The next day, just as dawn broke and sunlight spread across the construction site, the [Earth-eating Rich Man] and his team resumed their relentless toil.

In pursuit of the renowned architect, they asked around everywhere—from the construction workers on the street to the regulars in taverns—and finally found architect Carl in a somewhat obscure studio.

Carl's hair was white, his face lined with wrinkles, clearly someone who had been through much. Despite his age, his eyes were bright, exuding a confident professionalism honed through years of tackling architectural challenges.

This gentleman arrived at the construction site unhurriedly, his steps steady and purposeful.

First, he walked a circle around the planned land, seemingly measuring it with the soles of his shoes. Fixing his gaze relentlessly upon the ground, he missed not a single detail.

Then he raised his head to carefully observe the surroundings, from the distant tall chimneys to the nearby road marred by chaotic wheel tracks.

As he scrutinized, his brow furrowed deeply, like a twisted pretzel.

Carl turned, a solemn expression directed at the [Earth-eating Rich Man] beside him.

"A budget of 100 Gold Coins is too tight! With a standard for 300 people, this meager budget means we'd have to cram your workers into sardine tin-sized rooms. They'd have nowhere for luggage, and squeezing in ten shabby beds would be a stretch... If that's how it is, maybe the 100 Gold Coins won't even be spent, but you should think carefully, living in such a place is akin to living in Hell."

The [Jade-faced Hand Tired King] shrugged, thinking to himself that Hell wouldn't take the blame for this, at least not in Beifeng City.

The [Earth-eating Rich Man] felt this was too excessive, so he asked Carl.

"And what's the other option?"

"The other one is much gentler."

After Carl finished speaking, he paused momentarily, cautiously retrieving the second plan from the cloth bag he carried.

He slowly unfurled the blueprint, its lines both clear and precise, densely packed with various markings and annotations.

Four players gathered to look, feigning understanding while stroking their chins and nodding.

Knowing these folks were pretending, Carl patiently pointed at the design and explained.

"Following this plan means a more complex design, raising the budget to 400 Gold Coins. We plan for three floors, with a total of 75 rooms, each sized appropriately to fit a comfortable bed. Four people sharing a room would be snug, but not overly cramped. At the end of each corridor is a communal sanitation area, equipped with separate toilets and wash basins. Thus, living conditions are both practical and comfortable, allowing workers to save time on personal routines."

Horace listened nearby, his ordinarily small eyes widened into saucers.

Particularly at the mention of the budget, he shook his head like a rattle drum, interrupting Carl loudly.

"I don't want anything so troublesome! Just follow the first plan! Quickly draft detailed designs for me, the sooner the better, don't waste time with me here! I don't have time to waste; my workers are waiting for the building to be ready to move in!"

The [Earth-eating Rich Man] knew well that this job wouldn't be easy, but having been through such ordeals, everyone was somewhat resigned, thinking that as long as they could secure the task and settle these drags, it would suffice.

Tom felt the same way—they were honest farmers, satisfied just to have stable work. Eager to start and earn money soon, they hardly cared about the accommodations.

After all, it wasn't them living in that wretched place.

While everyone was indifferent, Carl remained discontented, casting a fierce glare at Horace as if looking at a Demon Beast within a Maze.

"Are you mad? Even Princess Erin Campbell's refugee camp doesn't have such dwellings! You might as well let your workers sleep on the ground; perhaps that's more ventilated!"

Horace sneered.

He would have done so if not for the tax officer refusing to listen to his nonsense, and the land management officials declining to indulge him.

Faced with Carl's reproach, a mocking smile played on Horace's lips as he taunted, "If you can't design, get lost, don't waste my time here. You won't draw them, but there are plenty who will; lucky me, I don't need you for this work!"

Afterward, he glanced at his partner [Earth-eating Rich Man], angrily complaining.

"Where did you find this mad old man, and is this what he calls professional spirit? I refuse to pay for this fool's drawings!"

Upon hearing Horace's words, Carl's face turned beet red, his lips trembling as he pointed a finger at Horace and cursed.

"You soul-seller to demons, go find someone else! I absolutely will not draw such inhumane designs! I've worked in this industry nearly my entire life and never encountered someone like you!"

Having been an architect his whole life, nearing retirement, he refused to compromise his soul to demons for such paltry rewards, sacrificing his reputation.

Even though he knew that in this ancient city, honor was about to be swept into the trash heap.

Even the esteemed Princess had to auction her treasures to fulfill the Royal Family's duties, while her brother had outright sold his soul to those demons clothed in human skin.

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