One soldier stands alone now, but quality trumps quantity—low-level grunts offer little. Zhou Yan refuses to let hard-won troops fall cheaply in battle, hence Zhang San's leap to level 10. Summoning costs 1,000 soul coins; upgrading to 10 takes 850 more—1,850 total. Dreaming of tens of thousands feels like a fantasy. Soul coins hinge on chests and wild kills—trial bonuses won't last post-novice phase.
He leads Zhang San to the Spiritual Bamboo House, where gear piles beside Zhen Mi. Spirit coins flow straight to his account, but equipment lingers—no warehouse yet. Once built, he'll delegate storage to her. "So much gear," he marvels, having missed the flood of territory prompts.
"Lord," Zhen Mi greets, rising with a bow.
He nods, sifting through the haul—mostly mundane, but scarce early on. A black iron suit and spear suit Zhang San. "Thanks, Lord!" Zhang San kneels.
"No more kneeling," Zhou Yan corrects. "Fists together if you're unsure—simpler." He demonstrates the old clasp.
"Yes!" Zhang San complies, fists cupped.
Good enough. Beyond gear, Zhen Mi's opened decor—tables, stools, fabrics. Chests yield variety. A bronze Holy Spirit Staff catches his eye—perfect for Zhen Mi:
[Item: Holy Spirit Staff]
[Quality: Bronze]
[Durability: 45/45]
[Attribute 1: Spirit +8]
[Attribute 2: Mana Cost -10%]
[Requirement: Spirit 8]
[Introduction: Foes crumble before the Holy Spirit Staff.]
Other black iron armor lacks synergy—he'll swap later. "Take these," he says, handing her the staff and pieces. "Big fight tomorrow."
"Thank you, Lord," she replies, stowing them with a grin. Her innate magic, like Diao Chan's swordplay, awaits skills to unleash fully. No skill books yet—day two's too early, and trading hall's dry. Even Zhen Mi's luck strikes out there—rarity's brutal.
A savory scent wafts in. Diao Chan arrives, pot of barbecued meat in hand, setting it on a new table. "Try my roast," she invites.
"Chan'er, your cooking's leveling up," Zhou Yan praises. "Meet Zhang San—new soldier."
"Zhang San greets the mistresses," he says, fists cupped.
Zhou Yan freezes. Diao Chan blushes, stammering, "I'm no mistress—just summoned help." Zhen Mi, bolder, laughs, "I just got here too."
"Enough—let's eat," Zhou Yan cuts in.
"I shouldn't dine with the lord," Zhang San protests.
"No fuss—sit and enjoy," Zhou Yan insists, pulling him down. They feast, sipping reserved Spiritual Spring water. Sated, Zhang San returns to the barracks to drill, while Zhou Yan guides Diao Chan and Zhen Mi to the wall's edge.
He plants the eight Vinewood Demon Seeds along it, spacing them evenly, then waters them with leftover spring water. Soil stirs—sprouts erupt, rooting fast, climbing to half a meter. "Spring water's gold," he muses. "Out today—save more tomorrow." Combat-ready vines need growth, but with this boost, eight stalwart guards loom soon—food-free fighters.
Chatting territory plans with the duo, their insights spark joy—sharp minds behind the beauty. They stroll to the Spiritual Fields, marveling at the crops. One day's growth stuns—flowers by tomorrow, harvest in days. Only his fields pull this off. In reality, farming's obsolete—lords supply all, cycles short, seasons irrelevant. Markets brim with fresh goods year-round, aura-laced produce pricier, rare for most.
Non-lords needn't fret jobs—lords and nations demand labor, vacancies abound. The Dragon Kingdom pushes marriage and kids, ads urging youth to breed for the state. Strengthened lords live longer, delaying unions—many skip them, subsidies easing child-rearing to 18. A mighty nation breeds bold confidence.