General Sun

Inside the mess hall, several tables of feast had already been laid out, with various cold dishes, hot stir-fries, chicken, duck, fish, and meat being steadily brought in.

At the main table, a middle-aged military officer with a broad back, thick waist, wide brows, and large eyes, exuding a fierce and valiant aura, had already taken his seat. This man was none other than General Sun Shouren, the garrison commander of Xingyuan Prefecture.

"General!" As the many guards entered the mess hall, every single one bowed and paid their respects.

General Sun responded with a slight smile and a nod. Having just been transferred back to Xingyuan Prefecture, countless people—both in official circles and within his own household—wanted to visit him, and he also needed to visit some in return.

Thus, for most of these two months, he had been socializing, either at banquets or on his way to them, spending little time in the barracks.

Many of the newly recruited guards weren't even familiar with him, which was a major taboo on the battlefield.

When real fighting broke out, he could only rely on the guards under his command. If the soldiers didn't know their general, the battle was as good as lost.

This time, he had made up his mind to focus on training the troops in the coming days. After all, he was still young—only forty-five years old.

As long as he trained his soldiers well, he could still go on campaigns in the future and earn merits.

"General." Chen Mo walked into the mess hall, first bowing to General Sun, then preparing to find a seat somewhere.

He didn't plan to sit at the general's table, because eating with him would inevitably feel a bit stifling.

Yet he hadn't expected that General Sun, with his stern and fierce demeanor, would instead smile warmly and beckon him over.

"Chen Mo, right? Sit."

Sun Shouren remembered this young man. He had only been in the Guard Camp for two months, yet he had received top marks in both evaluations—a truly rare feat.

Moreover, unlike others who had family martial arts traditions or had apprenticed under a master at home to train in martial skills, Chen Mo had never practiced martial arts before. His top marks were entirely due to his natural talent and hard work.

That was why Sun Shouren had remembered him. Otherwise, among the fifty or sixty new guards who had joined this time—many of whom were even from his own clan—how could he have singled out Chen Mo without some exceptional ability?

"Ah!" Chen Mo was startled, but since the general had ordered it, he couldn't disobey. He had no choice but to find a seat at the main table.

Mo Hu, on the other hand, was quite relaxed and natural. He sat down directly next to General Sun and even grabbed a handful of peanuts to snack on first.

"Hey, you damn bastard, watch yourself. We haven't even started the feast yet, and you're about to eat it all!" Sun Shouren's brows furrowed as he scolded in feigned anger.

"Ah!" Mo Hu replied loudly, then reached out and grabbed another handful.

As the other new recruits who had passed the assessments gradually arrived, Sun Shouren stood up, briefly praised the performance of the guards during this period, and then announced the start of the feast.

Several fire-troop soldiers brought over large jars of wine, and the guards raised their coarse porcelain bowls, drinking heartily.

Chen Mo wasn't very interested in the wine, focusing solely on the meat on the table. He only raised his bowl to drink when everyone clinked glasses.

The wine wasn't actually very strong—it was rice wine brewed by the mess hall itself. But precisely because it wasn't strong, one might unconsciously drink too much.

Soon, cups clinked and the atmosphere grew lively. The pile of chicken and duck bones in front of Chen Mo multiplied rapidly.

Sitting at the same table as General Sun, it wasn't just him who was nervous. Besides Mo Hu and the veterans, the other new recruits like him were all a bit tense.

At first, they were all restrained, but after a few bowls of rice wine, the mood gradually loosened up.

Only then did Chen Mo dare to loosen his belt and enjoy this once-a-month feast.

As he devoured piece after piece of meat, strands of blood energy were continuously being refined.

"Hey, kid, why haven't you offered me a toast?" General Sun's face was flushed red, and his eyes slightly glazed as he looked at Chen Mo.

"Your subordinate toasts the general!" Chen Mo raised his wine bowl and drained it in one gulp.

