"It seems I'll have to have the science department accelerate and intensify their plant cultivation research."
But all of this required money. Wilder felt a headache coming on at the thought. "Of the eight-billion-Beli deposit for the cannons, four billion will be used for their development. The remaining four billion won't last long if we're not careful."
"The current population of Pulse-More is about one million two hundred thousand. To provide food for so many people every day..." Wilder couldn't help but suck in a breath of cold air at the thought. The number was enormous. No wonder his accumulated wealth was depleted so quickly.
Providing food for the civilians building Pulse-More was one thing. After all, they were working for Wilder without wages, and they were also planting crops. Although the current expenses were high, it was all to lay a solid foundation for the future. Therefore, even though his income couldn't cover his expenditures, Wilder had no intention of overly exploiting these civilians.
The food provided each day was roughly enough for one full meal. For the rest, the civilians had to fend for themselves. But even so, they saw hope for survival because they had planted the seeds of their own food. So, no one complained about the hardship in the short term. Once the food matured, everything would be different.
As for Pulse-More, that was the name Wilder had given to the capital city.
Just as Wilder was about to continue listing out a series of problems...
Knock, knock, knock.
There was a knock on the door of the room.
"Come in," Wilder said, looking up and putting down his pen.
The door opened, and Claire walked in, standing by the door to report to Wilder. "Boss, Mandigore and Bilvat have returned."
Oh?
A thought stirred in Wilder's mind.
"Have them come here."
"Yes, sir."
After Claire left, Wilder rubbed his brows again. "It seems the matter of the Cadre Factory has to be moved up the agenda."
Wilder wrote two characters on the paper: Martial and Civil. His previous plan for the Cadre Factory was to cultivate a group of loyal cadres, which was why he had sent Mandigore and Bilvat out to gather orphans from various places.
But now, it seemed that the original plan needed some changes.
First, the focus on cadres would remain unchanged. After all, military might was the ultimate truth.
But he couldn't just cultivate a group of muscle-headed cadres. Wilder thought for a moment and decided to teach according to aptitude.
He would add a cultural foundation to the martial training, teaching both simultaneously. Afterward, he would separate them based on their main focus, either civil or martial.
The civil path was what Wilder planned to use to cultivate national administrative talent. Therefore, they had to be smart enough, capable enough, and most importantly, they had to keep up with his way of thinking, cultivating in them a forward-looking mindset.
For the martial path, as long as they weren't foolish, possessed outstanding combat ability, could execute orders flawlessly, were adaptable, and knew how to get things done, that would be enough. Wilder planned to train them to be military leaders. Among them, there would also be martial deputy commanders with a more scholarly bent.
Afterward, the civil and martial paths must be kept separate.
One would manage the affairs of the state, the other would manage warfare and combat.
"I need a complete and detailed set of teaching materials," Wilder thought, and below the characters for civil and martial, he wrote three more: Talent Development Department.
"This can't be delayed. Tomorrow, issue a proclamation to recruit a large number of civilians who have worked as teachers to undergo a written test and screening. Those who pass will be appointed to positions in the Talent Development Department."
Wilder knew very well that masters often came from the common people, so there were some things he couldn't do himself, but he could gather the ideas of the common people to accomplish them.
"It can't be limited to those with teaching experience. Things like intellect and wisdom aren't limited to any specific group of people. Everyone who is confident should be allowed to participate."
Wilder quickly refined his idea. He planned to state in the recruitment notice that teaching experience was preferred, but he wouldn't block the path for other intelligent people.
"I also need a leader. I'll choose this leader from among my own subordinates. There may not be many with profound wisdom and the ability to adapt, but there should be one or two."
Soon, Mandigore and Bilvat were brought in.
They hadn't seen each other for a while. Apart from being a little tanner, their figures hadn't changed much. Wilder still held them in high regard.
One black, one white, both were former merchants. Their ability to get things done went without saying. The tasks Wilder had assigned them had so far been completed very steadily, which was what reassured Wilder the most. And their combat power was not much weaker than that of the high-ranking officers. In fact, if there were another Grand Tournament, Wilder felt that the two of them would very likely be promoted to the ranks of high-ranking officers.
