Chapter 21: A New Kind of Training

The young falcon understood his words. As it ate, it chirped softly, like a chick, responding to him. With an ample supply of food now, and aided by the effects of the Blood Pact Pill, its growth was much faster than before.

"Go on. Remember the clothes our people wear in the stronghold. If you see any outsiders entering the mountains, come and warn me." Once the bird had eaten its fill, Fang Xian let it go off on its own. Its domain was the sky; it only landed occasionally to feed, but it did not belong to the earth.

The young falcon screeched and shot into the sky like an arrow from a bow. Someone below in the stronghold caught sight of it and pointed, exclaiming, "Look, that's the son-in-law's bird!"

With the soldiers who had returned from hunting with Fang Xian spreading the word, and as the young falcon was often seen landing in the stronghold, most people there now knew that the son-in-law kept a large bird. Some said it was an eagle, others called it a hawk, and some insisted it was neither—just a big bird.

Fang Xian had, on more than one occasion, overheard people in the stronghold ask, "Son-in-law, where's your big bird?" Nearly making him stumble. What kinds of questions were these? He suspected they were making crude jokes, but had no proof.

A few days later at noon, Fang Xian and Ye Hongxiu were having lunch with Ye Qingyun. Fang Xian had cooked himself, making braised wild boar belly with dried chilies and mushrooms. The fatty, juicy meat was especially delicious.

"I wonder when your third uncle and the others will return. They've been gone over three months now," Ye Qingyun said, chatting as they ate.

"Father, do you know what business they have in Wudu? Was it just to visit friends and relatives?" Fang Xian asked.

"He has a friend serving as an official in Wudu. He wanted to see if he could find a way out for our stronghold," Ye Qingyun replied, hesitating before speaking. This was something only the three chiefs knew—Ye Hongxiu herself had not been told. But now that he valued Fang Xian more and more, he decided to share it with him.

"Father, are we to accept recruitment by the Wu Dynasty? But the officials and soldiers of the Wu court harmed our family, killed grandfather and so many uncles. Are we just to let that go?" Ye Hongxiu exclaimed in surprise.

"It was your third uncle who urged it most. He said that we old ones can do as we please, but you youngsters shouldn't have to spend your whole lives hidden away in the mountains. He wanted to seek a future for you all. Your second uncle and I considered it for years, and seeing you're grown now, we finally agreed. But all we did was send him to sound things out; no final decision has been made," Ye Qingyun said.

"Father, if you look at history, those who accept imperial recruitment never come to a good end," Fang Xian quickly added, thinking of a famous novel.

"That's right, Father. The Wu Dynasty is beset by troubles on all sides. If we accept their offer, we'll only be used as cannon fodder. It would be unwise," Ye Hongxiu agreed.

"Father, I think we need to consider this matter very carefully. Also, I've noticed our stronghold's training is rather one-sided. It relies too much on individual martial skill, not enough on teamwork. I've found some new methods in the military texts recently and would like to try training some of the soldiers. Besides, we've organized more than three thousand medicinal recipes; we can now expand their use," Fang Xian suggested.

"Then let all the third-rank martial artists use them," Ye Qingyun nodded.

"How many third-rank martial artists do we have?"

"About sixty or seventy."

"I think those who are older or disabled can skip the training and focus on logistics, passing their spots to the younger generation in their families. Also, let's select several dozen unranked soldiers under twenty years old, make up a hundred men to use the medicinal recipes, and put them through special training to prepare the next generation of warriors," Fang Xian proposed.

"Very good. You and Hongxiu handle it. Your second uncle is busy at home with grandchildren, your eldest brother is always with his wife, neither has time. And you two should hurry up as well, so I can hold a grandchild myself," Ye Qingyun said with a nod, then teased them.

"Father, what are you saying?" Ye Hongxiu shot him a shy glare.

"Hongxiu is still young. Having a child now would be hard on her health. Waiting another couple of years won’t hurt," Fang Xian said, as Ye Hongxiu was just seventeen—far too young for motherhood. Nineteen would be better.

Two days later, the hundred selected stronghold soldiers stood in the square in front of the main hall, surrounded by massive stones and logs.

"Elders, brothers, from today we begin a new kind of training. We'll divide into ten groups of ten, each led by a third-rank martial artist. Every five days, anyone can challenge the group leader; the winner becomes the new leader.

To ensure your discipline, I’ve brought Da Niu and Er Niu as supervisors. Anyone who slacks off will be punished severely; those who refuse to obey will be dismissed from training. Understood?" Fang Xian addressed them.

"Understood!"

"Son-in-law, what should we do?"

"Whatever the son-in-law says!"

"We'll all follow your lead, son-in-law!"

Their responses came scattered and half-hearted, some grinning, some slouching, which made Fang Xian frown.

"Straighten up and pay attention! Stand as I do. Line up, each row matching the man on the far right. When you answer, you must say, 'Understood.' Da Niu, Er Niu, take up sticks. Anyone not following orders, beat them. As long as you don’t kill them, I’ll heal any injuries," Fang Xian barked. Ye Hongxiu cracked her riding crop in the air with a sharp snap, scaring the men into seriousness.

Fang Xian then drilled them in formation, taking an entire hour to teach them the basics, including how to chant as they marched: "One, one, one-two-one, one-two-three-four."

Anyone who slacked off was thrashed by Da Niu or Er Niu with sticks, or struck by Ye Hongxiu’s riding crop. Once they saw discipline enforced, the soldiers became obedient.

That afternoon, Fang Xian trained them to lift stones and carry logs. For third-rank martial artists, a two or three hundred pound stone was nothing, but when he had them do push-ups with a boulder on their backs, it was a serious challenge.

Drawing on modern military training methods, Fang Xian focused on discipline and teamwork, aiming to mold them into real soldiers—the elite backbone of the Qingyun Stronghold’s future expansion.

After a day of grueling training, everyone was sore and exhausted. But Fang Xian had the infirmary prepare medicinal baths, and made them soak for an hour in steaming herbal water.

The next morning, to everyone’s delight, they found that yesterday’s training and the medicinal soak had greatly strengthened their bodies; the benefits were immense, and their enthusiasm soared.

"You can all see the benefits now, can’t you? I guarantee that as long as you train diligently, within a year most of you will advance in rank and skill, and one day become the continent’s finest generals and commanders," Fang Xian told them. From then on, every morning and afternoon, he set aside an hour for classes, teaching them Arabic numerals, basic characters, and telling them stories of military strategy.

Most of the stronghold’s soldiers were illiterate, but nearly all the third-rank martial artists were under forty, most under thirty, and a third were under twenty. So they learned fairly quickly.

Another reason was that Fang Xian taught them using pinyin. Once they mastered it, they could use his literacy primer to recognize characters by sound.