Poyang County Left Army Thousand-Household Post.
Military camp.
"Brother Bin!"
Chen Sanshi reported right on time.
Xu Bin rested his hand on the saber at his waist. His brow twitched slightly at the casual "ge" and he said, "In the military camp, address by title."
"Alright, Flag Officer Xu!"
Chen Sanshi didn't mind.
"Mn."
Only then did Xu Bin nod with satisfaction, though his face remained expressionless. "Go get your armor on. Then head to the drill grounds. The Hundred-Household Officer will be teaching you martial skills."
"Got it."
Chen Sanshi found a random corner and changed into the armor he'd been issued.
It was called armor, but the main body was still cotton cloth, only with metal studs hammered into the surface.
This kind of armor was known as cloth-faced armor or concealed armor.
As for real armor—the kind you saw on TV with full plating and helmets—those were only for actual military officers.
The assembly horn blew.
Chen Sanshi had just finished dressing.
At the drill ground, a broad flat patch of packed yellow earth, around thirty-something men had already gathered, scattered in loose groups. Some looked spirited, some listless. Some tall and muscular, others skinny and frail.
About half of them were clearly locals, while the rest didn't look like they were from Poyang County at all.
"Stand in line, stand in line."
A few soldiers came over to get them organized into ranks.
Not long after, a chubby man with a handlebar mustache walked out with two other officers behind him.
He raised his voice and introduced himself: "My surname is Wang, full name Wang Zhi. You can call me Hundred-Household Wang."
"I'll be teaching you the basic martial skills of the border troops."
"You should've all gotten the stance training manual yesterday. After the stances, we move on to spear techniques. Practice both together and that's the complete Basic Spearsmanship for Infantry.'
"Today, I'll personally demonstrate it once."
Hundred-Household Wang took a horse stance. Despite his pudgy frame, his posture was steady as a mountain. As he moved through the stances, his motions were smooth and flowing, with zero mistakes.
"Now for the spear techniques."
He stretched out his hand, and one of the officers tossed him a plum-blossom short spear.
It was around 2.5 meters long—not quite 3 meters—so it still counted as a short spear.
A moment ago, he had been as solid as a boulder. Now, with the spear in hand, Wang Zhi moved like the wind. The iron spear danced with rapid thrusts, slicing through the air with sharp whooshing sounds that echoed across the drill ground.
The recruits watched, dumbfounded. It was their first time seeing real martial skill up close.
Before they could even snap out of it, the set of spear techniques paired with stance work was already over.
"That's it?"
Everyone looked at Hundred-Household Wang tossing the spear aside. Clearly, he didn't plan to give any further breakdown.
So fast—who could even follow that?
Wang Zhi ignored the chatter, cleared his throat, and said in a deep voice:
"Let me explain the assessment standard for new recruits."
"Three days for stances, seven days for spear technique."
"Anyone who can smoothly perform the full sequence within ten days will qualify as a Martial Soldier. Everyone else will be Formation Grunts."
"Martial Soldiers earn a starting monthly salary of three taels of silver, plus one bowl of tonic every seven days, and are eligible for officer promotion through cultivation or merit."
"Also—"
"Anyone among you who first manages to generate a thread of qi and blood will be promoted immediately to Flag Officer, and also qualify for next year's Elite Selection."
Immediate promotion to Flag Officer?!
That got everyone excited.
Who didn't want to become an officer right away?
As for this so-called "Elite Selection," not many people knew what it meant.
The officer on the platform didn't bother explaining either.
Finally, someone in the crowd, a skinny guy with a goatee, lazily offered up some information:
"The Elite Selection, yeah, that's for picking elites!"
"Three years ago, after the Grand Commander took charge of the northern border, he started handpicking elite troops from all the various posts."
"Those who pass the selection go straight into the Heavenly Strategy Camp, and become Grand Commander Sun's personal disciples~"
"Tch! I thought it meant big money or high rank."
"Exactly. Isn't it known that the Eight Northern Garrisons go head-to-head with the barbarians every day? Who wants to throw their life away like that?"
Some folks were clearly disappointed.
"You guys don't know crap!"
"If you want to go far in martial arts, you need guidance from someone like Grand Commander Sun. You need the resources of the Eight Northern Garrisons."
"Yeah, no one climbs to the top without risking something!"
"…"
Others weren't having it.
"Alright, I'm done teaching."
Hundred-Household Wang cut them off, sounding impatient. "From here on, practice on your own."
