The next morning, Zhao Yuan took Yang Zhengshan and the others to report to the Regional Military Commission. In less than half an hour, they had become soldiers of the Heavy Mountain Pass Town Standard Left Battalion.
That was right—the Zhenbiao Left Battalion, not the garrison soldiers stationed in the Tun Fortresses.
Afterward, Zhao Yuan took Yang Zhengshan to change the deed to the residence.
But before Yang Zhengshan could properly enjoy the pleasures of being a homeowner, Zhao Yuan took them to Linguan Fortress on the third day.
More than fifty soldiers under Zhao Yuan accompanied them, escorting ten carts of grain.
Linguan Fortress lay west of Chongshan Pass. After circling the two hills west of the pass city, they would reach the territory of Linguan Fortress.
Linguan Fortress sat atop a small hill. Though it was called a hill, it would be more accurate to call it a mound of earth.
The gentle slopes were covered in yellow-brown fields. From far away, they could see quite a few ragged figures laboring in the fields.
Yang Zhengshan watched those farming figures as he walked, his brows faintly furrowing.
He squatted by the roadside and grabbed a handful of yellow soil. His brows furrowed even more deeply.
The soil was far too barren and completely unsuitable for farming. No wonder Linguan Fortress had been abandoned in the first place.
He raised his head and looked at the figures working in the fields, then let out a faint sigh.
"Father!" Yang Mingzhi called out worriedly.
He was a genuine farmer's son himself and could naturally tell whether a field was good or bad.
"Centurion Yang, it's getting late. We should hurry on!" Zhao Yuan said as he walked over.
Yang Zhengshan rose and continued forward at a leisurely pace. "Centurion Zhao