Chương 83: Retirement

Li Qinwu yanked his greatsword from the Kobold's corpse, tearing away a spray of flesh and bone. He pulled out a strip of cloth, wiping the blade while barking orders to his troops: "Hang the bodies up. Notify the other Kobold tribes to come and 'visit.' Let them see exactly what happens to those who defy orders!" Tossing the blood-stained rag aside, he stored the sword in his warehouse and surveyed the Broken-Tooth settlement.

He turned to his captains, Gobu-Spear and Gobu-Bow: "The Kobolds have already developed this land; it has a good foundation. Move two 'Hundred-Man Villages' here immediately!" Li Qinwu decided to initiate racial integration now. He wanted the Kobolds to become accustomed to the Goblins—their superior hunting efficiency with muskets, the stability of their farming, the convenience of iron tools, and the comfort of their infrastructure. The Alliance would always represent advanced productivity.

The Kobolds' role was to envy, approach, learn, and eventually merge. Gobu-Spear hesitated.

"Boss, this place is three days from the main base. What if the other tribes attack the migrants?"

"Let them try," Li Qinwu sneered.

"Equip every migrant with a musket. It would take four tribes rebelling at once to touch them. Still, we need deterrence." He handed them two parchment maps marked with Arabic numerals.

"Gobu-Spear, Gobu-Bow, my battalion commanders—I want you to lead your troops to every tribe on these maps. Spear, take the odd-numbered villages; Bow, take the even-numbered. Report back in a month. Remember, the battlefield does not accept lies!" The Unexpected "Retirement Home" As they discussed logistics, a rustling came from a nearby burrow. A mangy, skeletal old Kobold crawled out, gasping for air before collapsing.

He was so old his ribs protruded; clearly, his tribe had left him to starve once he could no longer hunt. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Gobu-Spear drew his dagger to "solve the problem," but Li Qinwu stopped him. Minutes later, five skeletal old Kobolds were lined up before him.

"Boss, how do we handle them?" Spear asked. Li Qinwu rubbed his chin. These seniors were no threat, but they had value: Experience: These old hunters might know of mineral deposits or rare monster lairs from their youth. Moral High Ground: Abandoning the elderly is a primal instinct, but the Alliance stood for order. Internal Stability: His Goblins weren't even a year old yet, but they would age.

If the Alliance provided for the elderly now, the soldiers would know they wouldn't be left to die in the mud when their own strength eventually failed.

"Give them some food. If they can live, keep them. It's just five more mouths," Li Qinwu ordered. With that, the subjugation ended. With roads being paved toward every settlement, the 20 Kobold tribes were now effectively served on a silver platter. Iron-Orc's Artillery Woes Back in Iron City, Iron-Orc rushed to meet him.

"Sir! The cannon is finished!" Li Qinwu hurried to the smithy, only to fall silent at the sight. It was... a massive chunk of iron pipe.

"Sir, I was afraid of it bursting, so I thickened the walls..." Iron-Orc explained sheepishly. Li Qinwu slapped his forehead.

"This is way too thick!" The blueprints were for a 6-pounder Napoleon, meant to weigh around 400kg. But because Iron-Orc couldn't solve the casting bubble issue, he had overcompensated with sheer mass. This thing weighed twice what it should.

"Let's test the power!" Iron-Orc suggested. He loaded the propellant and ball. When he turned to light the fuse, he saw Li Qinwu had already retreated a hundred meters—a clear sign of zero confidence in his casting. BOOM!! The ground shook as the recoil kicked the massive gun back ten meters. A lone iron ball shrieked through the air, smashing into a potato field a kilometer away before skipping like a stone for several hundred more meters.

"Incredible power, sir!" Iron-Orc cheered.

"Power is useless if we can't move it!" Li Qinwu walked back, unimpressed.

"This was supposed to be a field gun, but you built a fortress gun!" Iron-Orc froze. Without heavy machinery, forging (to compress the iron and remove bubbles) was impossible. Even an Ogre couldn't hammer a piece of iron this size. Both men fell into a pensive silence.

"If an Ogre can't do it..." Li Qinwu's eyes brightened as he looked toward the horizon.

"What about the Crimson Queen?"