Jiang Huai didn’t have a clear impression of ancient military camps—until he stepped into one himself and realized it was far more chaotic than he’d imagined.

Once the prisoners were delivered to the camp, the constables had to leave immediately. Lingering near the camp was considered suspicious behavior, potentially treasonous. Jiang Huai could only watch as Xiao Jingzhao departed.

He understood that for the next two days, he’d have to rely entirely on himself.

Feeling a twinge of unease, Jiang Huai couldn’t help but reflect. People truly grew soft once they got used to comfort. When he first arrived in this world, he had to depend solely on himself, and it didn’t seem like a big deal. But now, having someone to lean on had made him more fragile—or perhaps, more resolute.

He only needed to endure here for two days.

With that thought, Jiang Huai steadied himself, his confidence returning.

The camp held a vast number of prisoners, and the soldiers didn’t care much about them as long as they didn’t cause too much trouble. Minor bullying went ignored entirely.

As newcomers, Jiang Huai and his group naturally became targets for the more seasoned prisoners. While most knew that any wealth or resources prisoners brought were likely gone by now—and that those who still had something were probably not easy to provoke—there were always those who wanted to test their luck.

Jiang Huai, with his slender frame and relatively well-maintained appearance, quickly caught the attention of such opportunists.

When a soldier called for the prisoners to line up for food, Jiang Huai stood up and joined the line. Despite his vigilance, someone intentionally targeted him. A man bumped into him hard from behind, causing him to stagger and nearly lose his footing.

“Damn you! Trying to block my way? You’ve got a death wish!” snarled a sharp-faced, ratty-looking man from behind.

The other prisoners noticed the commotion but paid it no mind, continuing forward as if nothing had happened. Scuffles like this were too common, and everyone expected that the newcomer would get bullied as usual.

The sharp-faced man cursed for a while but noticed Jiang Huai remained calm and silent, not engaging. Unwilling to let it go, he continued his act.

“Just one bump, and now my chest hurts! Must’ve caused some internal injury. Pay up for the damage!” the man demanded, stepping forward to grab Jiang Huai’s clothes in a clear attempt at robbery.

He completely underestimated Jiang Huai, mistaking his slight build for weakness, and had no guard up whatsoever.

And then, he experienced firsthand what Jiang Huai’s special training with Xiao Jingzhao had achieved.

Both Jiang Huai and Xiao Jingzhao had anticipated trouble in the camp. After all, even their smaller exile group had frequent clashes; a massive camp full of prisoners would naturally see even more conflict. If Jiang Huai wanted to endure these two days peacefully and without being bullied, he’d need to show a ruthless side.

Even if it was just an act, it had to be convincing. Intimidating others for a few days was enough, as Xiao Jingzhao would soon be able to take him out. Whether or not anyone saw through the facade didn’t matter by then.

For this, Jiang Huai had been trained to use precise moves with maximum impact but minimal lasting harm. Choking someone unconscious was the best choice, as it avoided permanent injury while delivering a clear message.

Before the sharp-faced man could react, Jiang Huai’s arm locked tightly around his neck in a vice grip. The man struggled, but oxygen deprivation set in quickly, and Jiang Huai’s unrelenting force left him powerless. His ears buzzed, his eyes felt like they were going to pop, and his flailing limbs weakened by the second.

As Jiang Huai felt the man’s struggles begin to wane, he wondered to himself if his strength had improved. The resistance felt much weaker than expected.

The onlookers were stunned. Fights among prisoners weren’t rare, but Jiang Huai’s swift and lethal efficiency was unlike anything they’d seen before. His calm demeanor beforehand had been entirely deceptive; his sudden burst of ruthlessness left everyone wary.

Even though they were prisoners, few dared to be as vicious as Jiang Huai. No one moved to stop him—not out of indifference but fear of earning his ire.

The sharp-faced man’s movements slowed until he stopped struggling altogether, his body limp.

Jiang Huai silently counted in his head, part of the training he had done with Xiao Jingzhao. Choking someone carried the risk of serious injury or even death if done incorrectly, and Jiang Huai wanted to avoid crossing that line. Killing someone would not only weigh on his conscience but also worsen his precarious situation in the camp.

