Chapter 47

At the end of summer, the grain planted in the sand was harvested. It was not as good as Mo Yin had expected, after all, the productivity in this world was still very backward. Despite his knowledge of agricultural techniques, the harvest was still unsatisfactory, so improvements had to be made.

Mo Yin was dissatisfied, but the military in the city was extremely satisfied. They even held several consecutive feasts to celebrate. Mo Yin had no objection to the feasts; perhaps it was because his body had endured too much torment during exile, suffering from hunger excessively. Mo Yin found himself becoming especially greedy in this world.

Perhaps it was also the side effect of that strand of spiritual power.

This world was too real, and that strand of spiritual power had merged his consciousness with this body, bringing him a dual and distinct feeling both mentally and physically from the previous world.

In the previous world, although Mo Yin was a bedridden cripple, that paralysis was just a label to him. The character required him to be paralyzed, so he was. It had very limited impact on him.

But being greedy was probably not a label a villainous character should have. After thinking it over, Mo Yin ultimately didn’t refrain from indulging his cravings just to play the heartless villain. He still pursued his desires as he pleased.

Mo Yin began training the “Spark Troops” personally.

The Spark Troops were not allowed to interact with other soldiers. In the vast military camp, Mo Yin had set aside an isolated island for them. He demanded that these soldiers eat and sleep with their horses, taking care of each horse’s grooming and maintenance themselves. Every few days, he would inspect the condition of these horses, urging the soldiers to treat the war horses as their closest brothers.

Apart from caring for their own horses, Mo Yin forbade them from riding. Instead, they underwent physical training first. He used training methods that were appropriate for a civilization at a moderate stage of development. The intensity was just right for these soldiers, pushing their bodies to the brink of death every day, hardening their hearts even more than stone.

Once the physical training was completed, Mo Yin divided the thousand men into several levels based on their proficiency in horsemanship. Some of these soldiers were originally cavalry, while most were infantry. Before coming to the military camp, many had never even touched a horse. After dividing the soldiers into levels, he further divided them into squads for coordinated training. The first step was to learn how to fall from a horse.

In ancient warfare, cavalry was undoubtedly the most elite force, but their casualty rate was also very high. Falling off a horse, breaking hands and feet were common, but there were countless cases of broken necks from falls. These thousand men would become Mo Yin’s most trusted subordinates. Mo Yin wanted them to first learn how to preserve their own lives.

The training of the Spark Troops was completely isolated from the rest of the camp. Apart from Mo Yin, no one knew how the training was going. Mo Yin gave Li Yuan two choices: either return to serve by He Xuan’s side as his personal guard, or stay with the Spark Troops. Apart from him, he was not responsible for anyone else.

Li Yuan was somewhat panicked. Mo Yin noticed his hesitation and said, “From today onwards, you don’t need to take care of my daily needs. Zhou Yong will take over your duties.”

Li Yuan was sent back to He Xuan’s side, saying, “I am incompetent.”

He Xuan was busy with reorganization, with scrolls of documents in his hands. Without looking up, he said, “It’s fine, you may go.”

After Li Yuan left, He Xuan closed the documents, looking pensive as he gazed ahead.

Training his own core troops was something every general did in camp. Mo Yin did it, and He Xuan was not surprised. But a thousand men was nothing extraordinary. He would wait and see what kind of soldiers Mo Yin could produce. The Spark Troops… a foreboding name indeed. It remained to be seen if they would live up to their name.

The weather gradually cooled, and the autumn days were so short that they seemed almost nonexistent. Nightfall made it feel like winter was quietly testing its grip. The barbarian tribes were also testing the waters.

In spring this year, the barbarians were ambushed while raiding for food and had been itching for revenge ever since. But Mo Yin had sent soldiers to various cities to “plant crops.” The barbarians only knew that the cities were guarded by soldiers; they didn’t know the details or whether there would be another “ghost” like figure appearing. They dared not act rashly. However, as winter approached, they could no longer hold back. Without food, they wouldn’t survive the winter on the border.

“Strategist—”

Zhou Yong lifted the curtain and entered the tent, seeing Mo Yin washing his feet. He instinctively turned back and retreated, “Subordinate didn’t know the Strategist was… Subordinate will leave first.”

“What’s there to avoid about washing feet? What is it?”

Zhou Yong turned his face, “General, please come for the meeting.”

“Understood, you may go.”

Zhou Yong hastily retreated, running away swiftly.

Mo Yin wiped his feet, put on his socks and boots. The weather was cold, and his feet felt icy. He stomped in place before leaving the tent. Even though it was night, their camp was still training. Both horses and men had their eyes covered, slowly moving forward in the darkness. The strategist said that this could further cultivate the rapport between man and horse. In the chaos of battle, many times victory or defeat was decided in a split second by instinct. He wanted them to train their instincts into a weapon during their training.

The entire camp was silent, with only the sound of horses softly snorting. As Mo Yin passed by, those responsible for training silently bowed to him.

This was a silent island. Apart from training, there was nothing else to do. Mo Yin trained these men according to the standards of professional soldiers: loyal, calm, and ruthless. He wanted each of them to be trained to be a fierce warrior who could kill without blinking an eye on the battlefield.

