Chapter 32 The New Recruit Camp

Chapter 32: The Recruit Training Camp

Atop the city walls, the two walked side by side. Jing Su turned his head, his gaze falling upon the quiet Duan Lingwen, and finally sighed softly. “You heard everything my uncle said, didn’t you?”

After concluding his discussion with his uncle, Jing Su had searched the residence for Duan Lingwen but failed to find him. Upon inquiry, he learned that Duan Lingwen had also been looking for him, and he had already pieced together the general situation.

Duan Lingwen’s steps faltered slightly, a hint of trepidation in his heart. He softly uttered, “Mm.”

“After Meng Ru captured Nanyang, the local elite families there have been walking on thin ice. The Cai clan is one of them,” Jing Su began slowly. “To ensure their survival, the Cai clan proactively sought our protection. I knew they harbored ulterior motives, so I demanded ten thousand *dan* of provisions in exchange.”

Duan Lingwen had already heard this from Jing Su before.

“They agreed,” Jing Su continued. “But the head of the Cai family also kept an escape route—he proposed a marriage alliance between his daughter, Jin Se, and our Jing family. That, I must admit, caught me off guard.”

He turned to face Duan Lingwen, his voice softening slightly. “I didn’t mention it to you beforehand—not because I intended to conceal it, but because I was confident I could handle it properly and didn’t want you worrying over it.”

“Now, I’ve settled the matter with both my uncle and Cai Gui. Our two families will establish friendly relations. Miss Jin Se will remain in Nan Commandery for the time being, and our Jing family will treat her with the courtesy due a family friend, ensuring her safety and well-being.”

Duan Lingwen listened quietly. Upon hearing Jin Se’s name, his eyelashes fluttered faintly—finally understanding why she was staying in the residence’s guest quarters…

Jing Su gazed into the distance. He couldn’t bring himself to reproach Duan Lingwen—not even for enlisting in the army behind his back.

“If you wish to be involved in military affairs, I can request my uncle to assign you a formal post—one that keeps you by my side. Would that be acceptable? At least then I’d be able to see you whenever I wished.” Jing Su still selfishly hoped to keep him close.

Duan Lingwen stepped half a pace forward and gently grasped Jing Su’s hand. “It’s not the same…” (He meant he didn’t want a position granted out of favoritism—but one earned through merit.)

What he truly wanted was to become someone who could achieve real distinction on the battlefield—perhaps even rise to junior officer rank someday. He had studied numerous military texts and mastered the fundamentals of warfare and command.

What he desired was to stand beside Jing Su—not as a protected ward, but as an equal.

“Will you stop me, Jing Su…?” Duan Lingwen looked up at him. His twilight-colored eyes held a faint glimmer—a quiet, unyielding resilience.

Jing Su adjusted his lapel for him and asked softly, “If I did stop you, would you resent me?”

Duan Lingwen was taken aback. He pondered for a long while, the light in his eyes dimming—yet ultimately shook his head.

He would be saddened, but he wouldn’t blame Jing Su.

Jing Su observed his expression and sighed softly—then finally yielded.

***

Three days later, the auxiliary soldier camp of the Jing Army underwent reorganization.

Originally housing nearly three hundred personnel—mostly *Shuang’er* (a third gender in this fictional world, often possessing distinct physical traits), or elderly, frail, or injured soldiers—their daily duties consisted largely of menial labor, such as hauling supplies.

Even if some *Shuang’er* aspired to earn battlefield merits, their identity as *Shuang’er* frequently barred them from frontline service.

Jing Su issued a new order: wide-scale recruitment across Nan Commandery; women and *Shuang’er* aged fifteen and above were now eligible to join combat units—and their first month’s pay would be doubled.

More recruits arrived than Jing Su had anticipated. Within just a few days, several new combat units composed entirely of women and *Shuang’er* were established within the Jing Army.

The camps grew crowded, morale soared—but inevitably, chaos and disorder followed.

Jing Su personally appointed Qin Fengzhi—a Zhaowu Colonel in the army—to oversee troop training.

Qin Fengzhi was nearly forty, stern and unyielding in temperament. He rarely smiled, enforced discipline rigorously, and possessed exceptional skill in soldier training.

