First Battlefield Commander! - Chapter 243
Chapter 243: Extra 12: General Lian Has No Weak Soldiers
The borderlands were covered in yellow sand. Especially in winter, when the air was dry and the northern wind howled fiercely, the sand blown by the wind felt like knives cutting into one's face.
Imperial military provisions were tight, and by the time they reached this remote place where "the heavens are high and the emperor far away," not even scraps remained. Coupled with the fierce and warlike nature of the northern Hu tribes, the garrison soldiers suffered bitterly.
Year after year, accumulated grievances festered. This small border town disregarded laws and discipline, running wild and unrestrained, with the most unfortunate victims being the innocent commoners.
That feeling of being trapped with nowhere to escape, living each day uncertain of the next—wasn't it more terrifying than facing the marauding Hu soldiers?
No one knew what the imperial court was thinking. Perhaps they finally remembered this place and sent an assistant general.
If this was considered importance, it wasn't. At the very least, they should have appointed someone with actual temporary authority—even a military supervisor would do, as long as the position carried weight. Assistant generals were traditionally the right-hand men of garrison commanders, personally selected by the generals themselves. Who had ever heard of randomly assigning a deputy general? Everyone knew the military had its factions, especially in border regions. Coming like this, how could they possibly command respect?
But if this wasn't importance, that didn't seem right either. This assistant general's background was completely unknown—young and inexperienced, yet immediately put in charge of troops. It seemed the Emperor must hold them in high regard. Someone who could speak with authority.
In any case, the move was perplexing, and it genuinely angered the garrison's right general.
No one wanted some greenhorn lording over them, not even the slightest hint of doubt allowed. The newcomer would arrive in two days, and he had already made his stance clear through veiled and outright threats, determined to put the upstart in their place.
The crowd eagerly awaited the spectacle.
At the training grounds on the town's outskirts, where soldiers should have been drilling, a scattered group instead lounged about. Some basked in the sun, others chatted, while a few bullied the new recruits.
Several young men had been recruited from the town that day.
Most of these youths had joined the army because they had nowhere else to go. Thin and weak, they knew they lacked strength and dared not complain when ordered around by the veterans. Assigned the filthiest quarters and tricked out of their midday rations, they not only had to work silently but also serve tea and water to their tormentors.
The recruits seethed inwardly but could do nothing. To them, this place seemed less like a military camp and more like a bandit den. They gathered privately to vent their frustrations, cursing their bullies as "thieving monkeys."
The veterans could easily guess their thoughts but didn't bother pointing it out—no need. They didn't expect gratitude from those they bullied; that would be too much.
However, one recruit stood apart. She lay on the training grounds in oversized military garb, indifferent to everyone. After being assigned a tent, she didn't bother collecting bedding or tidying up, leaving everything as it was.
A veteran had tried testing her once. Standing before her, before he could speak, she lazily lifted her eyes—and that single glance froze him in place.
Her gaze carried an intimidating force, devoid of any goodwill. He had no doubt that if he spoke carelessly, she would press her longsword against his throat.
Indeed, she kept a longsword at her side. Its scabbard bore no intricate patterns but plenty of wear marks. Her fingers and the webbing between thumb and index finger were calloused. Though slender, the veins on her hands stood out prominently, clearly marking her as different from the other recruits.
Most soldiers carried spears or broadswords. The court strictly controlled weapons—civilians weren't even allowed to carry blades within city walls. Yet here she was with a sword.
This meant she was trained. Not someone to provoke. Wisely, the veteran backed off.
The veteran tilted his head, observing the frail-looking youth who had remained motionless by the archery targets for nearly an entire day. "What's that one's deal? Why hasn't she moved? How long has she been sitting there? Did she come to fight or mourn her mother?"
If she had any real connections, why would she come to this backwater border town to be a starving foot soldier?
"Why bother? Just worry about ourselves," another soldier sitting on the ground replied, grabbing a water jug. He spat, "This damned life. Who knows when it'll end? We're out here risking our lives, yet can't even get a full meal."
"Shouldn't we warn her? The Hu cavalry raids tonight. If she wanders around, she might get unlucky and end up as their dinner."
"Tonight, everyone stays in their tents. Anyone with sense won't stick their neck out. If they don't have sense, in this damned place, dying sooner or later makes no difference. She'll just have to count herself unlucky."
"This batch of recruits, none too bright, but at least they're obedient. Except for her."
Lian Sheng, sensing the stares from all directions, curled her lips into a faint smile.
As the sun dipped westward, afternoon drills ended—time for dinner. She stood and followed the crowd toward the rear camp.
Though it was precisely mealtime, most had already lined up.
Army kitchens mostly used earthenware pots, good for porridge but not frying. Since millet stored well, it became the staple—mixed with wild vegetables, fruits, and beans for flavor. But eating this day after day grew tiresome.
Normally, eating order followed seniority, with recruits last. Border regions lacked proper dining areas, so people sat wherever space allowed.
Lian Sheng ignored these rules. Clutching her sword, she wordlessly joined the line.
The veterans glanced back but didn't openly object, instead exchanging meaningful looks with the cooks.
Catching whiffs of aroma, Lian Sheng's stomach growled with hunger. She held out her bowl to the server.
The soldier didn't even look up, deliberately skimming a half-ladle of watery broth from the top without refilling it, then waved her off impatiently.
Unfazed, Lian Sheng took the bowl, squatted somewhere, and ate. From her sleeve, she pulled out a shriveled, rock-hard flatbread, chewing it with the thin gruel.
