153: Chapter 153 A Tree Stands Firm

Qin Ce stood there, countless thoughts churning in his mind.

Was the root of everything, in the end, trust?

He recalled a story.

A story about 'establishing trust.' It was one he had read in his past life, about Shang Yang before his reforms. Shang Yang had erected a log at the city gate, promising ten pieces of gold to anyone who could carry it to the north gate.

No one believed him.

He raised the reward to fifty pieces of gold.

Someone tried, carried it, and truly received fifty gold.

From then on, the people knew that Shang Yang kept his word.

Thus, his decrees could be implemented.

Should he also try 'establishing trust with a log'?

Yesterday's two thousand military merit points were his 'log'.

He erected it, he offered it, but the one who carried the log ran away.

Now everyone knew that the captain of the Seventh Squad was an easy-to-fool sucker.

If he were to erect another log now, others would only think he was being foolish again.

This was what they called: 'Those who learn from me live, those who merely imitate me die.'

He had to find his own method.

Qin Ce turned around, looking at the still-churning crowd.

Then, suddenly, something in his eyes began to slowly, bit by bit, light up.

Qin Ce had figured it out.

The reason no one trusted him wasn't that his terms weren't good enough, but that he had no credibility in their hearts. In fact, it was negative. His generous conditions, in their eyes, were not sincerity but a trap—what kind of good deal was this? The better it seemed, the more fake it was.

Therefore, the more he emphasized the favorable conditions, the more others thought he was a swindler. This was essentially inversely increasing their distrust. The more he said, the more wrong he was. The better he wrote it, the less people believed.

Qin Ce took a deep breath and turned to walk toward his rickety table.

'Come here,' he said to Jiang Mo.

Jiang Mo looked up, staring at him with a bewildered expression.

Qin Ce dragged the table forward half a meter, straightened the chair, and then pushed the roster toward Jiang Mo. 'Sit here. You can write, right?'

Jiang Mo was stunned for a moment, then nodded.

'When people come to sign up later, you register them.'

Huh?

People will come?

How will they come?

Jiang Mo opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but Qin Ce had already turned and walked away.

Heading straight toward that sea of people.

Jiang Mo sat on the chair, holding the blank roster, watching Qin Ce's back disappear into the crowd, utterly confused.

He couldn't understand what this new squad captain was going to do among the refugees.

Could he possibly force people to join?

Qin Ce walked into the crowd.

He didn't walk fast, his steps steady, as if taking a stroll.

People passed by him, some glancing at him, some not, but all naturally gave him a little space.

It wasn't out of reverence, but instinct. A person in a brand-new military uniform walking among ragged refugees was like a drop of oil in water—it naturally separated without any action needed.

Qin Ce paid no mind to this.

Only one thought occupied his mind: They don't trust me because they think I'm incompetent.

In this place, strength was the only valid currency.

Why were people still scrambling to get into those squads with the harshest conditions and the heaviest cuts?

Not because of good treatment, but because their captains were strong.

Only by following the strong could one survive.

This was the simplest, yet cruelest, logic here.

Therefore, he needed to demonstrate strength.

But how?

Summon the Azure Luan and publicly kill a Silver Rank beast?

That wasn't realistic.

This wasn't the wilderness; there were no beasts for him to kill here.

And even if there were, what would killing one prove?

These people had seen too much combat. The life or death of a Silver Rank beast was far less tangible in their eyes than a full meal.

However, demonstrating strength didn't necessarily require real blades and spears.

A faint smile tugged at Qin Ce's lips, and a flicker of starlight suddenly swirled in his eyes.

Nine-Star Insight, activate.

This was his most familiar ability.

On the battlefield of Fengling City, he had used these eyes to see through the Raven King's illusions, to see through the beasts' weaknesses, to see through the life and death of countless people on the battlefield.

And today, he would use them to look at these refugees.

A flood of information poured into his mind.

Most of these people were ordinary folks who hadn't awakened a Soul Talisman, but there were also a few hidden Beast Tamers—due to injuries, lack of resources, or various reasons, their Pet Beasts had died, their Soul Talismans had withered, and they had fallen in rank.

There were also others with hidden injuries, old ailments, latent problems even they themselves were unaware of.

Qin Ce didn't walk fast.

He moved through the crowd, his gaze sweeping from one person to another, as if searching for something.

Then, he stopped.

...

He grabbed a person's arm.

That person was emaciated, his limbs as thin as twigs, but his belly was swollen and bulging, like an overturned pot.

His clothes hung loosely on his frame, swaying with the wind.

His face was sallow, his eyes sunken, his lips chapped—clearly the signs of long-term malnutrition.

He had already been interviewed at three different squad recruitment points and had been rejected by all.

The reason was simple—with that appearance, anyone would think he was a sickly weakling. No one wanted him.

But what Qin Ce's Nine-Star Insight saw was different.

This person wasn't too weak.

On the contrary, he was too strong.

His spleen and stomach functions far exceeded those of an ordinary person; his digestion and absorption capacity was several times that of a normal person.

But precisely because his spleen and stomach were too strong, they plundered energy and nutrients from other parts of his body, causing his limbs and torso to receive insufficient supply, hence the emaciated limbs and distended belly.

This wasn't an illness.

It was a talent.

It was just that this talent was buried beneath this ugly exterior.

'Join my squad,' Qin Ce said.

The man was stunned for a moment, then clearly saw who had grabbed his arm...

A brand-new military uniform, a young face, three copper bars on the shoulder insignia.

Then his expression changed, becoming very unpleasant.

He recognized Qin Ce.

Seventh Squad.

The joke that had spread throughout the camp overnight. The captain who couldn't keep a single soldier.

He shook his head repeatedly, shrinking back, trying to break free from Qin Ce's grip. 'No, no, I'd rather die than go.'

Qin Ce didn't let go.

'Do you find it hard to sit still every morning? Does it feel like a fire is burning in your heart? Do you especially want to hit someone to vent?'

The man's movements froze.

He stared wide-eyed at Qin Ce, his lips trembling slightly.

Qin Ce was right.

Every morning, he would inexplicably become irritable, restless, feeling as if a fire was burning in his heart.

He thought it was his bad temper, thought it was his wretched fate, unable to endure this hard life. He never knew it was a condition.

'I can treat it,' Qin Ce said. 'Once treated, you'll be much stronger than ordinary people.'

Something struggled in the man's eyes.

He glanced at Qin Ce's shoulder insignia, then at Qin Ce's face, his lips moving as if he wanted to believe but didn't dare.

Qin Ce said no more.

He raised his hand, placed it on the man's shoulder, and energy circulated within him. The 'Smooth' technique of the Seven Kills Chaos silently flowed into the man's body.

A warm energy traveled along the man's meridians, gently pushing along his stagnant vital energy.

The man's body shuddered violently, then he let out a long, deep breath—a breath so long and turbid, as if held for over a decade.

His belly visibly shrank by a circle.

His limbs visibly thickened by a circle.

Not by much, but it was noticeable.

From 'critically ill' to 'looking like a normal person' in an instant.

The man lowered his head to look at his own body, repeatedly touching his own arms, his eyes wide, his mouth agape, speechless.

People around noticed the commotion, stopping to look curiously.

'Will you join the Seventh Squad?' Qin Ce asked again.

The man nodded vigorously, like a chicken pecking at rice.

He was already speechless.

Qin Ce pointed to the rickety table in the distance and the half-crippled soldier sitting on the chair. 'Go register over there.'

The man turned and ran, took two steps, then turned back, bowed to Qin Ce, and ran off again.

This time, even faster.