System: Build My Own Territory Chapter 922 - 280: Offering Loyalty (10,000 Words)

Lynn’s gaze swept across all eight hundred prisoners of war before him.

After consuming the food prepared by the cooks and a brief period of rest,

the eight hundred captives were noticeably more invigorated than when they first arrived.

Their eyes, filled with defiance, continuously flickered towards Rose and the soldiers keeping watch over them.

Some even fixed their intense gazes upon Lynn as he returned to the Lord’s Square.

Lynn’s expression remained composed as his eyes met the prisoners’ defiant stares directly.

Perhaps it was the aura radiating from Lynn that affected them.

Or maybe they sensed Lynn’s commanding presence.

After a few seconds of unbroken eye contact, some of the prisoners found themselves unable to continue staring and lowered their heads.

Lynn then introduced himself, stating, "I am the Lord of this territory, Lynn Blake."

"And from this moment forward, I am also your Lord!"

The prisoners’ faces instantly contorted with grim, heavy expressions.

A few even vociferously exclaimed, "Who says so?"

"You? You consider yourself worthy of being our Lord?"

"Do you even comprehend what a prisoner of war signifies? They are soldiers forged in the crucible of iron and blood!"

"Begone, return to your mother's milk!"

"..."

Lynn listened to their outbursts, his expression unchanging.

His gaze then shifted, settling upon Rose, who was standing not far away.

Rose immediately understood the unspoken command and strode to Lynn’s side.

"Master!"

Lynn instructed, "Bring forth those who were just shouting."

"Ten kilometers of running training!"

Rose’s brow twitched slightly as he inquired, "Master, regarding their chains..."

Lynn cast a glance at the iron chains and shackles adorning the prisoners' wrists and ankles. "Ten-kilometer cross-country restrained running training."

"Commence immediately!"

Rose harbored no further doubts and responded, "Yes, Master!"

As his affirmation faded, Rose turned and advanced towards the assembled prisoners.

With a wave of his right hand, he directed dozens of armored soldiers to enter the prisoner formation.

From within the ranks of the prisoners, indignant shouts immediately erupted.

"What do you think you are doing?"

"If you possess any courage, release me, and I shall demonstrate the true might of a Pan Rock Iron Guard!"

"Where are you taking us?"

Amidst these clamors, nine prisoners were forcefully extracted from the formation.

As the soldiers proceeded to bind the selected prisoners,

Lynn addressed Rose, saying, "Should they resist, utilize the warhorses to drag them."

"Ensure they return only upon completing the ten kilometers."

Rose acknowledged once more, "Yes, Master."

The ropes and iron chains binding the prisoners to the warhorses suddenly went taut.

Under the immense strain, the prisoners nearly lost their footing, compelled to propel their legs forward and run in the direction the warhorses galloped.

In less than half a minute,

nine soldiers astride their warhorses were dragging the prisoners, heading towards the distant mountains and forests.

The remaining prisoners, still rooted to their spots,

witnessed this unfolding scene,

their eyes widened in disbelief, and the defiance they had displayed earlier transformed into raw hatred.

Their bound fists clenched tightly, their breathing grew ragged, and their chests heaved with suppressed fury.

They shifted their stances, closing several paces towards Lynn.

Their sole desire was to strike down this young Lord on the spot!

Nearly eight hundred prisoners stood on the precipice of an outright revolt.

Rose’s brow furrowed, and without a moment's hesitation, he drew the longsword sheathed at his waist.

The surrounding soldiers tightened their grips on their long spears, their sharp points aiming squarely at the prisoners.

At their Lord’s command, they would charge into the prisoner ranks without the slightest compunction.

However.

Before the prisoners could advance more than two steps,

a middle-aged man at the very forefront of the formation spread his arms wide, effectively shielding several prisoners beside him.

The prisoners obstructed by his gesture looked at the middle-aged man with evident displeasure.

But upon noticing the three distinct, square-shaped scar marks arranged on the man’s left cheek, their eyes suddenly widened in shock.

Three square-shaped scars.

They resembled an iron brand signifying ownership by a Lord over a slave.

Or perhaps, something brutally carved out by a razor-sharp blade.

A mere glance at them instilled a profound sense of unease.

The few prisoners quickly averted their gazes and respectfully called out, "Commander Tyrone!"

The middle-aged man, identified as Tyrone Ramirez, responded with a low grunt.

"Order everyone to stand down."

"If we incite a riot, we will be the only ones to perish."

"Bear in mind, this is not Pan Yan City. We have no walls to defend us, nor any weapons to fight with!"

The prisoners standing near him exchanged glances upon hearing his words.

A few seconds later,

one of the prisoners shouted towards the rear, "Stop, everyone cease!"

"Tyrone has issued his command, hurry and halt!"

The prisoners further back naturally heard the order to stop.

However, their advance did not cease. Not immediately, at least.

It was only when the name 'Tyrone' echoed through the air that their marching feet finally came to a standstill.

"Is that really Tyrone Ramirez?"

"Commander Tyrone is still alive! Oh, what magnificent news!"

"Halt your steps, everyone! We must heed Commander Tyrone's command!"

"..."

Observing the prisoners’ clamor turn into a gradual halt in their ranks,

a flicker of astonishment graced Lynn’s vision.

His gaze then shifted, settling upon the middle-aged man positioned at the vanguard, a man whose left cheek was marred by a startling, prominent scar.

With mere utterances, this individual had managed to quell the surging fury within the prisoners' chests.

Lynn's contemplation spurred him onward, and the information panel pertaining to the scarred middle-aged man materialized before his very eyes.

[Name]: Tyrone Ramirez

[Age]: 32

[Ability]: Hunting Lv. 3, Planting Lv. 2, Construction Lv. 2

[Seven Skills of the Knight]: Hunting Lv. 3, Horse Riding Lv. 3, Swordsmanship Lv. 3