Chapter 771: All Taught by the Same Batch of Instructors

Chapter 771: All Trained by the Same Instructors

In central Tiger Province, on the edge of a wooded valley.

A thousand-man commander of the Tiger Army stood with his telescope raised, staring dumbfounded at the northern pass, where a vast, surging tide of figures was crossing a muddy, trampled stretch of ground.

Those figures moved with agility, looking young—presumably the last wave.

It took him a long moment to force out a single sentence.

"Damn it... have those mud-footed bastards gone mad?!"

The surging mass fleeing northward was, of course, the Moon Tribe hidden deep in the mountain forests.

Or, to put it another way, the sheep penned in their fold.

Now, no one had expected that these bark-chewing sheep would, for the first time, kick down the fence gate of the fold and trample the watchdog.

As for what exactly had happened here, it all began with last night's heavy rain...

The night before, under the cover of darkness, a hundred-man squad of the Tiger Army had set out to relieve the guard near the Moon Tribe's village.

In truth, "relieving the guard" was just a pretext. Their real job was to keep watch near the village, grab anything valuable they could get their hands on, and wait if there was nothing good.

These Moon Tribe refugees usually hid in the desolate wilderness, with no decent settlements nearby—only a few minor nobles' estates and farms, connected by a few crude, foot-trodden dirt paths that didn't even lead directly to the Moon Tribe's village.

No one wanted to be stationed in such a godforsaken place, teeming with paupers. The thousand-man commander in charge of bandit suppression certainly didn't, and besides, this barren land, difficult to supply, wasn't suitable for a large garrison.

So he usually stayed in a nearby settlement, eating and drinking well, only sending men to keep an eye on the Moon Tribe as his superiors ordered—making sure they didn't cause too much trouble, occasionally cracking down on them to make it easier to play the victim with the Alliance.

This rotation was just routine, same as always. He even brought along some newly enlisted young men, hoping to find a chance to let them practice their shooting.

However, halfway there, a torrential downpour turned the roads into mud, delaying those bastards too long. They stumbled straight into an ambush by the Moon Tribe and got peppered with gunfire.

Hearing the gunshots in the rain, the hundred-man squad stationed near the Moon Tribe's village immediately realized something was wrong and rushed out of their positions to reinforce.

But they ran into the same problem: the storm slowed their march. By the time they arrived, the relief squad had already been driven off, and before they knew it, they were caught in the ambush themselves.

According to the fleeing centurion, in the middle of the fight, a shout rang out through the rain—

"If you don't want to fight, drop your gear and run! Let's all make money together!"

The soldiers figured there was really no need to risk their lives.

This was Tiger Province, after all, where the Tiger tribe was the majority. Could a bunch of Moon Tribe folk, trampled into the dirt, really turn the world upside down?

Even if they won once, let them win a hundred times—they were still just bandits.

Thinking their lives were more important, they simply tossed their equipment on the ground and fled through the gap left in the ambush.

After all, those weapons had been looted from the Moon Tribe anyway. Losing them was no great loss.

And so, a vacuum appeared in the encirclement that had penned in the entire "sheepfold."

By the time dawn broke the next day, it was too late.

They didn't even get a chance to reclaim their ground. The Moon Tribe, it seemed, had made up their minds to go big this time—they had emptied the entire village...

The sheep had stopped eating grass and started eating meat!

Gripping the telescope so hard his knuckles went white, the thousand-man commander ground his teeth.

His adjutant, standing nearby, was equally stunned. After a long pause, he swallowed and broke the silence.

"Sir... should we pursue?"

"Pursue... pursue my ass!" The commander lowered the telescope bitterly.

As the saying goes, you can see the mountain but ride your horse to death—he couldn't even see clearly.

And with last night's heavy rain, the already terrible dirt roads were even muddier. By the time they got there, the fugitives would be long gone.

No doubt about it.

It had to be that bastard who always cursed everyone's mothers!

Now he was filled with regret, wishing he had never let that guy through.

But it was too late for that now...

"So what do we do now?" The adjutant, realizing the gravity of the situation, looked at his commander with a solemn expression.

"Fall back. Report to the Legion Commander. This is beyond what we can handle."

