Frankness

The cookhouse was silent, so quiet it was almost deafening.

Mo Hu and the veteran soldier both wore mysterious smiles on their faces, clearly aware of what was about to happen.

The new recruits shook their heads in unison. Some came from respectable families, others had been selected from other camps for their strength.

Fighting was common enough, but killing? They'd never had the chance, nor the nerve.

Killing wasn't like drinking water or eating a meal—you couldn't just do it on a whim. The first time required a certain amount of guts.

And there was real psychological pressure in taking the life of a living, breathing person who might even beg for mercy.

Flesh flying, brains splattering, intestines coiled in the belly slowly spilling out, lungs and hearts still twitching as they were ripped from the chest.

These scenes would shock and overwhelm anyone seeing them for the first time.

Now they had time to gradually adapt, but on the battlefield, one moment of hesitation could cost them their lives.

Of course, some people might have no reaction to such things, but most needed time to get used to it.

That's why it was necessary to let personal troops see blood before they ever set foot on a battlefield—to get them accustomed to this kind of thing.

The new recruits all shook their heads, but Chen Mo thought it over briefly and slowly nodded.

He couldn't hide his past. He'd fled here as a refugee. Killing wasn't common among disaster victims, but it wasn't rare either.

Especially for refugees who'd made it this far—without even thinking, you knew they'd killed. Because if you didn't kill, you might be killed.

Rather than keep hiding it, only for someone to later learn his identity and realize he'd lied about this, which would make him seem guilty, it was better to admit it openly now. After all, no one would punish him for it.

Back then, those people had attacked him first. He'd acted in self-defense.

Under the Great Qian Law, killing in self-defense was not a crime.

Besides, no one would dig too deeply into what happened in the disaster zone.

On the other hand, if he kept covering it up, some people might start imagining things.

After all, refugees who made it here hadn't necessarily killed out of necessity—some had killed willingly.

When he nodded, everyone's eyes turned to him.

Even General Sun was a bit puzzled. Ever since he'd noticed a few days ago that Chen Mo could sense his killing intent, he'd been surprised, though he hadn't had time to investigate him thoroughly.

Now Chen Mo was voluntarily admitting he'd killed people. Was he some kind of bandit, joining the army to escape punishment?

But that didn't make sense. If he were, why would he admit to killing?

"When did you kill them? How many?" General Sun asked, squinting.

"I'm not from around here. I fled here as a refugee a while back. The people I killed were ones who tried to kill me and steal my food on the road. Seventeen or eighteen, I think. I don't remember clearly."

Chen Mo spoke slowly and deliberately, reciting the words he'd prepared in his mind.

In truth, he really couldn't remember exactly how many people he'd killed. Maybe seventeen or eighteen, maybe more.

During the escape, every day he was starving, only thinking about food. He didn't have the spare energy to keep track of such trivial matters.

Killing was certainly difficult for these new recruits who'd at least had food to eat before.

But for Chen Mo back then, it simply wasn't worth thinking about.

General Sun was taken aback. He'd seen Chen Mo's place of origin before and had always assumed he was a local.

When Chen Mo enlisted, his household registration had naturally been filed with the camp.

But the place of origin he'd listed before enlisting clearly said he was from Qingmu County. Now it seemed the recruiting soldiers had just taken the easy way out and lumped everyone together.

This was perfectly normal, nothing surprising, but he just hadn't thought of it before.

Looking at it this way, it made sense that Chen Mo could sense his killing intent.

The disaster in Qing Province had been severe. If Chen Mo had made it all the way here without sharp instincts, he'd have died on the road long ago.

Mo Hu stared at Chen Mo in shock and disbelief.

Killing wasn't hard for him, and seventeen or eighteen people wasn't a lot—he'd cut down far more than that.

Even the way Chen Mo said he'd killed seventeen or eighteen people as casually as drinking water or eating a meal didn't faze him.

