward, Buso approaches and bows. "Good day, my lord."

Looking at the familiar face, Victor pats Buso’s thick shoulder and sighs, "Buso, it has been a long time."

"My lord, we have not seen each other for 184 days," Buso says calmly.

It has been exactly 184 days since the order to build the small fortress was given. Filled with complex emotions and high expectations, Victor says, "184 days. Show me your achievements."

"As you wish, my lord. Please follow me." Buso leads Victor toward the camp.

"My lord, per your instructions, we have reclaimed 870 mu of land, planting earth tubers, wild celery, round cabbage, and soldier beans. We expect a harvest of 240,000 pounds of earth tubers this year. Since we did not gather enough seeds, the vegetable planting area is only 70 mu." Buso points to the lush green fields as he explains.

Victor visually estimates the area, and X-3 quickly provides a precise result. He frowns. "Buso, there are only 325 mu of vegetable plots here."

"Yes. Limited by the terrain, the plots we reclaimed are not concentrated. There are six other fields in different valleys," Buso explains.

"I see." Victor nods in realization. Hilly regions have little arable land, and mountain farming is constrained not only by terrain but also by water sources. It is no small feat for them to have reclaimed nearly a thousand mu. Moreover, the scattered nature of these fields brings many difficulties to labor and management.

Victor asks with concern, "Since these fields are in the wilderness, won't they be ravaged by wild beasts?"

"My lord, the alchemical crows are responsible for guarding the fields. They drive away birds from the sky, and if they encounter animals like wild boars or mountain sheep, the crows summon the war mastiffs to drive them off," Buso replies.

"It seems I was worried for nothing. Let’s go see your breeding farm," Victor says with a self-deprecating smile.

Passing through the vegetable plots for another 200 meters, they reach the farm. Seven monkey-folk militiamen working there bow to Victor, who waves for them to continue their work.

Seeing the fat, dense clusters of ground lizards packed into the pen, Victor feels his scalp tingle and goosebumps rise, so he quickly heads toward another enclosure.

This enclosure spans 15 mu. Before even reaching it, Victor is beaming, as it holds 17 giant swift-birds. They are divided into three groups, clearly containing three adult males, which means the population can thrive here—providing a solid foundation for Victor’s plan to establish a swift-bird light cavalry.

After observing for a while, Victor notes the birds are healthy. Nodding with satisfaction, he frowns and asks, "Why only swift-birds and ground lizards? Are there no other livestock?"

"We also found four draft oxen and seven dairy cows; they have been driven out to pasture by the war mastiffs."

"That is good." Victor acknowledges the alchemical humans' work, then asks, "Did you not farm animals like wild boars, short-tailed deer, or takins?"

"My lord, the predators in this area have been eaten by the war mastiffs. The remaining herbivores are not worth farming; they all belong to you," Buso says flatly. "The ground lizards are farmed only to supplement the nutrition of the war mastiffs and swift-birds. Our food supply is abundant. With controlled hunting and gathering, the mountain’s animals and crops can fully satisfy the needs of 1,500 people."

"That is exactly it!" Victor punches the air in excitement.

Initially, Victor considered alchemical war mastiffs the worst units—high consumption, short lifespans, expensive to create, and mere cannon fodder. But later, he realized they could effectively control a territory. He began to re-examine their utility, setting his sights on the mountains to the west.

The terrain is complex, transport is difficult, and predators and monsters abound. Unless a valuable mineral vein is found, human lords rarely develop mountainous areas. Without knights, small groups of soldiers cannot withstand the dangers, and the logistics of maintaining large outposts are prohibitive. The Centaur Hills are vast and sparsely populated; the York family's subjects have no need to wander into the mountains. With war mastiffs like dire wolves, the thousand-kilometer mountain range to the west has become Victor’s private garden, where he can take whatever resources, minerals, and herbs he desires.

Victor asks in a deep voice, "How far have you explored this range? Have you found any valuable minerals?"

