In this realistic war game, only I understand the course of the battle.

Before dawn, the sound of the clapper signaling roll call broke through the thin mist of the camp.

Shen Du had already prepared his training weapons and stood at the edge of the training ground.

There was a row of eleven people standing opposite.

In the morning, Zhou Baihu gave Shen Du a brief introduction to the basic situation of the Third Squad. The casualties after the great battle were heavy, and most of them were defeated soldiers and new recruits.

The tallest one was as thin as a bamboo pole, his armor hanging precariously on his body. The shortest one was barely a teenager, the fear still etched on his face.

There was also an old soldier named Zhao Laoliu who kept looking Shen Du up and down with his cloudy eyes, his gaze filled with undisguised scrutiny.

"From today onwards, I will be your junior officer, Li Jingzhong." Shen Du's voice was calm.

No one answered.

Only the old soldier coughed once, turned his head, and spat.

Shen Du didn't say much, but divided the eleven people into three groups: four in front, four in back, and three in the middle.

"Four in the front row." Shen Du walked to the front of the line and pointed to four of the most robust old soldiers, including Zhao Laoliu. "Equipped with twelve-foot spears, a waist knife, and a small round shield strapped to their left arm."

Old Zhao asked sarcastically, "Master Li, a spear requires both hands to wield. How can I use it with a shield strapped to my left arm?"

"Who told you that you can't use a gun if you have a shield on?" Shen Du took a small round shield from the weapon rack and put it on Zhao Laoliu's left arm.

The shield wasn't big; it just covered half of the arm from the shoulder to the elbow.

Shen Du then shoved another spear into Zhao Laoliu's hands. "When you hold the spear with both hands, your left arm will naturally be in front, and the shield will protect your head and chest. You don't need to dodge when arrows come at you; the shield will block them for you."

Shen Du then pointed out four more people. "Four in the back row. Equipped with extra-long spears, each carrying a waist knife. Your spears are two feet longer than those in the front row, extending out from the gaps between them. When the enemy charges, the first thing they'll bump into is the tip of your spears."

Four soldiers in the back row took the extra-long rifles and compared their lengths; the rifles were almost half a head taller than them.

Shen Du finally looked at the remaining three people. Two were lean and wiry, and one was a teenager. "You three, stand in the middle. Take a bow, a waist knife, a mace, and a throwing axe stuck in the ground in front of you."

The boy looked somewhat bewildered. "Master Li, what's a 'bud'?"

"Little iron hammer." Shen Du took a mace from the weapon rack and waved it in front of him.

The wooden handle is less than two feet long, with a fist-sized iron lump at the top, with a raised ridge cast around it.

"The Southern Army's cotton and chainmail armor is impenetrable to swords; this stuff can shatter bones even through the armor."

"Did you all understand?" Shen Du's gaze swept across the faces of the ten people.

Before the other soldiers could answer, one person spoke up first.

"You know nothing!" A dark-faced man standing in the back row slammed his spear on the ground. "On the battlefield, you need real skills! What's with all this talk about front row, back row, and middle? What kind of bullshit is that! I don't think you understand anything yourself, so what right do you have to order us around?"

Shen Du looked at him. This man was called Zhang Heng. He wasn't tall, but he had broad shoulders and a thick back, and his eyes gleamed with a fierce light.

Zhao Laoliu is a seasoned veteran with a smooth exterior, while Zhang Heng is a complete troublemaker. Relying on his experience in several tough battles, he is unruly and even dares to be late for roll call on his first day.

"Because I'm a junior officer." Shen Du's voice was still not loud.

Zhang Heng sneered and threw his spear to the ground. "A mere flag? A flag is nothing! I killed three in the Baigou River, how many did you kill?"

The atmosphere in the ranks suddenly became tense. Several other soldiers' hands, gripping their spears, trembled, and they instinctively took a half-step back.

Zhao Laoliu squinted, remaining silent, as if watching a play.

Shen Du didn't look at Zhang Heng. He turned around and walked towards the old locust tree by the training ground.

Everyone thought Shen Du was going to flee in panic to complain to the centurion.

A smug smile crept across Zhang Heng's face as he thought to himself, "This young officer seems to be a good-for-nothing who got his position through connections."

Shen Du calmly broke off a branch about the thickness of a thumb from the locust tree, walked back, and stood in front of Zhang Heng.

"The first military order is that anyone who is late for roll call shall be whipped ten times."

The sound of the branches slicing through the air was faster than anyone's reaction.

"Snapped!"

A bright red welt ran from Zhang Heng's forehead to his chin, drawn from where he had been whipped. He was stunned.

"Article Two of the Military Orders: Anyone who disobeys orders during drills shall be whipped twenty times."

The second lash struck Zhang Heng's shoulder, and the fabric was visibly torn even through his prison uniform.

Zhang Heng finally reacted, roared and pounced on Shen Du. He had fought for six years, rolled in piles of corpses, and refused to believe that he would be suppressed by a newcomer.

Shen Du turned to the side, switched hands, and lashed Zhang Heng's knee with a backhand. Zhang Heng knelt down on one leg, and before he could even push himself up, the fourth lash landed on his back, knocking him to the ground.

The sound of the branches striking people was crisp and loud. The people from the other flags around the drill ground stopped what they were doing and looked over.

"Article Three of the Military Orders states that anyone who disobeys his superiors shall be whipped thirty times."

Shen Du's voice remained unchanged from beginning to end, neither too loud nor too soft, counting the whips one by one without any extra emotion, the branches falling down one by one with a very even rhythm.

Zhang Heng started cursing, but stopped after ten lashes. After twenty lashes, he began to beg for mercy. After thirty lashes, the prison uniform on his back was reduced to shreds, with blood seeping from the gaps.

Shen Du threw the branch on the ground. The branch was already soaked in blood, and it fell to the ground with a soft thud.

"Drag it out." Shen Du's voice remained calm. "Heal your injuries and return to the team. If you don't recover, you'll be discharged."

Two soldiers came up tremblingly and dragged Zhang Heng away.

The drill ground was completely silent.

Shen Du turned around and looked at the remaining nine people. His gaze swept across each of their faces, finally landing on the old soldier.

"Zhao Laoliu".

"Here!" Zhao Laoliu's voice changed; the lazy, seasoned veteran's demeanor was gone.

"Enter the ranks. Front row."

As instructed, Zhao Laoliu walked to the far left of the front row, with a small round shield strapped to his left arm and a twelve-foot-long spear in both hands. However, this time he stood ramrod straight.

"Back row, set up your guns!"

The four men in the back row laid their super-long spears flat, extending from the shoulders of the men in the front row.

The nine men formed a tight gun formation, with the twelve-foot spears in the front row and the fourteen-foot spears in the back row overlapping each other.

"Before engaging the enemy—front row, kneel on one knee! Back row, set up your guns! Middle row, nock your arrows!"

"Close combat—the middle row abandons the bow! Switches to the mace!"

"Cavalry Charge—All hands gather! Front row, spears poised on the ground! Back row, extra-long spears level! Middle row, crouch in the center, throwing axes ready!"

Zhao Laoliu held a long spear in his hand, his forehead covered in sweat. In all his years as a soldier, he had never practiced so many sets of movements in such a short period of time.

With Shen Du's repeated commands and patient corrections, the soldiers' movements now seem to be starting to look somewhat correct.

Zhou Baihu had been standing by the training ground for a while now.