Mandigore, not to mention, always carried an air of putting on a show with every move he made, yet he was very calm and composed.
The white-suited fat man, Bilvat, who always wore a smile like a Maitreya Buddha, was more ruthless and sinister than anyone when he struck. Most importantly, this damn fatso was very agile. His explosive power and speed were completely at odds with his figure.
His fighting style was also very showy. He held a wine glass in his left hand and fought with only one fist, and he was always smiling. Each punch could smash a large crater in the ground. Even Vice had said that he wouldn't dare to take his punches directly—of course, that was before he had eaten his Devil Fruit.
It seems that once everything is on the right track, it's time for another Grand Tournament, and it has to be on a larger scale than before! Wilder thought to himself.
"Boss."
"Boss."
The two walked in and reported to Wilder.
Wilder looked at them and smiled. "You've worked hard."
"Hahaha! It was no trouble at all. This journey was a lot of fun," Bilvat said, his personality more cheerful. He stuck out his protruding belly and shook his head with a grin.
Wilder smiled and nodded, saying no more and getting straight to the point.
"Sit down. Tell me about the situation."
Mandigore and Bilvat sat down opposite Wilder. Bilvat nodded and spoke first. "This time, we've gathered a total of three hundred and fifty orphans, ranging in age from three to twelve, but most of them are between six and nine. There are two hundred and thirty-two males and one hundred and eighteen females."
Mandigore, at the side, glanced at Bilvat. Seeing that he had said everything, he remained silent.
"Very good," Wilder said immediately, his mind already working.
In Wilder's mind, the two men before him were both capable of shouldering great responsibilities. Their individual combat power, ability to handle affairs, and intelligence were all online. They were not like Vice and Sherilmo, who were all brawn and no brain.
Wilder had a rough idea for the establishment of the Cadre Factory, and these two seemed to be good candidates.
Since that was the case, there was no time like the present. Wilder finished his thoughts, looked up at the two of them, and a slight smile appeared on his face.
"You two are both skilled in hand-to-hand combat, and you both have experience in business and management. I plan to appoint you as the chief instructors of the Cadre Factory. What do you think?"
Wilder's words surprised them both. They exchanged a glance, then turned back to Wilder and nodded solemnly. "Thank you for your trust, boss. I will not let you down."
Mandigore said nothing, but he looked at Wilder with great determination.
"Nyehehehe! Very good. With you two, I can rest assured. Now, come with me to see the orphans you've brought back. After we've seen them, I'll tell you about my plan."
"Yes, sir."
"Alright."
A short while later, Wilder and the other two arrived at a group of tents set up on the plains in the Direct Rule District.
The guards on duty saw Wilder approaching and quickly saluted. Wilder nodded to them and walked towards the largest tent.
The guard watched Wilder's back with adoration and excitedly said to the person next to him, "Did you see that? King Wilder just nodded at me!"
"Nonsense, he clearly nodded at me!"
Wilder had no idea what was happening behind him. He, Mandigore, and Bilvat arrived at the front of the tent. The people inside seemed to have heard their approaching footsteps, and the originally buzzing noise instantly vanished.
Wilder straightened his clothes and put on a gentle smile, trying to make himself look as kind and approachable as possible. Then, he gently lifted the tent flap and stepped inside.
Inside the tent, a group of children were huddled together in a corner, looking at Wilder with a mixture of curiosity and fear.
As for Mandigore and Bilvat, the children were already familiar with them, so they didn't have any particular reaction to their arrival.
They were a group of orphans who had been drifting with the current. To them, Mandigore and Bilvat were neither enemies nor benefactors.
Being brought here was just changing one place of wandering for another. The food was charity. If this was to be called a small kindness, they had experienced it many times before.
Looking at this group of little ones, their eyes filled with nervousness, fear, curiosity, hostility, and vigilance, Wilder tried to make his smile appear even more gentle and kind.
"Hello."
Wilder used a simple and almost old-fashioned opening line. Afterward, he looked at the children, his face wreathed in smiles.