"My lord, we have explored 80 kilometers to the north. At the 74-kilometer mark, we discovered a thorium vein, but the beasts in that area have not yet been cleared. Per your orders, our primary task is currently building the fortress and forging equipment," Buso replies.

Seventy-four kilometers north is already within the Escri barony. Victor frowns, then relaxes. The mountains are never under a lord's control. The poor wretch Escri has no ability to develop the mountains; he is currently trapped in his castle, and his few hundred subjects have already fled to Blackfort Town. However, Victor secretly resolves to let the legend of the dire wolves spread through the mountains.

"My lord, I believe there is no need to plant earth tubers and vegetables. The wild tubers and crops in the mountains are sufficient for our consumption. Besides, the yield of the tubers is not high—only about 300 pounds per mu," Buso suggests.

Victor shakes his head. "No! I fear the entire Centaur Hills will need these crops to fill their stomachs for a long time to come. These tubers must be cultivated as seeds. Let’s go, show me the equipment you have forged."

The smithy is large but crude, merely a giant shed built to keep out the rain. Over eighty sturdy men with bulging muscles are forging various weapons. The furnace fire is bright red, hammers are flying, and the rolling heat and deafening noise excite Victor immensely.

Buso pulls a short spear from the rack and hands it to Victor. "My lord, this is our refined iron one-handed spear."

The spear is made entirely of refined iron, two meters long and weighing 27 kilograms. The 25-centimeter blade is sharp and cold, shimmering with a faint indigo luster. The quality of this spear far exceeds the standard iron spears of the York family, which are valued at five gold sols each. Victor glances over; there are 421 such spears on the rack. Subsequently, he sees batches of short swords, heavy bows, daggers, shields, and full chainmail—all exquisite. Most pleasing to Victor are the 200-plus thorium crossbows and six thorium heavy crossbows.

Buso reports, "My lord, these thorium crossbows are made by mixing thorium with common beast tendons. The monkey-folk militiamen can fully draw them. Paired with refined iron bolts, their range and penetration exceed standard crossbows, effectively killing creatures with a physique below 20 points. We have exhausted the dire bear tendons, producing only three thorium heavy crossbows, and we have forged 500 thorium bolts. My lord, per your requirements, the equipment we have forged can arm 400 monkey-folk militiamen."

"Excellent, truly excellent! Hahaha!" Victor laughs for a while, then asks, "What about the dire bear hide? And my exclusive equipment?"

Buso opens a two-meter-tall cabinet and points inside. "My lord, the twin-silver leather armor, twin-silver short swords, and twin-silver short bow are all here."

Victor stares, dumbfounded, at the silver-glinting full suit of armor in the cabinet—helmet, gauntlets, and boots, all complete. The armor has smooth lines and elegant styling, with beautiful patterns engraved on the surface; it is a gorgeous work of art.

"You! I..." Victor, after his initial shock, says exasperatedly, "Why is it armor? Can I even move in it?"

"My lord, this is the twin-silver leather armor made from dire bear hide. Because thorium was mixed into the hide, it exhibits the characteristics of metal armor. Its total weight is only 55 pounds—heavier than ordinary leather armor, but lighter than refined iron chainmail. Its defensive power far exceeds metal armor and can withstand shots from the thorium crossbows. Furthermore, the patterns are engraved with mithril, giving it excellent elemental affinity.

"Your two twin-silver short swords, the short bow, and 30 twin-silver arrows all incorporate mithril, also possessing elemental affinity. These Imperial twin-silver items feature the traits of being unbreakable, self-repairing, and possessing elemental affinity. However, they do not yet meet the Class I standard because our forge lacks a red crystal inlay."

"It is enough! I mean, it is fantastic!" Victor caresses the cold, smooth armor. After a long moment, he finally regains his composure and asks, "What about my fortress?"

Buso points toward the summit. Victor follows the direction.

"Why is it six meters high again?!"