Chapter 150: Got Yelled At

"At your command, Milord..."

The steel-hard voices boomed across the drill ground, possessing an aura as unyielding and indestructible as a towering mountain.

*What a pity that such an iron army is not under my command...* Wei Wuji thought to himself. For the very first time, he felt a surge of desire for this army that seemed straight out of legend.

For the moment, however, Wei Wuji's attention remained riveted within the drill ground, particularly on the commanding officer stationed on the elevated platform.

Although the assembled elites had proclaimed their obedience, they did not drop to their knees; instead, they simply bowed and cupped their fists in salute.

"Military law dictates that one must kneel before a battalion commander. Why are they not kneeling?" Wei Wuji turned to ask Zheng Dali, puzzled.

His understanding of the Wei Wu Warriors was truly meager, primarily because he had previously doubted whether they were truly as formidable as rumored.

Hearing the question, Zheng Dali assumed his familiar, haughty expression and replied with self-satisfaction, "My Lord, you wouldn't understand. In other armies, military law indeed mandates such things, but..."

At the turning point of his sentence, Zheng Dali brushed off his armor before continuing slowly, "The Wu Warriors kneel only to the Sovereign. For anyone else... even if the Pillar-State General were standing right before them, a simple bow is entirely sufficient."

Seeing Zheng Dali put on such airs, Wei Wuji felt a sudden impulse to kick him. The man was no longer a member of the unit, yet he still took excessive pride in everything associated with it.

Even so, this interaction made Wei Wuji deeply realize that the management model of the Wei Wu Warriors had been thoroughly overhauled.

The direct beneficiaries of this system were the ducal house of Wei and the Marquis of Wei himself, because these soldiers were capable, deeply loyal, and possessed a fierce sense of honor.

How could an army trained in such a manner fail to be formidable?

"At ease..." the commanding officer on the reviewing platform said calmly. The scorching weather had plastered his forehead with beads of sweat.

Pressing a hand against his sword hilt, he took two steps forward and said slowly, "Today marks the final assessment since you were first selected to join the Wei Wu Warriors."

Turning slightly to face a particular section of the formation, he addressed the soldiers standing there: "Those of you who pass all phases will be directly inducted into the Wu Warriors."

At this, a slight commotion rippled through the ranks below, as the stakes were impossibly high for every single one of them.

Standing with his hands clasped behind his back, the officer let out a cold hum, suppressing the murmurs before continuing, "As for those who fail, you will return precisely to where you came from!"

Upon hearing this, the soldiers below remained completely silent, having long since committed the rules thoroughly to memory.

"Very well, enough talk. Let us begin at once!" With that, the officer turned squarely on his heel and walked toward the shaded canopy atop the platform.

The junior military commandant left behind took charge of the actual organization of the assessment, which meant he, too, was destined to suffer immensely in the sweltering heat.

Although they were all veterans of the Wei Wu Warriors, even those holding official ranks rarely had to endure such exhausting labor.

The weather grew increasingly stifling, causing even Wei Wuji to feel the urge to flee. Playing things out like this made heatstroke an absolute certainty.

This concern was far from groundless, and for the soldiers participating in the assessment, succumbing to heatstroke meant immediate elimination.

Soon, under the direction of officers at all levels, the candidates were divided into several groups to begin their respective trials.

There were trials for swordsmanship, spear-handling, archery duels... a dazzling and varied array of disciplines.

The scene was immensely lively, resembling a grand athletic meet, save for the absence of Wei Wuji's favorite sport, basketball.

Events like archery and horsemanship failed to capture Wei Wuji's full interest because his own proficiency in these areas was hardly low, and watching these "weaklings" left him feeling rather uninspired.

What truly fascinated Wei Wuji were the sword duels between pairs of Wu Warriors. Unlike standard military training, they used real swords.

Moreover, according to Zheng Dali, victory or defeat was irrelevant in these bouts; the examiners cared only for each soldier's performance during combat, especially their coordination with nearby comrades-in-arms.

Consequently, these assessments frequently drew blood. They were nothing short of brutal, requiring true warriors to survive them.

