The Great Song Dynasty's Soul-Forging in Progress

Duan Gong's team remained silent, heads bowed. Du Ziteng, usually lively and humorous, was speechless. Lü Maoyi's team arrived second, but all members were present; Du Ziteng's team arrived last, yet not a single person had fallen behind.

"Today's winners—Du Ziteng's team! Each member will receive half a jin of meat and a jar of wine!"

Wang Zhonghua's gaze swept over the crowd. "Remember! Our team doesn't need lone wolves, we need a pack! One person being strong isn't true strength; a strong team is what truly matters! Our motto is—Never abandon, never give up!"

Wow, at that moment Wang Zhonghua seemed to feel like he had become "Shagen'er", "Xu Sanduo", or "Wang Baoqiang".

As night fell, the aroma of meat brought by Zhao Shun and his men wafted across the training ground. The winning team sat around celebrating, while the other two teams could only gnaw on dry biscuits. But no one complained—everyone understood that here, sharing honor and disgrace was not just empty words.

Looking at this group of transformed young men, Qin Tiedan couldn't help but grin: "Brothers, that was ruthless!"

Wang Zhonghua gazed at the starry sky and whispered, "Fighting tigers is like fighting brothers... If we don't push them to the brink, if we don't train them to be like brothers, to be united as one, how will we know who can be trusted to turn their backs on us?"

In the distance, several team members who ranked at the bottom in the assessment were practicing extra on their own. The torches by the training ground cast their shadows long and long, like a grove of bamboo growing wildly.

Wang Zhonghua visited the Da Wanshou Temple multiple times to pay respects to Master Huiming. Upon hearing that the village protection team was there to safeguard the territory and protect the people from thieves, Master Huiming readily agreed and sent a martial monk skilled in Luohan Fist and staff techniques to descend the mountain every few days to instruct the village guards in practical combat skills for physical fitness and self-defense. This prevented the training from going astray and made the village protection team's existence more legitimate.

But Wang Zhonghua always felt that someone was watching him from the shadows, and that dangerous aura seemed to have never left him, even when he was with Master Huiming.

The Wang family's life was normal: Yao was still as hardworking as ever, and Wang Zhuacai was still as diligent as ever. No matter how Zhao Shun and his wife tried to persuade them, they were unwilling to be idle, as if working a little could lighten Wang Zhonghua's burden.

Wang Xiangjun reads books every day, while Wang Zhuacai seems to be busy running around the village more.

The training for the manor protection team was arduous, but the food and pay were extremely generous. Wang Zhonghua knew the principle that "the emperor will not starve his soldiers," so he specially allocated a portion of the profits from the liquor business to subsidize the manor protection team's food, ensuring that everyone could have meat every day.

The word "meat" carries immense weight for these peasant children.

Although the Song Dynasty enjoyed a long period of peace and the people were relatively settled, life remained difficult for the lower-class farmers. In Wangjiagang and surrounding villages like Laomentan, Huluwan, Longshenggou, and Hedukou, most houses were made of mud bricks and thatched roofs, leaking in summer and letting in drafts in winter. Throughout the year, their meals consisted mostly of thin porridge made from coarse rice and wild vegetable buns. Only during festivals could they afford to cut a few slices of cured meat, which they would then repeatedly rinse in the oil. Salt was coarse, unrefined, and sugar was a rare commodity, used only when someone was seriously ill or during postpartum confinement. Their clothes were tattered, patched upon patched; in winter, a worn-out coat stuffed with reeds was the family's most presentable item of warmth. Many people never wore a complete pair of shoes in their entire lives; the calluses on their soles were so thick they could crush pebbles.

Even in better years, after paying rent and saving seeds, the remaining grain was barely enough to feed themselves. When floods, droughts, or locust plagues struck, many sold their children or went begging. Meat? That was a taste they dared only dream of. Occasionally catching a small fish in the ditch, or being lucky enough to catch a wild rabbit, was a tremendous stroke of luck, something the whole family would talk about for months.

Therefore, when the young men of the village protection team finished their morning drills and received a bowl of thick millet rice that could hold chopsticks upright, along with a few slices of oily fatty meat or a rich broth made from large bones, and a palm-sized, sesame-sprinkled steamed bun to fill their stomachs in the evening, the shock and gratitude they felt were ingrained in their very bones. Not to mention the substantial monthly stipend in copper coins that they could bring home, making their parents proud and ensuring their younger siblings went hungry a little less.

