Drillmaster Zhong's doctrine of spiritual energy came down to one phrase: supply and demand. The stronger a martial artist, the more spiritual energy he needed; without enough supply, ordinary resources simply couldn't sustain a mighty one. In this Zhou Yuan saw centralism — vast resources tilted toward the martial artists, forming above a transcendent class that fused wealth and power, and extending below into the great clans that gripped the provinces. It was a peculiar model of the transcendent ruling the common. On the surface it resembled the ancient eras of Blue Star; in essence the common folk had no power to resist, and whether a dynasty rose or fell was decided by transcendent martial artists.
Zhou Yuan didn't think these matters far from him. He'd already entered Great Wei's army, and sooner or later would face the limits of birth. He was right. When Drillmaster Zhong delivered him to the Divine Arm Squad's inner hall, the members welcomed the newcomer — but they also asked after his origins.
"Brother, how many dan does your bow pull?"
"Three dan."
"Is your aim true?"
"Standing, a hundred shots all hit; moving, eight or nine in ten."
"Excellent — a fine lad. What's your birth?"
"Good-born, a farming household."
"Rather low. A skill like yours shouldn't belong to the good-born. Kill hard, brother; slay a hundred-odd foes and you'll earn an officer's rank to make up for it."
The Divine Arm Squad's members were squad leaders at the lowest, more often centurions. One might say most here were officers, not soldiers — luckily most had risen by slaughter, and though they prized birth, they prized ability too. Otherwise Zhou Yuan could never have fit into a squad with more officers than soldiers. While talking with the veteran beside him, he studied the squad. Every health bar was incomplete — the highest 93%, the lowest 86%. Most carried two bows; by the build, one a two-dan foot-bow, one a three-dan hard bow. For sidearms, a long blade and a short; for armor, half-body plate mostly — lighter even than the Shesheng Camp's load.
"Brother Wu, is there some trick to our armor? Why is the protection reduced, not increased?"
"Don't learn this from us. We're old hands, in and out of the secret realms to kill; we've each got our own fighting style. You're new — play it safe. But I'll give you one tip: best bring a fast-shooting bow too. The demons in the realm are strong or weak like men; a three-dan bow tires you to hold long, while a two-dan is just usable."
"Thank you for the teaching, Brother Wu. Do I need to practice any formation?"
"No. You'll see once we're in the realm. It's the Black Armor Squad's turtles who need formation; we just shoot true and learn to dodge."
Zhou Yuan took the advice and slung a two-dan bow as well, and copying the veterans, loaded his quiver with armor-piercing and awl-head arrows.
"String up — what are you standing there for? You're new, so you go first. Let everyone see your mettle by some blood."
Since a constantly drawn bow loses power, camp rules required war-bows be unstrung when idle; so Zhou Yuan's three-dan bow wasn't strung. He'd thought a newcomer would at least get to observe — he never expected the veterans' way of welcoming a recruit: no drilling, no watching, just thrown into the realm to kill.
"Are we always this direct? I thought I'd train first, then be assessed on whether I could stay."
"Train? If you weren't trained you shouldn't have come. The clan-born get the chance to train; the good-born grab the chance to work. Otherwise, by the time your training's done, where's the profit left to eat?"
In the roomy inner hall the archers busied themselves stringing bows, checking arrows, adjusting armor. It looked less a place of rest than a camp poised to kill at any moment.
"Boom, boom, boom..."
As a drumbeat rose, the archers filed out one after another, never failing to tell Zhou Yuan as they passed, "We're moving out — keep up."
Thirty-six archers formed up before the storehouse in files of five, beside over a hundred Black Armor soldiers. A stern-faced man in bright-light general's armor swiftly inspected the ranks, dipping his head only when he saw Zhou Yuan.
"Newcomers, step forward. I am Cai Cheng, this camp's army marshal — from now on your direct superior."
A veteran shoved Zhou Yuan from behind, and two iron-clad men with great shields stepped out from the Black Armor side as well.
"Good. Our colonel's manor runs by old-hands-leading-new; for this campaign the Divine Arm and Black Armor each bring one newcomer. You may be new here, but you're veterans of your camps, so I won't lecture you on military law. Remember: inside the realm, no retreat without order, no advance without order; violators are beheaded on the spot."
"Yes, sir."
"Divine Arm Three, step forward. Black Armor Three, take formation."
Zhou Yuan already stood at the front; he didn't have to move — four Divine Arm archers stepped to either side of him on their own. From the Black Armor side came eight shield-bearers, plus one randomly chosen from the two newcomers, making nine. Nine Black Armor, five Divine Arm, plus Army Marshal Cai Cheng — exactly matching the dungeon's note, "recommended party size 10-15." So a dungeon couldn't simply be entered at will; the party size was the realm's capacity limit.
"As new soldiers have joined to serve, I'll add a word. Slay every demon. Goods are converted to coin and paid at once; precious medicines go to the wounded; spirit-medicines are all turned in. And for Divine Arm and Black Armor men, every secret-realm kill counts as merit — ten promotes your rank, a hundred grants an officer's post."
The promotion mechanism was harsher than Zhou Yuan had imagined; "ten promotes a rank" was already steep, and "a hundred grants a post" treated soldiers as less than human. A feat of personally beheading a hundred men, in Blue Star's history, would have shamed the realm not to make you a general; here it barely earned an office.
"The law is clear. Brothers, into battle with me."
Led by Army Marshal Cai Cheng, Zhou Yuan followed the party through the dungeon portal. The next moment, heaven and earth shifted — from fortress camp to desolate wild hills. Ahead, two small knolls rose on a low slope; with the flat-bottomed, steep-topped barren mountain they formed something like the two horns of an ox.
"Black Armor, form ranks and advance. Divine Arm, follow the formation."
At Cai Cheng's order, he took the lead with round shield and long spear. Plainly he knew this place well, now and then poking open pitfall-traps with his spear to warn the shield-men off danger. Before long the party met a stockade built against the mountain at a bend in the slope — earth-and-stone base, log walls, only about a zhang high, with two wooden arrow-towers at the gate. Twenty or thirty men stood atop it, some with blade and shield, some long spears, six of them archers. Their identity tags read: 【Level 3 Stockade-Bandit Blade】, 【Level 3 Stockade-Bandit Spear】, 【Level 3 Stockade-Bandit Archer】.
"Shields up."
No order from Cai Cheng was needed now; the seasoned shield-men raised their hide-covered great shields.
"Thock, thock, thock..."
The 【Level 3 Stockade-Bandit Archers】 had fine aim; their shafts all landed on the hide shields.
"Open a gap. Divine Arm, pick off those archers."
Zhou Yuan switched to his three-dan hard bow and shot one 【Level 3 Stockade-Bandit Archer】 in the body, stripping 70% of its health at once. A second arrow finished off the leather-clad archer entirely.
【Ding. Slew Level 3 Stockade-Bandit Archer. Experience +30.】
TL Notes:
TL Note: Zhang — a traditional Chinese unit of length, roughly the height of two grown men.