Chapter Three: The Demoted Sentinel Unveils His Edge

Qiao Dafang, a scout captain who had just returned to camp, saw the new recruit and his eyes lit up immediately. He spoke sternly to the recruitment officer in charge of distributing gear:

"This is a man of talent. I have great use for him in the scout battalion!"

When Qiao rushed toward the command tent, he was blocked by two guards.

"Captain Qiao, the Commandant is currently receiving Chief Clerk Yang from the Ministry of War. It is not convenient for him to see guests right now."

Helpless, the captain had no choice but to wait. It was not until midday that the tent flaps were finally drawn open. Chief Clerk Yang emerged, looking smug.

"I have caused you trouble," Yang said.

Commandant Wu Ping wore a mask of professional courtesy: "Rest assured, your nephew’s affairs are my own. I will ensure he returns to the capital with his reputation intact."

"Then you can rest easy; I will take care of the reports to the Ministry of War."

After Yang left, Commandant Wu shoved a transfer order into Qiao Dafang’s chest.

"Chief Clerk Yang’s nephew is being assigned to your scout battalion."

Qiao refused: "This man is a pampered dandy. How can he serve in the scouts?"

"Find a way. Let him pick up some military merit."

"In that case, I have also taken a liking to someone else I’d like to transfer in."

"Is he the scion of a noble house or the son of a high-ranking officer?"

"Just an ordinary recruit."

"Ha! Are you joking? Can an ordinary person just join the scouts? Forget it, forget it. Just find him some menial task to do."

"But—"

"Enough with the 'buts.' We are both military men; we know we can't be soldiers for life. Sooner or later, we will have to hang up our armor and return to the fields. I’ll be honest with you: that Master Yang who just left is from the Ministry of War. And who does the Ministry of War answer to? None other than Chief Councilor Wei! If we can secure a backer like him, then our future, wouldn't it be..."

The Commandant nudged Qiao’s shoulder hard, his expression suggesting everything that remained unsaid. Qiao Dafang felt a wave of nausea.

At mealtime, a burly man with the frame of a bull got into a conflict with several cooks.

"This is an army camp, not your home! You can't just eat whatever you want; everyone has a set ration!"

The cooks moved to drag the man away, but he possessed the strength of an ox; the three or four of them couldn't even budge him an inch.

"Get lost! I’m eating!"

With a roar, the man surged forward, and with a violent heave, the cooks were sent flying through the air. As the scene grew more chaotic, a cold voice cut through:

"Stop! Everyone, stop!" Chen An commanded.

"It’s you again!" The surrounding soldiers recognized Chen An at once.

"Kid, are you looking for trouble?"

Perhaps because of Chen An’s previous display of ferocity, the soldiers only dared to shout from a distance, with no one daring to step closer.

"Gentlemen, please don't misunderstand. My brother is a bit impulsive. I hope you can be magnanimous and not hold it against him."

"Impulsive? You look fierce enough to me. But that’s fine—my patrol battalion is currently lacking men like you."

Patrol Captain Zhao Qingshan walked over, his expression grim, a roster held in his hand.

"Go guard the 'Zi-Shu' outpost."

At these words, the new recruits who had been watching the spectacle immediately shut their mouths.

"Damn, a sentry post?"

"Yeah, isn't that a death sentence? That’s the most likely point of attack for the steppe tribesmen."

As the essential gateway for the eighteen tribes of the steppe to move south, over one hundred and fifty sentries had died at the Zi-Shu outpost, with a survival rate of less than ten percent.

The autumn wind was desolate, and the tower stood lonely against the sky. Chen An leaned on his blade, gazing out over the barren landscape. Over the two days he had spent there, he had learned the state of the outpost. There were fifteen soldiers in total. The squad leader was Zhang Xiaojing, the deputy leader and flag-bearer was Xiao Gui, and the giant he had saved was named Wu Daizi. Having grown up relying on the charity of others, Wu Daizi had pledged his loyalty to Chen An as his elder brother to repay the favor.

Today, as the flag was raised, a small cavalry unit rode out past the border. Zhang Xiaojing watched with envy: "That is Captain Qiao Dafang of the Huyang Pass scout battalion. He is a legendary figure."

"Scouts are the eyes of an army, and even more, its soul. It is not a task for ordinary men."

"You brats, listen well: if you are to be a soldier, be an elite. And if you are to be an elite, you must be a scout."

Hearing this, the sentries’ eyes filled with longing.

"These past few days, the scouts on both sides have been active. Orders have come down to be extra cautious. If you encounter small bands of steppe cavalry, you are to eliminate them."

"I plan to take two brothers out to patrol and see what’s out there. How about it? Is anyone coming?"

Everyone lowered their heads, terrified that Zhang Xiaojing might point at them. They were already disgruntled at being sent to this place of near-certain death, let alone engaging the steppe warriors in real combat.

"Hmph, look at you—cowardly as mice, shrinking back like turtles. Pathetic." Zhang Xiaojing sneered. "Do you even deserve to stand up and pee?"

"I'll go."

The resonant, firm voice rang out as Chen An stepped forward.

"Oh? Interesting."

"Aren't you afraid?"

"I don't know."

"An honest answer, at least. But courage isn't proven by words—it’s proven by what your hands do." Zhang Xiaojing looked Chen An over with interest and waved his hand. "Go get your gear ready. Wu Ergou, you know the terrain here. The rest of you, dismissed."

The night was pitch black and the wind was howling. In the withered forest, the breeze rustled through the trees, and the occasional howl of a wolf or cry of an eagle echoed through the valley.

The two men crawled along the ground, pressing themselves against the grass as they moved forward. Their target was a standard three-man enemy scout team.

"Charge!"

Wu Ergou shook his head like a rattle.

"I'm giving you a chance to train."

Wu Ergou made an excuse: "I'm old, I'm afraid I can't handle them. By the rules, I'll take one, and you take two."

With that, Wu Ergou bit down on his dagger and drew his sword.

"Fine," Chen An replied.

But unexpectedly, the nervous Wu Ergou stepped on a dry branch. The sound immediately drew the attention of the steppe scouts.

"Oh? Look, it's a couple of Central Plains men!"

"Are these cowards actually trying to ambush us?"

"Perfect! We haven't collected enough heads today!"

"Kill them!"

With a crouch and a swing of his curved blade, a steppe scout kicked Wu Ergou to the ground.

"Hey, Central Plains man! The eagles of the steppe do not kill cowards. Come back to the steppe with us and be a slave, or I’ll gut you and feed you to the wolves."

From the grass nearby, Chen An lunged out. With a move like a tiger descending the mountain, he struck, his blade grazing the shoulder of a steppe scout. Bright red blood sprayed from the deep, jagged wound!

Chen An planted his foot firmly and delivered a powerful whip-kick into the waist of the other steppe scout.

*Bang!*

The immense force and the dull thud were enough to send the steppe warrior flying with just a single strike.