Ah? What else?

Whether supervising or assisting, the soldiers and squad leaders alike were astonished by the efficiency with which the laborers, filled with passion and drive, completed their tasks.

These laborers—serfs, slaves, and even free citizens—who usually moved slowly with vacant eyes, now displayed astonishing efficiency without the need for whips.

Sweat drenched their tattered clothes, yet their eyes gleamed with an almost fanatical fervor.

Could merely a slight change in rules, adding the reward of meat and broth, unleash such enthusiasm?

This was truly astonishing.

Everyone believed this was due to Vivian’s morning promise: “The first thirty to finish get meat,” and “the first hundred get broth,” motivating these people, and indeed, it was so.

Vivian, of course, didn’t think slogans like “Labor is Glorious” or “Production for Solidarity” would be of any use right now; such lofty pronouncements would fall on deaf ears, hollow and powerless in their current situation.

It was also indeed too early for such things, but for the common folk, meat was the best possible reward and goal.

After all, even Vivian herself had been reluctant to eat fresh meat after returning, relying mostly on dried meat. For other commoners, meat was an absolute luxury, existing only as vague memories of distant celebrations or major ceremonies, as sparse oil slicks in a bowl, or the brief joy of sucking marrow from a bone.

For the common folk, only during major festivals or birthday gatherings would they sparingly enjoy some meat.

Fortunately, the victories against the crusade army had been significant. The retreating crusaders had even abandoned a substantial amount of supplies and weapons, which could offset some shortages.

Their victory greatly bolstered Vivian’s food reserves, and they even captured many warhorses and prisoners.

This, to a significant extent, was converted into meat reserves—which was why Vivian dared to propose such a reward.

Demons, after all, were cannibals.

The demon diet had always been broad; this was an open secret.

Vivian chose not to delve into the ultimate fate of the war captives.

She was neither hypocritical nor heartless but keenly aware that she did not yet possess enough authority or power to forcibly change the deeply ingrained habits of the Demon Clan and demand her subordinates release these “spoils of war.”

The cruel laws of survival and dominion temporarily overshadowed futile compassion.

After a quick inspection, seeing the project progress far beyond expectations, Vivian nodded in satisfaction. As dinner approached, she summoned her shadow demon captain, Gangrel.

“Take out the meat and cook it. Strictly adhere to the standards I announced this morning: the first thirty will each receive at least a half-fist-sized chunk of meat. Stew a large pot of broth, ensuring its aroma fills the camp, then distribute the broth to the top hundred finishers.”

“Are we really preparing this much meat?” Gangrel was a bit surprised. He carefully chose his words, his voice very low. “With all due respect, my Demon Lord, even our own soldiers don’t get such good rations… not to mention those commoners also brought a fair amount of their own food.”

“Is there a problem?” Vivian tilted her head slightly, looking at Gangrel, the shadow demon captain. “The Demon Lord’s words must carry weight.”

“But, I think just a few walnut-sized pieces of meat, plus vegetables, in a large pot of stew would be enough to make them grateful. A half-fist-sized chunk of meat seems a bit excessive, doesn’t it?”

Gangrel hesitated.

“Do as I say,” Vivian waved her hand. “The Demon Lord’s promise allows no discounts—and by the way, don’t think I don’t know that you all feasted during the pursuit of the retreating crusade army, so don’t bring up the issue of rations with me now.”

“Uh, yes, my Demon Lord.”

Hearing Vivian’s words, a hint of awkwardness appeared on Gangrel’s face.

Could Vivian not know that her subordinates had acted with brutality during the pursuit? Of course, she knew.

But she chose tolerance.

After all, she was now the Demon Lord, a demon.

Moreover, she indeed needed Gangrel and the other demons to instill fear in the humans, and then for these “survivors” to return and tell others about the current situation in the Evernight Territory.

“Also, tell the head chef to set up the large pot in the most prominent spot. I want everyone to see the stewing meat. At the same time, have soldiers maintain order nearby; no grabbing or fighting is allowed.”

“Yes, my Demon Lord.”

Gangrel, the shadow demon captain, respectfully bowed to Vivian, then swiftly retreated like a true shadow to carry out the order.

“Phew.”

Vivian let out a long breath, slightly relaxing her body.

This position of Demon Lord felt like walking on thin ice with every step.

One had to both harness the inherent ferocity of the demons and guide their potential for survival—the balance required careful consideration.

‘Could I make it to the other side?’

Vivian couldn’t help but wonder.

Though it was a bit like an inside joke with herself, as a former modern person, she had to find some fun for herself—otherwise, who could possibly endure being this awful Demon Lord?

Just then, she noticed a gaze from beside her.

She turned her head to find Lucia staring at her with curiosity.

“What are you looking at?”

The Winter Messenger, Vivian couldn’t help but feel a little curious.

“Is there something on my face?”

“Nothing special, my Demon Lord.” Lucia blinked her eyes, responding with a smile. “I’m just… incredibly intrigued.”

“In my long… well, not-so-long experience—”

She seemed to choose her words carefully. “I’ve never seen, nor heard, of any noble lord—whether human or of other races—so proactively and generously distributing precious meat from their storerooms to their commoners, as if scattering seeds.”

Her tone was teasing, but deep within her icy blue eyes, there was a hint of confusion and inquiry.

Evidently, she, like Aria and Luna earlier, didn’t quite understand Vivian’s actions.

“I’ve never heard of a noble actively cutting down their own wealth. My Demon Lord, are you trying to be a great philanthropist?”

“Oh?” Vivian deliberately raised her voice. “In your opinion, are my measures reducing my wealth and simply doing good deeds?”

“Huh? What else could it be?”

Lucia stared at Vivian, her face showing an expression of disbelief.