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墨書 Inktalez
As the other Hundred-Man Teams began to rest, John organized his three hundred men to practice their thrusts. The spear was used in just a few motions: with his left hand supporting the shaft and his right hand guiding it, he stepped forward, pushing the spear ahead. "I’m telling you, the most important practice is with the spear. I don’t care what the other teams are doing; from today on, each of you will practice three hundred spear thrusts every night!"
John had no intention of turning these men into martial arts masters or even competent spearmen. He only wanted them to learn the President's thrust, aiming to replicate the phalanx formation, much like the Macedonian phalanx. Regardless of how that formation was described in his past life, John believed he could recreate it. The cost of spears was low and they were easy to handle; if they didn’t have enough iron spears, they could use bamboo ones instead. After all, they couldn’t just charge in recklessly.
With their professional characteristics, the Militia showed a high level of execution and were actively training. Meanwhile, no one from the other teams imitated them; in private, they mocked John. "What kind of training does the Militia have? They just need to learn to pick up weapons and follow orders to charge."
"Foolishness! I thought he was smart at first, but now I see he’s just Zhu Wo."
"You don’t know? I heard from Lai Gen of the Gray Bear Mercenary Corps that guy used to be a serf."
The mocking voices continued, but John paid them no mind. What did it matter what outsiders said? Back when he was working, his boss shouted about hard work every day, and he didn’t take that seriously either.
"Charge! Keep the formation steady! Rear guard prepare to throw spears!"
"Left flank, Johnny, lead your squad forward!"
John stood at the back of the line against the wind. As a commander, it wasn’t about rushing forward recklessly; it was about controlling the entire team from behind.
Charging at the front, Redman cleaved through a Beast Soldier with his sword, feeling as though he had been shot in the back by an arrow—someone was undermining him. The team continued to charge through the village while other Hundred-Man Teams scattered. Only John’s soldiers pressed forward alongside Redman.
The further they pushed in, the narrower the path became. John’s instincts began to sense something was off; it felt like a warning of an ambush. "Young master, don’t rush ahead! Something’s wrong!"
Caught up in the excitement of battle, Redman shot John a displeased look as if saying that a mere cook had no right to command him, a noble.
Ignoring Redman’s discontent, John’s instincts as a cook alerted him that something around them smelled wrong—like cooking oil. "Quickly retreat! This place has been doused in oil!"
"What nonsense! Oil has been spilled? Retreat!" Realizing what was happening, Redman was the first to bolt away. His knightly physique showcased its full potential as John could only watch him disappear into the distance.
"How can he run so fast! Professional Skills—Swift As The Wind!"
A gentle breeze propelled John and all his soldiers forward, instantly doubling their speed. Within just a few minutes, they left the other Hundred-Man Team soldiers far behind.
Seeing Redman and John retreat, the mastermind quickly signaled the hidden soldiers to set fire. The rapeseed oil ignited, sending thick smoke swirling towards the thatched cottages by the roadside. The north wind howled as it carried away the burning rooftops, and the flames spread rapidly.
In the alley, soldiers who couldn’t escape in time were engulfed by the flames, their bodies ignited. The aroma of rapeseed oil mingled with the scent of burning flesh, wafting through the air and into the nostrils of all who were still alive.
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