It had been several months since He Xuan last saw Mo Yin. Seeing him again, it felt as if they had just met yesterday. Mo Yin was still the same, with a pale face, cold demeanor, and his thin shirt fluttering under his cloak. He Xuan said, “Why are you dressed so thinly?”

Mo Yin looked at He Xuan strangely.

He Xuan realized that his remark seemed inappropriate.

He had summoned Mo Yin to discuss official matters, why did he blurt out such a sentence?

Mo Yin explained, “I was about to sleep.”

He Xuan turned his face silently, rubbing his fist under his nose. “The border has been somewhat restless lately. Some tribes among the barbarians are getting restless.”

“I’ve heard.”

He Xuan pointed to the table. “How’s the training of the Spark Troops?”

“They’re almost there.”

He Xuan wasn’t disappointed either. It had only been half a year since the formation of the Spark Troops. Mo Yin wasn’t one to boast, so if he said they were almost there, it was actually quite good.

“What are they lacking?” He Xuan asked.

Mo Yin smiled slightly. “They just need a real battlefield experience this time.”

He Xuan also smiled. “Then I’ll look forward to it.”

Mo Yin clasped his fist. “I won’t disappoint you, General.”

Mo Yin took his leave, but He Xuan stopped him again. He Xuan took a box from under the table and handed it to Mo Yin. Mo Yin didn’t take it and asked, “What is this?”

“When I left home last year, my family secretly put these items in my luggage. I don’t need them, you take them.”

Mo Yin thought, if he didn’t want something, then he didn’t want it. He remained calm on the surface, even somewhat polite, “Thank you, General.”

Taking the box, he found it oddly heavy.

Mo Yin returned to his tent, intending to casually toss the box into a corner, but couldn’t help but open it out of curiosity. Inside was a delicate hand warmer, a soup pot, and a pair of fur-lined gloves. Mo Yin had spent almost half a year in the military camp and knew He Xuan’s identity inside out.

He Xuan was the son of the former Grand Minister He Qingsong. He Qingsong was a wise man. Before the former emperor began purging the court, he had retired early, taking his family to live in seclusion in the south. They hadn’t emerged until the current emperor ascended the throne. During the rebellion of the rebel army, He Xuan, acting under the name of He Qingsong, had written to request battle. Since then, he has become famous and was appointed as the Champion Grand General.

Mo Yin could imagine in the peaceful and comfortable south, during the winter, with He Xuan surrounded by attendants and guards, the family would hand him a hand warmer, a soup pot, and fur-lined gloves. He Xuan would definitely not appreciate it, frowning impatiently.

The pride of the heavens was nothing more than this.

Mo Yin’s expression remained indifferent as he decided to keep all three items.

If He Xuan wanted to win people over, why not go with the flow?

*

After days of seclusion, the Spark Troops finally stood out among the entire army as winter approached.

A thousand cavalrymen in armor led their warhorses in a neat formation out of the camp. The sound of their horses’ hooves pounding on the ground made one’s heart tremble involuntarily. The soldiers wore swords at their waists and held long spears. Their faces were solemn, and a black ink mark streaked across their right cheeks, under their eyes, like an old knife scar.

He Xuan came to see them off and noticed that this cavalry unit had a completely different aura from his personal guard.

His personal guard was brave and skilled in battle. They fought fearlessly, and the camaraderie among them was like that of brothers. Their faces were always filled with confident smiles.

However, the demeanor of this cavalry unit was entirely different.

This Spark Troop was just like its name, exuding an ominous atmosphere. Everyone’s face was devoid of any expression, looking lifeless.

Mo Yin draped in his cloak, walked out from the side of the army. The soldiers of the Spark Troop did not glance sideways. When Mo Yin’s figure completely stood in front, a thousand soldiers all knelt down in unison, “We respectfully welcome the strategist.”

Mo Yin raised his hand, and the men stood up again, still expressionless, gazing straight ahead.

“General,” Mo Yin turned to He Xuan and saluted, “Please wish the Spark Troop a victorious start.”

He Xuan looked at this special army, feeling somewhat strange in his heart, but he didn’t show it. Instead, he said to the soldiers, “I believe that you will win in your first battle.”

The Spark Troop remained silent.

Mo Yin waved his hand forward to Zhou Yong in the front row. Zhou Yong gestured backward, and the soldiers all mounted their horses. With another signal, the entire Spark Troop almost simultaneously moved. Over a thousand horses immediately started galloping, but what was terrifying was that the thousand horses running didn’t seem chaotic. Despite the dust flying, the sound of hooves pounding the ground was well-organized. It was evident that this was a well-trained army.

After the entire army left the camp, people noticed that the Spark Troop had left behind hoofprints that were evenly spaced, almost as if someone intentionally stamped them on the ground. Moreover, the hoofprints were deep, caused by the succeeding horse stepping into the footprint of the preceding one.

He Xuan couldn’t calm his thoughts. He turned to Mo Yin beside him. “I thought you would join the battle.”

