Unable to repay my student loans, I had no choice but to work part-time as a demon hunter.

Gordon was still thinking about whether there was anything else that could be improved in the factory.

"There's still a supply of river mud, sir." Pemberton looked away. "Ever since you raided the Coldwater Warehouse the day before yesterday, the people at Black Ferry Wharf have suddenly withdrawn. They used to hold our dredging workers hostage, but in the last two days they've suddenly stopped coming from the water."

"That happens often," Gordon nodded.

The day before yesterday, we rescued people, killed demons, and attacked the Hermitage. Today, everyone can sail normally. This is how we gradually regain control of the waterway.

"Hey," Manager Pemberton chuckled, "Now everyone knows your reputation, knows your outstanding contributions to the city... To be honest, at first we just wanted to stay afloat, but now..."

He pointed to the workshop below.

Batch after batch of silver-gray crystal sand slid into wooden boxes, where workers took samples and technicians inspected them.

Steam and smoke were sent to the roof and discharged outside, without being poured back into the workshop.

"...Now everyone thinks that this place might really be able to make money, expand production, and even become Lundnim's largest river mud processing plant." Pemberton nodded.

Pemberton took careful notes; he had originally thought the factory only sold spiritual crystals, but now it seemed to be much more than that.

Next, Gordon thought about employee benefits.

Gordon couldn't directly make them understand the necessity of improving employee benefits, so he picked out some simple and easy-to-understand clauses to explain to Pemberton.

"Each person works no more than 11 hours a day, with a fixed one-hour lunch break, and short breaks in the morning and afternoon. There is a half-day off on Saturday afternoon," Gao Deng said.

"By Saint John Sua!" Pemberton exclaimed in surprise.

"This measure is inexpensive, but it can greatly reduce the probability of accidents caused by fatigue. The cost of a skilled worker making a mistake and having to rework is far higher than the cost of giving him occasional rest," Gordon gestured.

"Hmm..." the factory manager pondered.

"We must treat everyone fairly and provide clear compensation for workplace injuries. The factory should also have its own doctor. We need employee canteens, free clean drinking water, new toilets, and good ventilation... Don't treat this as charity; we want to build a model factory."

"This will spoil those lazybones," Pemberton lamented.

"You can try it first and see if there are any changes in the indicators before and after. Everyone else is terrible. If we do a little better, we can build our own management barrier." Gordon saw Pemberton's expression was all knotted up, obviously the other party did not fully believe him.

These days, nobody seriously considers worker welfare; Gordon only talked about the easiest things to understand.

It took Pemberton quite a while to slowly understand the meaning behind these things.

Having a fixed rest time each day can reduce fatigue and improve efficiency.

The extra break on Saturday afternoons makes all the workers immediately feel that this factory is better than others.

Workers' compensation and the availability of doctors in the factory make them feel more at ease during production. The availability of a canteen and clean drinking water also reduces the likelihood of them getting sick.

This will gradually enhance the factory's soft power.

"...I'll give it a try." Pemberton scratched his head.

Gordon nodded.

Other companies, especially Midas Industries, have also taken notice of what Monford Spiritual Industries is doing here and intend to replicate it in large quantities.

The generous 60-day concession granted by the Minister of Generosity is about to expire, giving them a head start.

Before other capital entered the market, Golden Capital seized the profits, completed technological upgrades, and established its own brand barriers and management advantages.

With more money and followers who understand his way of thinking, he can snowball his ideas, realize other inventions, drive productivity, and improve everyone's quality of life.

"Let me see the finished product." Eve raised her hand.

Pemberton provided a set of spiritual crystal sands that flowed through her fingertips.

"Although it cannot be used to make the most precious elixirs, it is perfectly adequate for making potions such as regeneration elixirs."

Pemberton was very pleased.

Although he didn't know Eve, someone dressed like that and following Mr. Vic around must be a master.

"We can supply you long-term if you need it."

"I'll consider it." Eve nodded slightly.

She had heard Gordon say that he owned a factory and was supposedly going to become the largest supplier of water-based spiritual crystals in Lundnium, and now it seemed that was indeed the case.

And it's about extracting spirituality from the cheapest mud...

Perhaps, it all started as Gordon's wild speculation.

Now it has become a real factory with a large number of employees, a turnover of 900 gold pounds, and equipment that is about to be upgraded, as well as a completely new management style.

This is the company of the Highman, Eve now understands. She only cares about her own future, while Gordon cares about whether he can influence the future of those around him, and even more people.

……

Finally, the factory area where Gordon descaling salt is stored.

He had previously instructed that the salt be stored separately, as it was a genuine poison, and only rats could eat it as a snack.

"Soul, come back! Soul, come back..." Gordon activated the Return Spell.

While waiting for the rat to return, Pemberton opened the thick wooden door.

