At dusk, thousands upon thousands of torches lit up Fang City Pass as bright as day.
Patrolling soldiers paced along the walls of the pass, their armor clinking softly.
Inside a tent, Zhao Cheng slowly opened his eyes. Several scruffy, bearded faces suddenly appeared in his vision, each filled with concern.
"Chief Commandant, you're awake!"
"Feng Quan, what are you all doing here?"
Zhao Cheng didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Was someone going to watch even while he slept?
"Captain Meng ordered us to stand guard here."
"These are your new armor and weapons."
Feng Quan handed him a suit of armor and a Bronze Sword. They were clearly different from his previous gear, and their quality was far superior.
The Bronze Sword was about 1.2 meters long, with a willow-leaf-shaped blade, a ridged spine, and intricate metal patterns along its edge. It had clearly been forged through countless hammerings. Though made of bronze, it felt as heavy as fine iron and was exceptionally sturdy and sharp.
A ring adorned the pommel. The grip was wrapped for a nonslip hold, and the guard bore an engraved gold cloud pattern. The scabbard was covered in fish skin, with a bronze fitting at its mouth to mark its owner's status.
The helmet was a bronze lamellar helm, made from twenty or thirty bronze plates laced together. It was shaped like an inverted bowl, with a hole at the top for a plume, from which a red yak tail hung.
The upper-body armor was fish-scale armor, its densely arranged plates shaped like fish scales and gilded on the surface.
This fish-scale armor was extraordinarily heavy. Under ordinary circumstances, a commander wouldn't wear it into battle. But considering Zhao Cheng's physique, they had given him the full set.
There were also several command instruments.
A Chief Commandant's banner, black, embroidered with a White Tiger, with a bronze spearhead ornament on its pole and a triangular pennant beneath it.
Zhao Cheng took off his tattered old armor and put on the new set. Standing tall and straight as a spear, he looked every bit the valiant warrior.
"Under Captain Meng's command, more than two hundred brothers in the Assault Cavalry Battalion have each been promoted one rank. Feng Quan and Feng Ruo have been made your personal guards, and will serve at your side from now on."
Zhao Cheng looked at Feng Quan and Feng Ruo and saw that their clothing had indeed changed. They wore the attire of personal guards, with bronze gongs at their waists to help him relay commands.
Zhao Cheng nodded. "Not bad. Does the general have any orders?"
Feng Quan replied, "The general ordered us to rest for the night and set out for Ye County tomorrow. I'll take you to your tent."
Earlier, Zhao Cheng had simply found an empty tent and fallen asleep. The army had now assigned him a tent befitting a Chief Commandant.
It wasn't far. Zhao Cheng followed Feng Quan, and the soldiers they passed all saluted him with reverent looks, addressing him as "Chief Commandant."
Before long, they reached his assigned tent. Its furnishings were plain, with little more than the necessities for rest, but it was spacious. Most importantly, it was a room of his own, so he wouldn't be disturbed.
Zhao Cheng was satisfied. "You're all dismissed."
"Yes!"
After his personal guards and escorts left, Zhao Cheng stretched and felt that the wounds all over his body had healed considerably. Some of the more minor ones had even closed up completely.
That was thanks not only to the Hemostatic Powder, but also to his own powerful recovery.
He sat cross-legged in the tent and began reviewing what he had done wrong in the battle.
"My experience is still lacking. I fought in a chaotic mess, without any real technique, relying entirely on brute strength to charge and kill. It drained too much stamina, and my efficiency at killing enemies was low."
"During training at the County Court, I only practiced the basic sword movements: swinging, chopping, thrusting, and slashing. They weren't even a proper sword style, and I had no way to refine them through the system."
"Maybe I can use that battle to create a sword style of my own."
With that in mind, Zhao Cheng carefully recalled the details of the fighting.
Once he entered the fray, he would face seven or eight enemies attacking at once. He would often knock their weapons aside with his sword—or simply ignore them and focus on charging forward. Inevitably, he took plenty of hits.
When he encountered a formation armed with long spears and halberds, his forward charge only increased the force with which their weapons struck him. Many of his wounds had come from just that.
Their strength might not have been enough to break through his defenses, but his own forward momentum was powerful. He was practically helping the enemy break through his defenses.
And with so many enemies, each one landing several blows in succession, even a Diamond body couldn't remain unscathed.
"Even ants can bring down an elephant. This time, we fought atop Fang City Pass, where the narrow wall restricted the number of men who could charge at once on both sides. But on open ground, I'd face far more enemies at the same time."
"Once I'm deep in the enemy ranks, it won't just be the enemies in front of me. There'll be plenty behind me as well. The enemies in front will crowd in, while those behind keep striking at me from the rear. I have to kill fast enough to leave them behind, or I'll never escape that predicament."
