"You've all seen and heard the order from the Administrative Tribunal, I'm here alone, and I'm short of manpower, so the rest of the requisition must be done by you," Lillard beckoned the dodgy-looking tribal leaders to sit down.

It is actually reluctant to say that they are the chiefs, they can be said to be a group of overseers, and some obedient individuals are promoted by the previous garrison officer.

But it is still ambiguous whether to listen to Leillard's instructions.

"Lord Garrison, the population of this requisition is too large, and the slaves below will definitely flee when they hear this news."

The dwarf watched the others not speak, and his mouth couldn't help but be bitter, and he transferred half of the population at once..... You don't have to look at how many families go bankrupt directly.

Losing important labor on the eve of the beast tide leaves the entire clan without thinking about survival.

Not to mention the tax deductions that will not be reduced in the future.

It's definitely digging the roots.

The minotaurs and dwarven tribes nodded in agreement. Their thick hands gripped the table and rattled from time to time.

There's no way out.

Only the demon leader looked at Leillard numbly and said nothing. A traglodyte crouched on the ground and chewed on some kind of black leaf.

Lillard looked at the group of old peasants whose faces were full of vicissitudes, because of their hard work, their skin was cracked, corroded, and seriously aged. He himself felt like Huang Shiren was forcing a group of bankrupt farmers to sell their sons and daughters...... It doesn't feel particularly good. If this group of people is very strong and wants to wrestle with Leillard, of course he can beat this group of people and call them dad and let them give those slaves away, what excuse will they use for being so submissive?

"You guys find a way to do it yourself, if you can't recruit enough people within three hours, not only will I lose my official position, but most of you will also die, as for your tribe, there is hope for living now, and the dead have no future"

Lillard threw the order directly on the table. Transforming the words into the language of the demons they knew, the conclusion that the rebels killed without forgiveness made the eyes of this group of old farmers reveal a thick sadness.

Few of the recruited members survived, and historically conscripted labour could have been considered to be sentenced to death. However, they are slaves in this city, and it is difficult to maintain even the most basic right to live. Several people were silent at the table, knowing that this was an unstoppable end. Leillard wasn't sitting with them, and he had to continue to take account of the accounts, figuring out how much resources the treasury had to mobilize.

He wouldn't count on his mentally retarded sister to help, and the uneducated half-elf Weier was a vase for relieving fatigue.

He had to do everything alone, and it was a big headache to think about.

The leaders deliberated for a while before they came up with a charter for those to enter the recruitment team by lot.

The leaders quickly finished the task and returned to their tribes to gather men, only the caveman continued to crouch on the ground, looking at Leillard from time to time, his face was wrinkled, and Lellard seemed to see an old farmer on the Ganshan Loess Plateau looking at the endless sand fields with deep concern.

Interrupting the unseemly sympathy, Leillard walked straight up to him, needless to say, if the unknown danger outside was not lifted, and the troglodyte labor could not be contained, the woman would surely make a big fuss about it.

"Honorable Lord, I have no intention of offending your authority, and you know the current situation.......

A long series of words were about to come out of his mouth, the caveman's voice was rather hoarse, but it was intensely infectious, and Leillard directly waved his hand to interrupt his speech, time was so short, he didn't have the heart to chat.

"Your name and occupation," Lyard asked, motioning for the caveman to follow.

"Jon, I'm the Caveman's Prophet" This honest-looking caveman has agility that doesn't match his cheeks at all.

Think about it, if you are not very good, then you are not crushed by the perennial labor?

Walking along the dirt roads, most of the slaves here were barefoot, and occasionally some could be seen wearing straw sandals, in stark contrast to the drows. Most of them did not have proper clothing, and used some rags to cover important parts, and the linen trees they cared for from the outside were mostly used to make the clothes of the upper classes, and only a few corners were given to the hard-working slaves. In a society of low slaves, these corners could be used as money for circulation.

The fast-growing mushroom houses filled the inner city, and the yellow-skinned demons and shivering gnomes opened the slightest crack in the doors and windows and quickly closed them.

"I know your situation, now let's go and gather enough labor, and if we encounter those guys who get in the way, I'll just eradicate them."

Leillard looked at some backward wildling tribe in BC, and suddenly wondered if his previous assumption was too taken for granted.

No, not even the horde of savages here.

Lack of clothing, lack of nutritional intake, and no source of cash crops.

Sometimes I have to say that the surface world can still make people live, and if you are born in this situation, how dark your heart will be.

Jon doesn't live in the Northern Suburbs, he lives outside the city walls.

Under the endless black veil, he informed all the cavemen not to go out unless necessary. As the leader of the cavemen, he knew that these villages would only disappear one by one, and if they all came together, it would definitely usher in a catastrophe.

Inside and outside the gates are two worlds.

After leaving the city gate, there is a thin fog in the sky, which is still the day when the dark swamp is relatively weak, and if it is night, I am afraid that this fog will be even thicker. There is a protective magic array inside the city gate, so the air is clearer than here.

Having lichens and not having lichens are two different effects.

Walking all the way from the tunnel under Lillard Castle, the existence of dark swamp gas can not be seen more than thirty meters underground, but along the cavity formed in the ground deeper and deeper, the methane suddenly emerges from everywhere, and the strong corrosive gas rich in magic is breathed into the body for a while and does not feel any side effects, and the most intuitive change after long-term exposure in years is the slow mutation of the organs in the body of respiratory failure organisms, but it will not kill people.

After countless years of change, the creatures of the Underworld are now able to breathe biogas normally.

The only danger is defined as this time of winter.

The biogas at this time contains a special substance that neither the drow nor the Majin can parse, and it is more brutal than the magical radiation they normally receive.

Any plant and creature in an area with a high density of special matter will die instantly, while some creatures with very strong life forms will mutate, and after a short period of weakness, they will quickly grow and prey around, giving birth to powerful individuals in a fairly short period of time, and then attack the surrounding dungeons under the leadership of a certain beastmaster. Drow and demons who are not in the inner city in winter will also mutate, some will open the unknown bloodlines in their bodies, and some will become beasts.

This year's winter seems to have come a little earlier than usual.

The Winter Festival is usually held half a month before the onset of winter, when the entire Ellegus begins to count the seasonal harvest, and then organizes the stationing cavemen to move to the inner city for a short period of time. At the same time, the inner city had to prepare sufficient rations for the winter.

It's just that today the caveman area is unusually quiet, and there is something ominous about it.

Lillard could smell the smell of blood in the air.

"Your Excellency...... Over here...... This is my village."

Through a protruding hill, it is impossible to see the situation of the village behind it, and the heavy smell of blood has spoken for itself.

Jon shuddered and walked around the corner holding the mushroom stump, only to see the silent village.

The troglodyte village of rough mounds and crypts was lifeless at the moment, with dull blood stains strewn across the mounds, trails of dragging on the surface, and broken limb fragments in some areas.

The entire population of the village disappeared.

There is nothing but blood.