Only those new recruits who'd never been to the battlefield would be shocked and stunned.

For veterans like them who'd weathered countless battles, talking about killing was just everyday chatter, nothing worth dwelling on.

What shocked and surprised him was that he never expected Chen Mo—a guy who seemed honest and simple, whose head was full of food, who only cared about what the cookhouse was serving, who, even on his days off, after bathing, never went to the tavern for a drink, never sought out a back-alley whore, never gambled at the betting tables, whose only thoughts were about heading to the braised meat stall or a small restaurant, spending all his time figuring out how to eat a few more bites of meat—no matter how you looked at him, he seemed like an honest man—

had actually killed seventeen or eighteen people!

He'd thought he was a harmless little kitten, only to find out he was a man-eating tiger!

The contrast was just too great!

For a moment, he couldn't quite wrap his head around it.

Actually, it wasn't just him who couldn't accept it. The many new recruits at the table were all equally stunned upon hearing this news.

Two new soldiers sitting beside Chen Mo swallowed nervously and, without making a sound, subtly shifted a bit further away from him.

Killing wasn't a big deal to the battle-hardened veterans in the camp, but those veterans rarely talked about such things.

Most new recruits knew full well that the veterans had killed before—and quite a few people at that.

But Chen Mo was different. They were all new recruits together, and they'd had quite a bit of daily contact since they trained side by side.

Even without deliberately trying to build connections, after more than two months, they'd all gotten somewhat familiar with each other.

The impression Chen Mo had given the entire new recruit camp was one of simple honesty. When talking with him, he always wore a smile. No matter how you looked at it, he seemed like a very amiable person.

Yet this very same person had killed seventeen or eighteen people. And judging by his tone and demeanor, it didn't seem like it was any harder for him than drinking water or eating a meal.

The impact this had on those new recruits was indeed quite severe.

"Mm. In that case, this time you just go along and observe." Sun Shouren remained quite composed as he made his decision.

He wasn't too concerned about Chen Mo not being a local.

Because the personal guards who would be recruited into the camp next could, at best, barely be considered his fellow townsmen, all hailing from Xingyuan Prefecture.

In truth, if you really thought about it, the relationship between them and him wasn't much different from Chen Mo's.

If he had minded that point, he wouldn't have expanded the recruitment range from the very start.

Besides, even among those hundred or so veterans, some weren't of the same clan or even from the same hometown.

Whether a person could be used ultimately depended on his own judgment.

"Understood." Chen Mo nodded in agreement.

The personal guards formed up in ranks and jogged out of the camp.

As the garrison commander of a prefecture, Sun Shouren could only mobilize up to five hundred men out of camp without a deployment order.

And they couldn't wear iron armor. At most, they could take fifty bows.

As for leather armor or ordinary weapons like blades and spears, there weren't too many restrictions.

But rules were rules. As long as he wasn't caught, then he hadn't broken the law.

Of course, General Sun wouldn't casually pull a large number of elite troops out of camp for no reason. A mounted march not only cost money but also wasted training time.

The personal guards hurried several li out of the camp to a mass grave. Dozens of death-row prisoners transported from various counties had already been escorted there.

By now, even the densest of the personal guards could guess what was coming. Most of them wore expressions of barely concealed nervousness.

Chen Mo, Mo Hu, and a few of the veterans, however, looked indifferent, completely unconcerned.

"Begin." General Sun gave the order. One by one, steel blades were distributed to the personal guards.

The condemned prisoners were beheaded one after another, blood and flesh flying everywhere.

The new recruits reacted in various ways—some nauseated and tense, others excited and fearful. Only a handful wore calm, composed expressions.

Chen Mo didn't participate. He had already killed plenty of people; there was no need to waste a death-row prisoner now.

After the personal guards had their courage tempered, Sun Shouren led them away. As for the corpses, someone else would handle them.

The days that followed remained the same as before. Chen Mo trained in the camp every day, and before he knew it, another month had passed.