Thornhead Battalion

Han Tieshan's appointment was like a stone thrown into a lake.

Everyone in the conference room instinctively shifted their gazes back and forth between Li Zhengyang and Zhao Meng.

Zhao Meng, commander of First Battalion at Fortress No. 7, was a seventh-rank Martial Sect renowned for his ferocity and protectiveness of his own.

The First Battalion under his command was also recognized throughout the fortress as the "Thornhead Battalion," filled with unruly veteran troublemakers and desperadoes.

They were stuffing Li Zhengyang, the "newcomer" who had just scared Zhao Meng so badly he nearly pissed himself, into Zhao Meng's battalion.

Wasn't that like locking two tigers in one cage?

Zhao Meng's face alternated between green and white.

He had just been publicly humiliated by Li Zhengyang's aura, and now Han Tieshan was assigning this great deity to him.

Was this supposed to help him regain his dignity, or make him worship the man?

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but the moment he met Li Zhengyang's calm, unruffled gaze, the words caught in his throat.

The sensation of being crushed beneath a mountain just now had been too real.

He had no doubt that if Li Zhengyang had wanted to, a mere thought could have sent his blood and qi flowing in reverse and severely injured him on the spot.

Was that something a Martial Sect could do?

"What, Battalion Commander Zhao, do you have an objection?" Han Tieshan's voice rang out.

"No... no!" Zhao Meng sprang from his chair and stood ramrod straight, his voice booming as though he were trying to bolster his own courage.

"Then take your men back." Han Tieshan waved a hand and did not look at him again.

Li Zhengyang rose as well. He did not even glance at Zhao Meng, merely nodding once to Han Tieshan in acknowledgment before turning and walking out.

From beginning to end, he had never regarded himself as a subordinate waiting to receive orders.

When he reached the door and passed Song Qing, he paused.

"You submitted the report, and you signed it." Song Qing lowered her voice, forcing out the words through clenched teeth. "If anything goes wrong in the future, don't expect anyone to take the blame for you."

Li Zhengyang turned his head, the corner of his mouth lifting in an almost imperceptible curve.

"I can handle my own affairs."

With that, he left the conference room without looking back.

Song Qing watched his retreating figure and clenched her fists. This man's arrogance knew no bounds.

The atmosphere in the conference room remained strange.

"What are you all staring at? Meeting adjourned!" Han Tieshan barked.

The officers rose and left as though granted a pardon. As they passed Zhao Meng, each cast him a sympathetic look.

Soon, only Han Tieshan and Song Qing remained in the conference room.

"Commander, why..." Song Qing could not help asking. "You know Li Zhengyang has issues. Putting him with Zhao Meng is bound to cause trouble sooner or later."

"Trouble?" Han Tieshan rose from his chair and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down below.

"Song Qing, you're still too young."

He turned around, the scar on his face appearing especially vicious in the light.

"Li Zhengyang is a newly sharpened blade, sharp enough to cut the hand holding it. You can't keep a blade like that sheathed and worship it; that would dull its edge. You have to let it chop through the hardest bones."

"First Battalion is the hardest bone?"

"No." Han Tieshan smiled. "First Battalion is a whetstone. Zhao Meng and those veteran troublemakers will either be chipped by this blade, or they'll sharpen it even further."

He paused, his gaze deepening.

"As for whether he is a Martial King... we'll know soon enough. Winter is coming to the Northern Wasteland. This year's beast tide probably won't be simple. Having one more Martial King would put people's minds at ease."

First Battalion's camp was located in the fortress's northwest corner, closest to the city wall.

Li Zhengyang followed behind Zhao Meng as they walked, and neither spoke along the way.

Several hundred soldiers were drilling on the training ground, their shouts shaking the heavens.

When they saw Zhao Meng return, everyone stopped moving and turned their gazes toward him.

Then they saw Li Zhengyang following behind Zhao Meng.

A strange young man in tattered combat fatigues.

"What are you looking at? Get your asses over here!" Zhao Meng roared, venting all the anger he had swallowed at headquarters.

Several hundred men quickly assembled on the training ground, forming a square formation.

Every one of them was broad-shouldered and muscular, with fierce eyes and a bloody aura about them. Compared to the soldiers of Fortress No. 13, these men looked more like vicious ghosts crawling out of hell.

"This is the new sergeant major transferred from the military district, Li Zhengyang." Zhao Meng pointed at Li Zhengyang, his tone stiff. "Starting today, he will serve as deputy battalion commander of our First Battalion."

The moment his words fell, an irrepressible commotion rose from the formation.

Deputy battalion commander?

A kid barely over twenty, and he was made deputy battalion commander the moment he arrived?

"Quiet!" Zhao Meng roared again.

He cleared his throat and looked at Li Zhengyang, his expression complicated.

By the rules, when a new officer took office, he, as the commanding officer, should help establish the newcomer's authority.

But he himself had nearly been frightened to his knees by a single look from the man. How was he supposed to establish that authority?

Forcing himself onward, he said, "Deputy Battalion Commander Li has just arrived and may not be familiar with First Battalion's rules. In training and missions from now on, everyone should exchange pointers with him."

Several veteran ruffians standing in the front row misunderstood his meaning, malicious smiles appearing on their faces.

Got it.

The battalion commander meant for them to give this pretty-boy newcomer a taste of his own medicine.

"Deputy Battalion Commander Li, would you like to say a few words?" Zhao Meng handed the floor to Li Zhengyang.

Li Zhengyang stepped forward.

He swept his gaze over the several hundred unruly faces before him without saying a word.

One second.

Ten seconds.

Thirty seconds.

He simply stood there in silence.

Other than the wind, the training ground was dead silent.

At first, some people had watched with the attitude of enjoying a spectacle. Gradually, though, everyone sensed that something was wrong.

Li Zhengyang's gaze was calm, without killing intent or pressure.

Yet everyone he looked at felt as though they had been stripped naked and thoroughly seen through, inside and out.

That feeling was even more unbearable than having a gun pointed at their heads.

Finally, a platoon commander standing in the front row, his face full of flesh, could no longer hold back.

"Deputy Battalion Commander, what exactly do you mean by this? Haven't you figured out what to say, or do you look down on rough men like us?"

His name was Wang Hu. He was Zhao Meng's fiercest lieutenant, a sixth-rank Martial Sect famous for fearing neither heaven nor earth.

Li Zhengyang's gaze settled on his face.

"What's your name?"

"First Battalion, First Company commander, Wang Hu!" Wang Hu thrust out his chest and answered loudly.

"Very good." Li Zhengyang nodded.

The next second, he moved.

His figure flashed, and he instantly appeared before Wang Hu.

Too fast!

So fast that Wang Hu only had time to widen his eyes. He could not even fully raise his Body-Protecting Astral Energy.

Li Zhengyang extended a hand. It was neither a fist nor a palm strike. He simply placed it on Wang Hu's shoulder.

Then he pressed down gently.

Thud!

Wang Hu—a Martial Sect powerhouse standing over six feet tall and weighing more than two hundred pounds—went limp in the legs and dropped to his knees without the slightest ability to resist.

Both knees slammed heavily into the hard training ground, producing a dull bang.

Across the entire training ground, several hundred men nearly had their eyeballs pop out.