The air in the infirmary was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the heavier scent of shattered hopes. Of the dozen men from the Killer Whale Battalion laid up, Duan Canglong and Luo Hou were the worst off. As Decurions, they'd earned the small privilege of a private room, but it felt less like an honor and more like a quiet place to contemplate the end of their careers.
Forced retirement. The words hung in the silence between them.
For most of the other ten wounded, it was a bitter pill but not a fatal one. The Killer Whale Battalion was a motley crew of deserters and conscripts, barely a cohesive unit. Their loyalty was shallow; leaving was just a return to a life they already knew.
But for Duan Canglong and Luo Hou, it was a gut punch. They had just clawed their way up to a position of leadership, a first glimmer of a real future. For men like them, born with nothing, the military was the only ladder out of the gutter. Retirement meant falling all the way back down. Best case? They'd cash in their veteran status for a residency permit in a metropolis, heal up, and sell their swords as glorified bodyguards for some noble house. Worst case? They'd become drifters, their futures dissolving into the dust of the lawless territories.
From the next room, they could hear the faint chatter of the others already planning their new lives. Duan Canglong broke the silence, his voice rough.
"Hey, Luo."
"Yeah?"
"I can't stand the thought of getting discharged."
"You and me both," Luo Hou rasped. "But let's be real. The brass is going to put us out to pasture."
Duan Canglong's face was a mask of conflict. "Xiao Ke went to see the Chiliarch. He's trying to get us more of that 'Angel's Kiss' stuff. If he pulls it off, we might get to stay."
Luo Hou managed a hollow laugh. "You know how rare that potion is. The Chiliarch giving Xiao Ke that first dose was a damn miracle. He'll be lucky if she doesn't chew him out for even asking. Forget the medicine. It's not happening."
"Should've listened to him," Duan Canglong muttered, staring at the ceiling. "We never should've bad-mouthed Qiao Mingxuan. Gave him the exact ammunition he needed."
The name Qiao Mingxuan turned Luo Hou's expression to stone. "That son of a bitch. Stole our credit, fed us bad intel, and tried to murder our captain in a 'duel.' I hope he rots. I hope Xiao Ke puts him in the ground next time they cross blades."
"If we get the boot," Duan Canglong said, changing the subject, "maybe we could sign up with the Hunter's Guild. Become bounty hunters."
Before Luo Hou could respond, a voice, cold as glacial ice, cut through the door. "An Imperial soldier fights for his belief. You're not even out the door, and you're already thinking of fighting for coin? Have some damn pride, Duan Canglong."
Xiao Ke stepped into the room, his face a thundercloud beneath the black of his uniform. He didn't wait for them to speak. Two small vials arced through the air, landing softly on their cots.
"Drink up," he commanded. "Stop playing dead. Your time isn't up yet. The easy life is still a long way off."
Duan Canglong stared at the vial. "Angel's Kiss!"
"Sir," Luo Hou stammered, his eyes wide. "How did you…?"
A flicker of a weary smile touched Xiao Ke's lips. "Let's just say I called in every favor I had and a few I didn't. They were her last two doses. It was enough for you, but… the other ten will have to be discharged."
A wave of gratitude and guilt washed over the two men. They knew what this cost. They knew the hoops Xiao Ke must have jumped through, the pride he must have swallowed dealing with Chiliarch Qin Bing. For her to give up her last two vials for a pair of Decurions… it was more than just a favor. It was a shocking display of faith in him.
The potion worked like a miracle. Within days, their torn muscles and fractured bones began to knit back together, the pain fading like a bad dream. It was a powerful tool, but a limited one. Its efficacy plummeted with each use, a one-shot wonder drug that the body quickly learned to reject. That's why it remained the domain of emergencies, not standard issue.
