Final Lord

Chapter 323 Selecting Archers
City of Life.

On the east side of the city wall, the winners of the pioneering competition have moved into the brand-new treehouse cluster. The houses, built of natural wood, gleam with a warm luster in the morning light, and vine-woven staircases meander down, connecting to the carefully tended farmland of each household.

Women carried buckets inlaid with red copper patterns as they worked in the fields, children chased and played with brightly feathered birds, and wisps of smoke rose from the chimneys at the top of the trees, creating a peaceful and serene scene.

On the west side of the city wall, refugees who had not yet qualified were still crammed into a dense cluster of linen tents. Although these fireproofed tents could withstand the wind and rain, damp swamp mud would still occasionally seep into their doorways.

Wang Bufu noticed a small, thin girl standing on tiptoe wiping the dew off the side of the tent. The adult linen clothes she was wearing, which had been altered to a smaller size, had been washed until they were faded.

“My lord,” William Finnell approached, holding a parchment scroll, his voice low, “last week’s satisfaction survey showed that the residents of the tent area’s most pressing desire is to have houses as soon as possible.”

Everyone's spirits are already high.

“I know.” Wang Bufu tapped the crenellations of the city wall with his fingertips. His gaze swept over the refugees who squatted in front of the notice board every morning, their cloudy eyes burning with a flame of longing.

Some people even used charcoal to draw the outline of their ideal house on the tent, with the words "Victory in the next competition" crookedly written next to it.

"Bruce! Charge!"

"Don't lose, big brother Tland!"

"Hey!"

"what!"

A commotion suddenly arose in the distance.

It turned out that several strong young men were grappling with the wooden stakes in the training ground, their bare backs bearing the marks of sunburn from their hard work.

One of them swung a stone hammer at the target, and the flying wood chips drew cheers from the surrounding crowd.

The young men were all secretly competing for the next opportunity to expand their business.

Wang Bufu's lips curled up slightly.

He loved this burgeoning ambition, like watching bamboo shoots struggle to break through the soil. These refugees might be huddled in tents now, but the flickering light in their eyes pleased him more than any magnificent palace.

It's good to have ambition; only ambitious leaders will be obedient.

“William Fennell.” Wang Bufu lightly tapped his fingertips on the crenellations of the city wall, the sound of his fingers striking the stone bricks crisp and clear. “In a moment, we’ll take stock of the warehouse resources, especially the reserves of [Natural Timber] and Sunset Copper.”

"Yes!"

William Fenrir quickly knelt on one knee, the parchment scroll unfurling on his lap. He drew eerie blue lines on the paper with a quill dipped in magical ink, the ink shimmering faintly in the twilight. He looked up, asking expectantly, "My lord, do you have any orders to issue?"

"clever."

Wang Bufu raised his hand to signal, and his attendants immediately unfurled a banner embroidered with crossed arrows and ears of wheat.

The flag fluttered in the wind, its gold embroidery reflecting a dazzling light.

His voice, amplified by the magical megaphone, resounded like thunder throughout the entire refugee camp:
"Fellow citizens, the territory will soon be recruiting one thousand volunteers to become archers!"

As the announcement was made, the tents beneath the city walls stirred like ants disturbed. Ragged refugees peeked out from the gaps in their canvas tents, their chapped lips trembling slightly with shock.

"Recruits will receive daily—" Wang Bufu held up three fingers, "three pounds of rye bread!" He held up the second finger, "one pound of entry-level mushrooms!" When he held up the third finger, his voice suddenly rose: "Those who pass the training will be given priority in being assigned treehouses. The treehouse is bound to the soldier; if the soldier does not retire, the treehouse will always belong to the soldier!"

A tsunami of screams erupted from the refugee crowd.

The boys squeezed to the front, their sunken eyes gleaming with hope. Wang Bufu noticed the homemade longbow in one of the boys' hands—a rough oak bow wrapped with hemp rope to prevent breakage, the bowstring tanned from the tendons of a swamp giant frog.

He nodded in satisfaction; there were still good prospects in the territory.

“My lord!” An old man with a wrinkled face raised his hand shakily, his cracked fingernails still stained with mud from clearing land. “My grandson is only twelve years old, but he can shoot down birds with a slingshot. He’s definitely archery material.”

Wang Bufu's lips curled into a meaningful smile.

He said loudly, "No age limit, no gender limit, even seniors can sign up if they want."

Wang Bufu suddenly raised his voice: "Those who register today, regardless of whether they are accepted, will be given two catties of resettlement grain on the spot!"

The conscription office is located here, and the census is conducted by Consul William!

These words were like a lit powder keg. Refugees surged frantically toward the conscription station, their worn-out boots leaving messy footprints in the mud.

"Don't rush, don't rush, line up, one at a time!"

William's quill flew across the parchment scroll, and the ink bottle shook constantly from the vibrations of the table.

……

As the last rays of the setting sun sank below the horizon, the conscription office's roster was already filled with seventeen thick scrolls of parchment.

Wang Bufu glanced at the list and found that almost all the citizens had signed up.

The logic is simple—if only a thousand people are selected, there's a high chance you won't be chosen. Anyway, you get food just for signing up; it's free food, so why not take it?

In response, Wang Bufu said, "Naive! So naive! These foolish people have no idea how treacherous people can be."

Once they sign up, they will automatically be listed as militia reserves for the territory. Wang Bufu can hold an advancement ceremony at any time to help them become militia members.

The path from peasant to archer requires talent, but it's much easier for militiamen to become archers.

Strive for excellence and select the best of the best.

Soon, Wang Bufu selected a thousand archers. Among them, the most talented was actually a woman.

Name: Will Case.

……

Personal Talent: Calm Mind (F): Increases overall efficiency by 25% when focusing on one task.

Will Case stood in the center of the council chamber of the City of Life, the morning light casting dappled shadows on her through the stained glass windows.

This slender girl had neat chestnut-brown short hair with slightly upturned ends, as if it had never been carefully styled. She stood upright like a pine tree, her hands hanging naturally at her sides, her knuckles covered with fine calluses.

“My lord,” Will’s voice was soft yet exceptionally clear, like a drop of water dripping from a mountain stream, “I am Will Case.”

Wang Bufu noticed her eyes—a pair of amber eyes, calm as an autumn lake, without a ripple. Her gaze remained fixed on Wang Bufu's chest, displaying respect in a manner that was neither humble nor arrogant, but just right.

"I heard you're an orphan?" Wang Bufu asked softly, stroking his chin.

(End of this chapter)