Chapter 39: First, a Cold Reception

Outside the military tent, the cool summer breeze of the State of Chen gently stirred. Having learned from past experience, Wei Wuji instinctively squinted his eyes as he stepped out of the tent.

At this moment, in accordance with Wei Wuji’s instructions, the commanders of each unit had summoned their men to announce the results of yesterday’s council. Therefore, the training ground was not as bustling as it usually was. Compared to the lively scene at the neighboring camps, Wei Wuji’s encampment seemed all the more tranquil.

In this backdrop of calm, Wei Wuji’s heart gradually settled as well. When a person truly finds peace, his mind begins to turn swiftly.

Step by step, Wei Wuji walked around the training ground, contemplating the events of the past two days. Time slipped by; the sun climbed higher, and the shadows grew shorter.

Suddenly, Wei Wuji, who had been walking briskly, stopped in his tracks. As he recalled each scene, clarity dawned upon him.

He was, after all, an outsider, with a one-sided understanding of what this world valued, naïvely considering others' needs as his own. With his current high status, he subconsciously paid little mind to matters of rank or title—but his indifference did not mean others were the same.

“How naïve I've been!” Having let go, Wei Wuji laughed skyward.

He could not expect others to be like himself; not everyone was a saint. Besides, it seemed even Wei Wuji was no saint. Why did he do all this, after all? Was it not to earn the gratitude of those below him, so they would serve him loyally?

Once understanding dawned, everything fell into place, and his heart became light and unburdened. The sense of ease came so quickly that Wei Wuji wondered if he'd ever truly been anxious.

Since he had come out to bask in the sun, he found a spot beneath a tree and settled into the shade.

“How absurd of me—sitting in the sun in summer as if it weren't hot enough already!” Wei Wuji muttered, crossing his legs as he sat.

He enjoyed himself thus, letting time drift leisurely by.

Soon, the soldiers who had gone to receive their instructions began returning to the training ground one after another. Though their hopes for titles had not been fulfilled, they had never expected much in the first place. The land distributed to them was enough to gladden their hearts for several days.

Hence, when they saw Wei Wuji, they greeted him respectfully, their faces beaming with smiles. Wei Wuji’s failure to fulfill his promises bothered them little, for their expectations had never been high.

“Greetings, Young Master!”

“Greetings, Young Master!”

Groups of soldiers passed by Wei Wuji, who sat by the tree, saluting him frequently.

“What are you off to do?” asked Wei Wuji, bored, to a passing squad.

The leader hurried forward and respectfully replied, “Reporting to you, Young Master, we are heading to the training ground to drill.”

“Oh… Go on, then!” Wei Wuji waved them off, indicating they should continue with their tasks.

Once those men had left, Wei Wuji resumed his lazy posture.

More and more soldiers gathered in the training ground, forming up under their commanders to practice their formations. Wei Wuji’s unit, being detached from any general’s command, was a mixed force.

Thus, the training ground saw men practicing with long spears, swords, bows, and large shields… With the exception of cavalry, nearly every branch of the Wei army was represented.

Watching the lively scene, Wei Wuji felt a stir within him.

Most men dream of possessing great martial prowess, to act heroically and defend the innocent…

Wei Wuji was no exception. Although his status spared him from any need to do so, a bit of practice wouldn’t hurt. Who knows, perhaps someday he might need to impress others!

Zheng Dali had told him he could join the soldiers—why not do so now? Wei Wuji acted on his thoughts, rising and moving toward the center of the training ground.

As he drew near, the soldiers closest to him paused their exercises to salute.

“Don’t mind me, keep practicing as you were,” Wei Wuji said quickly when he saw them stop.

Approaching the sword formation, Wei Wuji watched carefully as the soldiers swung, chopped, stabbed, and parried with their swords.

“Is this how swordsmanship is practiced?” Wei Wuji wondered, suspecting he’d stumbled upon a group of amateurs.

He had intended to learn swordsmanship here, but seeing this, he abandoned the idea—such clumsy moves would only make him look foolish.

“Wait, Zheng Dali also uses a sword, and his skills should be decent. Why not have him teach me?” Wei Wuji muttered.

Yet, to his annoyance, Zheng Dali, who usually never left his side, was absent once again.

Zheng Dali would have grumbled, for he had deliberately given Wei Wuji space to be alone.

Leaving aside Zheng Dali’s grievance, Wei Wuji picked up a sword and began mimicking the soldiers’ simple movements. While it wouldn’t make him any stronger, it was the quickest way to draw closer to his men.

Once Wei Wuji joined in, the soldiers practicing swordsmanship became more earnest, striving to meet the highest standards.

Soon, orders came for everyone to rest. The soldiers stopped their drills and gathered in groups to chat.

Their conversations centered on the good news announced by their superiors that day; some discussed other matters, including Wei Wuji’s participation in the training.

Yet one group stood apart from the rest.

The sword formation gathered around a single man, engaged in unknown conversation.

“You’ve all heard from your commanders that your military merits have been reported, haven’t you?” Wei Wuji asked those around him.

A soldier sitting closest to him answered for the group, “Young Master, we’ve heard, and we know our merits will earn us more land than ordinary soldiers.”

Mention of the additional land brought a smile to the soldier’s face, and the joy spread to all those present.

“What will you do when you return victorious this time?” Wei Wuji asked, eager to chat and draw closer to his men.

“Young Master, we are all regular soldiers. We must serve five years before returning home to farm. So, after we march back, most of us will go home for a brief visit,” replied the soldier, voicing the feelings of all present. Home was what they cherished and cared for most.

From what Wei Wuji knew, the main force of the Wei army was divided into two types: regular soldiers, such as his own men, who served five years, and provincial troops, who served only three and rarely saw battle.

Wei Wuji continued chatting with his men, speaking of matters they cared about most.

Before long, it was time for lunch, though Wei Wuji felt no hunger—he’d eaten not long ago.

But then, someone complained, “Steamed buns again—every day it’s steamed buns.”

This sparked a wave of grievance among the men; the mention of steamed buns made everyone shake their heads.

“Young Master, can’t we have something better?” a soldier asked.

“Yes, Young Master, you promised to treat us to a good meal when we returned!” someone else recalled the promise Wei Wuji had made years ago.

At first, Wei Wuji intended to placate them and have them eat their buns, but hearing their complaints, he changed his mind. He already felt guilty toward these men; seeing them so pitiful, he could only agree.

“Very well, today we’ll have a proper meal. Let the others know—not to eat yet, but wait for us to return,” Wei Wuji ordered.

After the messenger left, Wei Wuji addressed the remaining dozen, “Come with me to the supply depot—we’ll fetch some food.”

He had it all planned: just enough for one meal, and his men were more than capable of carrying it.

Led by Wei Wuji, the group headed for the supply depot.

Fortunately, Wei Wuji’s memory served him well, and he brought them to their destination at last, ready to treat themselves to a proper meal.

But then, something unpleasant happened.

The gates of the supply depot were closed, and not a soul stood at the entrance.

Wei Wuji gave a wry smile—fortune truly seemed against him; he’d been met with a closed door.