Lin Feng had just sat down in the Council Hall for a short while when the sound of hurried footsteps came from the entrance.

Zhang Ping almost ran inside, his face carrying an irrepressible excitement that seemed ready to overflow, his eyes shining as bright as lightbulbs.

Three people followed behind him, one in front and two in the rear, all walking in a rush.

Lin Feng's heart skipped a beat as he looked at Zhang Ping's expression, followed immediately by a surge of joy.

Could there be an unexpected surprise? Had he finally had a stroke of luck and drawn a mid-level talent?

No, looking at Zhang Ping's state, it was likely more than just mid-level. 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

"Lord! Lord!" Zhang Ping reached the table in a few quick strides, his voice trembling. "This Master Shen Mochuan is an advanced Tailor!"

Lin Feng stood up abruptly.

An advanced Tailor! Not mid-level, but advanced!

In his small county-level territory, he had actually picked up an advanced Tailor from among the Refugees!

This wasn't just luck; this was like his ancestors' graves were emitting auspicious smoke!

He quickly rounded the table and walked up to the middle-aged man.

Shen Mochuan was in his early forties, wearing a faded gray cloth robe with frayed cuffs, yet it was washed perfectly clean.

His fingers were long and slender with distinct joints, and his nails were trimmed neatly.

Those were the hands of a Tailor; even in dire straits, he hadn't forgotten to maintain them.

His face was thin, his cheekbones slightly protruding, and his eye sockets were somewhat deep, carrying the weariness of years of hard labor, but his gaze was steady—neither evasive nor fawning.

"Master Shen, welcome! Welcome to Fenghuo County!"

Lin Feng grasped his hands with both of his own and shook them vigorously.

Shen Mochuan clearly hadn't expected the Lord to be so enthusiastic; he froze for a moment, and then his eyes turned slightly red.

Being assigned to an unfamiliar territory by the Nightmare World, his heart had been hanging in suspense.

He didn't know what kind of person the new Lord was, whether his skills would be valued, or if he could make a living here.

But at this moment, Lin Feng's strong hands and sincere smile allowed half of the weight on his heart to lift.

"Lord Lin, I... I will certainly work hard in Fenghuo County."

Shen Mochuan's voice was a bit choked, but firm.

Lin Feng pulled him over to sit in a nearby chair while he returned to the main seat, leaning forward slightly with an eager gaze:

"Master Shen, I'll ask you straight: can you consistently craft Blue-grade armor?"

Shen Mochuan nodded, but his expression suddenly became somewhat subtle, as if he had something to say but was embarrassed to speak.

He rubbed his fingers together, hesitated for a moment, and eventually said, "I can. But... it's a bit of a 'chicken rib'—useless yet a waste to discard."

Lin Feng raised an eyebrow. "A chicken rib? How so?"

Shen Mochuan sighed, as if speaking of something that had frustrated him for a long time. "The technique I use to craft Blue equipment was passed down from my ancestors.

Other Tailors can produce Blue gear using Blue materials, but I can't. My technique requires adding Mithril to every piece.

Mithril is generally used to craft Purple equipment. Using it for Blue gear..." He paused, unable to keep his face straight, and gave a bitter smile.

"Even I feel it's a loss. So over the years, not many people have sought me out for Blue gear. They'd rather find other Tailors—slower, perhaps, but the materials are cheaper."

The Council Hall fell silent for a moment.

Zhang Ping stood to the side, opening his mouth but not knowing what to say.

Lin Feng was stunned for a second, and then he laughed.

It wasn't a bitter laugh or a polite laugh; it was a genuine, heartfelt laugh that he couldn't suppress.

Mithril! The thing he lacked least was Mithril.

The mine in North Slope Village produced thirty units of raw ore daily, which was smelted into ten units of pure Mithril. There were already sixty units stored in the warehouse.

Once Tian Zheng's smelting furnace stabilized, the production could even double.

Others treated Mithril as a treasure; he used Mithril like it was common stone.

