Chapter 832

Red Leaf moved.

The moon-white figure cut out from Chen Yan's right side, her speed so fast that only a blurred line was left in the sunlight.

The sound of the fine steel short sword being drawn was covered by the roars of the three troublemakers, but the sound of the blade entering flesh could not be covered.

The right wrist of the first troublemaker was cut horizontally from the outside by the sword edge; the sound of the tendons breaking was like a tight piano string being snapped, and the horizontal blade fell from his hand, flipped twice in the air, and stuck into the mud with the hilt facing down.

The knee bend of the second troublemaker was accurately pierced by the sword tip from behind by half an inch; the leg supporting the charge went soft on the spot, and he fell face-down onto the muddy ground of the training ground, cutting a bloody wound on his chin.

The third troublemaker was the sturdiest one; his horizontal blade hadn't even finished slashing halfway when Red Leaf's left foot kicked his lower abdomen, the huge impact force making him stagger backward four or five steps, crashing into a flagpole behind him, his back of the head hitting the wooden pillar of the flagpole, his eyeballs rolling white for an instant, and then he slowly slid down along the flagpole, paralyzed on the muddy ground.

Three breaths.

From the three troublemakers drawing their blades to all falling to the ground, Red Leaf used three breaths.

She wiped the short sword on the cloth of her sleeve, retracted it into her sleeve, and retreated to half a step behind Chen Yan.

The throats of the two thousand people on the training ground were gripped by someone within those three breaths.

Chen Yan looked down at the three people wailing on the muddy ground, his voice flat.

"Drag them away, tie them to the stakes at the camp gate, and let everyone see what the end is for daring to draw a blade in front of me."

Two Beiwei Death Guards stepped forward, dragging the three people up from the muddy ground like dead dogs, iron chains wrapping around their wrists and ankles, dragging them toward the camp gate with a clatter.

Zhao Heizi, standing at the very back of the observing ranks, watched this scene, the iron-blue color on his face deepening by another three degrees, the blood vessels on his temples jumping like two dying earthworms.

Liu Si Hai's lips squirmed twice in his ear, his voice so fine that only two people could catch it.

"Finished, all finished; a frontal charge is useless at all."

Zhao Heizi's fingers clenched and relaxed on the hilt of his sword, relaxed and clenched, finally slowly relaxing.

Chen Yan did not look in the direction of the observing ranks again.

He turned around, facing the one hundred and three seeds, his voice sinking by half a degree.

"The first lesson begins."

His finger pointed toward a piece of open ground on the edge of the training ground.

"Everyone go over there and sit in a circle."

One hundred and three seeds moved their footsteps in unison, forming a large circle on that open ground and sitting on the ground.

Chu Ci sat on the outer edge of the circle, a blank booklet spread on his knees, clutching a brush saturated with ink in his hand.

Chen Yan stood in the center of the circle, his gaze sweeping over every face one by one.

His finger landed on Li Gen's shoulder.

"You tell it."

Li Gen's body shook, his voice tight to the point of hoarseness.

"Zhuguo, what should this subordinate say?"

Chen Yan squatted down, looking at him eye-to-eye.

"Tell your bitterness."

Li Gen's lips trembled twice, something churning in his eye sockets; he swallowed two mouthfuls of saliva desperately, wanting to press that sourness back.

Couldn't press it back.

"This subordinate was originally a tenant farmer outside Ye City in the Qi State, renting three acres of land from the Wang family; seventy percent of the harvest was paid as rent every year, and the remaining thirty percent was barely enough for the family to drink porridge."

His voice began to tremble.

"Later, the Wang family thought thirty percent was too little and changed it to eighty percent; this subordinate went to beg the manager, and the manager whipped this subordinate on the face, saying if you think it's too little, then get out."

He pointed his finger at a faint scar on his left cheek.

"This is the scar left by that whip."

The breathing of several people in the circle became heavier.

Li Gen's voice shattered into segments as he went down.

"This subordinate's mother was sick that winter and had no money to see a doctor; this subordinate went to borrow a string of money from the manager, and the manager said, you can borrow it, but take your wife to mortgage it."

His fist clenched on his knees, his finger bones making a creaking sound.

"This subordinate didn't borrow it, and this subordinate's mother died on the twenty-ninth day of the twelfth lunar month that year; she didn't even drink a mouthful of hot porridge when she died."

A young seed in the circle couldn't hold it anymore and sobbed while covering his mouth.

Li Gen wiped the tears and snot on his face, his voice hoarse to the point of breaking.

"Later, this subordinate ran away, ran to Xia Prefecture, was caught by the Iron Wolf Gang to be a coolie, worked tied with iron chains, given a bowl of coarse rice soup a day, and if I couldn't work, I was whipped, and after being whipped, I had to continue working."

His gaze lifted and landed on Chen Yan's face, the things churning in those bloodshot eyes hotter than fire.

"It was the Zhuguo who dragged this subordinate out of that hell."

His knees bent again.

Chen Yan reached out and grabbed his shoulder again.

"I said, no need to kneel."

Chen Yan stood up, his gaze turning to Zhou Xiaoman on the other side of the circle.

"What about you?"

Zhou Xiaoman's age was younger than Li Gen's, his face still carrying the greenness of a teenager, but his eyes were as old as a forty-year-old's.

He opened his mouth twice before making a sound.

"When this subordinate's family of seven fled from the Qi State, this subordinate's father was hacked to death by the Qi patrol soldiers; mother carried the little sister and ran, and when she ran to the river, she was shot in the back by an arrow; she stuffed the little sister into this subordinate's arms and said, Xiaoman, you take your sister and go, don't look back."

His voice broke for a beat here.

"This subordinate didn't look back."

He buried his face in his knees, his shoulders twitching violently.