While they healed, Xiao Ke trained. He pushed himself harder than ever, drilling the Tiger's Might Art. But unlike others who used their accumulated Origin Power to unlock new martial nodes, Xiao Ke was doing something different. He was channeling that energy inward, tempering his very bones. Day by day, he hardened another vertebra in his spine. He'd now reinforced ten of the twenty-six spinal bones, and his punching power had skyrocketed to an earth-shattering 1,100 pounds of force—stronger than any heavyweight champion in recorded history.
For a few days, a fragile peace settled over Ginkgo Town. Then, a dispatch rider thundered into town, and everything changed. The message from the Black Shark Legion was an electric shock to the system: The Empire was taking the zombie tide seriously. Elite reinforcements were on their way. And a call to arms was going out to every noble house and local garrison in the southern province.
The decree came with two promises that set every soldier's heart racing. First, all military merits earned in the coming battle would be doubled. Second, the best of the best—any soldier under 25 who distinguished himself—would earn a chance to attend a one-month training course at the Hall of Glory, the most prestigious military academy in the Empire.
The Hall of Glory wasn't just a school; it was the forge that created legends, the place where mere soldiers were hammered into the future pillars of the Empire.
Suddenly, the war wasn't just about survival. It was about glory.
The reunion was as cold as a morgue. When Qin Bing summoned her two top Centurions, Xiao Ke and Qiao Mingxuan, to her temporary office, the air crackled with unspoken threats. Days apart had only sharpened their animosity. They stood before her, saluting in perfect, hateful unison.
"Greetings, Chiliarch."
"Sit," she said, gesturing to the simple wooden sofas.
They took their seats on opposite sides of the room, their lieutenants standing like statues behind them.
"You've likely heard the rumors," Qin Bing began, her voice crisp and professional. "They're true. The zombie horde is now a direct threat to Vermilion Bird City. The Imperial Cabinet has dispatched fifty thousand elite troops from the Phoenix Legion. Their commander, Qiao Zhennan, will be coordinating with our own Legion Commander Bai Longyin to crush this infestation."
Xiao Ke and Qiao Mingxuan nodded. This was old news. But Qiao Mingxuan's eyes lit up with a familiar, hungry gleam.
"Chiliarch, what about the Hall of Glory?" he pressed. "Is it true? A chance to train there for a month?"
Qin Bing met his gaze. She knew exactly what that meant to an ambitious man like him. A stint at the Hall of Glory, no matter how brief, was a golden ticket. It polished a resume, opened doors, and smoothed the path to real power.
"It's true," she confirmed. "Double merits for this campaign. And for anyone centurion-rank or below, under the age of 25, who demonstrates exceptional valor… a ticket to the Imperial Capital. You'll be officially recognized as the Empire's reserve talent."
Qiao Mingxuan practically vibrated with excitement. "Excellent. Truly excellent."
"Our orders have arrived," Qin Bing continued, cutting him off. "Commanders Bai Longyin and Qiao Zhennan are moving their combined force of one hundred thousand to meet the horde head-on. Our role is to form part of a massive pincer movement, joining with other garrisons and the private armies of the noble houses to encircle and annihilate the enemy. Prepare your men to move out."
"Yes, Chiliarch!"
They were dismissed. As they stepped outside, Qiao Mingxuan shot Xiao Ke a venomous look. "This isn't over, Xiao. Once the zombies are dust, you and I are settling the score."
"Wouldn't have it any other way," Xiao Ke replied without breaking stride.
Back at the Killer Whale camp, the midday quiet was shattered by the piercing shriek of the assembly whistle. The effect was instantaneous. Men who had been sleeping were on their feet in a heartbeat, muscle memory taking over. The sluggish, undisciplined recruits of weeks past were gone. In their place stood soldiers. Within two minutes, all 172 men were in formation, fully armed, their faces set and serious.
Xiao Ke strode before them, a surge of pride in his chest.