The "Legion Commander" was, of course, the general of the Tiger Army—not an official title, but a popular local term.

The Tiger Army had absorbed some officers from the Gray Wolf Army, learning not only the "new Valiant military concepts" brought by General MacLennan but also some of the Legion's "dregs." As a result, many Tiger Army soldiers fancied themselves the Eastern Legion.

As for the Black Panther Army, they barely counted as the Southern Legion.

Thinking of the money that had flown away, the commander's heart ached, and he couldn't help but curse.

Weapons and cash shipped from Golden Harbor—the Tiger Army could always "skim" a bit.

When Wu Tuo heard that the Moon Tribe Resistance was active in Tiger Province, he was terrified and sent boatloads of Xilan coins straight into the Legion Commander's pockets.

Now that these two-legged sheep had bolted, both major sources of income were probably gone.

The more the thousand-man commander thought about it, the angrier he got. He wanted to take it out on the man who had bribed him.

Seeing the officer turn to leave, the minor nobles standing nearby panicked.

The highest rank among them was a baron, and some "baronets" weren't even real nobles—just non-hereditary titles bought from the governor, with farms of fifty or sixty acres, a handful of serfs, and a single rifle that couldn't fire for their private guards.

No matter how pathetic the Moon Tribe was, they could still easily crush small fry like them.

A down-and-out baron was pushed forward. Trembling, he blocked the general's path and pleaded.

"Your Excellency, you can't just abandon us! Those Moon Tribe are rebels appointed by His Majesty. You are His Majesty's subject—isn't it your duty to fight rebels for His Majesty? You can't just take the money... and shirk all responsibility."

"My duty?" The thousand-man commander laughed as if he'd heard the funniest joke. He actually stopped, reached out, and patted the baron's cheek.

"You talk to me about duty? You've got some nerve. My pay comes from the Legion Commander. Helping him solve problems is my real duty. Who the hell do you think you are?"

All the soldiers laughed, including the adjutant beside the commander, all wearing expressions of amusement at a dead man's joke.

In this godforsaken wilderness, even if a couple of people died, they could pin it on the Moon Tribe. How dare these bastards even breathe?

The minor nobles panicked, shuffling backward, abandoning the poor fool who had been pushed forward, distancing themselves from him.

But it was too late to leave. A group of soldiers had already blocked their retreat, shoving them back.

The baron stared blankly at the thousand-man commander, his eyes full of terror, his face shifting colors as he trembled.

"Duty... I'm not imagining things. That word sounds awfully Alliance-like. You wouldn't happen to be an Alliance spy, would you?"

"H-how could that be..." The baron was drenched in sweat, on the verge of tears.

This was the middle of nowhere. Did the Alliance have so much money they didn't know what to do with it, sending spies here?

What for?

The commander patted the baron's face with his calloused hand, watching the man who barely dared to breathe, savoring the cowering look on his face.

A baron appointed by His Majesty—so what?

A noble lord—so what?

In the face of true power over life and death, he was still just a dog.

His eyes suddenly darted, and he chuckled, "But what you say makes sense. It just occurred to me that the money for our Tiger Army includes a portion from the court, and that money ultimately comes from you. So we really ought to keep you safe... what's that word, 'obligation'?"

The baron was sweating so profusely it nearly formed a little stream. Seeing that this demon seemed willing to let him off, he hastily breathed a sigh of relief and stammered his thanks.

"Your, your Excellency speaks truly... no, no, no, Your Excellency is so busy with a thousand affairs, how could I dare trouble you with such a trifle? We'll just endure it."

He dared not even mention the Moon Tribe matter anymore, only hoping to get through this immediate crisis.

After all, the Moon Tribe only robbed money and grain, not killing people, but these men before him might well take out their anger on him or kill him to claim credit.

The prefect had little regard for minor nobles like them, who were clearing wasteland in the wilderness; the merchants coming from Golden Gallon Port to set up factories and workshops were the new darlings of that lord.

But it seemed too late to change his tune now. The chiliarch laughed heartily and clapped him on the shoulder.

"...Well then, it's getting late. I'll take some of my brothers to stay at your place for the night, lest those Moon bandits come and rob your money, grain, and women."

