The adrenaline of the fight faded, leaving behind the heavy, damp reality of the Gilded Spire.
Ren stood at the edge of the ravine, watching the Red Jackal gang retreat into the fog. He didn't chase them. Chasing cost calories. Chasing invited ambushes.
He looked down at his right hand. The skin was red and steaming. Punching a cultivator—even a low-level thug—had a recoil cost. His "Golden Qi" was dense, but his body was still that of a malnourished slave.
"Boss," Ironhead limped over. He was clutching his ribs. He had held the line against three men, and his face was a map of bruises. "We drove them off. But they'll be back. And they'll bring the whole pack."
Ren turned around. The fifty "Excavators" were staring at him. They weren't cheering anymore. They were trembling. They realized they had just started a war with Sector 5.
"Let them come," Ren said, keeping his voice steady to prevent panic. "But not today. Today, we harvest."
He pointed to the Corpse Pit.
"Liu," Ren called out.
The archer jogged over. He was inspecting the shattered remains of his crude bow, which had snapped during the skirmish.
"Post sentries at the ridge," Ren ordered. "If you see movement, you don't fight. You blow the whistle. Ironhead, take the wounded to the barracks. Double rations for everyone tonight."
"Double rations?" Ironhead hesitated. "Boss, if we eat double, the stockpile will run out in three days."
Ren looked at the big man. "Ironhead, do you know why you lost against those thugs? It wasn't skill. It was mass. You are starving. You can't fight a war on an empty stomach."
Ren tapped his own temple. "I will worry about the supply chain. You worry about getting strong enough to hold a shield."
Later that evening. Inside the Overseer's Office.
Ren sat alone in the quiet room. The only light came from the glowing Lightning Wood acting as a desk lamp.
He wasn't cultivating. He was doing paperwork.
A true CEO knows that the real battle isn't in the streets; it's in the logistics.
[Sector 4 Audit Report]
Population: 298 (2 Dead from infection).
Food Supply: Critical (3 Days remaining).
Spirit Stone Reserve: 190 Stones (Ren had spent the rest on his breakthrough and initial setup).
Morale: Mixed (Hopeful but terrified).
Ren sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I have money, but nowhere to spend it. I can't go to the Market Level without a pass. And the online System Marketplace charges a 50% delivery fee for physical goods."
He looked at the pile of loot they had dragged up from the Corpse Pit. It was sitting on a tarp in the corner of the office.
It was a gruesome collection. Shattered bones, half-melted vials, and scraps of robes.
Ren walked over to the pile. He needed to extract value from this mess.
He picked up a green glass vial. It was cracked, with only a few drops of purple liquid inside.
[Item: Residue of "Berserker Blood" Potion]
Grade: Mortal-High.
Effect: Temporarily ignores pain and increases strength.
Side Effect: Causes permanent liver damage and madness.
Value: 5 Karma.
Ren frowned. "Trash. I can't feed this to my men. I need loyal soldiers, not madmen."
He tossed it aside.
He picked up a curved rib bone. It was heavy, like lead.
[Item: Rib of a Failed Chimera (Type: Iron-Bear / Human Hybrid)]
Properties: Extremely dense bone structure. Resists blunt force.
Value: 15 Karma.
Potential Use: Can be ground into bone meal to strengthen the skeleton of a cultivator.
Ren paused. Bone meal.
He didn't have pills. He didn't have high-grade rice. But he had calcium-rich monster bones.
"If I refine the impurities out using my Minting Art..." Ren mused. "...I could create a crude dietary supplement."
He sat back down at the desk and pulled out a blank scroll. He began to draw a diagram. It wasn't a martial arts manual; it was a Production Flowchart.
Input: Chimera Bones + Toxic Sludge (Fuel).
Process: Use the Internal Mint to strip the toxicity.
Output: 'Calcium Pills' (Mortal Grade).
"It won't make them Immortals," Ren whispered. "But it will fix their malnutrition in a week."
The Next Morning.
Ren didn't wake the men with a shout. He woke them with a smell.
In the center of the barracks, a massive iron cauldron was bubbling. Ren stood over it, stirring a thick, white broth. It smelled rich, meaty, and powerful.
The slaves woke up, their stomachs growling violently.
"Line up!" Ren commanded.
