Some had red eyes, while others pressed their lips in a smile, as if holding their breath to stop themselves from calling out on the spot.

"It's true."

"If we follow him, we can truly have our own land."

"Master Louis has always been true to his word."

Low murmurs rose in the fields, but no one stopped working.

Instead, the rhythm of shovels hitting the ground quickened, the wooden beams were carried more steadily, and even those mixing the mud began to sing as they worked.

It's not that no one was tired or cold, but everyone worked harder.

They all knew in their hearts that this time, as long as they could endure, build the roads, clear the fields, and plant the first batch of seeds.

Their children, their names, could take root on this new land.

They did not ask for much, nor did they expect any rewards or glory. What they wanted was truly their own land, food to fill their stomachs, and a lord who kept his word and could shield them from the wind and snow.

They worked desperately, not because they were forced, but to fulfill Louis's promise and to repay him for this trust.

A lord gave them land, and they were willing to give him an entire spring.

Thus, under Louis's promise and plan, the development of Mai Lang Territory entered an intense building period with clear division of labor.

The pioneers started from the most primitive tasks, cleaning up the environment.

They chopped down twisted fir trees in the forest, cleared the giant rocks and permafrost soil on the ground, filled in the beast dens, melting pits, and abandoned insect disaster holes.

If they found decaying bones or magical beast claw marks along the way, it was searched and cleared by designated knight squads.

Every shovel that turned up the permafrost seemed to tell them that this land no longer belonged to monsters, but to humans.

New homes were being built simultaneously.

The "semi-underground communal dwellings" patterned after the Red Tide Territory prototype quickly rose from the valley floor.

This was a residential structure integrating insulation, windproofing, and rapid construction, resembling mounds of grass on the outside, yet warm and compact inside.

Logs served as the bones, grass mud was the skin, and the half-subterranean design could isolate the piercing cold of the Northern Territory.

During the day, they allowed light and ventilation, while at night, fires could be burned without losing heat.

For these people who had experienced the wandering of insect disasters, these earth mound houses were temporary havens and also the embryos of future hope.

"It's sturdier than my old house."

"When spring comes, plant some onions and yellow root grass by the door, and it will feel more like home."

And of course, there was a water source team, as this was the lifeline of everything.

Survey teams set out early, exploring the groundwater veins at the foot of the mountain, and began constructing water collection pools and canals along the streams.

On one side was a clean water well specifically for drinking, secured with filter cloth, sand, stone, and purification stones.

On the other side, there were planned irrigation canals, connecting future fields and nurseries.

"This year we won't rely on the heavens, but on this canal system."

The roads were also gradually being laid out.

Mountain paths were leveled, and the original muddy paths leading to various villages and the main Red Tide roads were widened and restructured. Inside, a "cross-axis" road layout was planned for future district and market development.

"This isn't just setting up a shelter for survival, it's building a city."

Thus, under countless shovels, hoes, and bonfires, this once-dead valley began to take shape.

Roads connected, canals formed, and semi-underground dwellings mushroomed out of the ground, with wooden stake fences watching over the newborn boundaries in the wind and snow.

People were no longer refugees fleeing disaster but pioneers about to cultivate their homeland.

And it was already late March, time to prepare for spring sowing, the most important period of the year.

So Louis decided to hold a spring plowing mobilization conference to boost the enthusiasm of the people.

The temporary administrative hall was a building converted from an old granary, with crude wooden beams still bearing the smoke marks from burning pest corpses.

But now, it was painted with the Red Tide emblem, equipped with new glass windows, and the walls hung with symbols of the Red Tide.

Although the meeting had not yet started, the crowd had already gathered.

Some were elders from various villages, some were capable hands brought in from the Red Tide Territory, some were blacksmiths, foremen, and agricultural officials, and there were farmer representatives with frostbitten faces sitting up straight.

And just as the sun shone perfectly into the porch, Louis Calvin, draped in a black cloak and carrying a sword, entered.

He did not let any formal ceremony usher him; he simply walked steadily to the front stage, standing firmly and gazing at the full hall.

In the eyes of everyone, Louis, cloaked in black, walked up the dais, his steps steady and powerful.

"I know everyone is very busy." He began with a smile, speaking calmly, "For the past month, many of you have barely closed your eyes."

"There are those clearing land, those building canals, those organizing relocations, and those who stayed up late drawing land contracts and family division maps."

He paused for a moment, surveying the hall, and earnestly said, "But all of this is what you should be doing because you are the backbones of the Red Tide Territory. Most of you have walked with me from the ruins of the Red Tide to where we stand today."

"Many village heads, settlement heads, and foremen were lifted from refugees or even slaves, by me, one by one. We endured the insect disaster and bitter winter together. Now we stand here, not to hold a meeting, but to begin a new wave of conquests."

There was no sound from the crowd, but several pairs of eyes had already quietly reddened.

Louis raised his hand, and his adjutant unfurled a roll of parchment engraved with the scarlet pattern.

"From this moment, the 'Spring Plowing Mobilization Order' is officially issued!"

His voice rose, resonating like a sword unsheathed: "All villages and communities enter the spring plowing preparation state effective immediately, with village heads as the first responsible people for the farming preparations, providing daily progress reports."

"All requisitions, labor, and resources should be prioritized for agricultural use, and inspection officials will be dispatched in groups to tour the villages within three days;"

"A 'Spring Plowing Mid-Term Summary Meeting' will be held by the end of next month, launching three follow-up projects: canal excavation, livestock breeding, and border farm settlements."

"Each village, each settlement, each workshop: your own fields, your own canals, your own territories, will be yours to lead this time!"

"I am not here to make decisions for you, but to ask you to lead your people and take this year's first round of sowing!"

Several village heads were flushed with youthful excitement, eager to try, as if Louis had just issued a battle command instead of an agricultural order.

Louis stepped off the podium, slowly walking to the foremost village head, patting his shoulder, and then gazing around at everyone.

"I also have an announcement. From today, all villages, settlements, workshops, and administrative groups, will be integrated into the 'Performance Incentive' system."

"Those who meet targets and lead in increased production will receive bonuses, get land allocations, be commended, and have priority in joining the regular ranks. Outstanding performers may even be selected early for prefectural officers, assigned to the Red Tide Main City."

Then he changed his tone: "However, anyone found slacking, falsely reporting, embezzling, or forming cliques will be lightly punished with labor deductions and food ration cuts, and severely demoted or exiled, with no one able to protect them."

The entire venue fell suddenly silent, understanding this was not an empty gesture.

Yet soon, those present clenched their fists, eyes filled with hope.

Because everyone knew that under Louis's leadership, rules and opportunities were never just empty words.

"Let me put it more straightforwardly," Louis slowly surveyed them, but his tone became passionate: "Spring plowing is not merely farming; it's a war against hunger!"

"I do not demand every inch of land to produce grain, but I do demand that you do not give up on any hope."

"This land is called Mai Lang. In the future, it will be planted full of wheat, it will feed the entire Red Tide, and it will establish the Northern Territory's roots firmly!"

"And the future depends on you!" He suddenly swung his arm, and his adjutants distributed official plaques one by one to each village representative and officer.

These were pieces of wood engraved with the Red Tide Emblem and village number, symbolizing:

From now on, this land would be watched, owned, and guarded with sworn lives by someone.

Many people's eyes turned red, and their backs straightened.

They were not afraid of hardship, but they feared having no one to believe in them.

Yet now, the great Lord Louis had bet the entire future of the Red Tide on them.

It was a mission and an honor.

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