"Master Shen." Lin Feng stopped laughing and his tone became serious. "Regarding the Mithril, I'll handle it. You just focus on crafting. I'll take as much Blue equipment as you can make."

Shen Mochuan was stunned. He looked at Lin Feng, trying to see something in that young face.

Was it politeness? Impulsiveness? Or a lack of understanding of the market?

But he only saw a calm, certain confidence, as if he were speaking of a very ordinary matter.

"Lord Lin, Mithril is..." Shen Mochuan still wanted to say something.

"I know." Lin Feng interrupted him with a smile. "Master Shen, rest assured, I am a man of my word."

Shen Mochuan was silent for a moment, then stood up and solemnly cupped his fists. "Then this old Shen's life belongs to Fenghuo County."

Lin Feng waved his hand. "Don't talk about selling your life. Once you're in Fenghuo County, you're family.

Rest for a couple of days first. Once you've settled in, I'll arrange the {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} workshop for you."

Shen Mochuan nodded and sat back down, the gloom on his face mostly dissipated.

Lin Feng turned to Zhang Ping, his gaze falling on the two people behind him.

One was a dark, sturdy middle-aged man, and the other was a thin young man. Both wore ragged clothes and stood at the doorway, not daring to step inside.

"And these two are?" Lin Feng asked.

Zhang Ping hastily stepped aside to introduce them. "This is Zhou Er, a basic Quarryman. This is Zhao Qi, a basic Miner. Both were screened from this batch of Refugees."

Lin Feng nodded. Basic life-professionals, while not as stunning as Shen Mochuan, were still solid talents.

His territory was expanding, and both the Quarry and the mines were short-handed. One more basic Quarryman meant dozens more units of stone produced every day.

"Zhou Er, go help at the Quarry with Zhou Yi. Zhao Qi, go to North Slope Village and find Tian Jian." Lin Feng gave the orders decisively.

Zhang Ping acknowledged the order, then remembered something and asked in a low voice, "Lord, regarding Master Shen's residence..."

"Arrange it within the city, closer to the Council Hall."

Zhang Ping nodded.

Lin Feng stood up and walked to the map, his gaze landing on the location of North Slope Village.

He didn't turn around, his tone calm yet unquestionable. "Zhang Ping, within sixteen days, I need one thousand two hundred units of Mithril."

Zhang Ping's pupils contracted slightly. One thousand two hundred units was not a small amount.

He didn't know what the Lord needed so much Mithril for, but he didn't ask; he wasn't the talkative type.

"The mine in North Slope Village currently produces ten units of pure Mithril a day, which is far from enough," Lin Feng continued.

"I want you to help coordinate manpower, open more mine shafts, and dig day and night. I'll notify Tian Jian and Tian Zheng. Go find them and tell them I said to provide full cooperation."

"Yes." Zhang Ping cupped his fists. "I'll head to North Slope Village immediately."

"Wait." Lin Feng turned around. "Among the five thousand Refugees that arrived, how many are able-bodied men?"

Zhang Ping flipped through the register in his hand and took a quick glance. "Three thousand one hundred."

Lin Feng's eyes lit up. Three thousand one hundred able-bodied men, plus the original residents—Fenghuo County's labor force had nearly tripled in an instant.

"Good." Lin Feng walked up to Zhang Ping and patted his shoulder. "Incorporate all able-bodied men into the labor teams. Assign them to the Quarry and Logging Camp first.

Additionally, pick a group with mining experience from among them and send them to the North Slope Village mine.

The Mithril stockpile must reach one thousand two hundred units within sixteen days."

Zhang Ping quickly noted it down in the register, muttering, "Quarry, Logging Camp, mine... Mithril... noted."

"Go then." Lin Feng waved his hand.

Zhang Ping cupped his fists and ran out.

Shen Mochuan also rose to take his leave, following Zhang Ping out.

The Council Hall became quiet once more.

Lin Feng stood before the map, his gaze fixed on North Slope Village.

Beneath that small village lay the entire future of Fenghuo County.

One thousand two hundred units of Mithril to build the Great Wall.

The rest would be for Shen Mochuan to craft Blue equipment.