Faced with Jing Su’s controversial decision to recruit women and *Shuang’er*, Qin Fengzhi’s stoic expression betrayed no emotion. He simply clasped his fists and accepted the order: “Once they enter my camp, there is no distinction between men, women, or *Shuang’er*. There are only qualified soldiers—and elite troops.”

It was now late winter, early spring. Across the various camps, training drills gradually commenced.

Duan Lingwen stood among the ranks. After several days of grueling training, every bone in his body ached. The calluses on his palms—having begun to fade—thickened once more. His shoulders chafed raw and red beneath the coarse leather armor.

Due to Duan Lingwen’s status, most recruits in the new camp kept their distance. Only one person was an exception.

That person was A Nong—a *Shuang’er* who had drifted into Nan Commandery. A fifteen-year-old beggar, he had rushed to enlist upon hearing the army provided food and wages. He was even slighter and smaller than Duan Lingwen—yet possessed an appetite wildly disproportionate to his frame.

Because of his youth, others in the camp often looked after him. Duan Lingwen regularly set aside an extra flatbread for him to eat when hunger struck at night.

Because of this, A Nong practically clung to Duan Lingwen’s arm. “When I make something of myself someday, you’ll be the second person I repay, Brother Lingwen!”

Duan Lingwen certainly hadn’t done it for repayment—but he was curious. “Then… who’s the first?”

“A big brother who bought me five meat buns!” A Nong declared—then suddenly pouted. “But I don’t know his name. Maybe in a few years, I’ll even forget what he looked like.”

Duan Lingwen could only comfort him, saying that if fate willed it, they would meet again one day.

***

In the blink of an eye, another month passed. It was now the second month of spring.

Undercurrents stirred across the land.

In the west, having consolidated gains from capturing Nanyang, Meng Ru launched no major campaigns—but his scouts and cavalry increasingly probed southward.

In the east, Lu Xin—learning the Jing Army had grown into a formidable force—likewise signaled intentions to annex the south.

In the north, Liu Zimu maintained isolated neutrality, seemingly observing the shifting tides from afar.

On the western frontier, the Qiang and Rong tribes, sensing turmoil in the Central Plains, began testing border defenses more frequently.

The Yu Dynasty’s rule had already collapsed.

This was an era of rising heroes—and survival of the fittest. Any faction possessing even modest strength strove relentlessly to expand and consolidate power.

The Jing clan of Nan Commandery could not remain untouched.

Internally, newly recruited soldiers were still undergoing rigorous tempering. Externally, bandits and rogue forces—previously lying low in the mountains and along key routes surrounding Nan Commandery—grew active again, sensing the Jing Army’s apparent shift in focus. They plundered merchants and harassed villages. Though not yet a major threat, they festered like an open wound—disturbing the surrounding regions and eroding the Jing family’s prestige.

Jing Su decided to personally lead a campaign to suppress the bandits.

This move served multiple purposes: first, to swiftly stabilize the rear and deter petty troublemakers; second—and most critically—to use a controlled, real-world battle to temper the new recruit camps.

On the training ground:

“The bandits of Luomajian and Qifengling plague the land. Today, follow me on this campaign—to root them out and restore peace to the people!” Jing Su’s gaze swept across the assembly, pausing briefly on the new recruit camp before moving on.

“Yes!” A thunderous response roared like mountains and seas.

Jing Su always planned meticulously before acting. Regarding these two deeply entrenched bandit groups, he had already dispatched scouts to gather detailed intelligence.

The bandit leader at Luomajian appeared fierce but was inwardly weak; his followers were mostly a ragtag collection of coerced conscripts. Upon learning Jing Su himself led a large force—and seeing the Jing Army’s imposing bearing and gleaming weapons—they were utterly terrified.

Before the Jing Army could even complete its encirclement, the stronghold gates swung open. The bandit leader, flanked by a crowd of underlings, abandoned their weapons, knelt roadside, bound their own hands, and surrendered.

Jing Su sat upright in his saddle. He ordered all weapons confiscated, detained the bandit leader and several lieutenants for interrogation, and held the remaining bandits temporarily—intending to transport them back to camp. After screening, they would either be incorporated into the army to bolster manpower—or disbanded and sent home to their villages.

The entire process was bloodless, defeating the enemy without battle.

