Chapter 79 The patrol battalion won't lend me any men? I'll recruit my own down-on-his-luck old soldiers!

Just after dawn, Lin Chen took Zhou Tie and Zhao Gang out from the side gate of the East Courtyard.

The three walked east along the back street of Chengen Ward, their boot soles treading on the damp stone slabs. The morning mist had not yet fully dispersed, retreating into the depths of the alleys in clumps along the ground.

Zhao Gang followed at the very back, clutching half a dry biscuit he hadn't finished gnawing on, stuffing it into his mouth as he walked.

"Centurion, where are we going?"

Lin Chen's pace was not fast, his right hand resting on the mouth of black abyss's scabbard.

"The City Defense Battalion."

The dry biscuit in Zhao Gang's mouth almost choked his windpipe.

"City Defense Battalion? Why go there?"

Lin Chen didn't answer him, turning a corner toward the east.

The gates of the City Defense Battalion were located near the outer city wall in the east. An old flag hung from the thirty-foot-high gate tower, its corners flapping loudly in the wind.

A row of iron spearmen stood on each side of the gate tower, fully armored, their spear tips glinting coldly in the morning light.

Lin Chen walked to the gates and took out his Hundred-Household waist token, handing it over.

The duty lieutenant took the token, flipped it over to check the back, and scanned Lin Chen from head to toe.

"A Hundred-Household from the Patrol Division?"

"Seventh-rank Hundred-Household Lin Chen, seeking an audience with Commander Liu Kun to discuss official business."

The lieutenant returned the token to him, his face squeezing out a lukewarm expression.

"Wait here, I'll go inside to report."

He turned and walked inside the gates, his iron armor plates clinking together as he gradually moved further away.

Zhao Gang finished swallowing the dry biscuit, wiped his mouth, and leaned closer to Lin Chen.

"Centurion, will the City Defense Battalion people actually lend us men?"

Lin Chen didn't respond, his gaze fixed on the spirit wall inside the gates. Behind the wall, a corner of the drill grounds was faintly visible, where several rows of soldiers were training, their rhythmic shouts echoing out muffledly.

Zhou Tie stood half a step to Lin Chen's right, hands behind his back, his expression cold and hard, saying nothing.

They waited for a full incense stick's time.

The sound of footsteps echoed from within the gates again. The lieutenant rounded the spirit wall, his pace two beats slower than before, an apologetic look on his face that seemed well-rehearsed.

"Centurion Lin, I am truly sorry."

He cupped his hands, the politeness in his tone measured perfectly, as if squeezed out of his throat by the inch.

"The Commander went out on patrol early this morning, and his return date is uncertain. Please come back another day, Centurion Lin."

Zhao Gang's neck thickened as he listened from the side, his lips twitching as he was about to speak.

Lin Chen glanced sideways at him.

Just one glance.

Zhao Gang's mouth snapped shut, his cheeks bulging twice as he forced himself to swallow his anger.

Lin Chen took back his waist token, hung it back at his waist, and returned the salute.

"Thank you for your trouble."

The three turned and left the gates, the sound of their boots on the official road steady and unhurried.

After walking a hundred paces, Zhou Tie spoke up from the right in a very low voice.

"The City Defense Battalion Commander is surnamed Liu, specifically County Lieutenant Liu Kun."

He glanced toward the gates and immediately retracted his gaze.

"His wife is a cousin from the Wang Family's Second Branch, maiden name Zhou. Before marrying into the Liu family, she managed the accounts for the Wang Family Second Branch's silk shop for two years."

Lin Chen's thumb rubbed half a circle on the scabbard's mouth, but he did not speak.

Zhou Tie continued, his speaking speed very slow.

"Last month, for the Wang Family Second Branch Master's fiftieth birthday, they held a three-day banquet. Commander County Lieutenant Liu Kun sat at the third table, ranked just behind the Chief Administrator and the Education Commissioner of the Governors Mansion."

Zhao Gang grimaced as he listened from behind.

"The third table? Is this Commander County Lieutenant Liu Kun a son-in-law to the Wang family or their lapdog?"

Lin Chen ignored him, his steps turning a corner as he headed toward the south of the city.

"To the Garrison Division."

Zhao Gang swallowed the rest of his grumbling and followed obediently.

