Chapter 830: Secretly Selecting Militiamen for Special Training, the Old‑Faction Commander Breeds a Dark Ghost

In the desolate temple, four oil lamps went out three in the middle of the night, and the last one was snuffed out by the short, stout Colonel with his finger.

The four men each slipped away through the hidden door behind the temple, treading on the dew as they vanished into the deep night.

What they did not know was that beneath a broken tile on the temple roof, a figure that had been curled up for a full three hours slowly stretched its limbs, held a copper tube between its fingers, placed it in its mouth, and gave a soft blow.

The sound of the copper tube was extremely brief and high‑pitched, like a night bird's call, and under the moonlight it faded after traveling less than twenty zhang.

But in the thicket thirty zhang away, another figure heard that night‑bird call clearly, vaulted onto a horse, and galloped toward Tongwan City.

The next morning, Shufang of Zongguan Fu.

Gao Jiong slapped a silk scroll filled with names onto Chen Yan's desk, and the clatter of armor pieces carried an unrestrained anger.

"The Pillar, it's all here."

Chen Yan lifted his tea cup, his gaze falling on the official titles and postings noted beside each of the four names on the silk scroll.

"What's the name of the one with the hemp‑face?"

Gao Jiong's voice was pressed between his teeth.

"Deputy General Zhao Heizi, an Old Troops member of He Lanhu, served in the Seventh Battalion for six years, and was the most ruthless at skimming rations."

Chen Yan's finger traced a circle around Zhao Heizi's name.

"And the one with the eight‑character beard?"

"Deputy General Liu Si Hai, who is a sworn brother of Zhao Heizi, commands a trusted unit of a hundred men whose equipment surpasses that of regular battalions."

The curve at Chen Yan's mouth corner slowly widened.

"The short, stout Colonel?"

Gao Jiong turned to the second page of the silk scroll.

"Colonel Sun Decai, this man is the most scheming; not only does he have ties with He Lanhu, but Shuyi discovered that he covertly colluded with a grain merchant in the city, exchanging military provisions for silver more than once."

Chen Yan set the tea cup on the table, and the porcelain base emitted a faint, crisp click.

"What about the fourth?"

Gao Jiong's gaze darkened slightly.

"Deputy General Ma Biao, outwardly the most honest, enjoys the best connections and popularity in the army, yet Shuyi's hidden agents found that he still has an uncut line of contact with Qi State—a loose end missed by the previous batch of hidden agents from Drunken Spring Pavilion."

Chen Yan's finger lingered on Ma Biao's name for three breaths.

"The Qi State line."

He stood, walked to the window, and his gaze passed over the lintel, landing on the direction of the newly framed Jiangwu Hall in the distance.

"Gao Jiong, are they planning to cause trouble at the opening ceremony?"

Gao Jiong punched his chest armor.

"Shuyi's men heard it clearly; they placed dozens of Troublemakers into the ceremony's ranks, ready to lead the clamor when the Pillar steps onto the stage, shouting that the Zheng Wei System is an insult and purge of veteran soldiers."

He clenched his jaw.

"Pillar, Shuyi requests orders: tonight capture all four of those damned things, lest we leave them to spawn an even larger incident the day after tomorrow."

Chen Yan turned and looked into Gao Jiong's eyes.

"Captured them, then what?"

Gao Jiong's mouth opened slightly.

Chen Yan walked back to the desk, sat down, and his finger traced a slow arc on the armrest.

"Do you know how many people are entangled behind those four?"

Gao Jiong's brow twitched.

"Shuyi is investigating…"

Chen Yan cut him off.

"No need to investigate; it won't be clean."

He folded the silk scroll neatly and placed it beneath the paperweight on the desk.

"The old ailments in the army aren't sores on the skin; they're maggots rotting in the bones. If you pick out the few maggots on the surface, more will emerge from below."

Gao Jiong's hand clenched into a fist.

"Then what does the Pillar mean?"

The curve at Chen Yan's mouth bent into an angle that tightened Gao Jiong's spine.

"Let them cause trouble."

