Yu Jin stood beneath the pale light of early dawn, arms crossed, watching as his recruits dragged themselves into line. The dirt beneath their boots was packed and darkened with sweat, and still, it would not rest today.
Four bodies. One purpose. They were not soldiers. Not yet.
But they would learn to follow.
He knew better than to expect miracles. Training men to fight took months, years even. But Yu Jin didn't need them to win battles today. He needed them to obey. To move when told, to swing when ordered, and to stand when every part of them screamed to fall.
That much, at least, he could beat into them.
"Laps," he barked.
They moved. Limping, groaning, but moving.
March 5th, 180 CE – 5:02 AM
The days bled together. Morning light meant sweat. Noon brought exhaustion. And by nightfall, discipline was the only thing keeping their legs from folding.
The first two days, they complained.
By the third, they just ran.
Yu Jin never raised his voice. He didn't need to. Every time they fell behind, his wooden spear cracked against their calves. Every time a stance dipped too low, he shoved them into the mud and made them start again. The spear wasn't a weapon—it was punctuation.
Shield drills followed. Wooden boards strapped to aching arms, they bashed, blocked, and buckled under weight they never knew could be so heavy.
Yue Jin watched silently most of the time, training nearby, sword in hand, mouth pressed into a line. When one of the recruits vomited during the run, Yue Jin caught him by the back of his shirt and threw him back into formation.
"Don't waste his time," he growled. "You can puke later."
March 6th, 180 CE – 6:43 PM
[Commander's Voice: 7.2%]
[Leadership increased: 33 → 34]
Yu Jin barely blinked at the prompt. Progress was expected.
By the fifth day, they stopped asking if the training would end.
By the seventh, they stood straighter. Not by much. But enough to notice.
He worked them through form after form—sword swings, blocks, group footwork. He called them out by number, not name. He didn't care if they liked him. They just had to learn.
And every night, as their bodies collapsed into rest, Yu Jin faced Yue Jin across the empty training ground.
Neither spoke. They just raised their weapons.
Their duels had become ritual. A way to measure growth—not in words, but in bruises and timing.
Yu Jin's strikes grew crisper. His reach more fluid. His defense no longer reacted—it predicted. He parried before Yue Jin's shoulder even tensed.
March 8th, 180 CE – 8:17 PM
[Spearmanship Mastery: 38.9%]
[Strength increased: 48 → 49]
One night, Yue Jin landed a hit. Not a graze—a real, square strike to Yu Jin's ribs.
Yu Jin smiled.
"Finally."
Yue Jin grinned back, panting. "About time you noticed."
The next night, Yu Jin swept him flat in three moves.
Balance restored.
March 10th, 180 CE – 4:58 AM
The recruits stood in formation. Dirt-caked, muscles trembling, eyes sunken.
But they stood.
Yu Jin walked the line. No insults. No jabs. Just eyes. Judging.
They met his gaze now. They didn't flinch.
He looked to Yue Jin, who gave the smallest nod.
Yu Jin turned back to the four.
"Tomorrow, we march."
One of them, the tallest, swallowed. "Where to?"
Yu Jin looked toward the east, where the slums of Jingpeng lay tangled like a nest of knives.
"Into the pit we dragged you from."
His voice was steel.
"We'll clean Jingpeng one gutter at a time."
And none of the recruits said a word.
Not because they believed in him.
But because fear still gripped their backs like iron.
---
March 11th, 180 CE – 5:00 AM
Yu Jin stood waiting like always, motionless in the mist of another cold dawn. But today was different. This day marked his first battle in this second life—a chance to test the strength he had cultivated through blood, grit, and relentless will.
Yue Jin arrived as always, marching the recruits behind him. They looked more like men now—battered, stiff, but hardened. Their training swords and shields, worn smooth at the edges, were handed out without ceremony.
Yu Jin paced down the line. Posture off. A shoulder too low. A grip too loose. He adjusted each with a silent hand, not a blow. Today wasn't about punishment.
Today was a test.
Satisfied, he gave a nod. "Follow."
Yu Jin led from the front. Behind him, Yue Jin kept the recruits moving. Their five-man file moved toward the slums like a blade sliding into flesh.
Their target was a gang notorious in the underbelly of Jingpeng, especially vile in their dealings. They preyed not on traders or travelers—but on orphans.
The gang leader was known as Meng Shun, a squat, scar-faced man with a voice like gravel and a cruelty matched only by his greed. He held sway over eight lieutenants, each one in charge of a clutch of street urchins who scoured the commandery from dawn till dusk, stealing whatever they could. Coins, tools, clothes—anything not nailed down.
The children brought their takings to their "team leader," and in return, received just enough for a crust of bread. Those who didn't steal enough went without. And those who ran?
Yu Jin had seen what happened to runaways.
Today, the reckoning would begin.
They arrived just outside the narrow alley Meng Shun was known to frequent — a filthy vein that fed into the worst parts of the slums. Trash and old rot lined the walls. The smell hit like a slap.
Yu Jin halted and turned to face his squad.
"Listen. This alley is your line. You will form a wall with your shields — shoulder to shoulder. No one gets in. No one gets out."
The recruits nodded, nervously gripping their weapons.
Yu Jin stepped forward and pointed to Yue Jin. "You're with me."
Then, to the rest: "If anyone makes a move to run or strike, you put them down. This is not a drill. If a single one of you gets hit by these rats — after all the pain I've put you through — your training will increase tenfold."
They straightened.
Yu Jin's eyes narrowed. "No mercy."
He and Yue Jin stepped forward into the alley.
And the hunt began.