Chapter 2183 - Shijian (Part 3)

"Since when was I Fubo Army? I'm authentic National Army stock. A few months ago, I stood exactly where you are—an ordinary big-head soldier without even a Nanyang rifle. I carried a spear."

"That fast?" The new recruits' skepticism showed.

"What's rare about it? Fighting under the Senate offers countless chances for merit and advancement. What's an NCO promotion? Fight well, enter the Training Team after battle, and emerge with officer stars on your shoulders and a command sword at your side!"

To common soldiers, "promotion" remained the most magnetic topic. Whether in the old Ming army or under Senate command, officers belonged to a higher class—but here, that future seemed visible and attainable. These few words immediately kindled everyone's ambition for fame and fortune.

Becoming an officer might require effort, but NCO rank—head of soldiers, tail of generals—seemed within reach. It amounted to selling one's life with sword and gun in combat. They'd fought several engagements already, none particularly ferocious. The enemy largely crumbled before them, rarely reaching bayonet range.

"The Chiefs are Sages contending for the world. There will be countless battles ahead. Fight bravely, follow orders, and promotion is inevitable. But looking at your miserable performance today, dying is easy—advancement will be hard! Remember this: the first to die in battle are the cowards. Those two today proved it."

"Speaking of which, it was brutal—shot down directly!" someone whispered indignantly.

"No one else to blame. In battle, you maintain formation—even in the Great Ming, this was law! When I marched as a government soldier back then, House Retainers supervised from behind. Not just retreating—anyone who even looked back was beheaded on the spot..." The old campaigner started his familiar bragging.

"Let me make this crystal clear. Being a soldier in any country, any dynasty, means two things above all: neat ranks and strict discipline! Without orders, even if a blade falls on your head, you do not fire. Understood?! Next time someone moves a finger without orders, I'll cut you down myself on behalf of the supervising team!"

Yang Erdong cursed them thoroughly. When logistics delivered supplies and he left to receive them with the quartermaster, the soldiers' hands kept working but their mouths found new entertainment. The topic drifted from cursing officers for treating them like livestock, meandering to "who panicked first and fired that initial shot during the wall assault," until finally no one could distinguish truth from fiction, proving innocence only through cynical oaths.

Ai Buyi kept his head down, digging earth, avoiding his comrades' routine bragging contests. Someone suddenly remarked, "Lucky we won eventually. If we'd failed to take that wall, they might have shot a few of us tonight when we retreated."

The matter touched on survival. Every ear perked up.

"Don't talk nonsense. The Chiefs don't kill people indiscriminately," someone said quickly.

The speaker snorted, nodding toward Malay, who sat mending clothes nearby. "What do you think Luo Mao's direct control squad does? They execute those who don't advance on the drum beat and fear the enemy. Malay, isn't that right?"

Malay, a new recruit, dared not refuse an old soldier's question. He shook his head. "I dare not say. But Sergeant Luo certainly has the squadron leader's trust. He always stays close..."

"Exactly. Squadron Leader Li trusts Sergeant Luo most. In battle, his squad stays at his side, deployed at critical moments—what is that if not House Retainers?" The speaker was Gou Shangtian, a Ming army veteran who'd served as a combat soldier rather than mere replacement fodder. He loved to brag on ordinary days.

Ai Buyi followed the crowd's gaze. Gou Shangtian grew more animated. "Didn't we eat lunch on the main street our second day in Zhaoqing? I saw with my own eyes Luo Mao taking men into a government courtyard, closing the gates, and cutting down over a hundred prisoners inside. The blood ran like streams. They say it was captured bandits and local landlords who refused levies..."

"Is this true?" Everyone showed skepticism. Killing people in this era wasn't rare, but executing hundreds in the city without any public notice seemed too fantastical.

"Believe it or don't. That night their squad alone got extra dishes while other squads didn't. Isn't that the executioner's meal?" Gou Shangtian spoke vividly. "Look at his men—every one of them carries that aura... Only people who kill regularly have it..."

At these words, everyone shuddered, turning to rejoice endlessly about today's outcome.

...

Yang Erdong finished receiving and counting supplies, then began weapons inspection per orders. Li Dong worried that soldiers new to rifles might develop problems, so he ordered every squad leader to personally inspect every weapon's condition nightly.

He examined each soldier's rifle, checking if they'd cleaned their weapons properly. Old soldiers proved reliable—most had developed the habit. New soldiers showed inconsistency; some forgot amid their tasks. Yang Erdong cursed them out again and ordered those with uncleaned weapons to stand watch tonight.