The baron panicked and quickly said, "No, no need, Your Excellency. I'll just lock the doors tight tonight..."

"No need?" The chiliarch narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing him from head to toe. "You wouldn't be hiding Moon bandits in your house, would you?"

Seeing the soldiers place their hands on their waists, the baron felt his legs go weak and nearly collapsed to his knees.

What a coward!

And this wretch dares to call himself a Tiger clansman!

A noble, no less!

Coldly watching the fool, the chiliarch gave a mirthless smile and waved his hand.

Two soldiers immediately understood, grinning as they stepped forward, one on each side, grabbing the baron who was about to sink to the ground.

They knew their leader's nature—if he got meat, they'd surely get a few sips of soup.

"You two, give him a hand! We'll follow the baron home and say hello to his lady."

"Got it, chief!"

"Haha!"

The two soldiers hauled the baron up from the ground, smiling broadly as they complied.

The other nobles stood in deathly silence, not daring to utter a word, staring numbly at the man who was kicking and wailing like a piglet about to be slaughtered.

When the Moon Tribe first attacked, they had hoped the Emperor would save them, never expecting to be stabbed in the back by their own people first.

And the soldiers felt no reverence for titles or imperial authority either; they were already lewdly imagining what the noble's wife and daughter might taste like.

Almost as one, in the minds of both the whip-wielder and the whipped, Wu Tuo was already dead...

Though the Tiger Army's leader hadn't declared himself king, the northern part of Lowell Province, and indeed the whole of Tiger Province, had already become his domain...

...

On the other side, north of the nameless valley, a group of escapees were weeping tears of joy as they sang, kneeling by a stream to splash water on their faces.

Thanks to last night's heavy rain, the pursuers had lost all trace of them.

Of course!

Even more thanks to their great general!

Before Laxi came here, they hadn't won a single battle; last night alone, they had won two.

Even the old-timers of the resistance had to admit that the man had some real skill. Though he lacked grand vision or deep thoughts, and was autocratic and overbearing—even uttering the treasonous words "I am equality itself"—at least he was a master of warfare.

Until they reached Mammoth Province, it wouldn't hurt to let him lead. They could replace him later.

But the old-timers failed to notice how the young men rescued from the farms looked at Laxi as if he were the Moon God reborn, their fervent eyes shining brightly.

Including the boy Laxi had kicked in the backside when they first met, and the greenhorn recruit whose rifle strap was practically welded to his shoulder.

The resistance had saved them from the farms, and they were grateful, but in the end, they would still have to farm, go hungry, endure... nothing seemed to change.

And in those remote, deep forests, there was no red soil—just felled trees, weeds, and bushes. They were so hungry they had to gnaw on tree bark and eat indigestible kaolin.

Did they rebel just to starve?

Of course not!

They rebelled because those who took their hands promised that if they rose up, they would get their own land and endless grain once it was done!

The Moon Tribe elders had also told them that in the future, everyone could afford a wife, just like the free folk.

For now, only Laxi seemed capable of helping them realize that distant dream.

After all, that dream couldn't be achieved by farming—not even if they farmed until the end of the Wasteland Era.

They had to plunder!

Plunder the nobles' farms and estates!

Seize the richest lands and fullest granaries, take back the money and grain the Emperor had stolen from them, reclaim everything that was rightfully theirs—

Like a raging wildfire in midsummer!

Watching those spirited young men, Laxi narrowed his eyes slightly, a faint smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

For the first time, he saw a glimmer of hope in them, not the cowardice he'd seen in battle reports.

Over four thousand had escaped with him, about half of them "old hands" who had followed the White Bear Knights in the Golden Gallon Port uprising, and the rest rescued by the resistance from nearby farms.

Among the latter were men, women, and some half-grown children.

Old people were rare; unless they had a special skill, slave owners generally didn't keep livestock that couldn't work—many were simply buried in the red soil.

"You've done well! But it's not enough!"

Looking into the eyes fixed on him, Laxi bellowed at the top of his lungs.

"On the battlefield, time is your life! Be faster than your enemy, strike harder than them, and you'll be the ones who survive!"

