Transmigrated with a Demon-Refining Pot: Hehehe, Refine in an instant

After spending two peaceful days in his territory, Ron went through all the things that had been piling up.

Dick returned early that morning.

He was with a few men, driving a horse-drawn carriage with several cages piled on it.

Several fluffy puppies were huddled together in the cage, shivering.

There was another cage placed separately, inside which was a small white cat, curled up in a ball, with only its two eyes showing.

"Sir, the dogs you requested will all grow up to be the fiercest wolfhounds. And Miss Cecilia's kittens too." Dick rubbed his hands together, his face beaming.

"We searched several territories before finding these few good ones. The dog is a puppies raised by a hunter, and the cat was bought from a merchant who said it was a breed from the ocean."

Ron went over to take a look.

The puppies were chubby and looked quite energetic. The kitten was bright white with blue eyes, looked at him timidly, and meowed.

Cecilia had somehow escaped and was now lying by the cage, her eyes sparkling.

"Brother-in-law! Is this for me?"

"Here you go." Ron opened the cat cage, took the kitten out, and handed it to her.

"Be careful, don't fall."

Cecilia carefully took the kitten and held it in her arms. The kitten wasn't afraid and rubbed against her palm. She jumped for joy:

"Does it have a name? I want to name it!"

She thought for a moment and said, "Let's call it Snowball! It's so white, just like snow!"

Ron patted her head: "Okay, let's call her Snowball."

Bella, with Big White on its back, peeked out from behind Cecilia, flew to Snowball, and tilted its head to examine it. Snowball was startled, shrank back, and snuggled into Cecilia's arms, meowing.

Bella made two "muttering" sounds and flew back to Ron's shoulder.

Ron thought the little thing was probably asserting its dominance.

Cecilia ran off with Snowball in her arms, and the puppies were taken to the backyard and left to be cared for by the cook.

Dick rubbed his hands together, waiting for Ron to praise him.

Ron glanced at him: "Well done. Go to the tent and get a potion."

Dick was overjoyed, repeatedly uttering words of loyalty, and then ran off in a flash.

In the morning, Ron called everyone to the council chamber.

Thirteen soldiers survived, excluding the knights.

These soldiers fought alongside Ron for a month, battling to the death every day. During that month, they never lacked any potions.

Therefore, all thirteen of them are now at the level of low-ranking knight squires.

They stood in the hall, their armor gleaming, their backs ramrod straight. Ron sat in the main seat, with Laune and Hart standing on either side, and Gray and Perrin also present.

"Kneel down," Laun said.

The thirteen people knelt down on one knee in unison, their movements so synchronized that they seemed like one person.

The clanging of armor echoed in the hall, followed by a deathly silence. No one spoke; even breathing was suppressed.

The crackling embers in the fireplace cast long and short shadows on everyone.

Ron stood up and walked to the first soldier.

The man looked up, revealing a scar on his face that ran from his brow to his cheekbone—a mark from the battlefield. His eyes were bright, fixed on Ron, unmoving.

"Name?" Ron asked.

"Black Pitchfork!" The man's voice was loud and clear, with a slight tremor of excitement.

Ron drew his sword and placed it on his shoulder:

"Then Black the Dung Fork."

"From this day forward, you will be my knightly squire. I will give you weapons, armor, training resources, land, and honor. And you will fight for me, and die for me."

Wherever my sword points, you will charge. You are my most loyal spear and shield. Your loyalty will belong only to me.

"Now tell me, are you willing to be loyal to me?"

Blake was visibly excited, his voice booming from his chest, each word like a hammer striking an anvil: "I do!"

"I, Blake Dung Fork, hereby swear an oath."

I will be loyal to you, Lord Ron Broccoli. I will offer my strength, my courage, and my life.

Your enemy is my enemy, your orders are my everything. This commitment will last until death.

"I accept your allegiance, knight!"

Ron picked up a family crest from the table and pinned it to his chest.

Ron then told him to step aside.

"Next."

It took Ron more than half an hour to receive the allegiance of all the knights.

He walked back to the head of the table, turned around, and faced them. Thirteen men stood straight in the hall, like thirteen swords drawn from their sheaths, the badges on their chests gleaming in the firelight.

"You all followed me and fought your way out of the orc war; you all deserve credit," Ron said in a loud voice.

"I will not be stingy with rewards for you; you will have status and money."

"Now that you have become knights, the land will have plenty of potions. My requirement for you is to improve your strength. Being a low-ranking knight squire is not your end goal."

He paused, then lowered his voice: "Go and collect your reward. Train hard; there will be more battles to fight later."

The thirteen people bowed in unison, then turned and left.

My footsteps pounded on the stone pavement, like the beat of a drum.

In the afternoon, Ron inspected the territory.

Watching the serfs clearing away the snow, removing all the area covered by the elven insect grass.

This is no small project.

The winters in the pioneering lands were unbearably cold; the ground was frozen solid like steel, and ice crystals could be found even a few meters down.

It's simply impossible to cultivate thousands of acres of land. Ron could only have them prioritize cultivating the area covered by the magic potion sprites.

Fortunately, the coverage area of ​​the worm is not affected by the cold, and it can still sprout in winter.

Hundreds of serfs gathered around a bonfire to cultivate the frozen soil, planted the seeds, and then left the rest to the spirit insects.

Ron watched for a while and then returned to the courtyard. It was too cold, and he didn't want to stay outside any longer.

Back in the courtyard.

The charcoal in the brazier glowed red-hot, occasionally crackling and sputtering a few sparks. The heat inside caused a layer of condensation to form on the windowpanes, making the snowy scenery outside appear blurry, as if seen through a veil.

Ron ordered Dick to make an oven.

Outside, the cold wind howled, but inside, Ron and Liulichuan huddled around the stove to keep warm, where they could also warm some wine and roast some food.

If there were some tunes and dances, life would be wonderful!

Ron was also preparing to cook hot pot, since the food in this world was too Western.

Although the taste was not bad, I just couldn't get used to it.

The thought of being able to enjoy a bite of hot pot in the freezing winter makes him willing to break through to become a formal knight.

Winter grew colder and colder, and the entire wilderness seemed to be frozen, with no creature willing to leave its nest.

Apart from the serfs who made bricks and boiled salt.

According to Dick, that place was better than having a fire to warm up, rather than those lazy donkeys freezing in their drafty wooden huts.

This is a gift from the lord.

We must work even harder in the future to repay the lord's kindness!