Chapter 348: Sparring

Everyone could see the momentum behind Zhao's Camp now. Zhou Xuezhi had once served as an advisor to a cult leader, a stain he could never wash clean, and the path of imperial examinations and official rank was closed to him. His only way out was to seek a full belly under Zhao's Camp, or even to win wealth and status. But because he had shown cowardice before battle, he had never been valued. Only today did he glimpse a glimmer of hope for rising up — how could he not be stirred?

Dealing with Commander Jia and his people earlier had indeed left Zhao Jin and his companions feeling stifled. They all headed toward the drill field. When they arrived, Dong Bingfeng was already leading the household troops in combined drills. Four hundred men were arrayed in a massive square formation, advancing, retreating, and wheeling with murderous momentum. Zhao Jin and the others stood by, ready to join in. While waiting, Zhao Jin spoke up: "There are quite a few more young and able-bodied men around the manor lately. Xiaoyong, have you noticed?"

The He Manor had a large population, but Zhao Jin had been here long enough that most faces were familiar. When strangers appeared, especially young able-bodied men, he naturally took notice.

"Big Brother, those people are all waiting to sign up and enlist. They're afraid of coming too late and missing their chance, so many have come early to find some work here first. Big Brother, look around — there are plenty like that watching us right now!" Liu Yong answered with a grin.

Zhao Jin swept his gaze around and spotted people craning their necks in the distance. The residents of He Manor were long used to the sight and busy making money from the influx, so only these young men eager to join Zhao's Camp were curious.

"Keep a close watch. Don't let any treacherous sorts slip in," Zhao Jin instructed.

"Rest assured, Big Brother. Steward Zhou has already set the rules. Anyone hired for business or labor in He Manor must have a guarantor, and anyone lodging here must have a sponsor. If one person causes trouble, the guarantor is seized for questioning. I've also assigned a few sharp-eyed men to keep watch — it's very secure," Liu Yong replied.

Zhao Jin nodded and remarked with a smile of emotion, "You never know what talents people have until you test them. Who would have thought Scholar Zhou's strength lay here!"

"If not for you leading the way, Big Brother, I'd probably be running with Chen Ergou and his lot right now!" Liu Yong chimed in with a laugh.

The large formation on the field came to a temporary halt. Zhao Jin picked up his long spear and walked over, everyone following. As he walked, he added with a smile, "In the future, if you have any arrangements on your end, remember to let me know."

Liu Yong paused for a moment, then hastily agreed.

The force of over four hundred men shifted — now a square formation twenty men wide and twenty deep, now a column ten men per row, now a broad line twenty men per row. Every advance and retreat was precise and imposing. The formation moved through the rising dust like a square fortress on the march.

Every household soldier in that square formation felt an inexhaustible strength surge through him. He was not a lone, isolated man, but part of a collective. He possessed the power of four hundred men. He did not face the enemy alone — he had comrades before and behind, to left and right, supporting him. Nothing could stop him; everything could be shattered and crushed. The Zhao banner at the formation's upper-right corner — black field, red border — was dazzlingly conspicuous, lifting every man's spirit high.

The only one who felt less than good was Zhao Jin himself. He stood on the right side of the first row, the pivot of the entire force. He gave the orders, and only then would the flags, pan-drums, and suona horns follow suit, the square formation moving in response. A single call, a hundred answers. At the very beginning, Zhao Jin had felt like a giant, wielding the power of four hundred men or more. But now, he felt utterly naked, without the slightest cover.

What if the enemy loosed arrows at them? What if enemy cavalry, heedless of death and injury, charged straight at them? What if someone again came crashing in wielding those overlong weapons like last time? Were they just supposed to take it head-on with a spear-wall array?

The men standing in the front rows were all veteran household troops, the most experienced and bravest of the lot. Their casualties would be a grievous loss for Zhao's Camp. Was the scene beneath the walls of Xuzhou City destined to repeat itself?

They drilled for about the time it takes to burn one stick of incense. Everyone felt they were drilling with vigor, but Zhao Jin called the formation to a halt. He had Dong Bingfeng assemble all the archers — seventeen men in total — and placed them at one corner of the square. When the square stood still, the archers spread out before it and loosed arrows. When it advanced, the archers followed at one corner. When simulating an enemy approaching from the front, the archers circled around the square to take cover.

Those who grasped Zhao Jin's intent clicked their tongues in admiration, deeming the method certain to be effective on the battlefield. Yet Zhao Jin was still not satisfied. He sent men to the mule and horse market to summon every archer among the hired hands and guards of the livestock merchants. With that, the archers numbered nearly a hundred. Zhao Jin divided them into four squads, circling and weaving around the long-spear square in advance and retreat.

"If we drill together like this for a while, even if refugees come charging again with ladders, they won't be able to get close," Chen Sheng remarked with feeling. Zhao Jin's companions all remembered the desperate moment beneath the walls of Xuzhou City vividly. Watching this drill, they understood at once why.

Zhao Jin's face showed no particular pleasure. He merely said in a low voice, "To shoot with accuracy, you have to train from childhood. Without several years of work, you simply can't develop it. How long did Bingfeng train? Those Tatars play with bows from the time they're children, and plenty of them still can't shoot straight."

Chen Sheng shook his head and did not reply. He did not quite grasp Zhao Jin's meaning.

