As they traveled, Miriel discreetly sized up the Pioneer Territory.

The Armed Guard Team was terrifyingly strong, but the infrastructure and everything else revealed just how simple and desolate the Pioneer Territory was. It was as if all their funds had been spent on the guards.

She had learned on the way that Baisitina and her entire Tribe had already pledged allegiance to the Lord.

With over two thousand subjects and a formidable Pioneer Guard Team, Miriel felt as if she were witnessing the rise of a powerful overlord on these lands.

"Miriel, I have a Shaman in my territory who knows the Healing Technique. If you need his help, just let me know."

At the foot of the hill, Levi offered this with a smile before leading his men upward.

"A Shaman?!"

Miriel was both shocked and overjoyed. While the Wilderness was known to have Shamans, you were lucky to find one in ten Tribes. Even then, most only knew Beneficial Magic like the Frenzy Technique, which came with adverse side effects.

One who knew the Healing Technique was unheard of.

Her caravan was in a perilous state. Nearly half the Mercenaries were dead, and the survivors were all wounded. The slightest trouble could mean annihilation for them all.

The importance of a Shaman who could use the Healing Technique was self-evident.

This news was a huge morale boost for the Mercenaries. The wounded, who had resigned themselves to dying from their injuries, now looked at Miriel with pleading eyes, hoping she would quickly bring the Shaman over.

Levi naturally agreed to Miriel’s request and sent Sam over.

The less injured Mercenaries began setting up tents and lighting bonfires in a sheltered spot at the foot of the hill.

Thanks to Sam’s Healing Technique, the gravely wounded Mercenaries gradually stabilized and were no longer in mortal danger.

The Mercenaries were meticulous in setting up their camp. They positioned it not too far from the hill, but not too close, either. The distance was enough to put High Cliff Castle at ease, yet close enough for its people to lend a hand if danger arose.

A nearby stream also provided them with a ready source of clean water.

These Mercenaries had clearly spent years roaming the Wilderness; their camp-building skills were masterful. In just a single hour, they had erected an impeccable temporary encampment.

Squatting on the hill, Levi poked at the potatoes in the fire with a branch, watching with amusement as the Mercenaries methodically tended to their wounded, weeping with gratitude toward Sam.

’That old geezer... under the half-elf Miriel’s charm offensive, he’s like a withered tree blooming in spring. His face is as red as a peach.’

Levi wasn’t worried about Sam being poached. ’Miriel is a smart woman; she would never dare to steal personnel from a military Pioneer Lord, especially not now.’

On the hill, Baisitina was organizing the newly arrived Feder Remnants, directing them to build wooden houses they planned to move into that very night.

The first group brought over consisted mainly of craftsmen and carpenters from the Feder Tribe, so Levi didn’t have to worry about the construction at all. He just had to designate an area, and they would build everything themselves.

The hilltop was a wide, open space that could easily support a population of over ten thousand. Levi planned to build an Inner Castle there, which he would gradually expand into a city over time.

With the arrival of these new subjects, High Cliff Castle finally felt alive. Everyone was working with fiery enthusiasm to build their future home. In a strange turn of events, Levi, the Lord, was the only one left with nothing to do.

All he could do was roast potatoes by himself.

He pulled a blackened potato from the fire, scraped off the charred skin with a sliver of wood to reveal the golden flesh beneath, and coated it in a layer of chili powder.

Taking a bite, Levi hummed in satisfaction.

It was one of the few tastes of his old home that he could find in this Otherworld.

Chili peppers were a common spice among the folk of Debei, but the upper nobility looked down on them.

’Probably only a Transmigrator like me would treasure them,’ he thought. ’After all, I’m the kind of person who can’t enjoy a meal without some heat.’

"The champ is incredible!"

"The challenger is no match at all."

Just then, a commotion erupted behind him. He turned to see a group of Barbarians circled up and cheering rowdily.

After several large-scale battles, the Beastmen were no longer the simpletons they used to be. Their power had grown at an astonishing rate, and all of them were now Tier Five Soldiers.

The most obvious sign of this was their height. The whole group had shot up, with their average height increasing from two-ren-three to over two-ren-four, and their builds had become even more formidable.

This was especially true for Zat, the Heroic Unit. The number of enemies he had personally killed was nearly a tenth of Levi’s own total.

This vast experience had raised him by five levels. Levi had allocated all the resulting Attribute Points into Power and agility, and had chosen the Iron Bone and Strong Strike Skills.

The increase in Attribute Points didn’t just greatly enhance his strength; his height also shot up to two-ren-six, keeping him a full half-head taller than his peers.

The Beastmen formed a circle, and at its center, Zat was waving his arms triumphantly while a dust-covered Muto lay on the ground.

It turned out that after advancing in rank through several battles, Muto felt his strength had surged thanks to the "Gift of the War God," and he wanted to win back his dignity from Zat.

Unfortunately, the result was the same as always. He was thrown to the ground without even lasting a single round, leaving him to question his very existence.

"I’m the reigning champ of the Southern Border Arena! You’ve still got a lot to learn, Muto." Zat laughed heartily, basking in the praise of his kin.

For some reason, his kin suddenly fell silent. Zat took it as a sign of their awe and admiration.

"Reigning champ my ass!" Levi flew in with a kick from behind, sending him sprawling face-first into the dirt. "You all have too much time on your hands, huh? Get your asses back to formation drills for your Lord!"

The Beastmen scrambled and scattered, returning to the training grounds to resume their drills.

... ...

Miriel sat cross-legged on a cloth spread over the grass. A few veteran Mercenaries, including Sam, sat respectfully nearby.

In front of each of them was a wooden mug filled with a wine-red beverage that smelled of berries.

It was a cranberry wine that had recently grown popular among the commoners of Debei. The first sip was a little sweet and sour, but a deeper taste revealed a rich, fruity fragrance.

This kind of smooth fruit wine was especially popular with women.

"Mister Sam, could you tell me a little about High Cliff Castle?"

Miriel lowered the Elf Longbow she had been meticulously polishing and flashed a radiant smile.

The surrounding Mercenaries lowered their gazes, not daring to look at her directly. Only Sam stared, utterly infatuated. Her question finally broke his daze, and he collected himself, raising his mug for a small sip.

"High Cliff Castle, you say..."

Sam drew out the words. Just as Miriel’s eyes filled with anticipation, the old rascal grinned.

"Apologies, but that’s classified information."

After that, Sam took small sips of his fruit wine. Though he maintained a smile, his posture made it clear he wouldn’t say another word on the matter.

Sam’s reply took Miriel completely by surprise.

She was very confident in her own beauty. Even after being rebuffed by the Lord of High Cliff Castle, she hadn’t doubted her charms.

After all, the Lord of High Cliff Castle was handsome enough that a whole flock of Noble Ladies would be willing to fund his pioneering efforts; a man like that was unlikely to be swayed by a pretty face.

But why was this unworldly old lecher from the Wilderness acting the same way?

For the first time, Miriel started to feel a twinge of insecurity...