The Garrison Division's office was located in the southwest of the city, smaller in scale than the City Defense Battalion. At the entrance were only two lazy-looking duty soldiers, their armor worn crookedly.

Lin Chen showed his waist token and explained his purpose.

The duty soldier went inside to report.

This time, they didn't even wait for an incense stick's time.

A window of the Garrison Division's duty room was pushed open halfway from the inside. A round, fat face peeked out from behind the window, with a few grains of rice stuck to his chin, still chewing something.

"Which Hundred-Household? From the Patrol Division?"

The round face glanced out the window, not even bothering to see Lin Chen's face clearly.

"Our staffing is tight, no one can be transferred!"

The window slammed shut, followed by the clatter of bowls and chopsticks hitting the table and a muffled mumble from inside.

Zhao Gang couldn't hold it in this time.

"Motherfucker!"

He took a step toward the Garrison Division's main gate, his face flushed red.

"A Junior Seventh-rank registrar dares to speak to a Seventh-rank Hundred-Household like that? Who does he think he is!"

Lin Chen reached out and patted his shoulder. The force wasn't great, but Zhao Gang stopped immediately.

Lin Chen said nothing.

He turned and walked back, the expression on his face no different from when they had left that morning.

Zhao Gang followed behind, simmering with rage, his face turning from red to white and back again. Finally, he let out a long breath of foul air and cursed a few unintelligible profanities under his breath.

The three walked toward the north of the city, passing through two ward gates. The scenery on the streets became increasingly dilapidated.

The white plaster on the walls was peeling off in patches, revealing the grayish-black mud bricks beneath. Dirty water flowed through the ditches, stagnant for days, giving off a pungent smell.

This was the outer edge of the slums.

The alley walls were covered with all sorts of notices—job advertisements, missing persons, selling oneself to bury a father—cluttering the wall in a colorful mess.

As Lin Chen walked, he came to a stop.

He gazed at a notice at the very bottom of the alley wall.

The notice was pasted crookedly, its surface covered in mud spots, and the bottom right corner had been stepped on, leaving a clear footprint.

Rows of ink characters were written on the semi-old yellow paper. Some parts had been blurred by rain, but most were still legible.

"Former Seventh Patrol Squad. Disbanded immediately due to dereliction of duty. All thirty-seven soldiers dismissed on the spot. Never to be rehired."

The signature was dated two years ago, stamped with two official seals—one from the Patrol Division and one from the City Defense Battalion.

Lin Chen crouched down, carefully peeled the notice off the wall, shook off the mud spots, and spread it out in his hands to examine it closely.

Zhou Tie walked to his side, glanced down at the contents of the notice, and a muscle in his cheek twitched.

Lin Chen looked up at him.

"What's the story with this squad?"

Zhou Tie remained silent for several breaths, weighing how to speak.

In the end, he spoke anyway, his voice a notch lower than usual and his pace very slow.

"It happened two years ago."

He lowered his hands from behind his back, clasping them in front of him.

"The Seventh Patrol Squad was on night patrol in the west of the city and intercepted a batch of suspicious goods. The convoy flew the flag of an ordinary merchant house, but the contents were wrong—there were Cultivate Materials, Banned Drugs, and several crates of weapons of unknown origin."

He paused for a beat and swallowed hard.

"The captain was named Chen Tiezhu. He was a stubborn one, a soldier for over a decade who only recognized military orders, not people."

"He led his men to trace the source of the goods and found they had come from a warehouse under the Wang Family's name."

Lin Chen pressed his thumb over the positions of the two official seals on the notice, saying nothing.

Zhou Tie continued.

"Chen Tiezhu led his men to search that warehouse overnight and found quite a few things."

His voice grew even deeper.

"The next day, the Patrol Division and the City Defense Battalion jointly issued an order."

He tilted his head, looking at the yellowed notice in Lin Chen's hand.

"It said the Seventh Squad had committed dereliction of duty, forged evidence, and intentionally framed a legitimate merchant."

"All thirty-seven men were stripped of their official status, kicked out of the military camp, and never to be rehired."

Zhao Gang, listening from the side, clenched his fists until they cracked.

"And the things found in that warehouse?"

Zhou Tie glanced at him.

"What things? By the time the order came down, the warehouse had already been cleared out overnight. It was clean inside, not even a blade of grass left."

He turned his gaze back toward Lin Chen.