The archers bustled about for nearly half a shichen before Zhao Jin dismissed them and resumed leading the formation through its standard drills. What every man in Zhao's Camp regarded as perfectly ordinary left those young men waiting to enlist utterly stunned, gaping in awe, too breathless to even speak as they watched from the sidelines. Afterward, every one of them was fired up, gritting their teeth and swearing they would join Zhao's Camp.

It was not just the imposing sight of the drills that drew these young able-bodied men to Zhao's Camp. After spending a few days in He Manor, they heard all sorts of talk — for instance, that Zhao's Camp ate well. Every meal filled your belly, about half of it fine grain, and every few days there was meat or fat. Why else would the pigs and sheep sell so briskly?

Back home, these men who had come seeking a future ate only two meals a day. They could eat their fill during the busy farming season, but in the slack season, it was just one meal a day. How could they have imagined that Zhao's Camp fed them so well — three meals a day, enough to be full, and with oil and fat besides? Many of these young men were at the age when their appetites were fiercest. Hearing this, their eyes practically glowed green with longing; they could hardly wait to get in.

Precisely because their desire to join was so urgent, and because they had heard that Zhao's Camp had strict rules — that despite its strength, men could not leave the barracks at will, and once outside could not use their power to bully the weak or take goods without paying — these vigorous young men dared not cause trouble. They all behaved themselves honestly.

Of course, there were a few who fancied themselves fierce and overbearing. The first time they stirred up trouble, they were hemmed in by long spears, given several dozen lashes until their skin split and flesh gaped, then dumped outside the manor with the warning that a second offense meant beheading. After a few such lessons, no one else dared test the law with their own bodies.

When the combined drill ended, Zhao Jin did not rest. Spear in hand, he remained on the drill field to oversee the household troops' thrusting practice. Advancing in formation required only holding the long spear steady or thrusting it forward. But in single combat, with both men wielding ten-chi long spears, not one man could land a hit on Zhao Jin. One after another they came forward, and within one or two exchanges they were jabbed to the ground. Fortunately, in these one-on-one bouts they used wooden poles with cloth-wrapped tips, and wore protective gear made of wooden boards and woven bamboo. Otherwise, there would have been many injuries by now.

Zhao Jin never paused. Each time he downed a man, he would explain why he had been able to strike him and how the man should have parried. The careful instruction his second uncle Zhao Zhenxing had once given him, he now passed on with equal care to every household soldier.

Every soldier listened with rapt attention. As Zhao Jin explained, he would periodically call his companions over to demonstrate how the long spear handled different weapons.

During the sparring, a small number could exchange several rounds with Zhao Jin. Most of those who could were the sons of families who had trained in martial arts at the garrison — they too had learned how to wield the long spear and knew the forms and stances. But they had seen too little real combat, and their strength could not match Zhao Jin's.

Then there were those from the jianghu. Though they might not have learned formal routines, they excelled in agility and had considerable experience, knowing how to skirmish and evade. But that was all. After holding out for a while, they were easily caught by Zhao Jin, who found their rhythm and put them down. The best performer was Zhuang Liu. Not only had he learned the routines, but he had also accumulated ample experience hunting game and brawling. In his bout with Zhao Jin, he lasted over a dozen exchanges before being lured in by a feigned opening and then struck down.

After all, not everyone had tempered their body daily as Zhao Jin had, and for nearly ten years at that, all while eating well and eating his fill. His robust physique was naturally beyond what ordinary men could match. Not to mention that he had a second uncle with outstanding martial skill and rich combat experience — with a famed master's guidance, he naturally avoided any detours.

As for an advantage that certainly no one else possessed: from the goods yard onward, Zhao Jin and his companions had sparred and fought, all the way to rescuing Mu Shulan and slaying warrior monks. Their experience in martial contests and real combat far exceeded that of others. At the start, they too had been nervous and stiff, but after so many fights, after so much killing, they were naturally far more composed than the rest.

All these factors combined made Zhao Jin's individual martial prowess exceptionally outstanding. Even those from the garrison or the jianghu who possessed martial skills were no match for him.

In all, twenty-six men sparred one-on-one with Zhao Jin. After finishing with those twenty-plus men, Zhao Jin was drenched in sweat. The stifling frustration from the earlier negotiations had vanished completely. He simply stripped off his outer garment, gave himself a quick wipe, and continued his lecture bare-chested.

If he had lectured from the start, the household troops might have clung to their own notions. But by first beating them one by one and then speaking, he won every man's heartfelt admiration. After all, their master had just defeated the twenty-some strongest men in the entire force.

From morning to night, not a moment was idle. After the lecture, he ordered the troops to pair off and spar. The evening glow filled the sky; it was nearly dark. Zhao Jin spotted a group of people approaching along the eastern road.

These days, He Manor was swelling as if in an explosion, and people coming and going was utterly commonplace. But those entering and leaving were mostly merchants and peddlers, usually carrying loads on shoulder poles or pushing carts, bringing goods in and out. This group, however, numbered a dozen or so. Every one of them wore a broad, sun-shielding conical hat. Each carried a weapon and a small cloth bundle on their back. Only one man bore a huge bamboo basket on his back. The reason Zhao Jin noticed them was simply that their attire was far too peculiar.

Zhao Jin was not the only one who noticed. Someone was already moving forward to intercept them.