Inspection finished, Yang Erdong frowned and called out.

"Ai Buyi, come here!"

Ai Buyi's rifle had been taken for inspection and not returned—his heart had been trembling ever since. Hearing his name, his head buzzed. Walking up unsteadily, he saw Yang Erdong holding precisely his rifle. Knowing the matter couldn't be hidden, he dropped to his knees.

Yang Erdong said nothing, raising his hand to slap him twice, then kicking him hard enough to make him howl. At that moment, Luo Mao was leading his direct control squad on night patrol. Hearing the commotion, he came to investigate, terrifying Ai Buyi.

Yang Erdong handed Ai Buyi's rifle to Luo Mao.

"Take a look."

As an old Fubo Army soldier, Luo Mao knew weapons intimately. Taking the rifle, a quick check revealed the problem. He tilted the barrel—four bullets poured out. The two NCOs looked at each other and sighed.

Ai Buyi felt death was certain. That he didn't collapse entirely was due only to months of drilled military discipline. He didn't even realize he was begging with a tearful voice. "Officer, please let me go home. I truly can't shoot at people..."

Both NCOs knew such cases had occurred in other National Army squadrons, even in the Fubo Army. Men who looked robust and bold, with good obedience and decent training scores, but simply couldn't kill. They fainted on the battlefield, failing to fight themselves while dragging down comrades.

Now their squadron had discovered such a liability! Luo Mao found himself in a difficult position. Beating him publicly would treat symptoms, not the root. Shooting him seemed excessive. In peacetime without combat, dismissal would suffice. But now they were engaged—if a healthy, strong man could go home simply from cowardice, this war couldn't be fought.

In the end, Luo Mao took responsibility. "I'll talk to him. You handle your business."

Luo Mao sat on the breastwork, lit a cigarette, beckoned Ai Buyi closer, and asked, "What frightens you? Tell me."

Ai Buyi answered haltingly. "I'm terrified. I can't shoot at people. And I can't beat the enemy in combat. I've followed the unit through several battles, standing in back watching clearly. My meager skills aren't enough to fight the Ming army... I have an old mother at home. I'm afraid if I die, no one will care for her. Please speak to Squadron Leader Li and let me go home." Tears threatened.

"Everyone fears death. Who doesn't? But will fear save you? War isn't your personal affair—over a hundred brothers stand with you. If you leave because you're afraid, what about the squadron? We're in combat now. Your conduct today counts as desertion before the enemy—enough to be shot! Remember those two brothers executed?"

"Report to officer, I remember."

"Good that you remember!" Luo Mao paused, softening his tone. "Now I'll teach you how to be a soldier and survive. Listen carefully: If you don't want to die, you must win battles—win them decisively! Understood? Tell me, how do we win battles?"

"...Shoot to kill the enemy."

"Bullshit! I see you've forgotten everything from training. The beatings were wasted." Luo Mao's anger made Ai Buyi shudder. "I'll teach you once more—remember this: You are a soldier. A soldier's duty is to obey orders! Repeat it, louder! When ordered to form up, you form up. When ordered to fire, you load and shoot at maximum speed. Without orders, stand fast—don't move even if a blade falls on your head. You're afraid because you think too much, don't listen clearly to orders, remain half-hearted. No matter what the enemy does, don't think about killing them—that's what officers consider. Watching the officer's every word and action is your duty. Victory doesn't lie in enemy body count but in everyone completing their duty. And as long as everyone performs their duties, we keep winning."

"Yes..."

Luo Mao couldn't tell if these words would help. He softened further. "Besides, you follow the troops to battle. Although brothers die or get wounded every fight, how does it compare to enemy corpses littering the field? Fighting with the Fubo Army, you won't throw your life away easily—as long as you obey orders and follow commands!"

Not wanting to push too hard, Luo Mao sent him back after saying what needed saying.

"Luo Mao didn't shoot you? What did he say?" As soon as Ai Buyi returned to the trench, the brothers swarmed him. Ai Buyi merely gripped the shovel handle tightly, head bowed in silence.

"Little brother, next battle you'll definitely be vanguard..." Gou Shangtian said, his intent unclear.

After returning, Luo Mao reported Ai Buyi's case to Li Dong, suggesting continued observation.

"New recruits are inevitably timid. They'll be fine after a few more battles."