Chapter 698: Preparing for Official Appointment

The rot of the capital garrison is an open secret; today, the Ming Dynasty, apart from the elite Nine Frontiers and the so‑called elite stationed officers, has its inland guard units and the capital garrison already completely rotten. The Southeast Guard's combat strength is pitiful, and it would be chased down by dozens of wokou. Only after figures like Qi Jiguang train elite troops and Zhang Juzheng implements fiscal reforms can any combat capability be restored, leading to the Wanli Three Great Campaigns.

Relying on the current Jiajing troops? The three great campaigns would be a joke. Bai Lang is now two hundred steps outside the An Da camp; he dismounts to let his warhorse rest, and pours a heap of beans and a ladle of water to feed the horse. He plants his long spear in the ground, removes his helmet and sheds his armor. It's quite hot today, and even though Bai Lang is only wearing a cotton shirt underneath, he's sweating. After a moment's thought, Bai Lang decisively strips off his plain robe as well.

Now he is a burly man bare‑chested, without a helmet—his hair hasn't been combed for days, hanging in a tangled mess. This reckless Bai Lang cares little for any parental admonitions about body, hair, or skin; he swings his waist‑knife and cuts off his long hair, leaving a chaotic three‑inch patch. "On a day like this you should shave a clean head to stay cool. Well, I'll go with the local custom and keep it like this for now."

Not to mention his tiger‑whiskered Big Man look with a pair of drooping eyebrows, and a shaved head that's downright unsightly; no amount of heroic looks can fix that. That would be the level of a Flower Monk. Bai Lang runs his hand over his own hair, thinks it might be fine, and notes his tattoo—doesn't that make him a true man? "My tattoo only shows when my qi and blood circulate; otherwise it stays hidden." In the Ming Dynasty, such a tattoo is not looked upon kindly, especially by civil officials.

Bai Lang rests here, while the An Da main army two hundred steps away does not dare to charge out, and the personal guards behind Bai Lang are terrified, ready to flee at any moment—given the current non‑Nine Frontiers Ming troops, they're already bold enough to fight. More than thirty men dared to follow the commander and close to this distance; if it were the three‑thousand‑strong capital garrison, none would dare. They'd rather escort the An Da forces out, and if that forces An Da to abandon some prisoners, it would count as a great victory.

Earlier Bai Lang beheaded so many heads that the stationed officers were overjoyed, and a flood of victory reports had already been sent back—because the number of heads was so large, these gentlemen even showed unexpected kindness, comforting the villagers who fled back, rebuilding some houses for them and giving a bit of copper and grain. The supervising general's father was also delighted and even performed an artful display of shedding tears for the suffering of the people.

Now Bai Lang is confronting the An Da army, and they know that, but moving their forces to join the loyalist army to attack An Da? They would never dare. As for whether that might cause the commander's death, it doesn't matter—the previous heads already offset any possible future failures. Besides, this peerless war hero performed well in Datong before; perhaps he can again charge the An Da army this time.

"Seek no merit, only avoid mistakes." That is the shared thought among these fellows.

Bai Lang knows this well; these slackers now can't match the soldiers of the late Ming, which, though rotten, still had some capable troops. Bai Lang rested for half an hour, his warhorse had eaten, drunk, and digested a bit; Bai Lang, too lazy to don armor, simply flipped onto the horse. "This time I should learn from that tiger‑madman." He spurred the horse, grabbed the long spear from the ground, and the horse broke into a trot, charging toward the An Da main camp.

The bone whistle and the bowstring sounds came together; Bai Lang, unarmored and helmetless, would make even those Mongols doubt that such a brazen Ming general existed—did they really think their bows and arrows were fake? "Indeed, they are fake." Bai Lang brandished his long spear; not a single arrow struck his warhorse, and those that hit his body he ignored entirely. The arrows merely skimmed his flesh, unable even to break the skin.

Most arrows never even touched his skin; at about a centimeter away they were stopped by the force of his innate Gang‑Qi Golden Bell Shield. Only a few masters of the Zhe Bie rank could land an arrow on him, and even then the defense held. At that point, refusing to clash with Bai Lang was impossible; naturally, there were also those wielding short spears and sabers to fight him…

An Da once again cut off its tail to survive, abandoning a portion of its troops that were hard to transport, and forced its own subordinates to die blocking Bai Lang—essentially sending one hundred‑man squads after him to be slaughtered. Ma Fang also arrived; amid the interception, An Da still led its army away. The haul was mediocre, and Bai Lang did not pursue further—how could his few dozen men chase? The opponent remained an organized army, all cavalry, and even a reckless retreat was still swift.

Fortunately they rescued tens of thousands of civilians who were originally to be seized for the steppe. After the court session, Bai Lang becoming a physician is no problem at all—he's already of the fifth rank, likely faster than his peers. Returning to the capital, Bai Lang unusually gets to see the emperor again; the Jiajing emperor, whose face resembles that of Chen *Guo, wore a Daoist robe, looking mysterious, and the one speaking was the minister Yan Song, who looks like Ni Dahong.

The minister indeed wants to recruit the scholar‑official before him; well‑rounded civil‑military officials aren't rare in the Ming, but someone whose martial skill reaches this level, capable of charging armies like the White Tiger Star Lord incarnate, is likely only this one. Such a person also looks like a reckless youth—there are many unorthodox followers of the Qi studies, and reckless youths abound; this short‑haired fellow is clearly one of them.

When this man meets the emperor, he merely bows; unless it's a formal court ceremony, he won't perform rigid ritual bows. It's better to keep him away from Jiajing's presence and assign him an external post. The court session must still be observed, but earlier—others may serve up to three years, whereas Bai Lang will likely send him abroad in three months. As for the post? Naturally, he'll be in the Ministry of Rites, overseeing the so‑called martial artists of the Three Mountains and Five Peaks.

The court still wants to regulate these people; usually the Ministry of Justice and the Ministry of Rites take action, and the Brocade Guard and the Eastern Depot also intervene—there's decent profit in it, and some Southeast coastal dealings rely on these jianghu figures. Capturing rebels for merit also requires these jianghu men—this time An Da's invasion involves the so‑called White Lotus Sect colluding with An Da, and the higher‑ups are keen to seize these traitors.

After three months of court sessions, Bai Lang gained nothing; it passed in a hurry, and then came the appointment—he has merit to his name, and this time he is directly made a fifth‑rank official.