Two months passed quickly, marked by rapid development.

Fulfilling days always seem to slip by swiftly. In the blink of an eye, two months had passed.

During these two months, refugees continued to join daily, and the ratmen tribe's population soared. With the birth of the first generation of pups, the tribe’s numbers had swelled from the initial twenty to five hundred and twenty-three in just two months.

The Andes ratmen were an industrious people, remarkably adaptable to any environment. The once quiet tribal camp had become lively before anyone quite realized it.

But Yang Jie did not measure progress merely by sheer numbers; the population structure mattered far more. He entrusted Wendy, a recent arrival, with all internal affairs, including demographic surveys.

A month prior, Wendy, then a refugee, had been swept by the river’s current from the upper reaches of the Tam River onto a sandbank, where passing rat-farmers rescued her. She was a lovely young ratwoman, among the sharpest minds in the tribe, and, more importantly, innately gifted in administration. Under her stewardship, the tribe’s governance had grown markedly efficient.

“Chieftain, the latest demographic survey is complete,” Wendy reported, standing before Yang Jie with respectful formality.

“Let’s hear it…”

“At present, our tribe numbers five hundred and twenty-three. Of those, one hundred and thirteen are newborns, nineteen are elderly, and the remaining three hundred and ninety-one are adults in their prime. Among the adults, there are one hundred and six farm rats, ninety-nine lumber rats, and eighty-five builder rats. Of the remaining one hundred and one, forty-five are hunter rats, thirty-five are stonemasons, ten are civil servants, and eleven are militiamen.”

Yang Jie nodded thoughtfully at her report. “The number of militiamen is far too low.”

“We’ve tried persuading more to join, Chieftain, but most would rather endure sun and callouses as farmers than pledge themselves to battle for the tribe.”

Yang Jie sighed. He knew full well how difficult this work was. “Let those eleven militiamen cease their reconnaissance for now. Choose a capable captain among them and begin formal military training tomorrow.”

He worried that his strategy over the past two months had neglected martial growth in favor of agriculture, and now, almost every ratman in the tribe aspired only to farm, with precious few willing to take up arms. It was a dangerous sign.

“Understood!”

“Off you go. Have Old Sha from the construction division come see me.”

After sending Wendy off, Yang Jie opened the system map. The tribal camp was taking shape, each ratman toiling tirelessly, day and night—some felling trees, others tending to their young.

Within a twenty-kilometer radius, the area surrounding the camp had been thoroughly scouted. Fortunately, there were no signs of hostile players nearby—a tremendous relief. The prospect of two tribes spawning side by side was enough to make his skin crawl.

Within the visible range of the map, the only gold mine was across the Tam River. With the tribe’s current capabilities, building a bridge was out of the question; even at its narrowest, the river spanned over fifty meters.

“Ah, what a headache!”

Soon, a full-grown ratman with brown fur hurried nervously into Yang Jie’s private burrow.

“Chieftain, you called for me?”

“Come here, Old Sha…” Without looking up, Yang Jie drew the construction team leader close.

“The watchtower should be finished today, yes?”

“As soon as the clay dries, it’ll be done.”

“Good. Now look here…” Yang Jie traced a line in the sand table with his claws.

“Isn’t this the entrance to the Horseshoe Highlands, where we are now?”

“Yes. We all know the highland entrance is a five-hundred-meter-long gentle slope, but I find it too long.”

“What do you mean, Chieftain?” Old Sha was puzzled.

“It’s simple—I want to shorten our defensive line by tenfold!”

“How about this, Chieftain? We could dig a one-meter-deep open moat at the base of the slope as a defensive ditch.”

Yang Jie shook his head. “You misunderstand. I mean to shorten the line itself!”

“Shorten it?”

“Yes. I want to reduce this five-hundred-meter-wide position at the slope’s entrance to just fifty meters. That means cutting a four-hundred-and-fifty-meter-wide cliff.”

“That… that’s too difficult, Chieftain. You know our entire crew has only twenty wooden shovels between us.”

“I understand, but with just eleven militiamen, we simply cannot hold a five-hundred-meter front.”

“So, I order you to find a way to complete this within a month! And the height difference must be at least five meters.”

“But this is—”

“No room for negotiation!” Yang Jie snapped, cutting off Old Sha’s protest.

“Hurry up and get to it.”

“Chieftain, you’re making things impossible for me…” Old Sha wore a bitter expression. He was too dutiful to defy orders.

Yang Jie knew these difficulties well, but he had no choice. After a moment’s contemplation, he patted Old Sha’s shoulder.

“However you manage it, as long as you do it well, I’ll see you married to a fine bride.”

“Then… it’s a deal, Chieftain!” Old Sha’s face lit up, his broad yellow teeth flashing in a wide grin.

“Of course.”

“Right, I’ll get on it at once…”

With that, Old Sha dashed out in a whirlwind of energy.

