Lord: Starting with Biological Modification

Chapter 265: Chapter 260: Web of Death

Three days later, the town hall square was packed with people.

Several layers of people were packed densely in front of a temporary notice board, all of them trying to push their way in.

Laine nervously rubbed his palms, his back soaked with sweat.

"Make way, make way!" a clerk shouted, holding a thick roll of parchment high as he walked toward the notice board.

The crowd fell silent, leaving only the sound of rapid breathing.

The clerk unrolled the first notice and read aloud, "Security Department examination results!"

Laine’s heart hammered so hard it felt like it would burst from his chest. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms.

"Laine, comprehensive evaluation: third rank. Proposed appointment: Deputy Governor of Port Defense and Garrison Commander, under the Security Department!"

The crowd erupted in a massive cheer!

"Laine! You passed!"

"Gods, Deputy Governor!"

Laine stood frozen, his mind a complete blank.

The sounds around him faded, and the world began to sway.

Barton rushed over and slapped him on the shoulder.

"Brother, you did it!"

"I... I really..." Laine’s voice trembled.

The cheers in the square grew louder.

More names were read, and more cheers rang out.

Velin stood at the town hall window, watching the lively crowd below.

"My lord, the first list of appointments is out." Tristan walked in, holding a thick folder.

"How are the results?"

"Better than expected." Tristan opened the file. "A total of one hundred and thirty-two people were accepted, covering all levels of the three departments. Practical types like Laine make up more than sixty percent."

Velin nodded.

"Grassroots experience is more important than book knowledge."

"Look at these people," Tristan said, pointing to the list.

"Harry, who came from being a dockworker, was appointed Head of Logistics Coordination for the Development Department. Tom, a blacksmith’s apprentice, became the Mechanical Maintenance Team Leader in the Technology Department. And Mary, that laundress, actually passed the exam for an administrative secretary position."

Tristan added,

"Also, as you instructed, we’ve outlined the future career ranking plan in the notice’s addendum."

"All jobs, including technical artisans, will have minimum skill level requirements. As the levels increase, there will be corresponding minimum salary standards. From now on, everyone will know what rank they need to earn the merit points they want."

Velin turned from the window, a satisfied smile on his face.

"That’s right. True ability isn’t about credentials, it’s about solving problems. Our job is to build a ladder for the capable to rise."

Waves of applause and cheers came from outside the window.

The newly appointed officials were on stage, taking their oaths of office.

Laine stood on the stage, looking at the sea of people below.

He remembered how just a few months ago he was hauling sacks, and now he was in charge of the entire port’s defense.

"I swear!" Laine yelled at the top of his lungs. "I will not betray the Lord’s trust! I will not disappoint everyone’s expectations!"

Thunderous applause erupted from below the stage.

In the first week after the reforms, the whole of Mi Port seemed transformed.

Tasks that previously required Barrett’s personal command were now resolved with a simple meeting between the new leaders.

Police Captain Barton wasn’t idle either.

As one of the few veterans to pass the first-level examination, he was patrolling the workshop district with the newly promulgated "Public Security Regulations" in hand.

Two merchants were arguing heatedly over the ownership of some goods. In the past, Barton would have long since settled the case based on experience and intimidation.

Now, he simply flipped through the regulations, pointed to a specific article, and assigned responsibility in a few words, leaving both parties completely convinced.

Under the new system, a police officer’s use of the statutes was a key performance indicator.

The changes in the Technology Department were even more obvious.

Previously, each workshop operated independently; now, production was centrally coordinated.

Parts produced in the steelworks were sent directly to the machine shops for assembly.

Cloth from the textile mills could be delivered to the tailor shops for production on the same day.

Valerius held the new workflow chart, nodding in satisfaction.

"This is what a factory should be! What was it before? A disorganized mess!"

The biggest change was in the people’s hearts.

People on the streets walked faster.

No one ambled about listlessly anymore; everyone was busy rushing their work, studying, and preparing for the next exam.

"I heard there’s another round of selections next month!"

"More than just selections! Did you see the addendum on the notice? All positions will have rank requirements from now on. The higher the rank, the higher the base salary! This is what it means to eat by your own ability!"

