lovenovelstory Chapter 45 The Answer on the Whetstone
Chapter 45 The Answer on the Whetstone
The north wind howled, stirring up the last dust and sand on the training ground, and also taking away Yang Yan's not-so-tall figure.
Li Mi stood frozen in place, the cold wind like a knife, cutting across his young face, piercing through his icy armor, and going straight to his bone marrow.
He was confident in his talents in both literature and martial arts, but he only lamented their misfortune and was angry at their lack of resistance within the framework of the system.
But this sixteen-year-old Prince of Changning had already stood outside the system, overlooking the cracks in the entire edifice.
As Yang Yan's figure was about to disappear around the corner of the barracks, Li Mi almost instinctively took off to chase after him.
The surge of emotion in his chest was partly due to the sense of kinship aroused by Yang Yan's insight, and partly due to the restless ambition pounding in his veins.
This Prince of Changning was unlike any other prince or nobleman he had ever met.
Is it a rare commodity to be hoarded, or a perilous path into the abyss?
Li Mi didn't have time to think it through, but his instincts told him that he absolutely could not let this figure leave alone at this moment.
"Your Highness, please wait!"
Yang Yan stopped, turned around, and looked at him calmly.
Li Mi walked quickly to his side and walked alongside him, his chest rising and falling slightly with his rapid breathing.
"Your Highness, what you just said... is truly enlightening."
Li Mi carefully considered his words, trying to transform the turbulent emotions surging within him into relatively calm language.
"The difference in training methods between the local militia and the imperial guards is indeed as Your Highness has seen, and the problems are deeply entrenched."
"The Imperial Guard's training emphasizes coordination and precise cooperation under the command of flags and drums. Its soldiers must memorize at least dozens of flag signal variations and be able to practice several battle formations within an hour. This is what is meant by 'sharpness'."
"The training of the garrison soldiers emphasizes the basics: formations, physical strength, and basic spear and shield techniques. For flag signals, they only need to obey the shouts of their respective squad leaders and platoon leaders; the goal is simply to ensure that orders are obeyed without question. This is the essence of 'power'."
Li Mi attempted to explain the significant gap in combat capabilities during the exercise from a more professional perspective.
Yang Yan listened quietly without interrupting.
His face even carried a hint of amusement, like a patient teacher listening to his disciple's insights.
But in his heart, another voice was calmly analyzing.
Do every soldier need to be proficient in flag signaling?
No.
On the battlefield of cold weapons, those who truly needed to understand flag signals were always officers at all levels.
Amidst the deafening shouts and swirling dust, the ordinary soldiers could only see the back of their squad leader in front of them and hear the hoarse roar of their platoon leader.
The so-called training differences seem to... be essentially no different.
Ultimately, it comes down to belief and attitude.
Is every drill treated as a prerequisite for survival on the battlefield, or even as a life-or-death struggle, or is it simply a matter of going through the motions?
Under Yang Yan's watchful gaze, Li Mi's voice grew softer and softer, and a thin layer of sweat even appeared on his forehead.
He felt that his proud insights into military strategy seemed so pale and superficial in the face of this young prince.
"Young Master Li, I understand what you're saying. How about... we go find a few people to chat with?"
Looking for someone?
Li Mi was taken aback, completely unable to follow the other person's train of thought. In this military compound, apart from soldiers and officers, who was worth a prince personally "chatting" with?
"Yes, let's find them!"
Yang Yan's gaze passed over the barracks ahead and landed on a small clearing in the distance, cleared by the cold wind.
There, a small group of soldiers, about a hundred in number, had gathered.
Their armor was noticeably more intact than that of the other soldiers, though it was also covered in scratches and dust, it exuded a chilling aura of someone who had been through many battles.
Unlike the other soldiers, they did not numbly disperse in formation.
Instead, they gathered in twos and threes. Some were meticulously wiping the blood grooves on their swords with a rag; others were squatting on the ground, carefully examining the worn leather buckles on the inside of their arm shields.
Their faces showed neither the relief of an exercise over nor the numbness of defeat, but rather an uncontrollable anger and resentment that seemed to burst forth from their eyes.
That aura stood in stark and glaring contrast to the muddled and confused comrades around him.
Li Mi's pupils suddenly contracted; he recognized him.
That was the only squad of soldiers from the Imperial Guards that had actually put up an effective resistance during the exercise, and had even withstood several waves of attacks from the Imperial Guards' pincer movement, causing some trouble for the "victors".
"Young Master Li, let's go." Yang Yan's voice rang out again, calm and composed. "Let's go take a look together."
"Your Highness?"
Alarm bells rang in Li Mi's mind. He couldn't understand why this prince would go out of his way to make trouble and contact this group of "troublemakers" who were clearly holding back their anger.
Yang Yan did not explain, but simply withdrew his gaze and walked straight toward the group of soldiers.
As Yang Yan approached, the group of previously lax veterans instantly became alert.
The faint smell of rust and sweat that had just settled in the air became stronger again due to the tense muscles.
They all straightened up, an instinct honed from years of teetering on the edge of life and death. Their hands gripped the hilts of their weapons almost instinctively, their eyes fixed on the richly dressed youth with hostility.
In their eyes, this fair-skinned young nobleman in a brocade robe with a qilin pattern was no different from the "grand show" that had just humiliated them.
A burly man, as imposing as a bear, with a grotesque scar running diagonally from his brow bone to the corner of his mouth, stepped forward from the crowd, like a moving iron tower, blocking Yang Yan's path.
He did not bow, but stood there with his sword drawn, his bloodshot bull-like eyes filled with arrogance and wariness.
