Lord: Starting with Biological Modification

The fierce wind stirred up by Nefarian had yet to settle as Velin set foot on the firm soil of Mist Spring Valley.

Before him stood Old Walker, Barrett, and the rest of the territory’s core administrators. They waited in respectful silence, each holding a hardwood clipboard.

Velin glanced over the group, forgoing any pleasantries.

"We’ll talk as we walk."

He strode off, heading straight for the bustling construction site in the center of the valley, with the others following close behind.

Behind them, a caravan of supplies Velin had ordered half a month ago was slowly pulling into the valley’s entrance. It was laden with equipment and raw materials purchased from the Royal Capital, an extension of his will injecting new blood into the land.

The changes to Mist Spring Valley were nothing short of staggering.

It was like a meticulously crafted model set down in the middle of a swamp.

The once rugged valley had been reshaped into a massive, funnel-like basin.

Concentric rings of terraced fields spread out like the growth rings of a tree. Irrigation canals built between the paddies utilized the natural topography to create a perfect gravity-fed system.

And amidst this magnificent project, the most eye-catching elements were the silently toiling black behemoths—the Worker Ants.

Excavating, hauling, and leveling the ground—tasks that would require dozens of strong men—could be handled with ease by a single Worker Ant.

They had replaced oxen and horses, becoming the primary source of labor on this land.

"Look," Velin said to Old Walker, pointing at a Worker Ant using its massive forelimbs to push a boulder.

"Its strength shouldn’t be used just for hauling."

"We can leverage them in many more areas. For example, by adapting the principle of a waterwheel, we could design a giant gear system driven by the Worker Ants."

"Use its power to drive forge hammers, millstones, even looms."

Countless possibilities instantly flashed through the old man’s mind.

The clang of the forges would never cease, the mills would grind flour day and night, and the efficiency of the territory’s workshops would take a staggering leap forward!

Passing through the bustling construction site, the group returned to the newly built Lord’s Mansion at the edge of the valley.

Inside the conference room, the atmosphere suddenly grew serious.

Old Walker handed over a report, his earlier excitement replaced by a touch of anxiety.

"My Lord, the point system has filled everyone with motivation, which is a good thing."

"But... some problems have also arisen."

"Some of the more quick-witted youths have formed their own teams. They always manage to be one step ahead, snapping up all the jobs with the highest point values, like clearing the flatter plots of land or harvesting rare herbs."

"The majority of the others are left with fixed-reward manual labor. Over time, I’m concerned that this will breed resentment."

Velin flipped through the report.

The report clearly documented the point earnings of several small groups, showing their growth curves far outstripping those of others.

’This was an inevitable result of human nature’s tendency to seek profit, something he had fully anticipated.’

Before he could speak, Barrett, who had been silent until now, stepped forward and slapped his clipboard onto the table. THWACK.

"My Lord, there is an even more troublesome issue."

"That group with Pick, the ones we exiled? They didn’t go far."

A vicious glint flashed in Barrett’s single eye.

"They’re at Black Water Lake, west of the swamp. They’ve gathered a group of drifters and escaped slaves and built a camp. They call it Black Water Camp."

"They don’t farm or produce anything. They live solely by robbing passing merchants and nearby villages."

Barrett paused.

"And here’s the kicker: they’re mimicking us. They use their loot as rewards to incentivize their men to go out and steal more."

This news stunned everyone present.

A twisted version of Newly Town, with pillaging at its core... This was a slap in the face to the entire Grey Marsh Territory!

The atmosphere in the conference room became heavy.

Internally, the beginnings of a resource monopoly were showing. Externally, a bandit menace that copied their own system had appeared.

Two problems, both capable of shaking the territory to its foundations, were now laid before Velin.

The hearts of all the administrators present were in their throats as they awaited their lord’s thunderous wrath.

However, there was no anger on Velin’s face. He simply set down the report, rose to his feet, and walked over to the territorial map on the wall.

"To deal with this internal opportunism, I am announcing the immediate enactment of the Major Projects Bidding Act."

"From now on, any large-scale project that requires the collaboration of more than ten people and has a total projected point value over five hundred will no longer be posted directly."

"All teams wishing to take on such a project must submit a detailed proposal."

As Velin elaborated, the clerks responsible for the task guild lowered their heads, busily taking notes with charcoal pencils.

"The guild will organize a review committee to select the best proposal."

"Points and resources will always flow to the most efficient teams, not to the opportunists who are quickest on the draw."

At his words, the group looked baffled for a moment, but then their eyes began to shine with understanding.

’Brilliant!’

’Absolutely brilliant!’

’This move cuts the problem off at the source!’

It forced those little cliques to stop focusing on how to snatch up jobs and start thinking about how to do them better.

They would have to prove in their proposals that they were more capable than anyone else, just to earn the right to take on the project!

What’s more, in their bid to create the best possible proposal, these small groups would be forced to actively recruit more talented individuals from the outside.

With a single, simple rule, the very foundation of the monopoly was casually dismantled.

"As for Black Water Camp..."

Velin’s finger lightly tapped the black marker on the map that represented Black Water Lake.

It was as if he were crushing an ant.

"Ola."

"Here, my Lord!" The Knight Captain immediately puffed out his chest, his eyes flashing with bloodthirsty excitement.

"Take the Rock Breaker Knight Order and the garrison. Wipe it off the map."

"Yes, my Lord!"

The reply was sharp and resolute.

Velin turned and surveyed all the core members in the room.

"Finally, one last announcement."

"The next core objective for Newly Town—’Project Strong Foundation’—is now officially active."

An expression that said, ’It’s finally here,’ appeared in the eyes of many.

’Bloodline activation!’

’In this world where bloodlines decided everything, this was a temptation more potent than gold and power combined!’

"Eligibility for the first batch of participants will be granted only to those who perform most outstandingly during the implementation of this new system and the campaign against Black Water Camp, who rank highest in points, and whose loyalty has been proven beyond question."

The eyes of Barrett, Ola, and the others gleamed, and they began cracking their knuckles in anticipation.

The meeting concluded.

Velin stood alone on a balcony of the Lord’s Mansion, looking down upon the territory now abuzz with excitement from just a few of his words.

His face showed no trace of joy; he was simply, silently, running projections in his mind on the future of the sociological model he had built with his own hands.

No system was perfect. All he could do was manage the operational framework, channeling desire into fuel and ensuring the entire machine could run in his service with minimal oversight.