Those who were skilled in war sought advantage in the situation, not by demanding it of others.
Their momentum was like a drawn bow; their timing, like a released trigger.
Captain Yang was no fresh recruit who had only just set foot on the battlefield, but his astonishing performance this time also proved something from another angle—
There was a reason he had been thwarted at every turn all these years.
Several subordinate officers gathered around.
Some looked grave; others were anxiously pleading for help.
Among them were veterans who had followed Captain Yang for years, as well as new officers promoted over the past couple of years. They had little real combat experience, and most of their service had been spent suppressing bandits. Most of those bandits had been forced to take to the hills because they could no longer survive otherwise. The rest were likely criminals who had fled from nearby commanderies and counties. Seven or eight out of ten were ordinary people.
Naturally, they had been no great challenge to deal with.
But this time, the enemy had opened with two unfamiliar scholars whose strength was unknown, and no one knew how many more troops were hidden in the shadows. They had not even seen the enemy, yet more than forty soldiers in their camp had already drawn their swords and taken their own lives, blood spraying over the wooden carts.
The shock of this sight was far greater than that of facing bandits who could barely fight back. The subordinate officer who was so good at reading his superior's mood had been frightened out of his wits.
For a moment, he even forgot that he was a Martial Gall Warrior himself.
"Captain—"
Another subordinate officer jabbed him in the ribs.
Why shout so loudly?
Did he