Such a breathtaking spectacle was something Wei Wuji had no intention of missing. After all, it was a rare sight, and one that offered practical insights for his own swordsmanship.

Finding the view from afar insufficiently clear, Wei Wuji strode directly toward the edge of the drill ground, ignoring Zheng Dali's frantic attempts to hold him back (though the latter dared not pull too hard).

"My Lord, is this really wise?" trailing close behind Wei Wuji amidst the roars of battle, Zheng Dali asked timidly.

Without even turning his head, Wei Wuji replied coldly, "Straighten your back. A soldier must look like a soldier."

Returning to his old military camp for crying out loud—Wei Wuji simply could not fathom what Zheng Dali had to be afraid of; they weren't here to engage in petty theft.

The moment Wei Wuji and his companion stepped onto the Wu Warriors' drill ground, they instantly drew the attention of the onlookers. Yet this was hardly a novelty, as plenty of people watched the training daily.

It was just that these two possessed an extra measure of audacity, standing noticeably closer than the rest.

While the discipline of the Wei Wu Warriors was fiercely strict, it applied strictly to their own ranks; no regulations prohibited outsiders from observing.

Allowing ordinary soldiers to watch served as a form of motivation, reminding them precisely how an elite army was forged.

Even though they were closer now, Wei Wuji remained nearly thirty meters away from the center of the combat, which was still more than enough to see clearly.

"Clang... clack... clang..."

The ceaseless ringing of iron swords clashing echoed continuously. Thirty men engaged in live-steel combat—the fiery intensity of the spectacle was beyond description.

"Slash at his shoulder!"

"No, no, you should thrust at his front..."

Standing off to the side, Wei Wuji began offering running commentary, deploying his passable swordsmanship in a manner that made even Zheng Dali break out in a cold sweat.

Fortunately, they were still far enough away; had anyone actually heard him, they would have been chased right off the grounds.

While the Wei Wu Warriors tolerated spectators, they possessed fierce tempers of their own and would hardly suffer random armchair critics gladly.

Zheng Dali's heart had already been dangling by a thread, and his anxiety only intensified.

At that moment, all he wanted to say to Wei Wuji was: *My Lord! We are on someone else's turf; could we please try to keep a low profile?*

While one person was agonizing, another was thoroughly enjoying the show. Amidst his animated expressions, Wei Wuji looked as though he was on the verge of pulling out melon seeds to snack on.

Though Wei Wuji offered plenty of pointers, they were all instances of fighting the battle after the fact—completely useless.

Had he been placed inside the fighting ring himself, he could not guarantee he would perform any better than the combatants. Battlefields shifted with breathtaking speed, and only extensive experience could guide someone to make the correct split-second judgments.

From this perspective, Wei Wuji fell far, far short of the Wu Warriors.

Yet this also proved that Wei Wuji genuinely possessed a certain innate talent for swordsmanship; otherwise, an inexperienced rookie like him would have nothing to critique at all.

"What are you two yapping about? The Wu Warriors are not people for the likes of you to casually judge!" Just then, a harsh shout rang out from behind Wei Wuji and his companion.

Because the voice erupted so suddenly, it gave Zheng Dali a genuine fright, prompting him to mentally curse whichever bastard had spoken.

Turning around, Zheng Dali saw that the newcomer wore the attire of a junior commander of the Wei Wu Warriors, and was glaring at the two of them with undisguised fury.

"Greetings, General. We are merely observing here; we harbor no intent of giving offense," Zheng Dali placated smoothly, completely out of character for his usual explosive temper.

"Observing?" The junior commander sneered, then roared angrily, "Just the two of you? One clumsy fool and one pretty boy?"

It was no wonder the commander was furious, for he had never before encountered anyone daring enough to tweak the whiskers of the Wei Wu Warriors.

They were an intensely proud breed. Even the generals of the state of Wei, and indeed even the Pillar-State General himself, commanded their utmost respect—yet these two nobodies presumed to casually evaluate them?

Zheng Dali had never expected to be labeled a "clumsy fool," but Wei Wuji was even more astonished to be called a "pretty boy."

Consequently, he grew angry—extremely, intensely angry!