Chapter 57: The Master of Drawing Cakes

Yangzhou City.

Since assigning the tasks, Li Mu’s life had become busy.

He trained troops, reinforced city defenses, and had to spare energy to pacify the local gentry.

Occasionally, he also punished unruly aristocratic playboys.

As a result, his reputation in the city rapidly split into two extremes, earning him the nickname “Iron-Faced Yama.”

Heaven and earth bear witness—he did nothing that could possibly be linked to Yama.

At most, he’d hang criminals and beat them, then throw them into prison.

After a brief moment of frustration, Li Mu quickly accepted reality.

A bad reputation had its advantages—even aristocratic playboys from the capital avoided him at all costs.

Especially during troop assignments, these men strongly demanded not to be placed under Li Mu’s command, leaving the other battalion commanders deeply frustrated.

If he’d known beating this bunch of liabilities would rid him of these useless teammates, they wouldn’t have gotten off so easily.

“Battalion Commander, you are truly a genius at training troops!”

In less than half a month, these three hundred men have already taken shape.

Once they’ve been tempered by battle, they’ll become elite.”

Lan Linjie praised.

He didn’t understand troop command or warfare, but he could sense whether soldiers had combat potential.

This unit before him wasn’t just much more physically robust—they radiated a deadly aura.

Normally, such an aura should only appear on seasoned veterans.

“Master Lan, you’re mistaken this time.

They’re still far from elite. Their imposing appearance comes simply from being carefully selected.

Two-thirds of these three hundred are hunters from the mountains; the rest are butchers.

Killing livestock may not compare to killing men, but they’ve all seen blood.

Right now, they’ve only just learned basic discipline and formations—they look decent on the surface, but they still have a long way to go before becoming truly combat-ready.”

Li Mu shook his head.

The smile at the corner of his mouth betrayed his inner satisfaction—his personal guard unit had exceeded expectations.

These men were selected from over twenty-one thousand; they could truly be called one in a hundred, possessing the qualities to become elite.

“Master, you’ve come!”

Hearing this address, Li Mu glared sharply at the man and scolded irritably:

“Wang Er, remember this—in the camp, you address by rank!”

Though it was an open secret that military officers kept retainers, officially they were still imperial troops.

Calling someone “Master” inside the camp, if word got out, would bring bad consequences.

Unless this entire unit were his personal retainers—then any title would be fine.

Commanders always wanted more troops, and Li Mu was no exception. But his rank was only Battalion Commander; keeping three hundred retainers would be too conspicuous.

“Yes, Battalion Commander!”

Wang Er replied solemnly.

Though he preferred calling him “Master” to show closeness, since Li Mu had demanded it, he would obey.

Walking slowly through the ranks, Li Mu said:

“I know many of you resented being conscripted to defend the city, but since you’re here, face reality.

On the battlefield, soldiers who drift through days without purpose die the fastest.

To survive the battlefield, you must train harder and become the best soldiers.

In narrow paths, the brave prevail!

Either kill all your enemies, or be killed by them.

Your selection for the personal guard unit proves you’re already the best. Compared to others, you have the greatest chance to earn merit and glory.

The Imperial Envoy has ordered: for every rebel soldier you kill, you’ll receive two taels of silver.

I guarantee full payment—no deductions, no counterfeit paper money.

Anyone who kills five or more enemy soldiers may choose to become my retainer.

The treatment of a retainer—you can ask around. It's far better than scraping by at home.

Step outside, and you’ll be a respectable man.

Village heads and constables won’t dare bully you.

When your family pays taxes, no one will use an oversized measure on you.

The government will give you preferential treatment when conscripting labor.

If you suffer injustice, I’ll stand up for you.”

…

It was absurd—he was offering soldiers the dream of becoming retainers, not promotion or wealth.

This was a byproduct of a warped military system.

In the Great Yu Dynasty, not only did common soldiers suffer, but even junior officers lived miserable lives.

Officers at the level of Platoon Leader or Squad Leader in the garrison system still had to till their own fields and worried over firewood, rice, oil, and salt.

The court didn’t pay military wages; in years of disaster, they couldn’t even survive.

Recruited soldiers fared slightly better—annual income, including pay and subsidies, was roughly fifteen to eighteen taels.

On the Liaodong front, recruited soldiers earned more—nearly two taels per month, totaling about twenty-four taels a year.

Unfortunately, these were theoretical figures. Great Yu soldiers had never received full pay—discounts were the norm.

When wages were drawn from the Ministry of Revenue, thirty percent vanished before leaving the treasury. If soldiers received half, that was due to a clean commander.

Only the capital garrisons and border troops, the court’s top priorities, ever gave soldiers over sixty percent of their pay.

Many units deducted food and uniform costs—year after year, soldiers ended up working for free.

Hoping for merit and promotion to escape their miserable fate was equally futile.

In peacetime, only the borders saw fighting—and there, the military clans ruled. No matter how outstanding a commoner performed, it was nearly impossible to cross the threshold of Company Commander.

Under these conditions, expecting voluntary enlistment was impossible.

Unless utterly desperate, no one would join the army if they had any other option.

Retainers fared better—they were family, so pay was usually guaranteed.

After entering the camp, they typically served as the commander’s personal guard; outstanding ones could even hold official posts within the army.

But when the commander was transferred, retainers followed him—his career was entirely tied to his master’s.

From the excited expressions on their faces, many were clearly swayed.

Even if they’d never heard of the Five City Military Command before, after entering the camp, they knew this was a good office.

No other reason—simply because they got three full meals a day, sometimes even meat, unlike any army they’d known before.

Though they were hunters and butchers, constantly around meat, their actual lives were just as hard.

By now, the Great Yu Dynasty had grown so populous that nothing was in short supply except space.

One or two butchers sufficed for a market—there was no way every son could inherit his father’s trade.

Hunters fared worse—the forests were seized by powerful clans. To hunt, you needed their permission.

Even if you made a kill, the majority was taken from you, and you still had to pay state taxes.

Even without exploitation, forests could support only a tiny population.

According to the Great Yu Code, only sons were exempt from conscription.

Those sent here to serve must have had low status at home—definitely no chance of inheriting the family’s livelihood.

(End of Chapter)