The Army's Morale

Hidden in the shadows at the corner of the Drill Ground, Xu Yuan watched everything unfolding ahead in secret.

That old man surnamed Jin, loyal to the Marquis of Western Pacification, truly lived up to his name as a veteran who had fought a hundred battles. Gathering the soldiers of an entire garrison at the prefectural yamen in such a short time was a massive undertaking.

Who would notify which company, who would lead that company into the yamen, even where each company was to stand on the Drill Ground—all of it required meticulous coordination. Yet the man had arranged everything in perfect order within two quarters of an hour.

But as company after company was led into the yamen, a buzzing like flies gradually rose from every corner of the Drill Ground. Discussions raged everywhere; from the commanders of battalions and armies down to ordinary soldiers, no one was not whispering among themselves.

"Old Zhou, why has your company been called back too?"

A familiar voice from within the ranks interrupted a battalion commander's hurried steps toward the front. Looking back, he saw a company commander with an iron mask covering his face, his eyes filled with concern.

After a moment's hesitation, he stared at the other man's iron mask and paused again.

"You're Ai Renhua?"

"Old Squad Leader, who else could it be but me?" the iron-masked commander replied irritably.

The battalion commander surnamed Zhou glanced toward the senior officers up ahead and lowered his voice.

"Isn't it obvious? The entire Second Garrison should have been summoned back to the prefectural yamen."

The iron-masked commander's voice came through the mask, muffled and heavy, his worry impossible to conceal.

"Didn't the pre-battle meeting just confirm that the insect tide's first target would be your East City wall? If you've