With Old Sha’s task assigned, Yang Jie lifted a wooden tea cup and sipped the cool spring water.

Just then, a sly figure slipped in.

“Beep beep beep beep beep…”

“Why are you so sneaky?”

“Force of habit—been waiting outside for ages…”

It was Twitch. After two months together, Yang Jie and Twitch had grown quite familiar.

“Why don’t you hunt with me anymore, Chieftain?” Twitch asked, a hint of complaint in his voice.

Yang Jie glanced up, feigning annoyance. “The tribe is expanding, the foundation needs to be laid, and I have too much to handle. Besides, you’re level three now—you can hunt on your own.”

“Heh, I just came to see if there’s anything else I can do for you.” Twitch rubbed his hands together with a mischievous grin.

“Help? The best help you can give me is to level up. I’m giving you a month—reach level ten!”

“Level ten? That’s a bit…”

“Bang!” Yang Jie slammed the table.

“As our legendary hero, how can you lack so much resolve? Go, get to the Northern Plains and start training!”

Without another word, he chased Twitch out.

Staring at the sand table, Yang Jie continued pondering their situation.

…

Two major problems loomed.

First, the construction of city defenses was urgent. Yang Jie knew well the ratmen’s meager combat strength in the early stages—without traps and fortifications, they were doomed.

Second, recruitment and training of troops. Two months had passed, and though infrastructure had developed quickly, only eleven militiamen—none with battle experience—were at his disposal. The farmers, for all their numbers, were useless in a fight. Any notion of overwhelming the enemy with sheer numbers was a pipe dream; a single squad of bandits could wipe out a village without resistance.

“The next month is crucial. I must devise a solution,” Yang Jie mused, an idea beginning to take shape.

The early six months of development were a narrow window: no room for risk, no room for greed. Overreaching would only benefit others.

His current resource stockpile:

Food: 36,814 units
Timber: 15,639 units
Stone: 7,869 units

Clearly, the recent construction boom had left stone in short supply.

Yang Jie’s development policy could be summed up in one word: endure.

First, secure the two hundred square kilometers of the Horseshoe Highlands. Next, transform their fortifications, reducing the defensive line to fifty meters, and focus fiercely on agriculture and technology.

“I need to rethink my approach. I wonder how the other beta testers are faring.”

Yang Jie prided himself on his cautiousness, yet little did he know—compared to some, he was far from the most conservative.

…

Deep within a shadowy swamp, the kobold chieftain Zhang Liangping lounged in a hammock woven from vines, surrounded by four voluptuous kobold women tending to his every need.

For the carrion-eating kobolds, this dark, swampy forest was a paradise. Large predators couldn’t enter, and any small dinosaurs who wandered in were merely food deliveries. There was ample food and water, and the tribe’s comfort and loyalty were unmatched.

…

Elsewhere, in an underground cavern, the burrower insect chieftain Ah Li soaked in a warm mud pool, savoring honey gathered by her people. Not far away, the legendary hero—Burrow Lord Anorak, six meters long—was vigorously digging new tunnels, his powerful forelimbs outpacing even a steam shovel.

In just two months, the entire mountain’s interior had become a sprawling labyrinth. The burrower insects were omnivores who thrived underground, lacking for nothing in the darkness. The single passage to the surface was easily defended—Anorak’s massive body could block the entrance with ease.

…

There was always someone more cautious.

On a seaside cliff, the chieftain of the Luminous Winged, Du Tao, was teaching fledgling tribe members to fly. The Luminous Winged were born to soar, and Du Tao, an experienced tester, had wisely chosen a cliffside cave as his lair—an impregnable fortress.

Of course, not all players chose to hide; some preferred a bolder path.

On arid ground, the legendary minotaur chieftain Kamu, over five meters tall and wielding a massive axe, gazed into the distance. If Yang Jie had witnessed this, he would have been astonished—the minotaur chieftain Kamu had already reached an intimidating level eleven!

Seated on his broad shoulders was a scrawny minotaur—the tribe’s player chieftain, Tao Changkong.

“We’ve wiped out all the creatures in this area. From now on, we rule this land, all thanks to you, big brother!”

Tao Changkong’s tone was warm and admiring—Kamu’s strength spoke for itself.

“Emmm… whatever,” Kamu muttered, shifting his enormous backside uncomfortably.

A rumbling sound followed.

“Big brother, could you at least warn me before you do that?” Tao Changkong pinched his nose, disgusted.

“Sorry, little brother.”

Tao Changkong was a newcomer. He knew nothing of farming, but excelled at commanding troops. From the outset, he had chosen a strategy of expansion through war, leading the minotaurs to sweep through the entire Chaka Basin.

The tribe now numbered only around forty minotaurs, almost all seasoned warriors. They clustered around Kamu, disciplined and deadly.

…

At that moment, on the Northern Plains, a herd of adult thunder lizards, accompanied by two young ones, stepped onto the land…