"Remember! If you want to crawl out of the pit of corpses, you have to be ruthless with yourself first. If you want to live, don't think of yourself as human!"

"Today, I'm teaching you the skills to survive. Later, you'll teach them to your soldiers! Today we have only a few thousand; tomorrow we'll have tens of thousands, and later, hundreds of thousands!"

"The breakout isn't over. We have to cross Tiger Province, then Horse Province, until the Empire's men can never catch us!"

"Follow me north! Pack up and move!"

...

...

"...Today, I'm teaching you the skills to survive. Later, you'll teach them to your soldiers! Open your eyes wide and prick up your ears!"

"...Damn it, copying me again!"

"...Hammer, hammer, always hammer. I say 'hammer,' and you say 'hammer' too! Is 'hammer' for you to say? Shout 'Yes, sir!'"

At the Golden Gallon Port, on the training ground of the Lowell Camp, an angry roar echoed.

A squad of young men in uniform stood in a neat line, chests out, backs so straight you could measure them with a ruler.

They were reserve officers promoted from the ranks—future company, battalion, and even regiment commanders of the Golden Gallon Port Militia.

And standing before them now was an instructor from the Union's most elite rapid-response force, the Burning Legion—Ling Chong.

This guy, though not exactly a man of principle, still handled the tasks assigned to him properly, and his method of training these fellows was basically the same as the real-world approach.

The officer he had just berated didn't dare to breathe a word, craning his neck and shouting loudly.

"Yes, sir!"

"No spirit! I can't hear you!"

"Yes!!! Sir!!!"

"Excellent!"

That roar had nearly drained every ounce of his strength, and Ling Chong finally nodded in satisfaction, reaching out to pat the young man on the shoulder, gripping it and giving him a shake.

"Not bad, not bad—plenty of spirit!"

Ordinarily, he was a fairly civilized, well-mannered person, but during training, you couldn't afford to be too civilized, nor could you manage it.

These men had only one life, unlike players who could respawn, so naturally he couldn't teach them with a joking attitude; when it was time to be tough, he had to be tough.

And besides, looking into those pairs of eyes, these young men actually felt a measure of gratitude toward him.

People aren't fools.

Endure more hardship now, sweat more now, and on the battlefield, they'd shed less blood.

Beyond the settlement lay the wasteland; they'd have to face some things on their own eventually.

"Today's training is over. Everyone's worked hard. Eat and drink as you please..."

Back in front of the formation, Ling Chong strolled around with relaxed shoulders, casting a casual glance over the crowd.

No one moved.

Completely different from three days ago when he'd first arrived—these blockheads had finally gotten a hint of discipline in their minds, not wasting all his talking.

Ling Chong finally gave an approving nod and waved his right hand.

"All troops! Dismissed!"

Almost the instant his words fell, a crowd surged toward the mess hall like a tornado demolishing a parking lot.

After a full day of drills, they were all starving, ready to eat out of buckets.

Watching those lively young men, a smile curled at the corner of Ling Chong's mouth; then he followed them to the mess hall, finding his three teammates already seated there.

Watching the lads wolfing down their food in the mess hall, Erliang Yueguang let out a sigh and said.

"To be honest, I feel like I'm an instructor in Africa... Teaching these guys is really tough!"

Shanhe Rumeng laughed and said.

"Haha, what a coincidence! Same here!"

Banben Chusheng was reading a newspaper, not joining in their conversation, when a flicker of surprise suddenly crossed his eyes.

"Laxi and a group of retired militia officers rendezvoused with the Resistance three days ago, and are currently breaking out of the Tiger Army's encirclement, heading northeast... Damn, that guy can fight!"

He'd misjudged the man.

He'd thought the guy was just a talentless, cynical hothead, but who'd have guessed that when trouble came, he'd actually drop his bottle and grab a weapon, instead of just running his mouth in the papers like the literati in this city.

No wonder Brother Fang had such sharp judgment—his eye for people was ruthless!

Honestly, he kind of admired Brother Fang, even felt the dog planner had gone a bit overboard targeting him.

Why hadn't anyone else been called to a hearing for a debriefing? Only he got summoned back by Xiaoyu for re-education.

Without the dog planner's interference, he'd be wreaking havoc in the South China Sea by now.