"Military barracks, restricted area, no unauthorized personnel allowed!"
His voice was hoarse and rough, carrying a murderous aura.
Li Mi, who was following behind, suddenly changed his expression.
Although he sympathized with these soldiers, at this moment, the rigid class barriers made him react instinctively.
He immediately stepped forward, his hand on his sword, and shouted sternly, "Insolence! This is His Highness the Prince of Changning, the eldest grandson of the Emperor! How dare you be so disrespectful!"
This shout was like a thunderclap from a clear sky.
Upon hearing the words "Prince of Changning," Scarface's iron-like body visibly stiffened.
In the Sui Dynasty, imperial power was absolute.
Even with overwhelming resentment in his heart, and even with an instinctive aversion to those nobles who only sat on high platforms watching the show, his deeply ingrained sense of hierarchy still made his knees buckle in an instant.
But the arrogance in his eyes did not disappear. He just gritted his teeth and reluctantly knelt on one knee, bowing his head and clasping his hands.
"This humble servant... was unaware of Your Highness's arrival; I deserve death!"
As he moved, the hundred or so soldiers behind him also knelt down in a clatter.
The tense atmosphere was instantly crushed by the oppressive power of the emperor.
Only the cold wind continued to howl, causing the red tassels on everyone's helmets to flutter wildly.
Get up.
Yang Yan's voice was calm, without any anger at being offended, nor any condescending condescension.
He didn't even glance at the scarred captain kneeling at the front, his body covered in hard bones, and with a slight shift of his feet, he simply walked past him.
Li Mi was stunned, and so was Scarface, the squad leader.
Yang Yan walked straight to a corner of the crowd.
Sitting on the rock over there was an old soldier with slightly gray hair, clumsily polishing a nicked sword on a piece of bluestone he had picked up from somewhere.
"rustle--"
The sound of sharpening the knife was monotonous and grating.
The old soldier seemed to be a little hard of hearing, and he only realized someone was approaching when Yang Yan's pair of black boots embroidered with gold thread stopped right in front of him.
Yang Yan didn't mind the dirt, and squatted down to be at eye level with the old soldier.
"Old man, I have a question for you!"
The old soldier was so startled that his hand trembled and he almost dropped the whetstone.
"Who are you, and what do you want to ask?"
"You don't need to know who I am. Anyone on the training ground must be from the Sui Dynasty. Why didn't you follow the usual practice of collapsing at the first contact during the exercise?"
Yang Yan's gaze fell on the horizontal sword that was full of nicks and chips.
"Your Highness!"
Scarface stood up and walked to Yang Yan's side, his eyes bloodshot.
"It has nothing to do with them! It was my idea alone!"
His voice trembled, yet it carried a resolute tone: "The training on the drill ground was ordered by this humble servant! It was this humble servant who led the charge! Whether you kill me or not, I will bear the consequences alone. This old bastard is just an ordinary veteran; what does he know!"
"Why would I blame you? I was asking him a question. If you have nothing else to say, just step aside!"
He shakily raised his head and met Yang Yan's clear, black and white eyes.
There was no disdain or mockery in those eyes, only a profound depth that he couldn't understand.
Why resist?
The veteran's cloudy eyes glazed over for a moment.
He thought of the few acres of barren land in his hometown, the good luck charm his wife had sewed into the lining of his house before he left, and the old locust tree at the entrance of the village.
He was uneducated and knew nothing about national righteousness or military strategy.
All he knew was that the knife in his hand was for killing enemies, not for use as a prop on a stage.
If he can't even back down during a drill, what will he use to defend himself when the Turkic wolf cavalry actually attack? What will he use to protect his wife and children behind him?
A strange emotion made him temporarily forget his fear of imperial power.
The veteran was taken aback by Yang Yan's act of crouching down to look him in the eye. He gripped the broken knife in his hand tightly, his dim old eyes avoiding the luxurious brocade robe, staring at the ground, and muttered in his local dialect, "...a knife...a knife is for cutting people, not for gesturing."
He raised his head, his deeply lined face trembling with emotion: "This old man still has three acres of dry land and two children. Last time those Turkic bastards came, more than ten people died in the village... The officer made us wear these leather uniforms and carry these knives, so... so that's to prevent them from coming again, isn't it?"
"I chickened out during the drills, how am I supposed to face my wife and kids if I actually see wolf riders? I might as well just slit my throat now and save myself the shame!"
Yang Yan did not laugh, but his lips twitched very slightly, and a burning flame of almost pity surged in his eyes.
"Good...well said."
"A knife is for cutting people, not for gesturing. For that one sentence alone, my trip to this training ground today was worthwhile."
He surveyed the hundred or so men kneeling on the ground, their clothes tattered and their equipment broken, his gaze sharp as if he wanted to etch these humble faces deeply into the fabric of that collapsing, prosperous era.
This is the cornerstone of the Sui Dynasty.
This is the "peasant" who was treated like dirt by the imperial court, used as a backdrop by the powerful and wealthy, and whose name was not even worthy of being recorded in history books.
But ironically, this last backbone was actually attached to them!
The Imperial Guards, clad in gleaming armor and fed by the emperor, were conducting drills; while the local soldiers, who carried their own rations and whose lives were practically worthless, were desperately trying to prove themselves as soldiers!
How ironic! How absurd!
Looking at Yang Yan's back, Li Mi felt that the aura emanating from this Prince of Changning was so intense that he dared not look directly at him.
"Li Mi, did you hear that? This is what a Sui Dynasty soldier should look like!"