915: 311.
Ah, the feeling of the boorang flying out and sticking into oneself is so annoying!_2 915: 311.
Ah, the feeling of the boorang flying out and sticking into oneself is so annoying!_2 Riding on the Scorpion Lion, Touching Your Poverty sauntered over, carrying a small pouch, and said to Dump Truck:
“The results of everyone’s draw have been tallied, want to check it out now?”
“Check out what for!”
Half-Hanging Insurance, protected by his four female Guards, complained:
“There’s a voting option in the player interface, the NPCs will tally it there, why do we need a draw?”
“Hey, it’s all about the ceremonial feel, isn’t it?”
Touching Your Poverty chuckled and said:
“A big event like this deserves to give everyone a chance to participate and show off.
Hurry up and write down your decisions, then I need to hand this thing over to the NPCs.”
After so bustling, the 214 minor players finally ca to a consensus before Hog reached the abandoned tax office, and Doris piled up the slips of paper with decisions written on them, pretending to look them over.
189 minor players agreed to accept the Bloodclaw Clan and negotiate with them, while the remaining 25 would rather see Smugglers’ Forest burning.
This decision was also known by Murphy at the Crimson Castle at the sa ti.
The Vampire Lord doing his “daily fencing” with Necessary Evil paused for a mont, then expressionlessly marked the 25 players who had voted against in his Core Bead.
These were individuals who needed “special attention,” but it didn’t an these minor players were “resented.”
There was absolutely no need for that!
For Murphy, those small players with “destructive tendencies” were also treasures to him.
Their unsettling desires could also be thrown into appropriate circumstances at the right ti, and as a Manager, he had to learn to make good use of various Talents to achieve his goals.
“Reveno, grant vision, let have a look,” he said.
Murphy in the Scarlet Corridor gestured with his hand, drew Necessary Evil into his hand, and then murmured sothing before closing his eyes.
The next instant, as he closed his eyes, his own view seamlessly switched to the bird’s-eye view of the Blood-Drinking Spirit Vulture soaring in the sky; below was the scene unfold at the abandoned tax office in Smugglers’ Forest.
Under the escort of a dozen Jackal Barbarians riding Earth Wolves, Chieftain Hog rode in on a fiercely decorated Seat Wolf in the clan’s style into the ruins eyed covetously by the players.
This flashy character even planted a flag on the saddle of the Seat Wolf he “inherited” from Kenbort, bearing the emblem he designed for the Bloodclaw Clan.
But honestly, being eyed by over 200 enthusiastic Warriors wasn’t a pleasant feeling; the Blood Claw Barbarians were very alert, so of them even bristling the mane on their necks.
However, Hog was calm.
After all, it had seen the world in the fighting clubs; it knew how to deal with these “strange Highlanders.”
After exchanging a glance with Miss Doris hovering in the shadows and enjoying the spectacle, Hog jumped down from his Earth Wolf, spread his arms, and shouted in the peculiar tone of the Jackal People to the five player representatives ahead:
“Ah, my brave human friends!
Since that perilous night of departure, I’ve been constantly worried about your safety.
Finally, we can et again.
The rewards I promised are right here!”
He shouted a few commands to a Jackal Beast Tar behind him, and within seconds, a host of Earth Wolf mounts with crude saddles were led into the ruins.
These mount Earth Wolves were specially trained, larger in size than the ferocious Bloody Hyenas to offer better load carrying and Endurance.
As mounts, naturally, they couldn’t be too aggressive; they were very docile, so when Hog handed the reins of these Earth Wolf mounts to the players, these fiercely looking wolves just howled twice and stopped struggling.
Seeing Hog promptly paying the reward, the fire of anger in the administrative players dimd significantly.
Especially after Hog then commanded the Jackals to pile the various spoils collected from Kenbort’s campsite on that night in the middle of the ruins, such candidness and non-negotiating attitude made the five player representatives even more satisfied.
They imdiately sent professional accountants “Galaxy Puncher” and “Ruthless Mantis” forward to tally the assets, and a few minutes later, the two ca to a rough conclusion.
“It’s about a third,” said Endless mantis, leaning on a lion spear decorated with a Blood Vulture emblem, to the group of veteran players:
“Including what we previously looted, almost half of it is in our hands.”
“The rest, needless to say, is the ‘benefit’ for Crimson Castle’s logistics.
But even now, according to the exchange rates provided by the Administrative office, it could be exchanged for a few thousand Gold Coins—each brother here could get roughly around a hundred Gold Coins.
Truth told, this inco had exceeded everyone’s expectations.
Of course, this is for the veteran players, newcors do not share in the spoils.”
“Of course not, this is what we fought hard to earn, but I feel like those Jackals definitely kept a portion for themselves.”
Gebao whispered:
“Should we ask for more?
We fought the battle, and they took away those spoils without lifting a finger—who could be happy with that?”
“There’s no need for that.”
Dump Truck shook his head and explained:
“Right now, everyone agrees to support the Bloodclaw Clan; consider those spoils a necessary investnt to arm our friendly Jackal allies.
We can’t expect them to hunt with just their claws.
And now that it’s going to be a reputation faction, they’ll surely have a Quartermaster.
If they have nothing at hand, how could they give out tasks and rewards?”
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