Erliang Yueguang looked curiously at Ling Chong, who had just sat down, and asked, "Was that foul-mouthed Laxi trained by you?"

Ling Chong shook his head.

"Bullshit, I don't have that skill. Probably some brother from a specialized field taught him."

Including Old Bai, the Burning Legion had some brothers who'd retired and transferred to civilian jobs—it wasn't some shameful secret. It was just an unspoken rule from the early days of the server: people rarely brought their real-world identities into the game.

Unless they already knew each other in reality.

"True," Shanhe Rumeng nodded in agreement, "after all, people who truly understand discipline—"

"If you mention 'fellow townsman' again, I'll really lose it!"

Ling Chong was about to stand up, twisting his nose, when a new recruit trotted over, saluting with a fist to his chest.

"Report! Sir! Your family member is looking for you!"

"Pfft—!"

Erliang Yueguang, who was drinking seaweed egg drop soup, sprayed it out on the spot, seaweed choking out of his nose.

Banben Chusheng, usually reserved and aloof, had no reaction at first, but the sight of the seaweed dangling from Brother Yueguang's nostril made him collapse onto the table, pounding his right fist against it.

"Hahahaha!"

The nearby "trainees" all looked over curiously.

Shanhe Rumeng shook his head and cursed.

"Damn! That's too fucking noob!"

Ling Chong shot up from his chair, frantically covering the new recruit's mouth.

"Don't you fucking talk nonsense! What family member... I've only been here a short while—what family member do I have here?"

The new recruit was also taken aback.

It was mainly that old man who kept bringing a little girl to the camp gate, asking everyone if there was a Blue Coat named [Ling Chong] here.

Even he thought it was absurd—after all, the girl was way too young, and the connection was a bit too far-fetched—but the fact was, there really was such a person among the instructors.

What if it was true?

Wouldn't that be like the Eternal River flooding the City of a Thousand Pillars?

This kind of thing should have been handled by Laxi; he used to deal with it. Word had it he sent the old man off with two steamed buns, and he never dared to come back.

But now Laxi had resigned, and even if the old man was hard of hearing, he couldn't have missed the talk all over town, so he figured he'd try again.

Seeing the instructor's anxious expression, the new recruit tentatively asked.

"Then... should I chase the old man away?"

"No! Wait... Ah, damn it! I'll go myself." Facing the three bastards' leering grins, Ling Chong gritted his teeth, dropped his chopsticks, and headed out the door.

He had to settle this himself, or else the rumors would get more and more ridiculous, and things he hadn't done would be pinned on him.

Taking advantage of everyone in the camp being at dinner, he hurried to the gate of Lowell Camp, and sure enough, saw an old man with a little girl by his side.

It was clear that the earth-shattering changes in Golden Harbor had a big impact on both of them.

Both materially and spiritually.

Both for good and for ill.

That "old man" wasn't really old—at most middle-aged—but time had carved too many marks on his face, making him look aged like the wastelanders of the wastes. Now, though, he was radiant, ruddy-cheeked, and standing straight, looking like a middle-aged man.

He seemed to have some kind of backing, showing no regard for the soldiers at the camp gate, though he still obeyed the rules and didn't step past them.

Translate into English:

And those soldiers also seemed afraid to offend him, merely blocking his way politely without letting him enter.

That little girl, however, was not so dramatic; innocent and naive, she still didn't understand much of adult affairs, and upon seeing the big brother who had given her candy return, her face lit up with joy.

"Brother Chong!"

She called out like that.

The old man beside her also heard, and looked joyfully at Ling Chong approaching quickly, even waving at him.

"Sir! You've finally returned!"

Seeing pairs of eyes fixed on him, Ling Chong felt as if ants were crawling all over him, but he still steeled himself and walked over.

That little girl named Anuo had grown even more lovely.

Perhaps thanks to the flourishing import-export trade, she had been eating well lately; the contours of her cheeks had rounded out, looking soft and rosy, and her dark, glossy eyes were even brighter, sparkling.

Yet the cuter she looked, the more Ling Chong's heart ached with guilt.

That innocent gaze untouched by education—truly nothing to be advocated.

