Chapter 27: Eaten Out of House and Home by My Subordinates!

Deep in the night, with the camp wrapped in silence, Fan Tong lay on his cot, tossing and turning like a pancake on a griddle, while bickering with the System in his mind.

"Listen, System, can we negotiate?"

[Speak.] The System’s voice was as concise as ever, carrying that familiar, mocking, synthesized tone.

"The rewards you give are either potions or equipment—can’t you provide something high-end?" Fan Tong rubbed his hands together, his face full of anticipation. "Like, say, magic? Battle aura? If that’s too much, even some immortal cultivation techniques would do! I could have a fireball in one hand and a palm-lightning strike in the other. If someone rubs me the wrong way, I’d just serve them a combo meal. Wouldn't that be wonderful?"

[...]

The System remained silent for a full half-minute, seemingly stunned into speechlessness by Fan Tong’s wild fantasies.

[Kid, do you think I’m Doraemon? That I have everything you want?] The System’s voice was dripping with disdain. [My full name is the ‘Ogre Cub Cultivation Support System.’ Note the word 'Support'! I’m just a semi-finished beta version, I’ve lost contact with headquarters, and the warehouse is practically empty! Where am I supposed to get those fancy, flashy things for you?]

[Besides, the Heavenly Dao in this world is incredibly restrictive, and the spiritual energy is as thin as a winter wind in Beiping. Forget magic or battle aura; if I tried to manifest a 'Five-Fold Lightning Whip' for you, you’d be struck dead by divine lightning before you could blink! Giving you a physical stat boost and some invisible auras is already the limit of my capabilities. You want to reach for the heavens?]

After hearing this, Fan Tong’s unrealistic fantasies instantly shattered.

So, it turned out his golden finger was just an offline, single-player beta test version.

But on second thought, Fan Tong felt a sense of relief. Having something is better than nothing. In this world—a history as real as it gets—being able to act like a human-sized Gundam was already cheating to the extreme. Why ask for more?

"Fine, fine. Then look at this batch of offerings and give me something practical." Gritting his teeth, Fan Tong sacrificed several elaborate dishes he had prepared in his mind.

Smoked horse sausage made from the intestines of Yuan army steeds, paired with the strongest mare’s milk wine from the grasslands; hand-grabbed mutton made from a fat sheep captured outside Qingyang City, boiled simply in salt water to preserve its original, succulent flavor; and Peking roast duck, which he had prepared himself in a hanging oven, featuring crispy skin and tender, melt-in-the-mouth meat.

[Oh!!!] The System let out a groan of satisfaction that skewed its pitch. [Good kid! You understand me! This taste—authentic! Hits the spot!]

[Congratulations to the host for sacrificing gourmet food. System satisfaction is off the charts! You have received ‘Ogre Bloodline Enhancement Potion’ x20 and ‘Ogre Heavy Armor Kit’ x10!]

[Bonus Reward: Berserk Aura (Team) x1! Note: This aura is a one-time consumable. Once activated, it allows designated team members to enter a bloodthirsty berserk state, significantly increasing all attributes and ignoring pain. However, once the effect wears off, they will fall into a state of extreme weakness. Do not use unless it is a critical moment!]

Fan Tong looked at the new aura glowing with a blood-red light on the system panel, his heart brimming with joy. Good stuff! This was a trump card that could turn the tide in a desperate situation!

The next day, at the vanguard camp of the Beiping Garrison, dust flew and shouts roared like thunder.

Zhu Di held that heavy mace, locked in a fierce struggle with Bao Nianfeng. His mace techniques were wide and sweeping, each swing and smash carrying the force of a thousand pounds, already showing a hint of Fan Tong’s unreasonable ferocity.

But occasionally, between dodges and blocks, he would subconsciously use refined footwork and techniques to deflect force—habits deeply ingrained from his decade of bitter training with the saber.

"Bang!"

Fan Tong kicked Zhu Di in the backside, sending him stumbling.

"Zhu Hu!" Fan Tong muttered, a blade of grass hanging from his mouth, as he walked over. "How many times do I have to tell you! Stop playing around with that fancy garbage for me! That mace is for smashing bones, not for you to dance with!"

He pointed at Zhu Di, his spit almost landing on the man's face. "On the battlefield, will the enemy give you a chance to pose and look cool? If you pull those useless stunts again, I’m docking your meat tonight!"

Zhu Di’s face flushed red, a fire of humiliation and stifled anger rising in his chest. As the dignified Prince of Yan of the Great Ming, when had he ever suffered such insults?

But looking into Fan Tong’s unquestionable eyes, and then at his fellow mess hall soldiers nearby who all looked as if this was only natural, he ultimately gritted his teeth and swallowed his emotions.

He took a deep breath and raised the mace again. This time, he completely abandoned all form and technique, pouring all his strength into every strike.

Wild, brutal, and aimed only at pure destruction.

Fan Tong watched from the side and finally nodded in satisfaction.

That night, in Fan Tong’s tent.

Zhu Di was summoned alone. There were no reprimands, no drills, only a bowl of dark, viscous meat broth that emitted a strange, fishy, sweet scent.

"Drink it," Fan Tong said simply.

Zhu Di did not hesitate; he picked up the bowl and downed it in one go.

The scalding broth slid into his stomach, instantly turning into a violent, hot current that rampaged through his limbs and bones. He felt every cell in his body screaming; the veins beneath his skin pulsed violently, like living snakes. A deeper, more primal power seemed to be forcibly awakened from the depths of his marrow.

In the days that followed, Zhu Di felt like a different person.

His strength was climbing steadily at an unnatural rate. The mace that previously required both hands to wield barely was now being swung with ease using only one hand.

Correspondingly, his appetite grew larger and larger.

At one meal, he could easily finish half a roasted sheep and three large bowls of rice. Even so, after training, he would still feel a hunger that seemed to originate from the depths of his soul.

Fan Tong, watching Zhu Di’s bottomless-pit appetite, began to click his tongue in worry.

This was the main reason he had hesitated to expand his Ogre bodyguard squad on a large scale.

They ate too damn much!

A single enhanced ogre ate as much in a day as five or six ordinary soldiers. The twenty or so men under his command now consumed an astronomical amount of meat every day. And that was only because Xu Da had gritted his teeth and granted special approval, out of respect for Fan Tong’s contributions.

If the entire vanguard camp of thousands were to become like this...

Fan Tong shuddered. He had no doubt that Xu Da would immediately have him tied up, thrown into a pot, and stewed to provide a bit of extra meat for the whole army.

This godforsaken system—the cheat was powerful, but the after-sales service was a complete disaster.

He looked at Zhu Di, who was currently gnawing on a whole pig trotter, his mouth covered in grease, yet his eyes remaining clear. His feelings were complicated.

This kid was an absolute one-in-a-million martial arts genius. An ordinary person would have exploded from the violent power of that "enhanced" bloodline potion, yet he had endured it and absorbed the medicinal strength perfectly.

But the cost...

Fan Tong looked at the supply bill just sent over by the logistics officer and felt his heart bleeding.

If this continued, let alone meat, there wouldn't even be grass left. He would be eaten into bankruptcy himself.

He had to think of a way to generate some income.

Fan Tong’s small eyes darted around, his gaze shifting toward the distant north.

He had heard that the tribes of the Northern Yuan had nothing if not an endless supply of cattle and sheep roaming the mountains.

Moreover, it seemed the tents of those tribal chiefs were filled with hidden gold, silver, and jewels.

Yes, it was time to take these starving brats out for some "harvesting."