"So the most important thing is killing efficiently."
"If I can make sure that any enemy who comes within three paces of me dies, and kill faster than they can charge, I'll conserve plenty of stamina and avoid taking so many wounds."
"I need to kill quickly. My moves have to be fast, accurate, and ruthless. I don't need to use all my strength—just the right amount. One sword thrust to the throat. That's the most efficient way."
Zhao Cheng closed his eyes in thought. He slowly raised his sword, then thrust it at an imagined enemy. The blade tore through the air with a sharp whistle.
"Still too much force, and the movements are too complicated. They need to be simpler and faster."
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
The sword flashed back and forth inside the tent as Zhao Cheng's movements grew simpler and more precise.
But once he reached a certain point, he couldn't improve any further.
"It still feels like something's missing. What is it?"
He kept simulating the fight. His swordplay was fierce, yet something still felt wrong. His brow furrowed tighter and tighter.
At last, he stopped and frowned in thought.
At the tent entrance, Meng Tian had been watching Zhao Cheng practice with a smile. When Zhao Cheng finally stopped, puzzled and deep in thought, Meng Tian stepped inside and said, "A hundred drills are no match for one battle. The only way to master the art of killing on the battlefield is to hone it there."
"Practicing on your own can never recreate the danger and urgency of facing an enemy in the moment."
His words jolted Zhao Cheng awake. He suddenly understood. "Exactly. That's what was missing—real combat."
He turned to Meng Tian. "Brother, do you know any battlefield sword techniques?"
Meng Tian smiled. "The Meng Family has served as generals for three generations, passing down the art of war. Naturally, we have sword techniques too."
"But the Meng Family's swordsmanship is combined with the art of war. It contains its essence, with moves like forcing the enemy to come to someone's aid and matching feints with real attacks. Every move is linked to the formations and strategies in your mind. It relies on clever schemes and calculation, so it isn't very suitable for you. Even if I wanted to teach you, you'd have a hard time learning it in a short time."
"To learn the Meng Family swordsmanship, you must first learn the Meng Family's art of war. And that isn't something you can master in a day or two. It takes years of commanding troops in battle, testing what you've learned through practice. Only once you understand it deeply will your swordsmanship become truly sublime."
"Without the art of war behind it, the Meng Family's swordsmanship is no different from the basic sword drills used in the army. It's just chopping, slashing, and thrusting."
"Besides, your physique and strength are far beyond ordinary people's. You don't need swordplay based on outmaneuvering your opponent. What you need is a sword meant to kill."
Zhao Cheng thought Meng Tian made sense. He could kill an enemy with a single swing, so there was no need to rely on schemes.
All he lacked now was the ability to kill as quickly as possible with the least force.
Still, he was rather curious about Meng Tian's swordsmanship.
"Brother, why don't we spar for a couple of moves?"
Meng Tian was interested too. He drew his sword. "A little practice is fine, but be sure to hold back. Don't actually run me through."
Zhao Cheng smiled. "Of course not. I'll keep my strength in check."
Meng Tian took his stance with his sword. "Come on."
Zhao Cheng thrust straight at Meng Tian's throat, moving at incredible speed.
Meng Tian wasn't as fast as he was, yet it was as if he had predicted Zhao Cheng's move in advance. He had already placed his sword in its path. A tap against Zhao Cheng's sword tip knocked it aside, and then Meng Tian's blade flashed around to counterattack at Zhao Cheng's throat.
Zhao Cheng's gaze sharpened. He leaned to one side, trying to dodge.
But Meng Tian's thrust had been a feint. As if he had known Zhao Cheng would dodge, the sword tip suddenly accelerated. The real killing move emerged, aimed straight at Zhao Cheng's throat.
Zhao Cheng's dodge had played right into Meng Tian's hands. Not only had he failed to evade the attack, he had closed the distance for Meng Tian.
Alarmed, he retreated while using his sword to defend himself.
Meng Tian smiled. His wrist twisted, and the sword tip dipped—then slashed toward the vital area below Zhao Cheng's waist!
That terrified Zhao Cheng. He clamped his legs together and stopped holding back. His strength burst forth, knocking Meng Tian's sword aside as he leapt far backward.
"Brother, you..."
That move was far too underhanded!
Meng Tian's wrist went numb. He forced himself to withdraw his sword, then burst into laughter at Zhao Cheng's strange expression.
"On the battlefield, you go for the vital points. Only a fool worries about rules and honor."
"But Ah Cheng, your strength is truly terrifying. I barely tapped your sword, and you nearly knocked it from my hand. My wrist still hurts from the shock."
Zhao Cheng gave a wry smile. "My vital parts were about to get cut. How could I still hold back?"
So that was what it meant to force the enemy to come to someone's aid?
The swordsmanship of the strategists was terrifying indeed!
Before you continue