I run a casino in the immortal realm.

"name?"

The clerk in charge of registration asked without looking up.

"Wang... Wang Dazhu. A refugee, someone who fled famine."

A burly man, wearing tattered clothes and shivering from the cold, answered by rubbing his hands.

"Go over there and draw that bow."

Wang Dazhu walked to the bow stand, took a deep breath, gripped the fifty-pound test bow with both hands, tensed his arm muscles, and although his body swayed a little, he still managed to draw the bow to its full extent.

"If you pass, go over there to collect your money and number, then go to the warehouse to collect your clothing and weapons, and then report to the Third Battalion."

Wang Dazhu walked tremblingly to the box full of silver coins.

The logistics officer distributing the soldiers' pay counted out fifteen silver coins and stuffed them directly into his hand. Feeling the heavy silver in his hand, Wang Dazhu, a seven-foot-tall man, had tears in his eyes. He knelt down with a thud, kowtowed, and then ran towards the recruit camp, clutching the silver tightly.

Gongsun Zhi stood on the watchtower in the distance, watching this scene with a slight smile.

"Strategist, at this rate, we can recruit another 5,000 new soldiers within three days. Combined with the original 3,000 veterans, we can gather a total of 8,000 infantrymen."

Pang Xun went up to the watchtower and reported to Gongsun Zhi.

"Eight thousand people is enough."

Gongsun Zhi nodded: "It's not about the quantity of soldiers but their quality. Once the orc army is on our side, it will definitely be a tough battle. New recruits have never seen blood and are prone to panic."

These past few days, you personally led the veterans to train the new recruits, instilling military discipline into their very bones.

Tell them, "Since they've taken Lord Zheng's money, their lives belong to him. Anyone who dares to retreat even half a step on the battlefield will face the ruthless swords of the supervising officers."

"Rest assured, strategist. I have already established a system of collective responsibility in each camp. We eat and live together. If even one person in a squad escapes, the entire squad will be executed. The Pengcheng Army is different now than before."

Pang Xun's eyes were resolute.

Meanwhile, in the accounting room of the General's Mansion, the sound of abacus beads clicking filled the air.

Hong Fei, wearing a faded blue long gown, sat at a large table. The table was piled high with account books and lists of supplies allocated from various places.

Xu Qian rubbed his dark circles and sat down next to him.

"Lord Xu, the second batch of grain and fodder sent from the Bingzhou Governor's Office has been stored in the warehouse this afternoon. After accounting for losses along the way, there are 20,000 shi of fine grain and 30,000 bundles of fodder stored in the warehouse."

Hong Fei's brush flew across the ledger as he wrote: "In addition, we took over three large merchants in the city who were illegally hoarding goods and engaging in speculation, confiscating 150,000 taels of silver, 80,000 catties of pig iron, and 20,000 plasters of various wound medicines. All of these supplies have been put into storage."

"Send all the pig iron to Murong Hao; he's a bottomless pit. Distribute the wound medicine to the military doctors in each battalion."

Xu Qian took a sip of strong tea to refresh himself: "Old Hong, is there enough money to pay the new recruits' resettlement allowance and subsequent military pay?"

"It's enough for now. But if it's a protracted war, our military budget will run into a shortfall in half a month."

Hong Fei closed the ledger and looked at Xu Qian: "War is all about money and supplies. Although Lord Zheng's generous rewards can quickly boost morale, they cost money like water. We must find a way to increase our income."

"I'll figure something out."

Xu Qian tapped the table, a ruthless glint flashing in his eyes.

Besides Generals Zhao and Ma, there are many deeply entrenched local tycoons and old forces in Pengcheng. If they really run out of money, he wouldn't mind taking the anti-smuggling team to "borrow" some money.

While Gongsun Zhi and Pang Xun were recruiting soldiers in a grand manner, the mansion of General Zhao Wenyuan was shrouded in gloom and despair.

Zhao Wenyuan and Ma Zan sat facing each other, their faces so gloomy they could drip water.

"This is outrageous! Absolutely outrageous!"

Ma Zan slammed his hand on the table, making the teacups jump around: "That guy surnamed Zheng took the military pay that was withheld from our various battalions and went to the North City Battalion to distribute it to those peasants to win their hearts!"

"Several of my squad leaders, each with several hundred soldiers, have already taken off their uniforms and gone to the North City Camp to re-enlist! If this continues, all our soldiers will desert us!"

Zhao Wenyuan sighed, picked up the now-cold tea and took a sip: "Old Ma, stop shouting. Who are you shouting for? In the battle of Wanhun Valley, Zheng Yifei led his men to cut off the left ears of 10,000 wolf soldiers. Now the people of Pengcheng all regard him as their savior."

"If we dare to stand up and stop him from recruiting soldiers, the people in the city will drown us in their spittle before he even lifts a finger."

"Are we just going to stand by and watch him sideline us?"

Mazan gritted his teeth.

"What can we do if we don't look? What did Hu Qi say?"

"Don't even mention it. That old bastard Hu Qi replied that Zheng Yifei has the right to act first and report later, just like the Prince of Pingxi. As long as he doesn't rebel, it's the General's Office's normal duty to recruit soldiers and horses, and he has no right to interfere. He told us to wait and see and preserve our strength."

Ma Zan was so angry he kept cursing.

"Then we'll just have to wait."

A cold glint flashed in Zhao Wenyuan's eyes: "What if Zheng Yifei recruits 5,000 new soldiers when the orcs' army of 100,000 is at the city gates? Without more than half a year of training, these new soldiers will just be cannon fodder sent to their deaths on the battlefield."

Once the defenses outside the city are breached and the orcs reach the city walls, these eight thousand new recruits will collapse instantly.

When the entire city of Shenzhen is thrown into chaos, that will be our opportunity to regain control of the city's defenses.

While preparations for war are in full swing inside Shenzhen, the situation outside the city is becoming increasingly tense.

Wang Changsheng neither participated in the army's training nor helped Murong Hao forge iron. After arranging for his array masters to repair the long-neglected defensive array patterns on Pengcheng's city walls, he plunged into the library of the general's mansion.

This three-story wooden building is filled with military books, battle reports, and ancient martial arts manuals collected by the generals of Pengcheng throughout the ages.

Wang Changsheng stayed on the top floor, surrounded by more than a dozen yellowed books on formations scattered on the ground.

He held a half-torn parchment scroll in his hand, his brows furrowed, his fingers tracing the direction of the array patterns in the air.

A hundred miles away, amidst a vast sea of ​​clouds.

Night Owl led sixty anti-smuggling officers, all at the Nascent Soul stage, dressed in tight-fitting gray-white night suits, completely concealing their presence as they dispersed and lay in ambush within the thick clouds.

Zheng Yifei's order to Night Owl was simple: blind the Western Rong army, and leave no Eagle Clan scouts alive if they dare to approach within a hundred miles of Pengcheng.

A gentle breeze blew by, tearing a gap in the distant clouds.

Five gray-brown figures lined up in a "人" (human) shape, flapping their broad wings and gliding at high speed toward Shenzhen.

These five eagle scouts were very cautious. They did not fly in the open, but stayed close to the edge of the clouds, their dark yellow vertical pupils scanning the land below warily.

Night Owl held a communication jade talisman in his hand and used his extremely weak divine sense to transmit the information to the team members scattered around him: "According to Tactic Number Three, cut off the retreat route, kill instantly, leave no survivors."

The moment the five eagle scouts flew into the encirclement.

The once calm sea of ​​clouds suddenly became turbulent.