Elk War

Two years later.

One day in June.

Glan Territory Castle, Training Ground, outside the Weapon Depot.

A group of ragged farmers stood in line, receiving the weapons handed out to them.

There were many weapons in the depot: rusty spiked clubs, damaged short iron swords, short axes with missing corners, pointed wooden shields riddled with wormholes...

The most numerous were spears made from Birch Poles, each with a small iron spearhead at the tip.

"Hey! This is your weapon."

A knight's squire handed Zhou Ming a spear whose shaft was bent like a shrimp's back.

Taking the spear, Zhou Ming shook his head and bent at the waist. "Honored sir, this spear is too bent. Could you give me a straighter one?"

"Go pick one yourself. These farmers like you won't be much use anyway," the knight's squire said lazily. There were hundreds of spears in the weapons depot, and he could not be bothered to pick one for Zhou Ming.

Zhou Ming thanked him and walked into the Weapon Depot, intending to choose something handy from the dazzling array of weapons.

Sabers, spears, swords, halberds, bows, axes, shields, armor, javelins, throwing spears—the full range of weapons was all there.

But...

In this warehouse, specifically used to store all sorts of discarded and damaged weapons, not a single weapon was useful—or even usable—apart from those several hundred spears with small iron spearheads.

After looking around, Zhou Ming ultimately chose a fairly straight and sturdy spear, as well as a damaged short sword. He planned to sharpen it when he got back and make it into a small dagger.

It was his first time going to war. Zhou Ming did not want to leave his younger sister Alice alone in this dangerous world.

He had to make every possible preparation.

The cause of this war was simple: while hunting in the forest west of his territory, Baron Connor had accidentally discovered a herd of elk. Just as he and his knights were about to hunt them down, Baron Garcia of the western Bodo Territory had brought a group of men across the border in broad daylight and snatched several plump elk right in front of Baron Connor.

"Baron Garcia, you damned thief! Either return the elk you stole from me tenfold, or we'll settle this at the border! My knights and I will bash open the head of an old thief like you!"

After this challenge letter was sent, a reply quickly came back from the other side: gladly.

"Move out!"

Outside the castle, after briefly inspecting this "army" of eleven knights and two hundred farmers, Baron Connor had a knightly guard raise a black flag bearing a rose. At the appointed time, he set out westward toward Baron Garcia's territory in high spirits.

On the march, Zhou Ming could not help feeling nervous. Baron Garcia also had more than ten knights. If those knights charged at him, he would be finished.

Although he had never stopped training over the past few years, this was still his first time fighting with real weapons.

"Kid, don't be nervous. I've fought alongside the lord hundreds of times. Once you've fought a couple of battles, you won't be scared anymore... Let me tell you, as long as you don't stand at the front or charge the fastest, I guarantee you'll make it home alive."

In the crowd, a lecherous-looking old man with graying hair bared half a mouthful of blackened yellow teeth as he spoke to Zhou Ming.

"Old Joey, are you teaching another rookie your tricks for running away?"

"Ryan, don't listen to coward Joey. This old bastard vanishes without a trace every time there's a battle. Among all of us who fight, he's the best at running away."

"Ryan, stay beside your uncle later. Don't run around, and don't be afraid. Nothing usually happens in battles like this. They're much easier than fighting bandits." Kind-hearted Uncle O'Neil pulled Zhou Ming to his side.

"Thank you, Uncle O'Neil."

Zhou Ming nodded, but his attention remained fixed on the lecherous old man nicknamed "Coward Joey."

Perhaps sensing Zhou Ming's gaze, Old Joey turned around and grinned at him, revealing half a rotten yellow front tooth again.

After walking twenty li, during a rest break, Zhou Ming quietly shifted over and sat beside Old Joey, who was lying on a slope in a lazy posture, constantly nodding off.

Zhou Ming lightly nudged him with his elbow, lowered his head, and asked in a quiet voice, "Old Joey, can you teach me a couple of tricks? Teach me how to survive a battlefield in one piece."

Old Joey opened his eyes to a narrow slit. A sharp gleam flashed from between them before he let out a long yawn. "Kid, judging by your build, you've trained for six or seven years, haven't you? You've built yourself up well. As long as you can bring out even one-tenth of the Kung Fu you usually practice, you'll make it back alive."

What?

Zhou Ming's face filled with shock, and a storm surged in his heart.

How had Old Joey seen through him?

He always trained secretly at night, making as little noise as possible. Even the neighbors did not know. Yet Old Joey...

"But, kid, don't even think about taking on those knights with your little bit of skill. When you see a knight coming, run as far as you can. You're no match for them yet."

Old Joey's weary voice drifted over again.

Zhou Ming turned to look, only to find that the other man had already tilted his head, closed his eyes, and begun snoring softly.

This was the real master actor.

The territorial border.

A stretch of open grassland thick with shrubs.

Two "armies," each numbering around two hundred men, stood over two hundred meters apart in battle formation.

"Charge!"

"Kill!"

At the command, the two long-prepared armies sprinted briefly before colliding fiercely.

Following Uncle O'Neil into the battlefield, Zhou Ming finally realized that this so-called war was merely farmers from both sides wielding wooden clubs, spears, pitchforks, and other weapons, wildly battering one another along a thin battle line.

There were no neat formations, no unstoppable murderous intent—only shouts born from fear and excitement.

As long as he made even a slight blocking motion and paid attention to dodging the spearheads thrust at him from ahead, nothing serious would happen.

At that moment, a faint tremor ran through the ground, and cries of battle rose from the cavalry behind them.

"This is bad! The knights are charging over!"

"Run! Run!"

"Ryan, throw away your weapon and run toward the woods with me!"

"Help! A knight caught up to me! Someone save me... Ah!" The man let out a scream as his head flew into the air.

Once the two cavalry units launched their charges, the intertwined farmers quickly threw down their weapons, scattering in terror like startled birds and beasts as they fled into the nearby woods.

Other than a few unlucky men who ran too slowly and were caught by knights and cut in two, casualties on both sides were close to zero.

The outcome of this great battle was ultimately decided by one-on-one duels between the knights of both sides. Baron Connor eventually won with a score of six to four, receiving two hundred gold coins in compensation from Baron Garcia...