Chapter Forty-Seven: Out of Control

"United in purpose, together we conquer formidable foes!"

For several days, Wang Luo had remained within the camp, contemplating strategies. Once he settled on a basic approach, he finally emerged from his tent, beginning to train the soldiers while simultaneously working at the forge.

During these days, the surrendered Han troops, captured and then recruited, had taken on most of the training duties. Wang Luo was pleased to see they performed admirably.

Forging Han armor and ring-hilted swords greatly accelerated his smithing skills—every ten pieces crafted seemed to advance his proficiency. The chance of special attributes appearing was similar to that of making basic armor. Yet Wang Luo paid little heed to this; his attention was drawn instead to how best to harness the soldiers’ enthusiasm.

Undoubtedly, distributing land among soldiers could strengthen their allegiance and boost their fighting spirit. But in this era, where cold steel ruled, organization was paramount.

Viewed from this angle, the kind of knowledge that could be translated into combat power was rather limited. The first principle he settled upon was to enlighten the soldiers about who exploited them, thereby stirring their motivation and resolve. The second was to instruct them in warfare, refining their martial skills.

During rest periods, he organized grievance meetings, where soldiers spoke of the hardships endured under landlords, tax collectors, and powerful clans, so that they might recognize their true enemies. Such gatherings would fortify their will; perhaps, when the time came, some eloquent men could be dispatched to spread their policies locally. If possible, they would commence land redistribution, recruitment, and training right there.

Time was short. After brief training and indoctrination, the soldiers would be sent out—when the formidable Han army arrived, the most battle-hardened would be gathered.

Perhaps, after the propaganda, the camp’s elderly and weak could help, maximizing their utility. Yet, he remained cautious of the Yellow Turban main force’s influence. The Han soldiers left at the ferry were meant to prevent their incursion.

Militarily, where should the next target be? The surrounding area was dotted with small villages and county towns, but what then, once expansion began? With just over twenty days, how far could they grow without resistance?

As he pondered, Yang Wentian approached, his expression grim.

“Last night, we lost more than twenty scouts.”

---

“Is this even useful?” The square-faced man panted, pulling his sword from the body of a recently slain Yellow Turban scout.

“At least we get general points and equipment,” replied the one-eyed man beside him, his hook dripping blood as he caught his breath. “Yellow Turban scouts are tougher than I expected.”

They’d laid traps and, after ten minutes, eliminated the “elite scouts” from the opposing side. The cost: depleted mana and a bit of stamina; the reward: nine hundred points and a skill book.

“Why do you think the captain wants us to do this?” After resting, the square-faced man asked.

---

“To show our stance?” The one-eyed man waved his hook. “We can’t exactly attack the Yellow Turban main force.”

“Is it necessary? Why not wait for Han reinforcements before acting?”

“You ask me, who am I to ask?”

“What if the Yellow Turbans send a large force? Remember, Charles is over there.”

“He probably won’t. Look at his letters—no outright hostility. The captain must have a plan.”

Mentioning the captain made the square-faced man pause in silence. “We used the preset battlefield before entering—thought this would be easy.”

“Yeah. The captain wouldn’t... treat something this big as a joke. Let’s go, on to the next target.”

“Let’s move.”

---

“So, she wants us to attack the Yellow Turban scouting units too?”

“Or any small detachments. Perhaps she’s aiming to disrupt Yellow Turban activities.”

Wright stood in the contract holders’ tent at the ferry, handing the letter to the two before him.

He lowered his head, listening to their speculation about her, feeling rather agitated.

But he was only a messenger, not qualified to speak.

She had told him, as a woman in a high position, she was bound to suffer malicious slander and gossip from petty souls.

At that time, her expression was earnest and pained, clearly wounded by such venom. Then, she was more beautiful than ever...

Thinking of it made Wright tremble.

---

Back then, he truly wanted to embrace her. But she was so beautiful, noble, wealthy, and powerful, while he had nothing.

He recalled the first moment he met her—it was aboard a ship, sent to reconnoiter the opposing team. Through the window, he saw her.

That instant was like mountain spring water flowing, like blossoms atop a peak in spring, like brilliant light in the dark—an eternal moment in his heart.

Wright couldn’t do much, but whatever she asked, he never questioned—he merely did his utmost. To him, she was beautiful, pure, clever, and cheerful...

For the team’s sake, she might interact more with others. Yet each time they met, she would give him a special look, often smiling, speaking with such gentle words.

She was special to him.

As for her selections at the team meetings, he either ignored them or justified them with whatever he could believe. In truth, one can be driven to madness by self-deception. No matter the truth, for this love, twisted and wild in fantasy, Wright silently vowed to protect her. He would never allow anyone to harm or insult her.

Though his combat ability was lacking and his rage couldn’t be directly shown... scouts have their own tricks.

“The captain said, if you decide to act, I’ll give you the map with troop markers.” Wright handed over a map.

They did not doubt him—at times like this, when unity was needed, their interests aligned and suspicion was unnecessary.

“Let’s target this spot,” Rank pointed to a marked Yellow Turban encampment on the map. “We shouldn’t split up. Killing a few scouts isn’t meaningful. Since there’s a small detachment here, newly stationed, let’s strike them.”

You’ll encounter a suitably “small” force. Wright’s heart brimmed with joy as he turned to leave.