"Listen up!" he boomed. "Imperial reinforcements have landed. The main army is engaging the horde. We've been ordered to the front lines to help surround and destroy them. Merits are doubled, and the best among you will get a shot at the Hall of Glory. This is the opportunity of a lifetime. Let's earn it. You have ten minutes to gear up. We move out then."
"Sir, yes, sir!" the battalion roared as one.
Ten minutes later, a convoy of armored jeeps and military trucks roared out of the camp, a river of steel and dust kicking up from the battered streets. At the same time, the White Shark Battalion, led by Qiao Mingxuan, rolled out from their own camp. The two columns, one after the other, thundered toward the Drinking Horse Plains—the designated battleground where the fate of the southern province would be decided.
The plains were already dotted with the banners of other forces: the private armies of the great houses and noble families, summoned to war by Imperial decree. The Empire had strict rules on private military strength—a duke could field five thousand, a count three thousand, a common house five hundred—but when the call came, they were all militia, bound to serve.
Suddenly, the convoy ground to a halt. The road ahead was blocked.
"Xiao Ke," Qin Bing's voice crackled over the comm. "Find out what the hold-up is. Clear the road. Now."
"On it."
Xiao Ke, flanked by Duan Canglong and Luo Hou, pushed his way to the front. A cluster of opulent, armored vehicles was parked carelessly in the middle of the road, surrounded by dozens of private soldiers. Their uniforms were black, but woven from a lustrous, patterned fabric that seemed to drink the light. These weren't common house guards; this was old money.
They were formed in a protective circle around a young man in his mid-twenties. He was handsome in a soft, pampered way, dressed in clothes that probably cost more than Xiao Ke's annual salary. In his hand, he held a jewel-encrusted longsword.
And he was throwing a full-blown tantrum.
"Steward Li, what is the meaning of this?!" he shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at several zombie corpses lying on the road. "I explicitly told you I wanted to kill one myself! We finally find some, and you have the guards dispatch them? You've ruined everything!"
A prim, effeminate man who could only be the steward scurried forward, wringing his hands. "My dear young master, please! Your safety is paramount. You are a priceless treasure! I couldn't bear it if you were to suffer so much as a scratch. My life would be forfeit!"
"I came a thousand miles to prove I am a warrior!" the young man raged. "And you have undermined me at every turn! I'll have you flogged for this!"
Xiao Ke had seen enough. He strode forward, his patience worn thin. The private guards tensed, their hands moving to their weapons. Give me a break, Xiao Ke thought. Is this kid wrapped in gold leaf?
"Hey, kid!" he yelled, his voice cutting through the aristocrat's tirade. "What's with all the racket? You're blocking a military convoy."
The young noble blinked, stunned into silence. His guards looked equally shocked, as if the sky had just started speaking in a language they didn't understand.
The young man looked around, then pointed a finger at his own chest in disbelief. "You… a grunt… are talking to me?"
The word "grunt" made a muscle in Xiao Ke's jaw jump. "Yeah, I'm talking to you," he said, his voice dangerously low. "Now move your fancy cars and your toy soldiers, or I'll move them for you. We're on an urgent mission."
"How dare you!" the steward squeaked, but the young master held up a hand, a new expression dawning on his face. He stepped forward, his earlier anger replaced by a sudden, intense curiosity.
"A grunt, you say?" he asked, his eyes wide with excitement. "Are you… Are you on your way to kill zombies?"
"That's the plan," Xiao Ke said flatly.
"Fantastic! Absolutely fantastic!" the young man chirped. "Steward Li, you heard him! Move the vehicles! Clear a path for our brave Imperial soldiers!"
In a flurry of motion, the private force scrambled to obey. As the Killer Whale and White Shark convoys rumbled past, the young noble watched them go, a manic gleam in his eye.
"Forget returning to the city, Li," he said, climbing into his luxurious Land Cruiser. "I made a promise to myself that I would kill a zombie."
He pointed a manicured finger at the departing military column. "Follow that unit. They're headed for a fight. And I'm not going to miss it."