The Boss King actually disguised himself as a novice village chief?!-Chapter 37 - Not a Lord but a Service Industry

37: Chapter 37 Not a Lord, but a Service Industry

37 -37 Not a Lord, but a Service Industry

The Carrion Queen’s Broken Sword emitted a faint, glowing light.

When he tucked the sword under the blanket to take a closer look, yup, it was still luminescent at night.

It seemed to breathe, flickering light and dark.

“Green arms.” freewёbnoνel.com

Lind browsed through the forum on the official website and found that players had indeed begun to speculate about the attributes of the “Carrion Queen’s Broken Sword,” but due to ownership issues, the Undead’s “look and see stats at a glance” ability wasn’t operational; it all had to be imagined.

There was also a group discussing the possibility of trying to blow up Lind’s gear, but any post on this topic was accompanied by a dog-head meme, clearly just banter.

Inside the Star Dragon Ridge outpost, the Undead were bustling — or better said, pestering NPCs, with the women and children bearing the brunt.

In just half a day, the women had found their footing, occasionally handing out a useless Rand Gold Coin to keep the Undead bustling about productively.

Yet no one dared actually toy with the Undead; they simply saw it as a chance to stay in the Star Dragon Ridge outpost.

Although the Lord did not say it outright, everyone guessed as much.

If the Undead do not need you, then there’s no need for you to stay.

As the Lord, Lind was making rounds, not to supervise the Undead but to check if everyone else was fulfilling their NPC duties.

“My Lord, I think for wall repair, we should use number 42 concrete because the length of the screws could easily affect the torque of the excavator…”

Just as Lind reached the broken wall: “…”

Do you think you’re funny messing with an NPC?

It seemed this was exactly what they were keen on.

Right, that’s how we players are.

He glanced at the damaged section of the wall; it had been patched up roughly before, but that was merely a makeshift fix.

Although assigning this task was meant to keep the Undead from idling, it was also aimed at addressing a final safety concern.

No good dreams with a hole in the wall.

A few players seemed to suddenly spark new ideas.

“Depth!

How do we make concrete?

Should we learn it or what?”

“This wall looks pretty thick, but it seems just piled up with stones.

What if it gets knocked down and we rebuild it with reinforced concrete, would that work?”

“Why not just renovate it a bit while we’re at it, maybe build a castle?

How about handcrafting a medieval castle like Hogwarts?

It would be immensely satisfying, digging a moat around it, then placing dragon spears under the corners.”

“I’ll pull in a few MC friends, they’ve all gone out to explore; we could have some fun with this in the evening.”

“Hang on, I’ll log off and find some materials and tutorials later.”

Watching the heated discussions, Lind really wanted to remind them that he simply needed something sturdy to patch up the hole, not to tear down the whole wall and renovate.

But never mind.

If the Undead lords are happy, that’s good enough, even though he was ostensibly an NPC Lord pretending to be a Newbie Village chief; in reality, he was still in the service industry.

A murder mystery game?

An immersive gaming experience?

Either way, he had to deliver the best performance to satisfy them.

Besides, there was no reason to refuse a group wanting to help rebuild the city wall using Rand Gold Coins.

Keeping them settled for now wasn’t a bad thing either.

The Undead staying within Star Dragon Ridge were indeed few; more players went out to explore and investigate, hoping to find food to complete missions, earn money, buy equipment, and level up by battling monsters along the way.

This was how most players truly played the game; it was extremely unrealistic to tie people down to a territory and not let them venture out—no air walls could hold them, so how could any player realistically stay in one place motionless just for a game task?

If they were that obedient, they wouldn’t be playing the game—children are told that games are a tiger.

One by one, the Undead were like traveling frogs; once they left, they would each take their own path and then bring surprises back.

The assumption was they’d actually want to return after leaving, and not get blinded by the glittering world, forever leaving the tiny Star Dragon Ridge behind.

“What’s my core competitive edge?”

Lind suddenly wanted to create a PowerPoint, then have a small meeting with his NPC subordinates to discuss this very question.

His core advantage lay in being able to access the official website and understand the true identities of the Undead and the stale jokes they played.

It was impossible to play along with the joke, but he could perceive the needs of the Undead and indirectly offer some emotional value.

By transforming Star Dragon Ridge into “Easter Egg City,” they would surely come, wouldn’t they?

The more he thought about it, the more he saw a bright future ahead.

Until his stomach began to growl.

“My lord, it’s time to eat.”

Two pots of meat soup were boiling in the cauldron, one for Lind and the soldiers, and the other also for Lind and the soldiers.

As for the women and children, they could have some meat soup.

After the battle last night, they had depleted much of their energy.

Although the strength attributed to the Great Knight was slowly recovering, he still felt somewhat weak.

Lind ate his meat in big bites and drank soup in large gulps, swiftly regaining his strength.

When resting his teeth from chewing meat, he would converse about the surrounding situation.

The crisis had not disappeared with the death of the Carrion Queen.

Basic livelihood issues such as food, water, and warmth had not yet been completely solved.

Wanderers, roving beasts, huge horse hooves, the New Nobility from the east, Prey Town from the south, and the old soldier corpses unexpectedly retrieved by players also represented crises.

But compared to three days ago, everything was progressively stabilizing.

The soldiers didn’t grasp the concept of Undead, but they too fantasized about the future.

Even Aluna managed to squeeze a wrinkled smile on her face, thanks to the extra pieces of meat.

Old Pete’s hands trembled less this time.

God would bless him, which god?

Aluna said it didn’t matter—anyone would do!

A few of them chatted about how things had changed over the past two days, casually setting the development plans for the upcoming days.

The plans were hard to finalize because of the unpredictability of the players, necessitating constant adjustments.

The most important plan was still to find ways to enhance their strength.

According to Aluna, finding the Black Fire brothers might show them the way forward.

Miss Miko, the Bunny-toothed Witch of Prey Town, might also know secrets of what’s beyond Doomsday.

No rush though, he had left Prey Town just over a day ago, though a lot had happened during that day.

The nine soldiers were his old men, and Aluna was the most in need of a refuge, so Lind still dominated the decision-making.

“Guard the weapons and armor well, primarily issue warnings to the Undead, and combat only as a secondary resort…” Lind advised persistently.

He feared that if the soldiers always saw the Undead nodding and bowing, they might mistake them as easy targets.

All players had a dog-faced demeanor.

Moreover, Lind was very clear about his own role—as a service provider!

While he beat the players up, he also made them work for him and scolded them.

It seemed like he was always in control, but only he knew that he was role-playing for the players, providing various emotional values.

If you perform well, you could kick them, and they wouldn’t want to kill you.

So, calling it a service industry wasn’t wrong.

He looked towards Aluna again.

The old nun’s mouth was glossy with grease.

She had just licked her bowl clean.

Maybe because she was enjoying the conversation, she naturally reached out to pass her bowl to Old Pete.

“My lord, those meats might not last long,” Old Pete trembled the ladle, and under Aluna’s cursing look, served her a bowl of clear oily soup.

God would curse Old Pete!

Which god?

Of course, every god.

Unconcerned with Aluna’s murderous gaze, Old Pete said, “Even though the Undead don’t need to eat, we now have nine more mouths to feed, and we need more food!”

Suddenly, there was a ruckus outside.

A woman’s voice rushed in, “My lord, my Lord!

We’ve managed to procure some food!”