Hearing that number, Chen Ping remained calm and nodded lightly.
Fifty thousand low-level Fixed-Installation Cannon Shells might have sounded like a lot, but that was a full two years' production.
Even with all the less complicated tasks assigned to the other undead, this was the limit of their current production capacity. It could barely match the shell output of a county brigade in Chen Ping's previous life.
Chen Ping did know how to optimize the process and further improve shell production efficiency, but he would have to wait until several technologies matured before he could act.
So, for now, Chen Ping could only maintain his little workshop's shell production by squeezing the undead in the Undead Demiplane.
Yes, this really was exploitation. Even Chen Ping was too embarrassed to stubbornly deny it.
After all, under the reward system Chen Ping had devised, the Liches had to engrave an entire set of Core Arrays for a Level 4 Soul Tool to earn a single point, and it took fifty points to exchange for a mahjong table that automatically stacked the tiles.
Oh, right, those rewards were actually made by the Liches working overtime after they finished making shells, too. It was a case of those clad head to toe in silk not being the ones who raised the silkworms.
Fortunately, for these Liches who usually had little to do, simply having something to work on and a points system in place was interesting in itself.
Playing mahjong in their spare time and engraving Soul Tool Core Arrays were equally entertaining to them, so they were the sort who enjoyed being exploited. That spared Chen Ping's already meager conscience a little reproach.
"Fifty thousand? That's a little short."
Chen Ping sighed. Whether they were used to guard against the Beast Tide that