In Worthy Prince City.
At the thirty-fourth new recruit training ground of the Geng designation, the drilling cries of one hundred companies of a hundred men rose and fell in waves.
"March! Left... right... left... right... halt!"
The squad leader gripped a whip and viciously lashed a recruit's left leg.
"How many times have I said it?! You just won't correct it! Won't correct it! Step out! The corporal, step out too—teach him hand over hand! What are you looking at? Keep going!"
Several officers stood at the edge of the training ground, surveying the recruits.
A young Commandant frowned. "Was this sort of training really devised by His Highness?"
"It was indeed devised by His Highness."
"We're about to head north. New recruits have everything to learn—military formations, battlefield slaughter, all sorts of things. Yet now they set aside a whole hour every day just to practice walking. And when they get up in the morning, they have to fold their blankets into tofu blocks, and get whipped if they fail?"
"Yes."
"Isn't this putting appearances above substance? Yes, so many people marching in perfect order looks impressive, and folded blankets look nice too—but what use is that in war?"
"At first, I thought it was useless too, so I went to General Lü with my concerns. General Lü said he hadn't understood it at first either, but His Highness told him to puzzle it out himself. Little by little, he came to understand and declared outright that His Highness was simply the king of troop training."
"How so?"
"General Lü asked me: say there are two gangs in the Divine Capital, each with fifty people. One has an average of Seventh Rank, spends all day fooling around everywhere, brawling and fighting, and does everything in utter chaos. The