As for the Liang Dynasty's military provisions—though allocations weren't generous, when disbursed, they weren't skimpy either. The problem was where they disappeared along the way.
Military regulations clearly stated: laborers received half a peck of millet for breakfast and one-third for dinner. After observing awhile, she saw that not even veterans got full rations, let alone recruits.
Poor—this place was truly poor.
Lian Sheng placed her empty bowl where instructed and silently returned to her quarters.
Her bed lacked even a thin mat, and she wasn't inclined to fetch one yet—she'd remember this. Brushing dust off the wooden plank with her hand, she set her sword aside and sat down.
Soon, her tentmates trickled in, falling silent upon seeing Lian Sheng and retreating to their own beds.
After surreptitiously studying her, they decided her expression, though unfriendly, didn't seem deliberately provocative or ill-tempered. Considering they'd be living together awhile, it was best not to offend her. Tentatively, one asked, "Brother, where are you from?"
Lian Sheng tilted her head slightly, lowering her voice. "The south."
"The south? Why'd you come north to enlist? Can you even adapt?"
"No wonder—you do look southern." The recruit chuckled. "Tomorrow, you should apologize and show some humility. Why antagonize them? They've got endless ways to make trouble for you."
"Right. When under someone else's roof, how can you not lower your head? This isn't a place for stubbornness."
Lian Sheng smiled faintly. "Is that so?"
The room had no lamps, and the window was shut against the wind. Darkness fell quickly, and with Lian Sheng curled at the bed's edge, they couldn't see her expression.
From her tone alone, she seemed agreeable.
Another recruit asked, "Brother, how'd you bring that sword in? Why'd they let you keep it?"
Lian Sheng: "No one told me not to."
"More like no one dared. Everyone here avoids trouble, and you've got that 'King of Hell' face."
"Better hide it to avoid issues. Today was your first day, so you didn't run into the officers. If you bump into a platoon leader or centurion, you'll regret it."
"With the court-appointed officer arriving soon, no one's in a good mood lately. Best lay low."
These young men, new to the place and exhausted from the day's work, now relaxed and chatted endlessly—sharing stories, gossiping, growing livelier by the minute.
Lian Sheng leaned by the window, gazing at the night outside, and remarked, "The moon's out."
A recruit shook out his blanket. "Ah, time to sleep. We've got to rise early tomorrow—something about tilling fields for next year's crops."
"Tch, the harvest won't even be for us."
"Those damned monkeys just love bossing us around."
"Ah, forget it. Didn't we all go through this?"
With insufficient rations, they had to fend for themselves.
Drills, meals, farming—such was daily life.
The room gradually quieted. Lian Sheng adjusted her robe, slipped from the bed, and stood.
The others only saw a shadow glide toward the door.
"Hey, brother!" A soldier sat up abruptly. "It's pitch black out. Where are you going?"
Lian Sheng's hand rested on the door latch as she glanced back. "Just taking a walk."
"The camp's not someplace to wander, especially at night." The soldier tried dissuading her gently. "No one goes out tonight. Better stay put."
Lian Sheng lifted her sword slightly. "I know what I'm doing. Sleep."
With that, she pushed the door open and stepped into the night, closing it behind her.
The others huddled under their blankets, unmoving. They hissed through clenched teeth, tossing and turning restlessly.
After a moment, a faint voice whispered, "Is that person... suicidal?"
By now, the town's patrols had withdrawn. Darkness fell unusually early that night.
The wind picked up, making lanterns on the city walls sway wildly, their yellow light stubbornly holding. Somewhere, an unlatched door banged repeatedly.
The townsfolk seemed to sense something, barring their doors early and hiding inside. Some placed food offerings outside, hoping the raiders would take them and leave.
Lian Sheng turned up her collar, covering her mouth and nose, and sat by the city gates.
Still hungry, she took out dried rations from her sleeve. Breaking off a small piece, she kneaded it before popping it into her mouth.
Too dry—she wanted water. But the sandy wind made her reluctant to open her mouth.
Lian Sheng narrowed her eyes at the approaching hoofbeats, then widened them slightly as drowsiness fled. She studied the dark figures ahead.
Twenty horses... no, twenty-five. Maybe twenty-six.
The riders approached with torches, flames stretched by the wind into long streaks, finally reaching the gates.
They reined in, surprised to find someone waiting. "Who goes there?"
Lian Sheng leaned on her sword, lifting her chin slightly. "On Great Liang's soil, you ask who I am?"
"What fool of a soldier doesn't know his place?" The Hu man laughed. "What are you doing here? Scram! Didn't anyone tell you to run the moment you see your grandpas?"
His companions roared with laughter.
"Grandpa's feeling generous today. Kneel and beg, and we'll let you go."
Lian Sheng sneered. "I'm a soldier of Great Liang, here to defend its land. Even dogs know to guard their homes—don't tell me you're dumber than dogs?"
The laughter cut off abruptly as reins tightened, making horses rear with shrill whinnies.
The leader's voice turned icy. "Have you found someone to collect your corpse tomorrow?"
Lian Sheng stood, thumb pressing the sword's crossguard to slide it open slightly.
"Fortune-teller," she called with a smile. "They said I wouldn't last the night. That'd ruin your reputation."
A scholar-like youth holding a divination banner emerged from the shadows. His clear, strong voice carried on the wind: "They say disasters linger for millennia. Her lifespan outlasts all of yours combined. The King of Hell will come for her when it's time—no need for your concern."
Before the words faded, six or seven more figures materialized from the darkness.
The Hu leader snorted disdainfully, as if witnessing something laughable.
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