Almost there…

Just as Jiang Huai reached the critical moment, a booming voice shattered the tension.

“What’s going on here?” A soldier approached, his commanding shout breaking the spell.

Jiang Huai immediately released his grip, sighing in relief. If the soldier had been any slower, he would have had to let go anyway to avoid lasting damage—which would have lessened the impact of his show of force.

The sharp-faced man stirred, slowly regaining consciousness. He shuddered when he saw Jiang Huai’s impassive face, realizing too late that he had picked the wrong person to provoke.

“What happened here?” The soldier’s sharp eyes scanned the scene.

“Sir,” Jiang Huai replied smoothly, “I noticed this man fainting and tried to help him up, but I couldn’t quite manage. Apologies for the inconvenience.”

Jiang Huai’s calm and polite explanation, paired with his faintly intimidating glance at the sharp-faced man, sealed the latter’s silence. The man quickly nodded in agreement, stammering, “Y-yes, I just slipped. He was helping me.”

The soldier frowned but saw no visible injuries and decided not to dig further. After issuing a perfunctory warning, he left.

Jiang Huai’s ruthless takedown had been surprising enough, but his composed handling of the soldier left the other prisoners even warier. Many silently decided to avoid provoking him.

Feeling the tension around him ease, Jiang Huai maintained a calm expression while inwardly breathing a sigh of relief.

When food was finally served, Jiang Huai was shocked. He’d assumed the camp’s meals would be better than the dry rations on the road. But what he received—a bowl of watery soup with a few grains of rice floating in it—was almost laughable.

At least the dry rations had been filling, albeit tasteless. The current fare was so thin it reflected his face.

He glanced at the large pot where the soup was being ladled from, its contents a grayish-yellow hue. Sniffing cautiously, he checked for signs of spoilage. Luckily, the cold weather seemed to have prevented the food from going bad. After confirming it was safe, he drank it all in one go.

Surprisingly, the watery consistency made it easier to consume quickly. Unlike the hard, dry biscuits that took forever to chew and swallow, this soup could be gulped down in seconds.

It’s not much, but it’ll do, Jiang Huai thought, resigning himself to two days of meager meals.

As the day wore on and the sun began to set, Jiang Huai decided to rest. He didn’t dare fall into a deep sleep, though. Without Xiao Jingzhao by his side and with soldiers showing little concern for order, being too relaxed could make him vulnerable. Instead, he settled for lightly dozing while staying alert.

Just as the camp grew quiet, a commotion arose outside.

“Who here can read and do accounts? Step forward!” came a loud inquiry.

The door to the barracks creaked open, and an armored soldier repeated the question. Silence filled the room as no one volunteered.

Jiang Huai, though capable, kept quiet. He had no idea whether this was an opportunity or a trap. Handling accounts in a military camp, especially by conscripting a prisoner, was highly unusual. Better to avoid involvement if possible.

But his attempt to stay unnoticed was foiled by someone else.

The soldier added an incentive: “This is a good opportunity. Anyone who takes the job gets a pound of grain.”

That offer caught someone’s attention. A man with a horse-like face stepped forward eagerly. “Sir, I can’t read or do accounts,” he admitted nervously, “but I know someone who can. If I tell you, will I get the grain?”

The soldier’s eyes swept over the room. “Fine. If they won’t admit it, then you tell me, and the grain is yours.”

The man beamed, pointing directly at Jiang Huai. “Sir, he can do it!”

Startled, Jiang Huai was about to deny it when the horse-faced man rattled off details about how Jiang Huai had traded arithmetic lessons for water flasks during their journey.

How does he know about that? Jiang Huai wondered, glancing at his team of prisoners. Realization dawned as one of them paled—clearly, this information had been spilled during casual conversation with the other group of prisoners.

Realizing denial was futile, Jiang Huai sighed and stood. “Sir, I know a little, but I’ve never handled formal accounts. I fear I’ll make mistakes.”

“That’s not your concern. You can read and count, and that’s enough. Come with me,” the soldier ordered, ignoring Jiang Huai’s protest and dragging him out of the barracks.

The horse-faced man couldn’t help but ask, “Sir, what about my grain?”

“It’ll be delivered shortly,” the soldier snapped impatiently, leaving with Jiang Huai in tow.