182: Chapter 182 Integration of the Crime Battalion, Reorganization of Defense (1)

Commander Cai flipped the roster to the second page.

Most of the remarks column on the second page was blank—only a few names had the same line of text written behind them: "Retreated half a step."

He closed the roster—pressing down on the cover with his palm.

The pressure wasn't heavy—but his finger joints bulged outward.

He raised his head to look at Lu Changyuan—the look in his eyes was different from when he first met Lu Changyuan at the Sin Battalion encampment.

Back then, he had been squatting on a broken wooden crate, smoking bone-powder tobacco—he had looked at the transfer order for three breaths and asked, "Can you wash it off?"

Now, he didn't ask anything—he gripped the roster in his hand, waiting for Lu Changyuan to speak.

"The first page—" Lu Changyuan's voice drifted down from the stone platform.

The sea breeze blew from east to west—pushing his voice toward the formation.

The sea breeze was neither too strong nor too weak—just enough for his voice to reach the last row.

"Those who took an extra step forward when deploying. Those who braced their shields tighter than the others. Those who didn't retreat when the fish demons lunged. The people on the first page—from today, you are assigned to the first perimeter defense line of Blue Moon Island."

He gestured toward the outer perimeter of the Ring Reef.

He pointed toward the eastern reef wall—the reef wall was embedded with sensory array discs, and a row of sentry platforms had been newly chiseled into the top of the reef.

The platforms were chiseled downward from the top of the reef—each platform was about three feet wide, enough for two people to stand side by side.

In front of the platforms was the sea surface outside the Ring Reef—looking out from the platforms, one could see the entire stretch of sea in the direction of the Dragon Burial Trench.

On the platforms were the sensory array signal repeaters that Leng Feng and his personal guard had installed yesterday—the repeaters were only the size of a fist, embedded in the inner stone wall of the platform.

There were three lights on the repeater: the green light meant normal—no abnormal Spiritual Qi fluctuations. The yellow light meant warning—fluctuations above the Foundation Establishment Stage. The red light meant emergency—fluctuations above the Golden Core Stage were transmitted directly to Lu Changyuan.

"Leng Feng will teach you how to identify the warning signals—everyone at each sentry post must remember the meaning of the three lights."

"If the green light isn't on—check if the repeater's Spirit Stone is exhausted."

"If the yellow light is on—immediately scan the sea surface toward the Dragon Burial Trench with an observation lens, confirm the target's location and quantity, and then transmit the message to the next sentry post."

"If the red light is on—tear the emergency talisman at your waist, and the entire island will enter combat readiness."

He paused—his gaze sweeping back from the sentry platforms toward the formation.

"The outer perimeter defense line—your monthly pay will be the same as the Blue Moon Island Dao soldiers. Doubled."

Someone in the formation gasped. The sound was short—coming from the middle-left of the formation, then interrupted by someone next to them nudging them with an elbow.

The Sin Battalion's previous monthly pay had been half that of a standard battalion—the treatment of the lowest-ranked battalion.

Doubling it meant going from half to the same as other battalions in the fortress—doubling it again reached the standard of Blue Moon Island Dao soldiers.

The monthly pay for Blue Moon Island Dao soldiers was nearly thirty percent higher than that of ordinary battalions in the fortress—because there were no extra subsidies on the island, Su Qingli had folded the subsidies directly into the base pay when setting the standard.

"Cultivation quota—an extra two spoonfuls of Millennium Spiritual Milk every month. It will come from the public treasury balance."

There was no more gasping in the formation. It was silent for nearly three breaths.

Millennium Spiritual Milk—most people in the Sin Battalion had only heard of it in rumors.

That was the hundred catties of Spiritual Milk that Elder Tianji had sold to Blue Moon Island—when a Cultivator at the Foundation Establishment Stage cultivated, they would take a small spoonful, dissolve it in their palm, and push it into their Acupoints using Spiritual Qi, which could accelerate the accumulation of spiritual power.

Most people in the Sin Battalion were at the Qi Refining Stage—for their Dantian, two spoonfuls of Millennium Spiritual Milk was equivalent to compressing a month's cultivation progress into three days.

Such a quota was something they hadn't dared to even dream of in the Sin Battalion before—previously, their only cultivation resource had been one bowl of Spirit Rice porridge a day.

The porridge was so watery that the rice grains settled at the bottom of the bowl and could be counted one by one.

"The second page—" Lu Changyuan looked at the roster in Commander Cai's hand.

His voice hadn't changed—the volume was the same as before.

"Stay at the Inner Harbor. Responsible for Pier loading, unloading, and material transport. The monthly pay remains the same—but after working each day, you get priority for receiving Spirit Rice porridge."

"The people on the second page—" He paused. The pause lasted less than a breath.

"From now on, there will be a re-evaluation every season. The evaluation standard will be set by Commander Cai—any person on the second page who performs steadily at the Pier for three consecutive seasons can apply to be transferred to the first page."

"Any person on the first page who fails to report three times consecutively while at a sentry post—will be transferred back to the Inner Harbor."

He didn't say the word "punishment." He didn't say that the people on the second page were being punished because they had retreated half a step.

He simply divided the roster into two pages—the two pages corresponded to two different types of treatment.

The gap between the two types of treatment was large enough—large enough that everyone standing in the formation could immediately calculate what the difference was.

The gap between doubled pay plus cultivation quota—and the same pay with just one extra bowl of Spirit Rice porridge—was not just in Spirit Stones.

The gap lay in this: the people on the first page were now the defense force of Blue Moon Island—they stood at sentry posts, held observation lenses and emergency talismans in their hands, and had the Geng Metal Sword Intent Killing Array at their backs.

The people on the second page were now the logistics force of Blue Moon Island—they carried wooden crates, pushed cargo ships, and stood at the warehouse doors checking shipping manifests.

Both types of work needed to be done—but either type of work was written on their faces.

The people on the first page walked through the island—hanging from their waists were sentry post tokens.

The people on the second page walked through the island—holding carrying hooks in their hands.

No punishment—but heavier than punishment.

Lu Changyuan walked down from the stone platform. He walked to the front of the formation—standing next to Commander Cai.

He glanced at the roster in Commander Cai's hand—then shifted his gaze away from the roster and swept it toward the middle of the formation.

Xue Mingyuan's name was on the first page. Toward the lower half of the middle section.

Lu Changyuan looked at that name—the gaze lasted less than a breath.

Xue Mingyuan stood in the middle of the formation—wearing the Sin Battalion's standard grey cloth military robe.

The cuffs of his military robe were stained with wood shavings from the crates at the Pier—he had still been moving cargo at the Inner Harbor this morning.

His face had a little more flesh than when he had been squatting by the dark trench—after drinking Spirit Rice porridge for nearly a month, the hollows on his cheekbones from being gaunt had become half an inch shallower.

But the dry, cracked lines on the tops of his feet from being soaked in muddy water were still there—new skin was beginning to grow at the edges of the cracks, and the color of the new skin was a shade lighter than the old skin next to it.