The warehouse was dark, so he lit an oil lamp. Several large sealed boxes were arranged along the wall.

Pemberton pried one open, and inside were densely packed, scaly salt crystals that shimmered with iridescent colors.

"As per your request, all by-products have been processed separately and are no longer dumped back into the river. We have now accumulated nearly 1 ton."

"One ton." Gordon felt that these byproducts were truly top-notch biochemical pollution.

That fisherman is despicable! What has he done to our Blackwater River? Nobody knows how much he has discharged into the entire river.

"Keep it sealed and record it separately," Gordon instructed. "Then you can go back now, and I'll think about what to do next."

"Yes." Plant Manager Pemberton walked away.

Soon after, the rat sticks arrived.

It looked up at Gordon, then at Eve, and finally saw a large box of scaly crystalline salt.

Mice's small eyes are not normally suited to expressing emotions, but Gordon clearly read pure shock into them.

"Gordon, you bastard...you didn't lie to the rat!" it exclaimed.

Please remember the only URL of this novel: ".". The website owner has only this one website, and other websites may be discontinued at any time.

"Of course I'm not lying. I said it last month: if you follow me, you'll have mountains of salt to eat."

"Yes, yes! This is exactly what Ratso wants!"

It pounced and plunged headfirst into the salt.

The colorful scales scattered, and the rat burrowed deep into these crystals. A few seconds later, a dense and happy chewing sound came from inside, along with perhaps the rat's cries.

Before, this was just a pancake to trick rats into working for them, but now the pancake is actually made, and it's really big!

"Slow down, there are no other rats to take it from you." Gordon walked to the box.

"Golden the bastard... he's good at bluffing. We should cherish this opportunity." Rat didn't expect Gordon to be so kind next time.

"I'm a man of my word," Gordon questioned.

Eve watched the changes in the mouse bar closely.

It devours large quantities of scaly crystalline salt, yet shows no signs of mutation, corrosion, or mental derangement.

Instead, its white fur became shinier, its muscles bulged slightly, and the tremor glands on the back of its head swelled up.

Gordon made a cutting gesture to Eve, indicating when to kill the rat and get the source.

Ratstick cautiously poked its head out of the salt and looked at Gordon, who immediately put his hands behind his back.

"Wait a minute, it hasn't been corroded," Eve observed. "At least, there's no sign of the kind of contamination I'm familiar with."

"It's really strange. Normal creatures that eat so many abnormal crystals are already figuring out what kind of fish they should be in this life."

"Let me see," Eve chanted the Wild Hunt spell.

The collar around the rat's neck tightened, causing it to twitch and stop eating.

She reached out and lifted the rat by its tail, raising it into the air, where its limbs still swam along unwillingly.

After a thorough examination, Eve offered a conjecture.

"I have two hypotheses. My first hypothesis is that it evolved a special demonic organ that converts scale salt into growth materials. As the only highly evolved individual among those mice, it was probably different from the start."

"I see." Gordon looked at Rat.

The mouse was delighted and pleased with itself. Its upside-down posture also showed the elegance of a chosen mouse. It pondered which mouse should write its biography.

"What's the second possibility?" Gordon asked.

"It just hasn't been given a lethal dose yet."

The mouse bar's limbs stopped sliding.

Eve put it down, and it looked up at her, then at the colorful mountain, lost in serious thought.

"The rat is full," it announced.

"It certainly looks like it." Gordon rubbed the rat's belly.

Mouse thought for a while.

Gordon's thing did indeed provide it with food.

It initially thought those were just nice words humans used to deceive mice, because from its observation, Gordon was spouting nonsense.

Now a small hill has appeared.

"Thanks, Gordon, you little devil." Mouse bowed to Gordon. "A good man indeed."

"Thank you, you've finally realized this simple fact." Gordon was very pleased.

Rat glanced at the heavy rain outside and decided to share the other intelligence he had gathered over the past few days.

"Be careful. The people below are cursing you." It whispered.

"The fishmen are spreading my name far and wide," Gordon said happily.

"There are terrifying fishmen," Ratjaw gestured, "and singing."

singing……

Gordon glanced at the heavy rain outside; the downpour pounded on the houses, and the Blackwater River continued to rise.

"What kind of song is it? Where does it come from? Is the sound source moving? When did it start?"

"It started after the rain, yes, yes, the singing thing, it sounded nice, but it didn't move." Mouse pondered.

"Have you tried looking for it?"

"I wouldn't dare, I'm afraid I'll be eaten."

"You're smarter than many sailors in this respect."

Gordon looked out at the heavy rain.

He also heard the singing at the Rice Pump Station that day, and a sudden downpour began.

Is it a mermaid singing in the sewers? There's a possibility that this strange downpour was summoned by Ningning.

Why would the enemy that the Fishing King fears sing such a song... what kind of signal is it sending?