General Sun then laughed with considerable satisfaction. He knew that if he wanted to build rapport with these rough-and-tumble men, trying to engage them with refined poetry, tea, and calligraphy would be like playing the lute to a cow.

Drinking together twice, getting thoroughly drunk twice—that was the most effective method.

As for getting them to fight and die for him on the battlefield, to volunteer as vanguards against the enemy—

That required not only making them trust him as their commander in peacetime but also promising them benefits on the eve of battle, so they would be willing to fight with all their might.

As for making them willing to sacrifice their lives for him—that was extremely difficult. Even he didn't have many such trusted confidants.

As the feast drew to a close, the tables and floor were littered with collapsed guards. Some, though drunk, still muttered incoherently.

Chen Mo seized this opportunity to act. His table was already a mess of empty plates, but some dishes were still relatively intact.

He hurriedly packed some to take back as a midnight snack. That way, the progress of his blood energy accumulation could speed up a little more.

Besides, he wasn't limited to just his own table. He could also help himself from the neighboring tables.

Chen Mo was now using every means and sparing no effort to accelerate his blood energy accumulation as much as possible.

First, it was to achieve Mortal Transformation faster and gain greater strength. Only then could he rescue Zhao Yu.

Second, he didn't know if he would encounter the Gray Mist again. While the sound of gongs might have the effect of dispersing it, last time he had still fallen into it even inside the barracks.

This meant that gongs could disperse the Gray Mist, but that didn't guarantee absolute safety.

So now, no matter where he was, he felt a vague sense of insecurity deep inside.

The only way to counter this unease was to increase his strength—to get stronger, faster.

As long as he was strong enough, even if he fell into the Gray Mist, he could still ensure his own safety.

Thus, he would seize every possible opportunity to speed up his blood energy accumulation, solely to become stronger more quickly.

In truth, he had also wanted to inquire about the Gray Mist during this time, but in the military camp, given his status, none of the people he could approach knew anything about it.

As for reading texts and records to look into it, that was even more impossible—books in this era were absolutely precious and not easily shown to others.

Chen Mo had stolen a few characters when he served as a book boy, and even that was considered decent among the many soldiers.

Even in this Guard Camp, most of the guards were illiterate.

Thus, even now, Chen Mo only had a vague understanding of the Gray Mist. The unknown represented danger, so he exhausted every means to improve himself.

Taking the large bowls usually used for meals, Chen Mo easily swiped half an elbow of meat, a big bowl of braised lamb, a big bowl of braised pork, half a braised goose, and most of a roast chicken.

These were the meat dishes with the best presentation on the table. Chen Mo took them one by one—not only would he have enough to eat tonight, but he could also have another meal tomorrow.

After carrying these several large bowls of meat back to his own barracks, Chen Mo returned to the kitchen and hoisted Mo Hu onto his shoulder.

Mo Dao also came over at this time. He and some of the guards had not attended today's feast; instead, they were responsible for patrol and sentry duty.

In fact, these guards on patrol and sentry duty today were the best among the Guard Camp, the elite of the elite.

They would, of course, receive their rewards as well, but the feast for them would have to wait until tomorrow, after someone else took over their patrol and sentry duties.

"You take Little Hu back. I'll take Foster Father back." Mo Dao's tone was flat, a rare occasion where he spoke a longer sentence.

Chen Mo was long used to this. Mo Hu was right—Mo Dao was indeed someone cold on the outside but warm on the inside.

His own archery stance had received quite a bit of guidance from him on ordinary days. If not for that, he might not have improved so quickly.

Mo Dao just didn't talk much on usual days and wasn't keen on socializing, but when it came to getting things done, he never slacked off.

After sending Mo Hu back to his room, Chen Mo went to wash up before lying down in his quarters to rest.

The next day, just as Chen Mo was preparing to train as usual, a messenger arrived with news: General Sun wanted to see him in person.