Gao Jiong's pupils constricted.

Chen Yan's finger gave a light tap on the desk.

"If you don't burst the pus sack, how can you dig out the rotten flesh?"

He stood and drew a pre‑written silk book from the desk.

"Where has the Jiangwu Hall training base been chosen?"

Gao Jiong's train of thought was pulled back by that sentence, and his voice quickened slightly.

"Fifteen li outside Tongwan City, an abandoned military camp; Shuyi has already had Lu Ming mobilize eight hundred Heavy Armor Infantry to encircle the area with an iron bucket, a guard post every three steps and a sentry every five steps—no stray dog can get in."

Chen Yan opened the silk book, his finger running line by line over the roster.

"How many Militiamen were selected?"

Gao Jiong pulled another silk book from his chest and handed it to the desk with both hands.

"One hundred and three people; Shuyi screened them one by one according to the three criteria set by the Pillar. Nine‑tenths came from impoverished backgrounds, all the literate ones passed the examination, and Shuyi used three secret methods to test their loyalty to the Pillar—none had any problem."

Chen Yan took the roster, scanned it, and his finger paused half a breath beside the annotations next to several names.

"This one named Li Gen, a laborer background?"

Gao Jiong's voice deepened.

One of the laborers who moved boxes, chained by iron chain in the Iron Wolf Gang's old lair, after being rescued by the Pillar State knelt on the ground and kowtowed more than a hundred times, his forehead broken, yet would not stop.

Chen Yan's finger moved to another name.

"What about this one called Zhou Xiaoman?"

"A refugee, originally escaped from Qi State, his family of seven lost five members, only he and a six‑year‑old sister survived; after arriving in Xiazhou they were allotted a field, he slipped three letters into the Secret Letter Box, each ending with the same sentence, saying that even serving the Pillar State as cattle and horses for this lifetime would not be enough to repay the favor."

Chen Yan closed the roster and placed his palm over the bamboo silk surface.

"These kinds of people are exactly the seeds that this Duke wants."

A light, brisk footstep sounded from outside the door, and Chu Ci's figure appeared in the doorway; his teal official robe still bore half‑dry ink stains, clearly having run straight from the Duke's desk.

He stepped over the threshold, clasped his fists, and stood firm.

"Pillar State, my subordinate heard that Jiangwu Hall will open for enrollment the day after tomorrow."

Chen Yan lifted his eyelid slightly.

"The news spread rather quickly."

Chu Ci raised his voice, his face showing an impatient urgency.

"Pillar State, my subordinate wishes to enter Jiangwu Hall."

Gao Jiong turned his head, gave him a glance, and raised his eyebrows slightly.

Chen Yan leaned back in his chair, the curve of his mouth unchanged.

"You are a civil official; Jiangwu Hall is for cultivating Political Commissars within the army—what are you going to do there?"

Chu Ci's hand at his side clenched and then released, his voice sinking.

"Pillar State, my subordinate dealt with the common folk in Qinggui County for half a year; my subordinate knows the taste of the lower strata's suffering better than anyone."

His Adam's apple rolled.

"The Political Commissar needs Soul Forging; although my subordinate cannot wield swords or spears, my subordinate can write, can argue, can ignite the fire within people's hearts."

Chen Yan stared at him for five breaths.

"Approved."

Chu Ci's eyes reddened, his clasped‑fist arm tensed in the air, and he turned, briskly walking out of the Shufang.

That night, past the midpoint of the Zi hour.

At the secret tunnel entrance outside Tongwan City's west gate, one hundred and three youths whose eyes were covered with black strips were helped out in pairs, their steps alternating deep and shallow on the muddy road.

The Ti Cavalry guide pressed his throat, his voice so low that only those nearest could hear.

"Do not speak, do not remove the blindfolds; when you reach the place, someone will naturally tell you."

The night wind swept over the Wilderness, carrying the late‑autumn chill, blowing on these blindfolded youths; a few of them shivered slightly in the wind.

The carriage traveled for nearly half an hour, finally stopping before a camp gate illuminated brightly by torches.

"Remove."

