151: Chapter 151 The Lone Commander

The next day, at eight in the morning, the North wind was fiercer than it had been yesterday.

The sky remained a hazy gray, all because that Space-Time Rift hung across the horizon like a wound that would never heal.

Qin Ce, accompanied by his only subordinate, the semi-disabled Jiang Mo, limped toward the training grounds.

The training grounds were massive, the size of four football fields.

The ground was compacted sand and earth, feeling rock-hard underfoot and shimmering with a grayish-white hue.

Vague track lines and formation markers were drawn on the field, though the outlines had been worn away by the wind and sand until they were barely visible.

A circle of low wooden stakes surrounded the perimeter, with wire strung between them. In some places, the wire had snapped and hung loose, swaying in the wind.

Directly to the North of the training grounds stood a row of simple reviewing stands built from wooden planks that creaked when stepped upon.

Behind the reviewing stands were several flags, their fabric torn to shreds by the wind, yet one could still make out the characters embroidered upon them—Wuji.

At this moment, the training grounds were already packed with people.

There were three formations in total, clearly demarcated from one another.

The first formation was at the very front, closest to the reviewing stands.

Their uniforms were the neatest; although old, the colors were at least uniform and the sizes fit well.

The soldiers stood straight, eyes fixed forward, with no one whispering to each other.

Their Pet Beasts crouched nearby, quiet and composed, their eyes holding a ferocity that came from having seen blood.

Qin Ce scanned them, roughly estimating that this formation had at least eight hundred men.

The second formation was behind the first, larger in scale, with an estimated one thousand men.

The uniforms were not nearly as consistent; they came in all sorts of colors and styles. Some people wore military uniforms, others wore civilian clothes, and some wore oversized garments that clearly looked like they had been stripped from corpses, cinched at the waist with rope.

Their posture was not as standard either; some were scratching their heads, some were whispering, and others were yawning.

The Pet Beasts were also a motley crew: wolves, leopards, eagles, snakes, and several exotic beasts Qin Ce couldn't name, all lying lazily on the ground, their tails flicking listlessly.

The third formation was at the very back, which was the 3rd Battalion that Qin Ce belonged to.

When Qin Ce walked over with his subordinate, his expression remained composed.

But his peripheral vision had already caught the gazes cast his way—those gazes held curiosity, mockery, and undisguised schadenfreude.

He walked to the position of the third formation and stood still.

Then, he saw his own position.

Other squads were organized in rows of four, with at least seven rows. That was twenty-eight people, at a minimum.

Further up, the formations had even more people.

But on his side...

Qin Ce looked left and right.

To his left, empty sandy ground. To his right, empty sandy ground. In front, empty sandy ground. Behind, still empty sandy ground.

Including himself, there were two people in total.

He stood at the very front, and his subordinate stood half a step behind him.

Two people, facing an empty field. The North wind blew, whipping up sand and grit that stung their faces.

The scene was extremely awkward.

On the reviewing stand, Captain Zhou, who had assigned him his unit yesterday, stood there, looking down at the roster in his hands.

His gaze swept over the roster once, then again, before he looked up and toward Qin Ce's side.

His expression became visibly unpleasant.

Not just unpleasant, but livid.

It was the kind of livid that made one want to explode with rage but not know who to direct it at.

Qin Ce stood there expressionless, not avoiding his gaze.

The captains who had gone to his barracks yesterday to poach his men were now standing at the front of their respective formations, backs straight, smiles on their faces.

Someone glanced back at Qin Ce, then turned to say something to the person beside them, and the two laughed simultaneously.

The laughter was not loud, but on this vast, empty training ground, it was heard clearly.

"Yo, Seventh Squad, two people."

"Two people is still a squad. He's a squad leader, bringing one soldier, perfect for one-on-one guidance."

"What about the new recruitment today? Surely he can't recruit another one? Three people?"

"Three people wouldn't be a squad. Without fifteen people, this squad leader will have to go back to being a foot soldier."

Hahaha, another burst of schadenfreude laughter.

Qin Ce ignored them.

He stood there, eyes fixed forward, his face devoid of any expression. But the semi-disabled soldier behind him clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white.

Captain Zhou finally spoke.

His voice was hoarse, carrying an irrepressible irritation: "Quiet."

The laughter stopped.

Captain Zhou's gaze swept across the entire field, finally resting on Qin Ce for a moment. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end, he just slammed the roster onto the table, his voice even louder: "Quiet! Everyone stand at attention!"

No one spoke again.

Captain Zhou took a deep breath, as if swallowing back some words.

He turned around and said a few words to the adjutant beside him; the adjutant nodded and walked quickly off the reviewing stand.

Qin Ce stood in the formation, eyes fixed forward. In his peripheral vision, he saw the adjutant walking toward him.

"Captain Qin," the adjutant said when he reached him, his voice low, "the Battalion Commander told me to inform you. For today's recruitment, you must recruit at least fifteen people. If you fail to do so, your qualifications as a squad leader will be automatically revoked. You will then be reassigned to another squad; the Battalion headquarters will decide which one."

Qin Ce turned his head to look at the adjutant.

The adjutant's expression was complex. He glanced at Qin Ce, then at the semi-disabled soldier behind him, his lips moving as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he just nodded and turned away.

Qin Ce stood there, watching the adjutant's retreating figure.

A thought turned in his mind—fifteen people.

At least fifteen people.

If he couldn't recruit them, his qualifications as a squad leader would be gone.

Then he would be reassigned to another squad, and the Battalion headquarters would decide which one.

How would those captains who poached his men yesterday "arrange" for him?

He didn't need to think much about it.

Behind him, the semi-disabled soldier whispered: "I told you, let's transfer."

Qin Ce did not turn back.

"No transfer," he said.

Soon, at nine in the morning, the gates of the military camp slowly opened.

At that moment, Qin Ce truly understood what "flooding in like a tide" meant.

Outside the gate, there were dense crowds of heads. Men, women, the elderly, children—no, not many children; those who came were all able to walk, stand, and make themselves look relatively healthy. They squeezed outside the gate, without sound, without clamor, just standing there in silence, like a gray, voiceless ocean.

The moment the gate opened, that ocean surged in.

It wasn't running, it wasn't charging; it was a more instinctive, more primitive surge. They flooded into the training grounds, toward those squads, toward those soldiers wearing uniforms, accompanied by Pet Beasts, looking like "superior beings."

This was their only chance to become a Beast Tamer.

It was also their only chance to be full, to have clothes to wear, to no longer worry about whether tomorrow's wind would blow their shacks down, or whether the fierce beasts from the Rift would sneak over at night.

In the eyes of the refugees, any soldier of the Wuji Army was an object of envy.

And their lifelong goal.

Every recruitment point was instantly surrounded, packed solid.

Soldiers stepped forward to maintain order, shouting "Line up!" and "One by one!", their voices drowned out by the human tide.

Some were filling out forms, some were being interviewed, some were demonstrating their strength, and some were haggling.

"Thirty percent commission? That's too much, right?"

"For someone like you, nobody would even want you at fifty percent."

"Then... forty percent?"

"Forty percent, fine, come over and sign."

Lively. Busy. Chaotic. But orderly.

But on Qin Ce's side... it was completely different.

Like a reef in the tide, everyone was avoiding them as they walked.

...