This positive atmosphere was infectious.

Just as the territory was flourishing, that group of Alien Races from under the sea, after resting for several days, launched a new round of harassment.

A dozen shadows crept along the seabed at high speed. This time, their target was a section of coastline with lax defenses.

There, only a few patrol members carrying lanterns paced back and forth lazily, clearly oblivious to the potential danger.

The leader of the scout team emitted a sonar pulse, ordering them to split up and surround the target.

He was certain this raid would succeed.

Just as they entered the planned attack route, an extremely low hum vibrated up from below—WHUMMM...

The scouts froze. A strange blind spot had appeared in their resonance perception.

On the port’s tallest watchtower, a red warning light flashed on and then quickly went out.

The scout leader suppressed his unease, blaming the strange sound on the complex seabed topography.

He waved his claws, issuing the attack command.

The shadows shot out of the water like arrows loosed from a bow, pouncing toward the few fragile "prey" on the shore.

They could already see the terrified expressions on the patrolmen’s faces.

However, as they charged into an area of swirling tidal eddies, something suddenly went wrong!

Following a dull grinding sound from the shore, a giant net covering the entire area shot up from the seabed!

The few scouts at the front crashed headlong into the net, its barbs catching on their armor.

The more they struggled, the tighter the net became, and the deeper the barbs dug in.

The immense pull of the whirlpools turned this death-net into a trap they couldn’t escape from quickly.

The Multi-Armed Race scouts behind them were horrified, instinctively fleeing toward the reefs on either side.

But another counterattack awaited them there.

The moment they neared the reefs, they felt intense, prickling pain all over their bodies.

The reefs were covered in dense clusters of "Spine Urchins," which had extended their venomous spines now that they felt threatened.

The scouts convulsed and writhed in agony, their bodies quickly growing numb and stiff.

Chaos and panic spread through their ranks.

Their sonar pulses were filled with signals for help.

But it wasn’t over.

On the tall, previously dark towers flanking the coast, heavy panels crashed down, revealing two Dwarf wind-powered crossbows that had earned glorious battle honors.

"VWWWWOMP—VWWWWOMP—"

The heavy sounds of the mechanisms rang out in succession as two arm-thick crossbow bolts tore through the air with a shriek, flying toward the targets in the net.

Originally, these wind-powered crossbows weren’t placed in the port area. Despite their immense power, their accuracy against small, agile targets was less than ideal.

However, thanks to Sea Wolf’s coordination, the Multi-Armed Race had lost their ability to move nimbly.

Against the Sea Race trapped in the giant net, practically unable to move, the crossbows became the most efficient slaughtering tools.

Water and flesh exploded together as the targeted scout was impaled and pinned to the reef.

The terrifying impact of the crossbow bolt tore its body to shreds.

After the first volley, there was a brief pause, filled only with the creaking of the winch tightening the giant net and the wails of the dying.

Immediately after, a second and third volley of bolts followed, cleaning up every target that was still moving.

The once-confident hunters had become hunted prey, slaughtered in less than a quarter of an hour.

The Multi-Armed Race Warriors who were hit but still conscious began severing their own limbs, trying to escape the net.

The few surviving scouts hastily collected the severed limbs of their comrades before fleeing back to the deep sea without a second glance.

Laine lowered his arm, coldly observing the chaotic battlefield under the moonlight.

Mutilated corpses floated on the sea’s surface, and a few twisted "trophies" hung in the giant net.

For the first time, Minas Tirith Port had dealt the enemy a resounding and painful blow in the very domain where they excelled.

Velin stood on the balcony of the Lord’s Mansion, watching the port’s orderly response.

Under the moonlight, the figures moved like gears in a machine.

Everyone knew what they had to do; every department was playing its part.

’The threat of an external enemy has, conversely, become the best opportunity to test the new system,’ Velin muttered to himself.

Just then, a knock came at the door.

"My lord! An urgent letter from the Royal Capital!"

Two attendants entered the study, together carrying a magically sealed chest.

A wax seal was affixed to the chest, stamped with the emblem of the Royal Capital Magic Academy.

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