One hundred and three pairs of hands simultaneously tore off the blindfolds.

The torchlight stung their eyes, making them squint; when their vision refocused, they saw a camp encircled so tightly by Heavy Armor Infantry that it was impassable, and above the gate hung a newly painted plaque, its three large characters so clear in the firelight that it made their throats tighten.

Jiangwu Hall.

On each side of the gate stood a row of soldiers wielding Chang Qiang, the spear tips glimmering with a cold hue in the firelight, each gaze fixed directly on the newcomers' faces.

Li Gen stood at the front of the crowd, his knee still bearing an old scar rubbed by iron chain in the Iron Wolf Gang's old lair; now a vague sour feeling rose in his throat, and the fists clenched at his sides made his knuckles click faintly.

His lips moved, his voice so low that only Zhou Xiaoman beside him could hear.

"This is the Pillar State's place."

Zhou Xiaoman said nothing; he simply stared fixedly at the plaque, something churning in his eyes.

The next morning, just as dawn was breaking.

On the open ground outside Jiangwu Hall's main gate, a three‑story viewing platform had already been erected, its Xiaochang below capable of holding two thousand people.

Lu Ming rode the black great horse, patrolling back and forth in front of the camp gate three times, the Chang Qiang slung over his shoulder, his normally simple face unusually filled with solemnity.

"Sima Gu, how are things on your side?"

Gu Yuci led his horse around from the side, his voice pressed down extremely low.

"I have placed people in the Observing Ceremony Squad, and they have already identified seventeen troublemakers, all thugs under Zhao Heizi and Liu Si Hai; each person's position has been marked."

His hand rested on the hilt of the knife at his waist.

"Shall we act ahead of schedule?"

Lu Ming shook his head, a wry smile forced onto his large face.

"The Pillar State said not to move, let them cause trouble, saying that if a pus pocket isn't squeezed, the rotten flesh can't be dug out."

Gu Yuci's eyebrows tightened slightly.

"The Pillar State means to use these people's hands to pull out the entire rotten root?"

Lu Ming scratched the back of his head.

"I have never been able to keep up with the Pillar State's mind; I stand wherever he tells me to stand."

Zhang Wenqian's figure hurried from the side of the viewing platform, cradling a bamboo silk scroll of the ceremony's procedure, his steps threefold quicker than usual.

He approached Gu Yuci, his voice pressed down to a level only two people could hear.

"Sima Gu, within the outer observing ceremony ranks, a few people's gazes are off; my subordinate has followed a hidden line for ten years, and this kind of covert linkage's scent is recognizable at a glance."

Gu Yuci nodded toward him.

"I know, already have them in sight."

Zhang Wenqian's gaze swept over the Xiaochang, landing on the dark purple flag slowly rising in the direction of the Zongguan Fu.

"The Pillar State is arriving soon."

Three deep, muffled horn blasts sounded from inside the camp gate, the sound waves rolling over the wall, flooding every corner of the Xiaochang.

Over two thousand soldiers from various camps and units straightened their backs at the sound of the horn, their gazes flashing in unison toward the viewing platform.

The Great Gate at the far end of the Xiaochang was pushed open from the inside.

Chen Yan's figure appeared in the doorway, his Black Python Pattern Cloak fluttering with a rustling sound in the morning breeze, its dark‑gold patterns flickering in the early sunlight.

Hongye stood half a step behind him, the moon‑white sleeves slightly billowing in the wind, his right hand naturally hanging at his side, his fingertips just beside the hilt of the short sword hidden within the sleeve.

Chen Yan ascended the Stone Steps of the viewing platform step by step, his pace neither hurried nor slow.

His gaze swept over the more than two thousand faces below, lingering for less than a breath in a few directions.

The people standing in those spots already had their hands quietly resting on their sword hilts.

A slight twitch lifted Chen Yan's mouth corner, the curve barely perceptible.

He stood at the very top of the Gaotai, facing two thousand pairs of eyes.

Wind blew from behind him, the hem of his Great Cloak lifting into an arc in the breeze.

He spoke.