"Chen Tiezhu wouldn't accept it. He blocked the Patrol Division's entrance demanding an explanation, so the City Defense Battalion sent eight men to drag him into an alley and beat him."

He paused on this sentence.

"His left arm was brutally broken, considered the price for resisting enforcement."

The alley fell silent for two breaths.

The wind blew in from the mouth of the alley, making the corners of other notices on the wall rustle loudly.

Lin Chen folded the notice and tucked it into his robe.

He stood up and patted the dust off his knees.

"Where are the men now?"

Zhou Tie answered quickly, having already expected Lin Chen to ask this.

"Most are drifting through the slums in the west and north of the city. Some serve as guards for private manors, others are bouncers in the black market."

He paused for a moment.

"A few have simply vanished. No one knows if they're dead or if they ran away."

Lin Chen's hand returned to the mouth of black abyss's scabbard, his thumb rubbing half a circle.

"And Chen Tiezhu?"

"He should still be in this northern city area. Since being kicked out of the military two years ago, he's been living in the slums. He hasn't left."

Zhou Tie looked into Lin Chen's eyes.

"Supposedly, he's been waiting for an explanation."

Lin Chen changed direction and began walking deep into the northern city slums.

Zhao Gang followed closely for two steps, blurted out a sentence.

"Centurion, are you thinking of recruiting this lot?"

Lin Chen didn't look back.

"Asking for directions."

The three walked through the slums for over an hour, asking over a dozen people.

Some shook their heads saying they didn't know, while others changed expression the moment they heard the words 'Seventh Patrol Squad' and backed away, waving their hands.

Finally, an old man selling sesame cakes pointed them in a direction.

"Walk north to the end. There's a ruined temple with half a collapsed roof; they're huddling in there."

The ruined temple was at the end of a dead-end alley in the deepest part of the slums.

Half the roof had collapsed, revealing the dark rafters and moldy beams within. Most of the plaster had fallen off the walls, and the gaps in the courtyard wall were overgrown with waist-high weeds.

A rhythmic rasping sound came from the backyard, like an object being rubbed back and forth against stone.

Lin Chen rounded the gap in the courtyard wall and walked in.

A thin, dark middle-aged man was crouching by the base of the wall. His right hand held an old blade with two notches in it, pressing it against a coarse whetting stone, pushing it back and forth.

The sleeve of his left arm was empty, tucked into his belt, swaying slightly with the movement of his body.

He looked to be in his early forties, with high cheekbones and skin stretched so tight it was as if all his flesh had been boiled away, leaving only a layer of skin wrapped over bone.

The sound of sharpening stopped.

Chen Tiezhu looked up, his gaze sweeping over the uniform collar at Lin Chen's chest, then over black abyss at his waist, and finally his face.

His gaze was like someone had poured cold water over it, instantly dimming.

Immediately following that, an emotion surged up, causing the muscles of his entire face to tighten.

"Patrol Division?"

His voice was hoarse, his words heavy, as if each syllable had to be crushed between his teeth before being spat out.

"What are you here for? To step on us again?"

Lin Chen did not stand over him while speaking.

He crouched down opposite Chen Tiezhu, with less than three feet between them and the whetting stone in the middle.

He pulled the folded notice from his robe, spread it out, and placed it on the ground directly facing Chen Tiezhu.

"I'm not here to step on anyone."

Lin Chen's finger lightly tapped the positions of the two official seals on the notice.

"I'm here to recruit."

Chen Tiezhu twitched his lips, forcing out a laugh.

The laugh was as dry as sandpaper on iron, grating to the ears.

"Recruit us?"

He thrust the notched blade into the base of the wall, the tip piercing into a brick crevice with a muffled thud.

"A bunch of trash sold out by our own people—who would want us?"

His right hand clenched on his knee, his knuckles covered in calluses from years of sharpening blades.

"Do you even know who we are?"

Lin Chen looked into his eyes.

"Seventh Patrol Squad, Captain Chen Tiezhu. Two years ago, while on night patrol in the west city, you intercepted Wang Family smuggling goods and traced them to a Wang Family warehouse. The next day, the entire squad was disbanded for dereliction of duty."

A look of shock erupted in Chen Tiezhu's eyes.

Lin Chen did not stop.

"The real reason you were disbanded was because you found the Wang Family's smuggling line in the west city warehouse. It had nothing to do with dereliction of duty."

