152: Chapter 152 A person cannot stand without integrity.

The surging crowd flowed past him, to the left, to the right, but never toward him.

In front of his recruitment station, it was clean and empty; not a single person stopped.

Those people didn't even look at his sign, didn't read his terms, and didn't ask him any questions.

They simply walked around him, as if avoiding a rock, a pothole, or something unlucky.

Qin Ce stood there, watching the crowd flow past him.

His expression finally darkened.

He had considered that he might not be able to recruit exceptional talent.

But he hadn't expected to be unable to recruit anyone at all.

It wasn't a question of whether they were exceptional or not; it was a question of whether anyone would come.

It was a matter of the number being zero.

He glanced at the squad next to him.

Their cut condition was fifty percent.

Fifty percent!

But the line of people waiting had already stretched outside the training ground.

Some couldn't squeeze in, tiptoeing to peer inside, their faces full of anxiety.

Others had been rejected but squatted on the side, refusing to leave, waiting for a chance for a make-up recruitment.

Qin Ce withdrew his gaze and took a deep breath.

He would not sit idly by.

...

Qin Ce moved a wooden board from nearby and propped it up on two broken stools.

Then he pulled a charcoal pencil from his bosom.

It was something he had grabbed from the logistics department before setting out, and he began to write on the wooden board.

He wrote quickly, stroke by stroke, pressing down heavily, the charcoal pencil making a scratching sound against the wood.

The half-disabled soldier sat on a chair behind him, holding the roster in his hands, looking at him with a blank expression, not knowing what he was doing.

Qin Ce finished writing. He turned the wooden board to face the flow of people.

The wooden board read—

【 Recruitment for 3rd Battalion, Seventh Squad 】

【 Monthly Base Military Merits: 100 points 】 (Other squads: 20 points)

【 Minimum Potential for Contracted Pet Beast Egg: Upper Bronze Rank 】

【 One day of leave per week 】

【 Death in the line of duty: Three pension quotas (children raised to adulthood, parents supported until end of life) 】

【 Guaranteed training to Upper Bronze Rank within three years 】

【 Absolutely no cuts, absolutely no arrears 】

This was the plan Qin Ce had thought about all night.

Every point hit the most painful spots of the drifters.

The base military merits were five times that of others!

The Pet Beast potential was significantly higher than others!

There was leave, pensions, and a promise of growth!

He took no cuts, had no arrears!

He wrote the conditions clearly on the board, honest and fair.

He believed these were the points drifters cared about most.

And he was confident drifters wouldn't miss it.

He thought that, at the very least, someone would stop to take a look.

But, in reality, when these things were displayed, there was still no one.

The crowd continued to flow past him, to the left, to the right, but never toward him.

When some passed by and glanced at the board, their steps would pause for a moment, then they would walk even faster.

Some even quickened their pace, as if avoiding something unclean.

Time passed minute by minute.

From nine in the morning to twelve at noon, Qin Ce stood by that wooden board for three full hours.

His military uniform flapped loudly in the north wind, his face was reddened by the sand, his throat was dry, and his lips were chapped.

Yet still, no one came.

At noon, he asked the half-disabled soldier to get some food from the cafeteria.

The two of them sat behind the empty recruitment station, eating in the north wind.

The food was cold, and the rice was as hard as gravel.

Qin Ce ate quickly; after finishing, he put down his bowl and stood back beside the wooden board.

In the afternoon, the situation didn't change at all.

In front of the other squads' recruitment stations, the crowd remained surging.

Some had already been recruited, clutching their newly issued uniforms and equipment, squeezing out of the crowd with smiles on their faces.

Some had been rejected, squatting on the side, dejected and refusing to leave.

Some were still in line, tiptoeing to look forward.

On Qin Ce's side, there was still no one.

No, it wasn't completely empty.

Around two in the afternoon, someone walked over. That person was as thin as a bamboo pole, with no flesh on his face, high cheekbones, but eyes that were frighteningly bright.

He stood in front of the wooden board, watched for a long while, then looked up at Qin Ce.

"Can you pay in advance?"

Qin Ce's face turned black instantly.

He recognized this person.

No, he didn't recognize the person; he recognized the question.

Yesterday, the person who swindled him out of two thousand military merits had asked the same question.

Qin Ce took a deep breath, suppressed his anger, and tried to make his voice sound calm: "Join the squad first. After one month, you can get an advance."

Upon hearing this, the light in the man's eyes dimmed instantly.

He "spat," the sound not loud, but clearly audible in the open field: "Do you think I'm stupid?"

Then he turned and left, walking even faster than when he arrived.

Qin Ce stood there, watching the man's back disappear into the crowd, a breath stuck in his chest that he couldn't spit out or swallow.

He turned his head to look at the half-disabled soldier, Jiang Mo, beside him.

Jiang Mo kept his head down, writing something on the roster.

No, he wasn't writing anything; the roster was still blank.

He was just keeping his head down to avoid looking too awkward.

Qin Ce withdrew his gaze and continued to stand there.

Three in the afternoon.

Four in the afternoon.

Five in the afternoon.

The crowd on the training ground finally began to thin out.

In front of the various squads' recruitment stations, the number of people in line grew fewer and fewer.

Some had recruited their full quota and started packing up to leave.

Some were counting the last few spots, surrounded by a circle of people anxiously waiting for a chance to fill in.

On Qin Ce's side, it was still zero.

He stood there, watching the other squads' recruitment stations pack up one by one, watching the squad leaders who had filled their quotas leave with their new recruits, and watching the people on the training ground dwindle.

His squad members still consisted only of that half-disabled soldier.

"It's useless," a hoarse voice came from behind him.

Qin Ce turned his head.

The half-disabled soldier was still sitting on the chair, holding the blank roster, head bowed, as if talking to his own knees.

"No matter how good the conditions are, if no one believes you, it's useless."

Qin Ce was stunned for a moment.

No one believes you.

These three words were like a needle, piercing into his mind.

He recalled what the person who had swindled his military merits yesterday said— "Someone like you, one look and I can tell you're not an ordinary person."

It wasn't a compliment; it meant he wasn't trustworthy.

He recalled the people who walked around his recruitment station today—they hadn't missed his conditions; they saw them, but didn't believe them.

He recalled the person who asked him "Can you pay in advance?"—he wasn't there to join the army; he was there to try his luck.

If he could get an advance, he would swindle a sum and leave; if not, he wouldn't even want to stay for another second.

No one believed him.

It wasn't that the conditions weren't good enough; it was that no one believed him.

In this place, in a place where one brushes shoulders with death every day, trust was more valuable than military merits.

And he, a greenhorn who came from the city, arrived in a military jeep, wore a brand-new uniform, and didn't even understand what a "cut" was.

Why should anyone believe him?

...