"If you don't understand something about the stances or spearwork, go ask a Flag Officer yourself. Hah—"
With that, he yawned, stretched, scratched his back, and left.
"That's it?"
"What the hell did he even teach just now?"
Everyone stared at each other in disbelief.
The whole lesson didn't last more than twenty minutes. Not a single detailed explanation or slow-motion breakdown. Who the hell could learn anything from that?
The stances were at least doable since they all had a manual to follow like a paint-by-numbers book.
But the spear techniques?
No one could remember them clearly.
Some went to ask the Flag Officers for help.
Only then did they find out—it cost money.
30 bronze coins to watch a demo. 50 bronze coins for hands-on instruction.
The price was clearly posted—no cheating, no haggling.
As soon as money was involved, most people gave up on the idea.
If their families were well-off enough to afford that, who would come here to be a soldier?
Of course, there were a few who were ambitious. Hoping to become Martial Soldiers, they were willing to pay and learn from the basics of each stance, step by step.
Seeing this ridiculous situation unfold, Chen Sanshi was speechless.
'This is the army?!'
'They're even using this to make money?'
No wonder the military posts were getting more corrupt and the fighting strength kept dropping.
He couldn't help but shake his head.
Thankfully, Chen Sanshi had a perfect memory. He didn't need anyone to explain anything to him.
He took a deep breath, settled into his stance. That familiar burning feeling returned.
Every move that Hundred-Household Wang had shown was etched firmly in his mind. Now he could go back over them and check for any mistakes.
Once he was sure everything was correct, he began learning new movements.
In less than half an hour, over half the thirty-some trainees had collapsed on the field. For most people, the physical strain from the stances was unbearable.
Still, quite a few were gritting their teeth and holding on.
Chen Sanshi keenly noticed one of them.
A boy even younger than him was moving through the stances almost as fast, and his breathing rhythm while practicing was different from the others—as if he had some kind of special trick.
Looking closer, it was strikingly similar to the way Hundred-Household Wang had demonstrated earlier.
At first, he'd assumed that long, steady breathing was just a trait of experienced martial artists. But now it seemed like it might be part of an actual breathing technique.
'So we're all learning a stripped-down version?'
'What do you mean?'
Chen Sanshi looked over at the Flag Officers standing by the edge of the drill ground, waiting to collect payment. How could he not get it by now?
Most likely, the breathing method cost money too…
'They're plucking the feathers off a flying goose!'
'Still, like Uncle Xu said, this is already way easier than learning in a martial hall.'
'Let's just focus on mastering the stances first.'
He was confident he could become a Martial Soldier. As for directly getting promoted to Flag Officer and earning Elite Selection status, he wasn't 100% sure.
Time to grind!
—
Not far away.
Inside a tent.
Four or five officers were gathered around a table, eating meat and drinking wine.
They were enjoying themselves when the tent flap suddenly lifted.
A high-ranking officer in chainmail armor strode in.
The officers immediately set down their food and stood at attention, cupping their fists. "Thousand-Household Lord!"
Thousand-Household Xiang Tingchun looked at the mess in the tent and frowned deeply. He opened his mouth and cursed, "You worthless bastards! No training the troops, no drilling the soldiers—just drinking all day! If you're really that bored, go to Poyang County and help the city guards hunt barbarian assassins!"
The group of Hundred-Household Officers kept their heads down, not daring to speak.
Xiang Tingchun swept his eyes over them one by one. His gaze stopped on a strong middle-aged officer. "Hundred-Household Luo, I've already sent word to the Grand Commander recommending your promotion to Vice Thousand-Household. The reply should come soon."
"Thank you, Thousand-Household Lord!"
The officer lit up with joy.
"Mn."
Xiang Tingchun nodded. Then he turned to the group and said, "The barbarians have been attacking nonstop these past few years. The Great Sheng Dynasty is desperately short on manpower. You lot better stop thinking about squeezing every coin and start actually teaching something."
"Yes, Thousand-Household Lord, you're absolutely right."
The officers quickly echoed him.
Xiang Tingchun shook his head, pulled open the tent flap, and left.
Within three seconds, the officers were raising their drinks again.
"Come on, let's toast Hundred-Household Luo! Congrats on the upcoming promotion to Vice Thousand-Household!"
"Hahahaha—!"
They all clinked cups and cheered.
Only Wang Zhi, while raising his drink, muttered something under his breath and spat on the ground behind him.