However, the situation at Qifeng Ridge was entirely different.

The terrain here was treacherous, with the bandit fort built against the mountain, making it easy to defend but difficult to attack.

The bandits entrenched here were true desperadoes. Their leader was fierce and, relying on the advantageous terrain, refused to surrender. They even deliberately hung plundered possessions and flags on the fort walls, intending to provoke the Jing Army.

The Jing Army quickly surrounded the mountain, linking their encampments with patrols day and night.

Any bandits attempting to break through or seek reinforcements downhill never returned alive.

At the same time, Jing Su sent men to seize the mountain's watering points, completely trapping the ferocious bandits at Qifeng Ridge.

Water became scarce, and food supplies dwindled. Brawls erupted frequently among the bandits over dwindling food supplies.

On the seventh day, the guards at the Jing Army camp below the mountain suddenly heard faint, uncontainable clamor from above, followed by chaotic footsteps and the clashing of weapons, all heading toward the western pass.

Duan Lingwen's new recruit battalion was stationed at the western pass, originally tasked with intercepting any fleeing bandits.

Unexpectedly, swarms of fleeing bandits surged toward the west. Some of the new recruits turned pale, their hands trembling as they gripped their weapons, their feet instinctively retreating. The once-orderly formation began to loosen.

"Why panic?! Form up! Spears forward! Shields to the front! Drive these mad dogs back!" Qin Fengzhi roared.

His shout jolted the new recruits to awareness.

In the brief chaos and reorganization, the bandits surged forward, forcing the new recruits to hold their ground desperately.

During the skirmish, Duan Lingwen came face-to-face with a desperate bandit. Their eyes met, and both froze for a moment.

But the bandit's face twisted into a ferocious snarl. With a hoarse cry, he raised his notched broadsword and swung it viciously toward Duan Lingwen's head!

The blade swept down with a whistle—it was kill or be killed.

Duan Lingwen's heart tightened. All distractions vanished in the face of life and death.

Instinctively, he sidestepped, pivoted, and lunged forward, his long sword moving as if guided by instinct. With a forceful thrust, he met the charging figure head-on.

"Thud—"

Duan Lingwen felt a strong resistance, followed by the sensation of piercing through obstruction.

Warm, iron-scented liquid splattered onto his wrist and cheek.

The bandit's charge halted abruptly.

He looked down in disbelief at the sword embedded in his chest, his hands futilely grasping for the blade that had taken his life before he collapsed backward.

Duan Lingwen instinctively withdrew his sword. As the blade pulled free, a fountain of blood gushed forth.

The bandit fell heavily to the ground, twitched twice, and fell still.

Only then did the sounds of battle—shouts, clashes of weapons—return to Duan Lingwen's consciousness.

This wasn't a training wooden dummy; this was a living person who had just locked eyes with him and now lay dead by his sword.

At that moment, a calm figure approached him. A familiar voice asked, "Madam, are you alright?"

Duan Lingwen was momentarily stunned, assuming reinforcements had come—but why were only Deng Tong and a few others there?

Then he realized: "Jing Su…"

Jing Su had sent Deng Tong to protect him.

Deng Tong didn't deny it.

Soon, reinforcements arrived. The bandits on the mountain, already spent, had relied on their ferocity for a final desperate struggle.

The new recruits managed to withstand this desperate breakout until the elite Jing Army troops launched a countercharge, shattering the already scattered formation completely.

The bandit leader, caught in the chaos, was cut down by a *Shuang’er* who had recently been incorporated into the combat battalion. Leaderless, the remaining bandits scattered like headless flies, dropping to their knees in surrender.

Duan Lingwen sheathed his sword and silently assisted in assessing the casualties as the army regrouped.

Deng Tong disappeared at some point, only to reappear moments later. He approached Duan Lingwen and whispered, "Madam, the Lord requests your presence."

Duan Lingwen hesitated briefly, then nodded. He followed Deng Tong through the camp, which was orderly amid the post-battle disarray.

Outside the command tent, bodyguards stood at solemn attention. Deng Tong stopped at the entrance, signaling for Duan Lingwen to enter alone.

Inside, the tent was dimly lit. As Duan Lingwen stepped in, he was pulled into a warm embrace.