Volume One, Chapter 11: Shock Throughout the Assembly

The biting wind whipped snowflakes against their faces like countless tiny blades.

Nineteen young men marched in a column, their feet sinking unevenly into the snow. The outline of Zhangjia Village had long since blurred, yet every few steps, someone couldn’t help but glance back.

“Don’t look back. March straight to the county town without stopping. No one is allowed to fall behind!” Zhang Mu Yang’s voice exploded through the cold wind, carrying an unyielding authority.

He understood this situation better than anyone. From the moment they accepted the sack of rough rice handed over by the soldiers, they had effectively signed their own indenture. In these times, desertion was a graver crime than treason. At best, it meant the entire family would be executed; at worst, the punishment extended to nine generations.

The villagers silently nodded and followed his long strides forward. Yet the snow barely reached their calves, making each step feel like trudging through a quagmire. The weight of the dry food sacks on their backs chafed their shoulders painfully, and their stomachs, empty for half the night, growled incessantly. After only seven or eight miles, some began to stagger, their steps unsteady as if walking on cotton.

Gou Sheng’s face was frozen to a bluish purple, his lips cracked and peeling. He stumbled, nearly falling into the snow crust.

“Quit dawdling!” Zhang Kui’s whip sliced through the air as he cursed, “We must reach the barracks before noon. If you miss the deadline, you’ll be left drinking the northwest wind against the city walls!”

Crack!

The whip suddenly froze mid-air.

Zhang Mu Yang’s hand clamped onto Zhang Kui’s wrist like iron tongs, a cold smile curling at the corner of his mouth. “Sergeant, do you dare to bet?”

Zhang Kui snarled, “Bet on what?”

“Two taels of silver.”

Zhang Mu Yang pulled some silver pieces from his pocket, weighing them in his palm. “Whoever arrives first: us nineteen, or you alone.”

Zhang Kui’s eyes burned with fervor as he stared at the silver. “You dozen or so against me? Alone?”

“Exactly! If even one of us falls behind, I lose.”

“Fine! I’ll take that bet!”

“Squad leader, be the witness. The winner will share one tael with you.”

This guy knew how to play!

Tian Chong was not afraid of them cheating and immediately agreed. “Done! I’ll count down—ready... three! Two! One!”

Zhang Kui dashed off like a wild dog unleashed, his leather armor clanking loudly against the snow.

Zhang Xiaobei and Gou Sheng were dumbfounded.

How could they possibly catch up?

But Zhang Mu Yang grabbed them, nodding toward the woods by the roadside. “Don’t panic. Follow me.”

Su Ying immediately understood and strode toward the trees.

Wielding his cold feather knife, Zhang Mu Yang chopped swiftly, splitting pine trunks as thick as a bowl into neat planks.

Su Ying peeled the bark skillfully, quickly twisting it into tough ropes.

“Watch closely.”

Zhang Mu Yang strapped two wooden planks to his feet, grasped a sharpened branch as a snow staff, and with a sudden burst of strength, slid forward like an arrow released from a bow, leaving two faint trails on the snow.

Wow!

The young men’s eyes widened.

Zhang Mu Yang demonstrated a few more times, and since they were already familiar with snow terrain, they quickly mastered the technique.

“Move out!”

At his command, the nineteen men slid out of the woods on their makeshift sleds, shooting toward the main road like arrows.

The staffs tapped rhythmically on the snow; the sleds carved shallow grooves, gaining speed as the wind roared past their ears.

---

Tian Chong stared, wide-eyed. “What... what is this thing?”

“A sled,” Zhang Mu Yang replied, making several more and tossing them to Tian Chong and the soldiers. “Squad leader, you try it. We can reach the barracks faster.”

Skeptical at first, the soldiers clumsily mounted the sleds, but once balanced, grins spread across their faces. This contraption was fast, convenient, and less tiring than horseback—snow travel made effortless!

Ahead, Zhang Kui had already run out of strength, leaning on his sword, gasping for breath.

Suddenly a gust swept past; he looked up just in time to see Zhang Mu Yang leading the charge, the tassel of his cold feather knife fluttering in the wind.

“Zhang Mu Yang?!” Zhang Kui’s eyes widened, stunned, as Su Ying, Zhang Xiaobei, and the others zipped past him one after another, spraying snow in his face.

Tian Chong clapped his shoulder, laughing heartily. “Zhang Kui, you’re way too slow!”

Within moments, all were gone.

Zhang Kui glanced back; behind him lay only his footprints in empty silence, while the group ahead had shrunk to a tiny black speck. He gritted his teeth, wanting to chase, but his legs felt weighted with lead—helpless, he watched them slide farther and farther away.

Less than an hour later, the county gate appeared ahead.

Today, Sifang County was unusually lively. The base of the city walls teemed with people. Five hundred new recruits were to register here, making up nearly one-eighth of the county’s population. Families wept as they stuffed dry food into the recruits’ arms; children clung to the walls, watching the spectacle. The young men, entering the city for the first time, looked around eagerly, their eyes barely enough to take it all in.

Perhaps it was the lure of one or two taels of silver!

Tian Chong enthusiastically led Zhang Mu Yang and the others toward the northern barracks.