The crying in the circle changed from one person to two, from two to fifteen, from fifteen to more than a dozen, finally spreading in a full circle like a pot of boiling water that had its lid lifted.

A young man as thin as a bamboo pole stood up, his voice hoarse but carrying an irrepressible hatred.

"This subordinate is called Chen Daniu; this subordinate was originally a blacksmith in Bingzhou, was caught by the local tyrant and forced to forge ironware for him for two years, didn't get a single penny of wages, this subordinate wanted to run, had a leg broken, later ran to Xia Prefecture, the Zhuguo allocated this subordinate thirty acres of land, this subordinate knew for the first time in his life what it felt like to be full!"

Another person stood up.

"This subordinate is called Liu San; this subordinate was originally a refugee, walked for three months before reaching Xia Prefecture, and two children starved to death on the road..."

His voice shattered when he said the two words "children", and he squatted on the ground and wailed.

Chu Ci sat on the outer edge, his brush recording every word spoken by everyone on the silk booklet at high speed, the ink blurring in several places; he took a look and realized it wasn't the ink that had blurred, but his own tears dripping onto the silk surface.

He wiped his eyes fiercely with his sleeve and continued to write.

The seeds' bitterness-telling lasted for nearly two hours; every story told was bloody, and every tear was soaked with a skeleton.

A bonfire was lit.

The flames danced in the autumn wind, illuminating one hundred and three faces that were either angry, sad, or gnashing their teeth, flickering on and off.

Chen Yan stood beside the bonfire, the firelight reflecting on his face, making the things in those eyes incomparably clear.

He spoke.

"Remember every word you said."

One hundred and three pairs of eyes were nailed to him in unison.

"Remember how your parents died, remember how your children starved to death, remember how those people riding on your heads stepped you into the mud."

His finger pointed toward the bonfire, the firelight jumping on his fingertips.

"The Political Commissar exists to ensure that such things never happen again."

His voice raised a notch, the sound wave rolling out from beside the bonfire and pouring into everyone's ears present.

"In the future, when you become Political Commissar and go down to various battalions, the first thing you must do is tell those brothers who have the same background as you what the guns in their hands are protecting!"

His fist clenched in front of him.

"Protecting their own land, their own home, and the world where their children never have to kneel to beg for a mouthful of rice again!"

The eyes of the one hundred and three people changed at this moment.

Changed to something completely different from before.

Before it was gratitude, awe, and worship of a savior.

Now it was something growing from the marrow of their bones, deeper than gratitude, heavier than worship, a fanaticism that would rather have their limbs cut off than loosen their teeth from the flagpole.

Li Gen stood beside the bonfire, his face still wet with tears, his voice hoarse to the bottom.

"Zhuguo, this subordinate understands; this subordinate's life belongs to the Zhuguo from today on; this subordinate will guard these brothers for the Zhuguo as long as I live!"

Zhou Xiaoman didn't speak; he just smashed his right fist heavily onto his chest, and the muffled sound of that punch was louder than any oath.

Many of the bottom-level soldiers who were not participating in the special training but were watching from afar outside the training ground had their eyes reddened when the bitterness-telling meeting was halfway through, and several old soldiers turned their backs to wipe away tears several times.

Zhao Heizi stood in the shadows at the very edge, his face having turned from iron-blue to a kind of indescribable paleness.

Liu Si Hai leaned into his ear, his voice shaking by two degrees.

"Old Zhao, it's over."

Zhao Heizi's fingers twitched convulsively at his side.

"What's over?"

Liu Si Hai nudged his chin toward the bonfire in the center of the training ground.

"Look at the eyes of those people, look at the eyes of those seeds; after Chen Yan's move, these people will be his die-hards from now on; even if you put a blade to their necks, they won't betray him by half a word."

Zhao Heizi's teeth ground in his mouth, making a sound that made people's teeth ache.

"Then what do we do? After the Political Commissar is spread, our way of eating phantom pay is all cut off, and with a Political Commissar staring at us in the battalion in the future, we'll have to look at other people's faces even to breathe."

Liu Si Hai's eyeballs turned twice in the darkness, his voice dropping to a level that only two people's ears could catch.

"Old Zhao, it won't work to be hard here; that woman in white beside Chen Yan is too evil, and a frontal charge is just sending us to death."

His gaze flashed twice.

"But if..."

Zhao Heizi's breathing stopped for half a beat.

"If what?"

Liu Si Hai's lips pressed against his earlobe.

"Sun Decai still has more than three hundred people outside the camp who haven't been incorporated, and Ma Biao's secret line to the Qi State is still alive."

His voice was as fine as the flapping of a mosquito's wings.

"At the hour of Zi tonight, take advantage of the fact that everyone in the Lecture Hall is asleep, and we will take people to sneak in from the broken wall on the north side, first control those one hundred seeds, and then force Chen Yan to withdraw the Political Commissar."

Zhao Heizi's fingers slowly clenched into a fist in the darkness.

"What if he doesn't withdraw?"

A light darker than the bonfire flashed in Liu Si Hai's eyeballs.

"If he doesn't withdraw, then slaughter all those one hundred seeds; without the seeds, what kind of tree can he plant?"

Zhao Heizi was silent for five breaths.

The night wind poured in from outside the training ground, blowing the shadows in the pockmarks on his face bright and dark.

His fist clenched to the tightest.

"Do it."

The embers of the bonfire flickered in the wind; Chen Yan stood at the edge of the firelight, his gaze crossing the backs of those seeds who had already begun to enter their tents to rest, and landing on the broken wall that was half a height shorter on the north side of the camp.

The arc at the corners of his mouth did not retract.

Red Leaf stood behind him, her moon-white sleeves slightly bulging in the night wind.

Chen Yan's voice was very light, light enough that only Red Leaf could hear.

"Guests tonight."