“So you’re not going to seek revenge? You’re not going to save your benefactor?” Yang Feng suddenly lifted his head, staring directly into Qing Xia’s eyes. Within them, puzzled undercurrents slowly churned.

“Listen to me, I have my own ways to solve this. I don’t want to drag you into it.”

“I’m lowly in status, without power or influence. Even if I wanted to help, I couldn’t. I’ll act within my means. You’re overthinking this.” Yang Feng suddenly stood up, his armor clanging with a crisp sound as he headed outside.

“Where are you going?” Qing Xia called out loudly.

“I’ve been punished to serve as a guard. Did you forget?”

The man’s figure gradually disappeared into the dark night. Qing Xia stood dejectedly in place, lifting her head but not knowing what she was doing.

A single lamp flickered like a bean flame. The night wind was bitterly cold. When the curtain lifted, Qing Xia couldn’t help but shiver.

Yang Feng returned deep into the night, his black iron armor cold as ice. Qing Xia curled up in her felt blanket. By now she had removed her fake beard, revealing her clean white chin. Her delicate body wrapped in military clothing looked like a pure and ethereal lotus emerging from water.

Yang Feng’s movements involuntarily stiffened. He carefully removed his armor, trying not to make any sound. Seeing that Qing Xia didn’t react, he relaxed and walked to the brazier, added some charcoal, then sat down leaning against it.

Military camp nights always seemed this quiet. In the silent cold wind, the low voices of soldiers occasionally echoed, humming long melodies that sounded like Mongolian long songs, yet carried the unique melancholy meaning belonging to soldiers.

Yang Feng took out a copper wine flask from his waist and tilted his head back to drink. Clear, strong wine flowed from the corners of his mouth, slowly trickling down his neck. His bronze-colored skin gleamed with healthy luster under the lamplight. His narrow eyes slightly squinted, sword-like brows tightly furrowed, one hand supporting a silver spear. Yang Feng drank the strong liquor gulp by gulp, occasionally stirring the red-hot charcoal.

Inside the tent was warm as spring, but outside fierce cold winds blew. From time to time, soldiers’ long songs drifted over from afar.

This was a melody passed down through generations in Southern Chu, with lyrics sung in the southern dialect. The tune was somewhat off-key, but Yang Feng could still make out that this song told of a man who rode out to war, gone for ten years. After ten years, all the comrades who fought alongside him had died, and he himself had become a general. But when he returned home, his wife had run off with another man, and his father and son had long since starved to death. Standing in the empty, desolate, ruined courtyard, hearing the cries of lone geese in the distant sky, he cried for the first time.

“Generals die in a hundred battles, brave men return after ten years.” What ordinary common person would willingly go to war?

Tilting his head back for another gulp of wine, Yang Feng closed his eyes slightly, leaning against a tent pole, one hand supporting his spear, the other hanging at his side. The remaining wine in the flask trickled out along his wrist. When heated by the charcoal fire, it evaporated, filling the entire tent with the strong smell of alcohol.

His alcohol tolerance had never been good; he would get drunk after drinking just a little.

All around was complete silence, only the blazing charcoal burning fiercely, occasionally crackling. Qing Xia’s eyelashes trembled slightly, finally slowly closing, with a trace of weary heaviness pressing on her heart.

The night gradually deepened.

Early the next morning, they were roused early for military drills. Following the taciturn Yang Feng to the mess hall, seeing the spectacular scene of several thousand people eating together truly startled Qing Xia.

Moving slightly too slowly meant only scraps remained. Yang Feng silently pushed all of his portion to Qing Xia, eating only a few hasty bites himself before heading to the training ground.

Ancient military training was nothing more than this: constantly running to change formations, then hacking at wooden stakes. Yang Feng repeatedly looked toward Qing Xia with concern, ready to help cover for her at any moment. But he hadn’t expected this woman to be far from as delicate as he’d imagined. Following behind a group of men, running and striking, though slightly out of breath with a somewhat pale complexion, she didn’t collapse.

Conversely, Qing Xia felt quite depressed. This body really was no good. If it were her original self, this kind of training would be child’s play. How could she be panting like a donkey?

After formation training came equestrian training. Southern Chu’s equestrian training was quite special – it was actually polo competition.

The entire force was divided into twenty teams of one hundred men each. Mounted on horses, they used thick clubs to compete for a polo ball, and whoever got it would hit it toward a designated goal. Scoring earned one point. This was quite similar to modern football, except here they rode horses, with many more people and no rules against fouls, making it much more difficult and dangerous.

Looking at the wooden club that reached her shoulders, Qing Xia felt dizzy. She was agile and quick, but that didn’t mean she had strength comparable to men.

At this moment, Yang Feng suddenly walked to Qing Xia’s side and said in a low voice, “Stay behind me in a moment.”

“Got it,” Qing Xia replied sullenly, having to admit she really wasn’t skilled at this.