"He... hello," a weak, childish voice came from the crowd, which couldn't help but make Wilder turn to look.
It was a little girl of about five or six. Her face was covered in soot, but her eyes were dark and bright. Her small body was hidden in the crowd of taller children. It seemed that after speaking, she realized she was the only one who had spoken, and she was instantly at a loss, overcome with nervousness.
She tried to hide deeper in the crowd to escape the searching gaze that was directed at her.
Wilder smiled, a genuine smile this time.
A sensible and polite child would never be disliked, no matter what. And right now, Wilder needed just such a sensible and polite child to be the bridge, to connect him with this group of orphans.
Wilder didn't like this kind of meeting because it was very troublesome to deal with a group of children who didn't understand your good intentions.
For example, you hand one a piece of candy, and he looks at you with a "you're trying to poison me" glare, avoiding the candy as if it were a plague and trying to hide as far away as possible.
That kind of vigilance was difficult to dispel.
But once a child who was willing to accept your kindness appeared, then there was a possibility of breaking this deadlock.
Wilder was very happy—happy that he wouldn't have to go through too much trouble, and also happy for the girl. He decided to give the first brave one the best reward.
She deserved it because she had earned it with her politeness and courage.
Politeness and courage were two very long and wide roads in life. They could also accommodate many small paths at the same time. Wilder was gratified by her politeness and courage, so he decided to give her another great path:
Martial strength.
It wouldn't do for a little girl not to have enough martial strength to protect herself.
When he pulled her out of the crowd, she acted like a startled bamboo rat.
What made Wilder a bit embarrassed was that she was, in fact, a male creature. That is to say, she was a he. It was a wonderful misunderstanding caused by a momentary lapse in judgment upon first sight.
Since that was the case, he had to change his wording.
It should be changed to...
It wouldn't do for a little boy not to have enough martial strength to protect himself.
"Believe me, you and little Aisha will become good friends. Of course, when you grow up, you can also have a romance. Hahaha!"
Wilder felt he wasn't very good at joking because he found that the boy in front of him, who didn't even reach his knees, was about to cry.
"Perhaps we should have a good talk. A real man doesn't solve problems by crying, do you agree?"
Perhaps the words "a real man" touched his heart, or perhaps it was Wilder's "doesn't seem like a bad guy" behavior. He looked at Wilder intently, then nodded heavily, sniffing back a runny nose with a slurp.
"What's your name?" Wilder squatted down so that the little boy wouldn't have to crane his neck too much to look up at him, to prevent him from getting cervical spondylosis at such a young age.
"Rook," Rook's voice was very soft, perhaps because he was nervous. He looked at Wilder with his dark, bright eyes, occasionally sniffing back the snot that threatened to run down his nose.
What a simple child.
Wilder thought of Bo-chan from Crayon Shin-chan. Rook right now was a perfect image of him, but it was because he was too nervous that he seemed a bit dazed.
Perhaps I should train him as my most trusted confidant?
Wilder still had to treat Rook, who had dared to be the first to respond, differently. Of course, after making the decision in his heart, he wouldn't say it out loud.
Wilder "benevolently" patted Rook's head and said with a smile, "My name is Wilder, the king of this country."
King!
Hearing this, not only Rook but all the children behind him were stunned.
To these orphans, the word "king" was not something they couldn't understand. In fact, it was very familiar because they were a group of children who had lost their country and home at a very young age. They had naturally learned long ago what a country was, and what a king was.
The person before them was... a king?
Rook stared with his round, dark eyes, somewhat in disbelief.
But how could a king appear here? Appear before people like us?
"Do you want to become the king's soldier?"
Just as Rook and the other orphans were thinking this, Wilder's words made their breath catch in their throats. Then, their eyes gradually widened.
The others didn't dare to speak, but Rook was different. His voice trembled slightly, as if with surprise, or perhaps disbelief. "I... can I?"
"Of course," Wilder replied with a smile, his eyes narrowing slightly.
The process was surprisingly simple. He had successfully left a very good impression on this group of children.