My Players Are So Fierce

1493: 503.

The Spring of Construction Dog – The Impregnable Fortress of the Samoyed

1493: 503.

The Spring of Construction Dog – The Impregnable Fortress of the Samoyed

“What the hell kind of ditch is this?

Why does it differ so much from the map!

Did you guys not measure before starting work, or did drinking too much horse piss last night make every one of you lose your eyesight?’

This is dereliction of duty!

You motherfuckers are all going to be brought before a military tribunal!”

While Murphy and Happy Stick were discussing military affairs in the sky, down at the defensive line, “Samoyed Syria”, wearing a Stonemason Association architect’s uniform, was holding a Spiritual Energy-enhanced measuring rod, spitting venom at the two supervisors beside him.

He cursed like an angry lion:

“I don’t blame the Gnolls for not understanding the design plans because they have no brains; they can’t comprehend these lines and figures.

But do you also lack brains?

Can’t you understand them either?

I’m giving you three hours to fill this ditch back in and re-dig it!

If you delay the entire construction schedule, I’ll personally see to it that you’re put on trial!”

Under his reprimand, the two supervisors, who had just been promoted, kept their heads down and didn’t dare to retort, instead, they scurried off under his berating to gather the Gnoll laborers to start digging again.

The Gnolls had no complaints.

They enjoyed digging ditches, and now they only needed to keep digging to get food and even candles; it was the perfect life for them.

Redoing work was not a problem for their low intelligence, but the human laborers working alongside the Gnolls couldn’t stand it, and they clamored to demand an explanation from Samoyed, only to be stopped by the supervisors.

Although Samoyed Syria had been in Transylvania for less than a month, his reputation as the “Big Supervisor” was already “resounding” within the Stonemason Association.

Unlike the Dust Beaters and brick movers, who had rich theoretical knowledge but little practical experience, Samoyed Syria had been in the civil construction industry for over a decade in real life.

He was one of Old Chen’s most proud disciples, not only capable of supervising but also skilled in wall-building and plastering, with rich experience and a full range of professional certificates, as well as substantial experience in managerial positions.

In reality, he had been involved in the construction of a major bridge project, boasting a very impressive resume.

On his third day at the Stonemason Association, he “busted” a small gang colluding internally and externally to sell construction materials, and the supervisors involved are now doing hard labor in the mines of Dark Baron Territory, while the unscrupulous guys who had been assisting them in selling materials had been personally hanged outside of Crimson Castle by Militia Commander Mr.

Portman.

If local supervisors could deceive Dust Beaters and brick movers with their experience, their little tricks were like child’s play to Samoyed.

Rumor has it that this formidable Big Supervisor already has “dirt” on all the supervisors and is just waiting for them to slip up so he can punish them.

This has earned Samoyed the nickname “Devil Supervisor.”

The most interesting part is that this nickname was not given by players but was a so-called “title of respect” discussed privately by the local supervisors.

When Samoyed learned of it, the middle-aged man was not only not angry but actually received it with a smile.

Samoyed Syria was indifferent to the fear he inspired in the laborers around him.

With one hand holding the blueprint and the other leaning on the measuring rod, activating its simple magic formula to check if the foundation being dug was up to standard, he worked very diligently, even more seriously than the projects he was in charge of in reality.

This was because the construction of the bunker he was currently overseeing, from design to execution, was entirely his creation.

Moreover, the design of the ground and underground fortresses around the area were also the results of his reference to World War I cases.

“Samoyed bro, the new laborers have arrived, they’re asking for you at the camp to sign for receiving.”

Just as Samoyed Syria finished measuring the foundation and was preparing to check the consistency of the cement mix, “Blood-stained Santo Lance Marcus” came galloping over and shouted:

“Also arrived is a strange Dwarf, who claims to be a Priest from the Temple of Gaia, invited by Dwarf Marshal to inaugurate our defensive position!”

“Inaugurate my ass!

The moment this defensive line started excavation, my disciples already set off fireworks and offered prayers to the gods, what we need now is fortification.”

Samoyed rolled up the blueprints under his arm, stepped forward, mounted his own horse, and followed Marcus toward the labor camp, while inspecting the construction progress around him and casually taking out a slice of dry bread from his horse’s pouch to nibble on to fend off hunger.

This level of commitment left Marcus clicking his tongue in admiration.

He thought they, the role-playing players, were serious enough, but compared to this “Devil Supervisor,” they might as well have been on a carefree vacation.

“You know, Samoyed bro, you don’t have to go this far.”

Blood-stained Santo Lance Marcus, a young man, whispered to Samoyed Syria, who was at least a generation older than him:

“Just give the NPCs the blueprints, and they’ll handle the rest.

You don’t have to keep an eye on them here.

The Maginot Line is so big, you can’t possibly visit every site, right?

Isn’t this more tiring than working a job?

“We’re playing a game, you should find some fun for yourself.”

“Bullshit!

If you’re not watching over them, those guys will slack off.”

Samoyed Syria shook his head and said:

“In comparison, the Gnolls may be stupid but they’re more obedient.

If it weren’t for them being too dumb to understand the designs, I’d have considered promoting a few of them to supervisors.

And moreover, Marcus bro…”

“Just call me ‘Little horse,’ Samoyed bro, you are my elder, heh heh.”