This isn't some kind of hardship or training; it's like falling into a paradise! It's Young Master Wang who gave them a way to survive and a future!

So when Wang Zhonghua announced the "last-place elimination," when Qin Tiedan's stick struck them, when they were crawling and rolling in the mud, exhausted to the point of almost vomiting blood, no one really complained. They all harbored a burning desire: their ailing parents were waiting for money for medicine, their frail younger siblings were eagerly anticipating the steamed buns their brother would bring home, and there was the girl from the neighboring village who had hesitated to propose marriage because of their family's poverty…

All of this depends on their position in the village protection team.

They practiced with all their might, not only to avoid being dismissed, but also to be worthy of the meat in their bowls, the wages they carried, and the "human dignity" that Young Master Wang had given them. They wanted to use their skills to protect this hard-won food and clothing, and also to protect the meager but real hope for themselves and their families.

This is the true boiling blood and silent oath beneath the seemingly rough bodies of the "Protecting the Manor Team" when it was first formed.

In just one month, a 60-man protection team had taken shape. Although far from being elite, they were well-organized, had sharp eyes, and already displayed a certain fierceness in their movements. Duan Gong's archery team and Lü Maoyi's reconnaissance team had also been initially established.

That day, Wang Zhonghua and Qin Tiedan stood by the training field, watching their teammates sweating profusely. Qin Tiedan grinned and said, "Brother, seeing them makes me feel at ease! Let's see who dares to cause trouble at our distillery and granary again!"

Wang Zhonghua nodded, but his gaze drifted to the distant, undulating mountains. He said in a deep voice, "Brother Tiedan, this is just the beginning. The village protection team will not only be able to protect the village, but may also face even more dangerous situations in the future. Discipline and loyalty are more important than individual bravery. You must lead them well; these sixty men may become our foundation in the future."

Qin Tiedan's smile faded, and he nodded solemnly, "I understand! Don't worry, with me here, this team won't fall into chaos!"

The setting sun cast long shadows of the boys across the training field. Sweat and dust mingled, and beneath this seemingly peaceful time, the wings of these fledgling eagles were quietly growing stronger. Wang Zhonghua knew that with initial financial resources, unique products, and this burgeoning armed force, he had truly secured his first foothold in the Great Song Dynasty.

However, he was even more aware of the saying, "A common man is innocent, but possessing a treasure is a crime." The enormous profits of "Drunken Eight Immortals" were enough to make many people envious, and even enough to tempt evildoers to take risks. An even bigger storm might be just around the corner.

The last cold rain of late autumn began to fall in the afternoon, and by midnight it had turned into a torrential downpour. The rain was not dripping, but pouring down like a burst dam, crashing against the tiles, stone slabs and surface of Hulu Bay, creating a deafening roar.

The world seemed to be reduced to a single color—ink-black. Thick, dark clouds completely swallowed the starlight and moonlight, extinguishing even the scattered lights of the villages across the river. The wind, carrying icy rain, howled and swept through the Daying River valley, causing the willow groves of Hulu Bay to grove with eerie wails. The river surged and roared in the darkness, its turbid waves crashing against the banks, the sound like the silent sobs of countless wronged souls.

The newly built "Eight Immortals' Drunkenness" distillery resembles a solitary island in a vast, black ocean. Its treacherous terrain, surrounded by water on three sides, becomes an isolated haven on this stormy night. The lights of the distillery's lamps are blurred and distorted in the thick rain, appearing from afar like will-o'-the-wisps flickering among desolate graves rather than signs of human habitation.

"Damn, this is weird..." Du Ziteng, the captain of the third squad of the manor protection team, tightened his already soaked raincoat. The icy rainwater kept flowing down the edge of the straw hat and into his neck, making him shiver. He had just turned eighteen this year and had been promoted to captain thanks to his cleverness and diligence, but at this moment, an inexplicable unease was coiling around his heart like a venomous snake. He blinked hard into his rain-blurred eyes, trying to see through the bottomless darkness beyond the wall, but he only felt that the darkness was alive, silently approaching the distillery.

"Everyone, be on your guard!" He lowered his voice, which sounded weak and hoarse in the wind and rain. "This damn weather, you can't see a soul in the water or on the road. Something's really wrong!"