Because of a single piece of candy, because of some unrealistic notions, this family, who should have been on that vehicle, instead missed the train heading to a new era, becoming people hastily abandoned by the times.

He couldn't fathom it.

An old man who, just a few months ago, had told him, "Anuo is too young... pick another one," now persistently tried to thrust his daughter's hand into his own.

As if doing so could escape some sea of suffering—a certain sea of suffering in his heart.

Seeing Ling Chong approach, the old man forced a fawning smile and said.

"Sir... my daughter is not young anymore, she should—"

"She should be going to school."

Cutting him off without hesitation, Ling Chong fumbled in his pocket, ignoring the stares around him, and brazenly pressed a banknote into the old man's hand.

Happiness came too suddenly; the old man's eyes widened, and he thanked him ecstatically.

"Th-thank you!"

Anuo stared intently at that pocket, which seemed to hold countless magical items.

She had no interest in the colorful paper slips, but she still wanted to eat the candy she had before.

Her father said that if she followed this big brother, there would be endless candy; she thought that would be nice, and if there really was too much, she could share some with the other brothers and sisters.

Seeing the old man about to say more, Ling Chong looked him straight in the eye and said sternly.

"Don't thank me. This money isn't for you—it's for her tuition! That time I was rash... I won't deny it was my fault, but you can't keep clinging to me, can you? I'll have someone watch you. If you don't send her to school, I'll... I'll damn well tear down your house!"

The old man's face shifted through several expressions, but fear ultimately prevailed, and he nodded submissively.

"I'll definitely send her, definitely..."

He couldn't afford to offend these big shots.

That day's events were still vivid: Lord Fang's subordinate only frowned, and that ferocious Laxi, without even a furrow of his brow, killed the brother who had offended the alliance.

And without asking a single question, the entire ten-man squad was executed by firing squad.

Ling Chong forced a relieved smile onto his face, but unexpectedly, Anuo's expression turned disappointed.

"Does Brother not want Anuo?"

Her mother had specially washed her hair clean and put a pretty hairpin on her.

Ling Chong crouched down and gently comforted her.

"It's that you don't need me—or more precisely... what you need isn't any one person, but school and books."

He gradually realized that what they were doing had no shortcuts.

They had given the survivors of this wasteland some things, but in the end, some matters had to be accomplished by those people themselves.

Otherwise, they would become a black box.

A black box in another sense.

After they left, everything would revert—even before they left, it would end up like the federation in the southern seas.

"But... then there won't be any candy." Anuo lowered her head and murmured softly.

"Study hard, learn well, and you'll have plenty of candy later. You can buy it yourself, and you can give it to kids who cry without candy, just like I do."

Ling Chong instinctively reached out to pat her little head, but suddenly remembered something and awkwardly withdrew his hand.

This time, he didn't soften.

No matter how pitifully those big eyes pleaded with him, he didn't reach into his pocket for candy; he just waved his hand and watched the father and daughter walk away.

After they disappeared, he sighed in relief and turned to head back to the cafeteria, only to find his three mischievous friends not far behind him, holding plastic bags of takeout.

"Knew you glutton didn't get enough to eat," Erliang Yueguang said with a grin, shaking the buns in the plastic bag. "Chusheng's taking me to see the world. You coming?"

"It's just going to the theater to watch a stage play," Chusheng said, glancing discontentedly at the beast beside him and complaining, "Can you stop using such misleading phrasing? Makes me sound like I'm really some animal."

Erliang Yueguang stared at him in surprise, as if to say, "Aren't you?"

Shanhe Rumeng walked up and patted Ling Chong on the shoulder, grinning.

"Know why we don't let you give people candy? No matter how you explain it, it always ends up like this."

Simple kindness isn't a mistake, but the right thing doesn't always yield good results.

Because they belong to two entirely different dimensions—one might even say completely parallel, non-intersecting dimensions.

Ling Chong let out a long sigh.

"I know... Isn't that what I'm trying to change, dammit?"

The butterfly effect of a single candy can't be bigger than that of a pistol, right?

He believed that under his coercion and bribery, that old father would probably send the child to school.

And at that moment, he suddenly understood a little why Brother Fang always told them to avoid doing too many unnecessary things...