At the sound of gongs and drums, two thousand men simultaneously spurred their horses into a gallop. Yellow sand swept up everywhere. Qing Xia sat on her horse, not yet ready, when Yang Feng grabbed her reins tight. The warhorse neighed loudly and excitedly galloped out. Qing Xia’s body immediately leaned backward, about to fall off the horse.

“Careful!” Yang Feng seemed to have eyes in the back of his head. His whip immediately flew over, wrapping around Qing Xia’s waist and steadily pulling her back onto the horse.

“Hold the horse’s neck!” Yang Feng galloped wildly while turning back to shout at Qing Xia. Qing Xia obediently hugged the horse’s neck, trying hard to find her balance.

In the rolling yellow sand, two thousand horsemen came and went, dust flying everywhere, with boisterous voices and soldiers’ crude cursing filling the air. In this equestrian training, the soldiers’ clubs had no restrictions except not striking horse legs. Soon many soldiers were bleeding. If not for everyone wearing heavy armor, there might already be fatalities.

Under the flying wooden clubs, Qing Xia felt dizzy and disoriented. She could perfectly operate cars, planes, submarines, and warships – given the right conditions, she was even confident she could pilot an aircraft carrier. But sitting on this most primitive medieval means of transportation, she could only cling tightly to the crazed horse’s neck like a koala.

“Yang Feng! Catch!” Big Beard Hong suddenly shouted, swinging his club to not only knock aside a soldier trying to ambush him, but also strike the polo ball high into the air, sending it thundering toward Yang Feng’s direction!

Everyone immediately turned their horses toward Qing Xia and Yang Feng. Qing Xia, led by Yang Feng holding her horse’s reins, had no chance to escape. She could only watch as a dark mass of people charged madly forward, dust choking nose and mouth, countless clubs smashing down on them both, as if desperately fighting for their lives.

Qing Xia’s eyes widened, her already pale face turning even whiter. This savage training was simply incomprehensible. In the critical moment, no longer caring about the crazed warhorse beneath her, she used a small grappling technique, nimbly grabbing the collar of the nearest soldier, spinning around to twist her body, her small fist striking right at his nose and mouth. That man never expected this seemingly thin small soldier to have such skillful techniques. Caught off guard, he was punched off his horse by Qing Xia with a thunderous crash, his full iron armor clanging. The masterless warhorse kicked wildly, immediately kicking several other approaching soldiers off their horses.

“Xiao Xia! Well done!” Hong Dayuan shouted from outside the crowd, suddenly raising his whip and leading several soldiers from their squad charging forward madly.

Yang Feng’s club danced up and down like a dragon. In an instant, soldiers approaching him were scattered and knocked down, clearing a path. Yang Feng cracked his whip, leading Qing Xia with a fierce shout: “Xiao Xia, follow me!” Their horses’ hooves flew like lightning, breaking through the encirclement in a flash. Only then did the polo ball hit the ground.

His wooden club struck out instantly. Yang Feng gave it a powerful lift, and the black polo ball immediately traced a winding arc through the air, dropping precisely into the goal frame.

“Haha! Goal!” Thunderous cheers immediately erupted, drowning out Qing Xia’s own cheers. This was the first goal of the match. Hong Dayuan laughed heartily and shouted, “Yang Feng, you’ve got it in you, boy!”

Qing Xia was also overjoyed, her earlier tension and fear completely gone, hugging the horse’s neck with delight.

Yang Feng turned back toward the crowd, smiling slightly. Looking at Qing Xia with her fake beard, tense forehead, and face painted completely black – not looking even one bit similar – yesterday’s troubles vanished.

“Boy! Don’t get cocky! If you’re brave enough, let’s have another match!” Someone in the crowd shouted defiantly.

Qing Xia sat on her horse looking very pleased with herself, turning back to shout, “Let’s compete then! Are we afraid of you?”

“Haha! Right! Let these turtle sons lose with complete conviction!” Hong Dayuan, relying on his seniority in the army, also laughed and cursed: “Yang Feng, show them your skills! Let these turtle sons see!”

Yellow sand flew up into the sky once again. Qing Xia followed behind Yang Feng, galloping wildly, swinging a club in an impenetrable defense. Her small body was like a sharp knife following Yang Feng as they pierced into the crowd. Directly facing the Eighteenth Training Ground, the curtain of the central command tent slowly dropped at one corner. Chu Li stood calmly at the entrance, saying to his personal guard Xu Quan behind him, “Go investigate that person’s identity. Give me detailed information tonight.”

“Yes,” Xu Quan replied, then asked puzzledly, “Your Highness, are you referring to that young squad leader who contradicted you yesterday?”

“Mm,” Chu Li gave a soft acknowledgment, then said, “If this person has a clean background, he should be talented. If there are no problems, transfer him into the Black Guards.”

Black Guards? Xu Quan’s expression shook, then he said solemnly, “This subordinate obeys the command.”