From afar, the tall earthen walls of the compound came into view, the Jingbian Army’s banners fluttering atop. Behind the walls stretched rows of thatched huts, and in the center training ground, a dense formation of new recruits stood in line. Veteran soldiers clad in leather armor eyed them sharply; a deadly aura hung heavily in the air.

At the registration desk sat a man clad in shimmering armor. His face was gaunt, with three short whiskers under his chin, lending him a scholarly air. Hanging from the “Team Leader” badge at his waist was a wolf’s tooth ornament, and his cold, piercing gaze—one that saw life and death—marked him as a hardened veteran stained by battle.

“Tian Chong, you’re quick to arrive,” the team leader Chen Xiucheng said without looking up, his pen gliding across the roster.

“Thanks to your grace,” Tian Chong kneeled on one knee, pointing to the sleds on the ground. “We used these. Twenty miles in one hour.”

Swish! Swish!

Tian Chong demonstrated back and forth, instantly impressing everyone.

Chen Xiucheng’s eyes gleamed. “A fine invention! If issued to the entire army, snow marching speed would multiply several times over! Who came up with this?”

“Zhang Mu Yang from Zhangjia Village,” Tian Chong stepped aside.

“Peasant Zhang Mu Yang, greetings, sir,” Zhang Mu Yang knelt, cupping his hands humbly. “This is just a little thing I tinkered with while hunting. Please forgive my presumption.”

“A little thing, indeed! Here, take two taels of silver as a reward!”

Chen Xiucheng smiled, pointing toward the edge of the training ground where six stone weights lay, ranging from fifty to three hundred jin. “Everyone must lift at least fifty jin overhead to pass.”

Tian Chong whispered, “Those who fail will be assigned to hard labor—cleaning latrines, feeding horses. They’ll work themselves to death with no chance for advancement.”

“Is there a reward for lifting heavier weights?” Zhang Mu Yang asked.

“Yes! Lift a hundred jin and get ten copper coins; one hundred fifty jin, one hundred coins; two hundred jin, five hundred coins; two hundred fifty jin, one thousand coins—that’s one tael of silver.”

“And the heaviest?” Zhang Mu Yang’s gaze burned. Three hundred jin was roughly equivalent to a modern 140-kilogram clean and jerk!

What?

Such a simple statement ignited a firestorm among the crowd.

Ordinary soldiers rarely exceeded two hundred jin in strength; even sergeants topped out at five hundred jin. Few thought anyone could lift three hundred jin. The veterans sneered, convinced Zhang Mu Yang was overestimating himself.

Chen Xiucheng laughed heartily. “If you can lift three hundred jin, I’ll reward you five taels of silver.”

Ha!

Five taels?

Enough to buy three dan of rough rice or a whole cow!

“I’ll do it!”

Gou Sheng was the first to step forward, taking a deep breath. He hugged the fifty-jin stone weight and hoisted it overhead. Though his arms trembled, he held it steady for three breaths.

Chen Xiucheng marked his name on the roster: “Pass!”

With one passing, others followed. The young men of Zhangjia Village stepped forward, all able to lift fifty jin; a few managed one hundred jin.

Su Ying, not wanting to draw too much attention, lifted only fifty jin before stepping aside. As for her identity—there was an old clan leader’s grandson named Zhang Ying who had left home early on business and never returned; his fate was unknown. Su Ying borrowed this identity, which no one dared question.

When it came to Zhang Mu Yang, he strode forward without hesitation toward the three hundred jin stone weight.

“This kid’s crazy,” someone muttered.

“Three hundred jin? If he can even lift it, it’s impressive!”

All eyes focused on him: some sneered, others doubted, and Tian Chong looked worried. Three hundred jin? Even sergeants might not manage that!

Chen Xiucheng sized him up and suddenly called out, “Wait a moment.”

He no longer looked like a team leader, but an old soldier rogue, sitting on the table and swearing, “Any bets? I’m opening the stakes. Who says he can lift three hundred jin?”

“I bet he can’t.”

“Me too, he won’t make it.”

Several squad leaders and sergeants slapped silver pieces on the table, joined by veterans tossing small coins, and even Tian Chong wagered one tael.

All eyes were now on Zhang Mu Yang.

Chen Xiucheng grinned. “Zhang Mu Yang, if you can lift it overhead, I won’t just reward you silver—I’ll promote you to sergeant if there’s a vacancy!”

Zhang Mu Yang said nothing. Squatting, he gripped the base of the stone weight with both hands. A warm current surged from his core, coursing through his veins to every limb, muscles humming faintly.

“Lift!”

He roared, steadying the three hundred jin stone weight as he slowly raised it, his arms straightening until it hovered three feet above his head.

Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the stone, casting patterns on his bronzed skin and bulging veins.

The training ground was deathly silent; even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

For full three breaths, Zhang Mu Yang held the weight, then gently lowered it.

“Sir, five taels of silver…”

“Granted!” Chen Xiucheng did not hesitate, tossing five taels to Zhang Mu Yang. Yet all the remaining silver and coins on the table vanished into his own pockets.

“Hold! This man colludes with the Yan bandits…”

At that moment, Zhang Kui staggered into the scene, snow packed into the seams of his leather armor, panting like a drowned dog. His eyes burned with resentment as he stared at Zhang Mu Yang.

Silence fell over the crowd.

Zhang Mu Yang glanced at him, sensing his opportunity had come.