The whetting stone slipped from beside Chen Tiezhu's knee, rolling to the base of the wall with a clink.

His entire body became as still as a statue, his right hand still maintaining the posture of clutching his knee, the veins on the back of his hand bulging one by one.

He stared at Lin Chen's face, his voice becoming gravelly.

"How do you know that?"

Lin Chen did not explain his source.

He refolded the notice on the ground, stood up, and patted the dust off his knees.

"Work for me."

He tucked the folded notice back into his robe, gazing at Chen Tiezhu's empty left sleeve.

"The debt for your framing—I will help you reclaim it."

Chen Tiezhu remained crouched, looking up at the young man standing before him.

The expressions on his face shifted several times, from anger to hesitation, from hesitation to struggle, finally settling on something indefinable.

"You, a Hundred-Household of the Patrol Division, saying such things."

His volume was tiny, as if asking Lin Chen, yet also asking himself.

"Can you withstand the Wang Family?"

Lin Chen's thumb rubbed the mouth of black abyss's scabbard. The rasping sound of his thumb pad against the stingray skin grain carried far in the silence of the ruined temple's backyard.

He did not make grand boasts.

"Try it."

The two words landed on the ground, light and unassuming.

But Chen Tiezhu heard them clearly.

He stared at Lin Chen for a long time, so long that Zhao Gang could barely keep still beside them.

Then he bent over and pulled the notched blade out from the brick crevice.

He stood up, rising much taller than when he was crouching. Though he was skin and bones, his back was held ramrod straight.

He turned around, facing the dark doorway of the ruined temple, drawing two years of humiliation and two years of waiting into his chest.

Then he let out a roar.

"Everyone, get the hell out here!"

A chaotic commotion erupted inside the ruined temple, mixed with the sound of tables and chairs moving, heavy footsteps, and the clatter of weapons hitting the ground.

In the darkness, pair after pair of eyes lit up.

Figures walked out from the corners of the temple—some from the side halls, some from the rear hall, some rounding the collapsed pillars.

Tall and short, fat and thin, dressed in tattered clothes. Some were barefoot, and some wore cloth shirts with patch upon patch.

But as each person stepped out, their backs were straight.

Zhao Gang was dumbstruck, not even noticing the biscuit crumbs falling from his mouth.

Twenty-three men stood in two uneven rows in the open space of the temple's front courtyard.

No one spoke. Everyone stared in unison at Lin Chen with vigilance, with appraisal, and also with something that had been suppressed at the very bottom of their hearts.

Chen Tiezhu turned his head to look at Lin Chen, his empty sleeve swaying twice in the wind.

His voice turned hoarse for a moment.

"Thirty-seven brothers. Four left, six died, and four more can't be found."

He gripped the notched blade with his only remaining right hand, the hemp rope wrapped around the hilt already frayed and worn.

"The remaining twenty-three are all here."

He paused for a beat, swallowed, and his voice sank.

"For two years, we've been waiting every day for an explanation."

That evening.

Lin Chen led the twenty-three men through the gate of the East Courtyard.

Zhou Tie stood at the entrance.

Holding the register in his hand, he counted them one by one. His brow twitched when he reached the fifteenth, and by the time he reached the last one, he showed a satisfied expression.

Zhao Gang leaned against the courtyard wall, counting on his fingers until the twenty-third man entered, then grinned.

Shen Yue stood beneath the old locust tree, hand on her sword hilt, watching this group of ragged but straight-backed former soldiers file into the courtyard.

Her fingers on the hilt loosened then tightened, tightened then loosened.

Zhou Tie closed the register and walked to Lin Chen's side.

"Including the original eight, the current total is thirty-one."

Lin Chen stood in the center of the courtyard, watching as these twenty-three men formed two rows under Zhou Tie's command.

Their clothes were very ragged, their shoes very old, and the weapons in some of their hands had notched or curled edges.

But the spacing of the formation and the distance between each man were perfectly uniform.

Two years without wearing armor, two years without training, yet the stance they held was still the stance of soldiers.

Chen Tiezhu stood at the very front of the formation, the empty sleeve of his severed arm casting a long shadow in the lingering light of the sunset.

Lin Chen's gaze swept across these twenty-three faces one by one.

Finally, his gaze passed over their heads, directed toward the distance far beyond the courtyard walls.