“Rest assured, General,” Mo Yin’s dark eyes gleamed, “There is a vice general in the army.”

The cold wind blew across their cheeks. Zhou Yong was at the head of the cavalry formation, crouching on his horse, following the figure in front at a gallop. A thousand riders followed his command.

“In the future, I will call you Xinwu, remember only one thing.”

A reddish hue slowly filled Zhou Yong’s eyes.

As soldiers of the Spark Troop, the only thing they needed to remember was one thing — slaughter.

The Changdeng River was a slender and beautiful river, one of the few rivers in the entire desert. Two barbarian tribes were situated along the Changdeng River. On that day, they were gathering to prepare to attack the nearest city, Sicheng. This time, they didn’t just want to plunder grain. Their goal was to capture the city, kill people, and plunder the granaries. They were tired of petty raids for food. They wanted a more prosperous and secure life, so they had to wield their butcher knives and slaughter the “lambs” to exchange for the prosperity of their tribes!

The river water had stopped flowing. Countless limbs and weapons piled up in the river, bodies stacked upon bodies. The entire Changdeng River was dyed dark red, and soldiers checked the bodies with knives. Regardless of whether there was any remaining breath, they all chopped off the heads.

The actual battle lasted only for a moment. The barbarian tribes chose to surrender. After all, they had only assembled their troops and were not fully prepared to launch an attack. They thought that surrendering opportunistically would allow them to retreat and end the matter. They didn’t realize that this encounter was not coincidental.

“We are willing to surrender,” the tribal leader spoke in stiff Han Chinese, “Please forgive us. We have been behaving ourselves. Great Han King, please forgive our self-defense.”

Zhou Yong’s gaze swept coldly past them. “Kill.”

To kill those who surrendered ominously, he was fearless. Every soldier of the Spark Troop was the same. Without hesitation, they stepped forward and chopped off the leader’s head. Blood splattered, and their faces were expressionless, even with a hint of satisfaction. The black ink on their faces dispersed with the blood, making their entire faces look like evil spirits.

The barbarians cried out in terror, “It’s the Ghost Army, it’s the Ghost Army!”

Zhou Yong raised his hand, and the Spark Troop’s horses trampled forward, wielding their swords to kill the surrendered barbarians. They chased into the tribe along the Changdeng River. As the army attacked, screams echoed inside the tribe.

People scattered, crying and screaming, flames rising. The sound of crying filled the air. Along the Changdeng River, where the hooves trod on the ground stained with blood, the silver armor was dyed red and black by the blood. Those few barbarians who survived fled to other tribes in fear, their faces full of fear, describing to everyone the soldiers who had returned from the underworld, the incarnations of evil ghosts!

Such a terrifying battle, but in the end, only a simple line was recorded in the camp.

— Spark Troop’s first battle, encountered enemy at Changdeng River, vice general led the army to ambush, annihilated the enemy three thousand, great victory.

Upon their return, not a single soldier of the Spark Troop died in battle, thirteen were injured. The entire camp was shocked. The Grand General rewarded the entire army, but the strategist declined in front of the whole army, distributing all his rewards to the Spark Troop’s officers and soldiers. The Spark Troop, blood-stained in armor, all knelt down and bowed, shouting, “Thank you, strategist.”

The voice echoed in the ears, and the entire army fell silent. He Xuan squinted slightly, and the next day, Mo Yin entered the tent. He asked He Xuan to allocate another one thousand soldiers for training. He Xuan remained silent for a moment, his palm brushing over the table, saying, “Zigui.”

Mo Yin was slightly startled; this was the first time He Xuan had called him by his childhood nickname.

When the crisis emerged, He Xuan deliberately did not accompany the troops to battle, in order to distance himself from suspicions of maintaining private troops.

However, it seemed that He Xuan was even more sensitive than he had imagined. He Xuan looked at him, their eyes meeting, a hint of anxiety apparent. “You…”

“General—”

Li Yuan’s urgent voice came from outside the tent, “Urgent message!”

“Come in.”

The conversation was interrupted. Mo Yin turned his face slightly, thinking about his response. Meanwhile, He Xuan had already opened the letter and swiftly scanned through it.

The letter was from General Wuxi, who was supposed to receive a high-ranking court criminal last year. However, neither the criminal nor the accompanying officials had arrived. General Wuxi had written to the court several months later, inquiring whether the criminal was en route. After further delay, the court responded, stating that the criminal had long been on the way to exile. General Wuxi realized something was amiss and, fearing to report it, sent his men to search. When their efforts were in vain, the court once again inquired whether the criminal had reached the place of exile. It was at this moment that General Wuxi realized the severity of the situation, hastily seeking help from the stationed troops, hoping He Xuan could assist in the search.

“… This person is a Deputy Minister of the Ministry of Revenue, named Mo Yin…”

He Xuan’s pupils contracted slightly, his fingers trembling as he instinctively closed the letter.

Mo Yin noticed his reaction and asked, “General, what’s the matter?”

He Xuan raised his gaze to him. Mo Yin’s face was as pale as snow, his eyes cold and clear. He Xuan’s throat rolled lightly as he faintly replied, “Nothing.”