After leaving the training grounds, Zong Shen continued touring this fledgling swamp territory under Little Blackie's guidance.
The damp, rotten stench hanging in the air mingled with the smell of sulfur, creating an atmosphere unique to the Black Dragon Territory.
This place was still vastly different from human cities and territories.
In the distance, among the crude shacks, all kinds of Dragonkin followers flowed back and forth, carrying ore, food, and repaired weapons.
Though the order here seemed rough and crude, it also brimmed with vigorous life.
They followed a boardwalk paved with thick logs toward the eastern side of the basin.
Below the boardwalk lay dark brown marshland, where bubbles occasionally surfaced and released an even stronger stench of decay when they burst.
The tamed giant swamp eels drifted slowly through the mud, their dark scales occasionally flashing with an oily sheen.
"Over in the eastern district, I set up a dedicated smelting area."
Little Blackie pointed at several plumes of black smoke rising in the distance. They came from dozens of simple furnaces built from fireproof clay and stone, their flames especially striking beneath the dim swamp light.
The faint clanging of metal could be heard—the Kobold craftsmen were hammering the roughly smelted iron ingots into crude spearheads and axe blades.
"Though Kobolds aren't exactly bright, they work hard at this sort of job."
"I've assigned several half-dragons to supervise them, so production can be maintained."
"Part of the protection money collected from that stone city-state was refined metal, which can be used to make better equipment for the elite troops."
Zong Shen nodded slightly.
Resource production and utilization were the foundation of any faction's survival. Little Blackie had learned the important lessons from following him.
Then Zong Shen's gaze swept across the edge of the basin, where