Chapter 10

### Chapter 8: A Life of Wealth and Honor? (Part 2)

Amidst the drumbeats and the sounds of the military camp, I yawned and walked out of the shed, splashed some water on my face, and finally woke up. I looked up at the distant military camp on the plateau.

In the deep, rumbling sound that seemed to tear the sky, through the figures blowing horns and beating drums, the camp was shrouded in a yellowish haze, with dust and smoke swirling. People were running around, and spears and banners of various colors were gathered together, then surged out.

A new day had begun, I sighed.

Without electricity, water, or the internet, without a toilet or toilet paper, the habit of staying up late that I had developed over the years made me stare gloomily at the dark ceiling of the shed. My stomach, lacking in oil and water, growled and protested. Every night, I would think aimlessly until very late, only to be woken up early by the noise, and then I would have to face the messy reality once again.

After the morning roll call and exercises, we would eat, distribute supplies and tools, and start working. Those who needed to leave the camp had to be forced to finish their business to avoid delays. Being able to complete all this within half an hour was considered a significant improvement.

I couldn't turn them into fearless warriors overnight, but I could make these routines and procedures become their instinctive reflexes through rewards and punishments, such as whippings and food.

Not everyone could handle the job of collecting bodies. Only those with a strong stomach and no fear of blood and dirt were selected and given priority in supplies and rations. They would eat until they were half full before working and would get an extra meal. Although the process was nauseating and boring.

At least, my concerns about being used as cheap cannon fodder and the inevitable large-scale casualties did not materialize. Being able to properly collect the dead and wounded indicated that the official army had at least, for now, taken control of the initiative and the rhythm of the battle, reducing the need for direct participation and the risk of injury.

As a self-provisioned militia, there were no extra medicines to waste on the wounded. Crushed leaves and ashes were the most common emergency measures, and the rest was left to fate.

After all, I could teach them to use fire and boiling water to disinfect and bandage wounds to maintain hygiene, but I couldn't magically create antibiotics or anti-inflammatory drugs. During this process, my title and status evolved from a somewhat skilled "Xia Fuzi" to a respected "Mr. Xia" who could influence their treatment to some extent.

However, for Jiang An, who had ambitions and aspirations, this was not good news. Not being able to participate directly in the battle also meant no war spoils or military achievements. He had led people out several times on errands, only to return disappointed and exhausted. Thus, he could only vent his frustration by intensifying the training of the pole teams.

Therefore, out of some personal considerations and the suggestion that my people should not be idle, the remaining hundred or so people in the camp were temporarily assigned to me.

It was rare to have a few days of full meals and people to command. Of course, I had to find ways to keep them busy and prevent them from having the energy and thoughts to cause trouble.

Every day, besides the boring and monotonous pole training and marching, they would dig trenches and build earthworks, like groundhogs, surrounding the area with various ditches. After leaving a main road, they would plant inch-long bamboo stakes and dig densely packed hoof-shaped pits.

Although I was just a paper-talking ancient warfare enthusiast without the resources to recreate a scene like those wealthy enthusiasts in the country, I had at least done some modeling and planning of earthworks and construction online. I could handle some simple planning and command.

Unfortunately, my time in the group was too short, and I hadn't established any authority. Apart from daily life and living needs, any ideas or suggestions had to be executed through the old soldier Deng Fang, who was left in the camp.

In a sense, the leader of this militia, Jiang An, though rough and unrefined, had grand ambitions and a tight grip on his troops.

After all, in a society of widespread illiteracy and poor communication, it was difficult to win over potential supporters with just words. This militia, bound by kinship and local ties, made me, a newcomer, too insignificant to command much respect or trust, let alone loyalty.

If I wanted to win hearts and minds, I lacked the material resources. Even if I tried to subtly use my position to bestow favors, my status was not high enough to have a significant impact, and it could easily offend the interests of the ruling class.

To be honest, I envied the protagonists in historical fantasy novels who could win the hearts and loyalty of others with just a few words after traveling through time. I was just a scribe or clerk, a temporary worker in a shell company.

During this period, I saw strange things more than once. Though painted in garish colors and looking like ghosts, I easily recognized a briefly suspended hot air balloon.

Well, it was clearly the legacy of some predecessors, but it had made me somewhat numb. What could be more surprising than a time traveler?

