From sailboats to star destroyers (Source: Web)

Chapter 55 Who's in favor, and who's opposed?

Miao Meng walked to the other side of the house, began debugging, and finally started the small server array.

A deep humming sound rang out, and the indicator lights flashed regularly.

This will be his core auxiliary tool for deciphering the mysteries of local alchemy and researching the properties of magical materials on the continent of Galtiran.

He needs its powerful computing capabilities to accelerate the blueprint for a larger-scale and deeper transformation and enhancement of the ship girl form "Fortune".

Every structural optimization and every improvement to a magical circuit is crucial to his survival in this perilous world and the main world.

In the following days, carriages and horses streamed in and out of the manor. Local nobles and astute merchants arrived one after another, some cautious, some eagerly testing the waters.

This forced Miao Meng to be distracted by these necessary social interactions. Fortunately, the experienced Earl Black skillfully maneuvered around him, ensuring that he handled these social engagements flawlessly, neither being impolite nor revealing his unfamiliarity with aristocratic social interactions.

He then showcased some locally adapted items, such as modern glass bottles, glass beads, lamps, and flashlights—all technological products.

At the same time, he raced against time to connect the internal pipes of the modern house one by one and debugged all kinds of equipment to their best condition. The otherworldly stronghold he built with his own hands was finally completely completed.

Miao Meng finally breathed a sigh of relief after the last wire was connected to the host and the server's indicator light steadily lit up green.

Standing in the bright, clean, and modern laboratory, his gaze could finally be directed toward the heart of the territory that nominally belonged to him but had always remained outside of him—the fishing village of Baisha Bay.

According to the long-term plan, a shipyard of considerable size must be built in Baisha Bay.

This will not only provide a base for the future maintenance and upgrades of the "Fortune" ship, but also serve as a base for exploring the ocean.

Many of the materials needed for soul crystallization come from the deep ocean, especially various types of pearls and corals, which can only be produced in the open sea.

The fishermen, who have lived here for generations and whose bloodline is that of the fierce Gut people, are an indispensable part of his community.

Whether to turn it into an asset or to remove it as an obstacle must be decided as soon as possible.

He was not one of those cold-blooded nobles in Kingsby who treated their subjects like dirt.

Having witnessed firsthand the tragic plight of the underprivileged struggling to survive, the empathy he felt, stemming from his education in Dongxia, has never faded.

He had no intention of imitating the local aristocracy by levying heavy taxes as high as 90%.

For Miao Meng, the total catch of these fishermen throughout the year might not even amount to a fraction of the price he could get for a simple alchemical prop he made at a noble salon.

However, his experience from another world also gave him a deep understanding of human nature.

The principle of "a small favor is appreciated, but a large favor breeds resentment" applies here as well.

Offering things without any demands will only breed laziness and a sense of entitlement, ultimately creating a pack of ungrateful wretches who may even turn on you.

A balance needs to be struck—one that establishes the lord's authority and patronage while also giving these fishermen a tangible hope for improved lives, so that they are willing to integrate into the future he has planned.

So, on a chilly afternoon, Miao Meng stood on a slightly open sandy and gravelly ground at the entrance of the village, with twenty sword-and-shield soldiers behind him, dressed in fine half-body armor and carrying leather-covered wooden shields and oak clubs.

Black Earl Bartholomew stood half a step behind him like a silent, pale silhouette, constantly releasing a silent pressure emanating from the mountains of corpses and seas of blood.

The men and women of the village were driven to gather there. Their skin was scorched dark brown by the sea breeze and the blazing sun, their muscles were bulging, and their eyes were a mixture of vigilance, numbness, and arrogance.

The bloodline of the Gut people has left a distinct mark on their rugged features and untamed demeanor.

Several of the most burly men unconsciously gripped their gleaming harpoons or heavy oars, staring menacingly at the intruders.

Miao Meng's gaze swept calmly across the crowd, the sympathy for the struggles of the underprivileged stemming from Dongxia's education system deeply suppressed in his eyes.

Instead, he exuded an unquestionable lordly authority, something he had to establish at this moment, though in reality, it was the activation of the spell of Mechanized Mind.

His youthful figure, in this moment, exuded a strange sense of oppression. Although his face was young, it had a mechanical coldness that made people afraid to look at him.

He spoke, his voice not loud, yet it pierced clearly through the howling sea wind, carrying a metallic coldness:

"This white sand bay, from the rocks to the sea, from the beach to the forest, belongs to me, Lionel Roberts, from this day forward."

He paused, ignoring the sudden commotion and suppressed curses rising in the crowd, "Soon, in that safe haven over there,"

He pointed towards the area near his estate, "A new shipyard and dock will be built. At that time, I will hire strong and capable men from among you."

He then took a step forward, his gaze sweeping across the restless figures in the front row like a blade: "My rules are the rules here. Who agrees? Who disagrees?"

"Bullshit!" A bald fisherman with a face full of scars and a neck as thick as a bull spat out, slamming his harpoon heavily on the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.

"Baisha Bay has been our Baisha Village's territory for hundreds of years! You, a mere brat who hasn't even grown up yet, think you can act like a master with a few tin-clad lackeys? Go back to your golden lair!"

"Exactly! The words of nobles are less trustworthy than the venom of sea serpents!" another lean but muscular man chimed in, brandishing his oar.

"Brothers, grab your weapons! Let's drive these foreign bastards back into the sea!"

The crowd was instantly ignited, like a hornet's nest that had been disturbed.

Dozens of young and strong fishermen roared wildly, brandishing harpoons, oars, and even crude machetes, charging towards Miao Meng and the swordsmen and shieldmen behind him with a savage and fierce aura.

Their martial arts skills may be rough, but the ferocity and brute force they have honed through long-term battles with the wind and waves and pirates are enough to terrify ordinary city guards.

Miao Meng didn't move an inch, not even lifting his eyelids.

"Take him down." A cold, flat voice seemed to come from the depths of the underworld.

The Black Earl moved.

He seemed to casually take half a step forward, his pale knuckles already resting on the hilt of the curved knife wrapped in old leather at his waist.

In the next instant, he transformed into a blurry gray shadow, not rushing towards the crowd, but rather, like a ghost, cutting into the midst of the leading experts.

"Bang! Crack!"

"Ugh—!"

"Snapped!"

The sickening crack of bone breaking and the short scream of agony exploded almost simultaneously.

The bald fisherman's powerful harpoon was caught by a pale hand that swiftly grabbed his wrist.

The Black Earl didn't even use the blade; with a flick of his wrist, the back of the blade, accompanied by a tearing sound, struck the opponent's shoulder blade with unparalleled precision!

The burly man was struck as if by a giant hammer; half of his body collapsed instantly, and he screamed and collapsed to the ground.

At the same time, the Black Earl's toe, like a viper's tongue, struck the knee of the lean man wielding the oar, causing the man's leg bones to crack under the strain.

He lost his balance and fell forward, only to be slammed hard into his lower back by the hilt of the knife. He immediately curled up like a shrimp, left only with painful convulsions.