Ironhead was the first in line. He looked at the broth suspiciously. "Boss? Where did we get meat?"
"It's not meat," Ren said, ladling a bowl of the thick white soup. "It's Asset Reinforcement Soup."
Ironhead took a sip. His eyes widened. The soup was hot, and the moment it hit his stomach, a wave of warmth spread through his limbs. The ache in his ribs dulled.
[System Scan: Ironhead]
Status: Malnourished -> Recovering.
Bone Density: Increasing slightly.
"Drink," Ren ordered the room. "We aren't digging today. Today, we train."
He walked to the center of the room. The men watched him over their bowls, looking healthier than they had in years.
"The Red Jackals will come back," Ren announced. "And they will bring weapons. Digging tools won't save you."
He pointed at Liu. "Liu, step forward."
The archer stood up. He looked better. The soup had put color in his cheeks.
"Liu, you know how to shoot. But you don't know how to lead," Ren said. "I am appointing you Head of Security. You will pick ten men. Your job is not to dig rocks. Your job is to turn this scrap metal..."
Ren kicked a pile of rusted iron rods.
"...into spears."
He turned to Ironhead. "And you. You are the Foreman. You will take the other forty. I don't want you to practice fighting. I want you to practice formations."
Ren picked up a piece of chalk and drew a simple phalanx formation on the wall.
"They are stronger than us," Ren lectured, tapping the wall. "But they are thugs. They fight as individuals. If we fight as a Unit—shield to shield, shoulder to shoulder—we lower the risk coefficient."
He looked at his motley crew of debt-slaves.
"We are not a sect. We are not a gang," Ren said firmly. "We are a Corporation. And a corporation protects its assets."
Three Days Later.
The change in Sector 4 was subtle, but profound.
The chaotic noise of random scavenging was gone. It was replaced by the rhythmic clang-clang-clang of a makeshift smithy Liu had set up near the lava vents.
Ren spent his days not fighting, but walking the perimeter. He was constantly scanning.
[NPV Eye Active.]
Scanning Topography...
Scanning Wind Patterns...
Scanning Resource nodes...
He wasn't just looking for money. He was looking for defensive advantages.
He stopped at a narrow choke point in the ravine leading to Sector 5. The ground here was soft, unstable mud.
Ren smiled.
[Environmental Hazard Detected: Methane Pocket (Subterranean)]
Depth: 2 meters.
Volatility: High.
If the Red Jackals marched through here... and someone fired a flaming arrow...
Ren pulled out his notebook and made a note. Asset: Landmine. Value: Strategic.
He was slowly turning Sector 4 into a fortress. Not with walls of stone, but with traps, efficiency, and optimized violence.
As he closed his notebook, a faint vibration buzzed in his pocket.
It wasn't the Transmission Array. It was the Grand Ledger System.
[Alert: Monthly Interest Calculation Incoming.] [Note: As a Free Citizen, you are now eligible for 'Daily Missions'.]
Ren raised an eyebrow. "Missions?"
He opened the interface.
[Mission: The Scavenger's Luck]
Objective: Locate and submit 1 piece of 'Star-Iron' ore.
Reward: 100 Karma.
Difficulty: F-Rank.
Ren scrolled down. Most were boring fetch quests. But one caught his eye. It was listed under the "Local Mysteries" tab.
[Mission: The Alchemist's Trash]
Objective: Discover the source of the High-Grade Chimera Bones appearing in the Sector 4/5 Ravine.
Client: Anonymous (Middle Realm).
Reward: 5,000 Karma + 1 Favor.
Ren froze.
Five thousand Karma. That was huge. But more importantly, the Client was from the Middle Realm.
"Someone upstairs is throwing away expensive experiments," Ren muttered, looking at the distant fog covering the Corpse Pit. "And someone else upstairs wants to know who."
Ren closed the screen.
He wouldn't pursue it yet. He wasn't strong enough. But he pinned the mission to his mental board.
"Ironhead!" Ren called out.
"Yes, Boss?" Ironhead jogged over. He was carrying a crude shield made from a car door (or this world's equivalent). He looked stronger. He had gained five pounds of muscle in three days thanks to the bone soup.
"Double the sentries tonight," Ren said, looking at the darkening sky. "The Red Jackals have been quiet for too long. The market is about to correct itself."