During this time, the black lumps made from bran and wild vegetables had largely disappeared from the camp. The soldiers were now given enough flatbreads and vegetable porridge, and the pole teams, who had previously looked pale and weak, now had more energy when they shouted and kicked.

The weather gradually turned cooler, and the official army's offensive entered a critical stage. The fires and smoke on the distant hills could be seen day and night. Even the auxiliary troops and local militias sent out to support the battle began to suffer casualties.

This included Jiang An's cousin and several dozen soldiers who were caught off guard and fled in defeat from a surprise attack by the Liangshan bandits from the reeds. They even left their bodies behind, unable to retrieve them.

What pained Jiang An the most was the loss of over half of his dozen or so mules and horses, which his family had saved up for with great effort.

Today, the official army did not send anyone to assign tasks, and the Qingzhou army's camp was much sparser, with only a few flags bearing the names of low-ranking officers fluttering weakly in the wind. The others had disappeared, as the official army, with its numerical and equipment advantages, had already cleared the periphery and attacked Liangshan, vying for military achievements and heads. They would not let these peripheral and irregular forces get in the way.

Thus, the only entertainment for the idle soldiers in the camp was to watch the slaughter of an injured donkey.

Several butchers, temporarily reassigned from the pole teams, used unprofessional methods to kill the struggling animal, causing a lot of blood to splash and waste in the mud and dust, drawing a chorus of curses.

After the incision, the colorful liver and intestines, along with the warm, pungent steam and odor, fell to the ground, revealing the bloody cavity and membranes.

Jiang An, who had been gloomy and red-eyed with a constipated look due to the death of his personal attendant, finally smiled. He picked up a bloody intestine, licked his lips, and said, "We can enjoy blood sausage again."

The donkey's blood was continuously stirred in a large basin to prevent it from clotting. Coarse salt, scallions, garlic, fermented black beans, and rendered fat were added, and the intestines were filled using a funnel, tied with string, and hung over a pile of firewood to dry. This was said to be a grand dish that wealthy families only enjoyed during the New Year.

The other parts were also dissected, cut into different sections along the grain, and the bones were thrown into a large pot of boiling soup, creating a thick, gray layer of blood foam. The strong smell of blood mixed with the aroma of the soup made the surrounding soldiers and leaders look forward to it. They hadn't seen real meat in a long time, apart from the bland meat broth.

As a valuable large animal in this era, almost every part of the donkey could be used. Even the seemingly useless hooves and fur, or the offal, had their uses. For example, the large bladder could be made into a water bag, and the dirty contents of the intestines were said to treat wounds and burns.

Cao Dulizi, who was enthusiastically skinning the donkey and hanging it to dry, suddenly looked as if he had swallowed a large egg and dropped the large donkey head into the dust, splattering blood and dirt everywhere.

Jiang An and his companions, including me, were stunned.

Following his gaze, we clearly saw that the Qingzhou army's camp was on fire. The hastily launched hot air balloon was set on fire from below, and a line of fire burned the balloon, causing it to drift far away and lose buoyancy, eventually crashing to the ground.

The encampments of the local militias and volunteers near the official army's camp were in chaos, with shouts and screams of battle. Occasionally, figures would run out of the flames, only to be cut down by those chasing them.

It was clear that one of the militias had turned against the official army. They wore white headbands and attacked nearby camps, setting fires and looting. Jiang An and the leader of that militia had shared a drink and exchanged information and items.

Who knew they would turn against us? Because we had arrived early, our camp was located farther away on higher ground, so we were fortunate to avoid being affected.

Until a small group of mounted official soldiers, escorting an official in a green robe, burst into our camp in the midst of the chaos, and we realized we needed to seal the gates.

We blocked the gates, preventing the fleeing soldiers who were crying and shouting from entering. After their angry curses, they had to detour around the camp and escape.

"Damn it..."

"The Yingtai Army and the Fubo Camp are finished."

"The river is full of flags and floating bodies."

"The rebels from overseas have landed."

"The Dengzhou army will fall even faster."

They shouted loudly on their horses, and the official in the green robe coughed heavily, silencing them.

"Who is in charge here? Come and speak."

The leading officer straightened his helmet and spoke loudly. He wore a full-body mountain-patterned armor and looked dignified, though the blood and dirt on his body made him look disheveled.

Well, perhaps my protagonist aura was starting to take effect, and the opportunity to display my leadership was at hand.

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(End of Chapter 8)