"Look, that old man's here again!" Outside the Training Ground, two glints of cold armor leaked through the cr…
"Look, that old man's here again!" Outside the Training Ground, two glints of cold armor leaked through the crack of the vermilion-lacquered gate. The new guards, Jing and Da, were whispering in the shadows.
"Ever since this mad military governor showed up, we've been training harder than mules," Jing muttered.
At that moment, the old man they were spying on was gazing fixedly at the bulwark on the western side of the Training Ground.
Three days ago, this man had abruptly appeared at the entrance of the Imperial Guards' camp, dazed and seemingly mad. He wore tattered armor, clutched a faded ancient scroll, and had a rust-spotted Heng Blade hanging at his waist, its scabbard's engraving worn beyond recognition. The soldiers on duty remembered the madman suddenly breaking down in tears while stroking the stone beast at the camp gate: "Can you truly not even draw a ten-jin hornbow?! How will you hold fast if the enemy attacks?!"
The guards, unsure what to do, had tied up the disheveled old man and brought him before the general's tent. Beneath his ragged robes, the mad old man's muscles were knotted like cords, his spine straight as a spear, but his eyes were clouded.
"Escort... the people... the treasure..." the old man suddenly roared, startling the soldiers into drawing their blades. Yet perhaps fate decreed the old man should live, for that very night the Prefect happened to be in the camp, conferring with the general. Seeing the commotion, the Prefect halted the men, studied the old man closely for a moment, then suddenly rose and ordered the soldiers to withdraw. A few days later, intensive training drills began.
"Hey, hey, I heard from Big Suo that he saw it with his own eyes that day—the Prefect touched that old madman's sword! Is he a relative of the Prefect?" Jing nudged Da.
"Hiss... their looks don't quite match," Da scratched his head.
"Tsk, if not a relative, why would the Prefect protect him? Unless..." Jing's face turned sly. Then, as if struck by a thought, his eyes lit up.
"How about we go to him for some 'advice'? See what he did to earn the Prefect's favor, learn from it, then promotions wait for us..."
"No way!" Da poured cold water on the idea.
"With the Prefect's favor, we may even marry his daughter..." Jing lowered his voice, pressing on.
"Too risky!" Da took half a step back.
"Become a centurion!"
"Unlikely!"
"Fewer night watches..."
After a moment's struggle, Da seemed to steel himself with great resolve. "...We can try."
"Let's go, bro!"