At 100 years old, he joined the army in place of his granddaughter, and became a national war god.

Su Mu finished carrying the remaining three trips of water in just the time it takes for an incense stick to burn.

Su Mu leaned the wooden pole against the wall and poured bucket after bucket of water into the two large vats, each about half a person's height, next to the stove.

Water splashed up and wet his trouser legs, feeling cool and refreshing.

After emptying the last bucket, he let out a long breath, walked to the shady spot in front of the tent, and slowly sat down.

Su Mu rubbed his shoulder, his thin fingers pressing against the swollen, red skin, making him wince in pain.

Even with the best medicine, a 100-year-old's body still has old bones and flesh.

The strength is there, but the skin and flesh can't withstand the wear and tear, and the bones can't withstand the jolting.

He leaned against a pillar of the tent, closed his eyes, and rested for a while.

In the distance, his companions, still struggling to carry water, were exhausted like dogs, bent over and panting heavily, making trip after trip between the pond and the camp.

Some people stopped to rest, and when they saw that Su Mu was already sitting in the shade, their expressions instantly became complicated.

"I really didn't expect this..." A soldier covered in sweat put down his carrying pole, wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve, and said with a wry smile, "I thought this old man would hold us back, but he got two hundred buckets of water in just four trips. We're the ones who are holding us back now."

Another soldier chimed in, his voice tinged with self-deprecation: "You bet! I've only carried sixty buckets so far, my legs are about to break. That old man can carry fifty buckets at a time, and he's done in four trips. Don't you think we young guys are ashamed?"

The burly man who had previously been eager to fight Su Mu and said he would teach the old man a lesson was now bowing his head and not saying a word.

His face flushed red, and he silently walked to the pile of buckets and took two more.

He used to carry four buckets at a time, but now he's increasing it to six.

"Hey, can you carry six buckets at once?" His companion glanced at him sideways, a smile playing on his lips.

The burly man snorted and slung the carrying pole over his shoulder: "You live by the sea? Mind your own business! Go fetch your water!"

After saying that, he gritted his teeth, exerted all his strength, and lifted the six buckets up.

The carrying pole was bent like a bow, his legs were trembling, and he put it down unsteadily after only a few steps.

"Pah!" He spat, took down the two buckets, and obediently picked out four buckets and left.

A few suppressed laughs came from behind me.

……

After pausing for the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, Su Mu stood up and walked towards the woodpile.

In a corner of the camp, firewood was piled up like a small mountain.

Those were damp firewood cut down from the mountain a few days ago, not yet dried. Each piece was as thick as a thigh, heavy and hard.

Su Mu bent down and picked up an axe from the ground.

The iron axe had a wooden handle, which was polished to a shine.

He weighed it in his hand; it was too light.

This axe is fine for chopping thin branches, but when it comes to splitting wet firewood as thick as a thigh, one swing would probably only leave a mark.

Even if you manage to split it open, it will take a lot of effort.

More importantly, the axe didn't feel right to use.

It feels light and airy, and I can't muster any strength for it.

Su Mu shook his head, put down his axe, and turned to walk into the tent.

When he came out again, he was carrying that horse-slaying sword.

It was five feet long, palm-width, and weighed thirty to forty pounds. Dark red marks, not yet wiped clean, remained on the blade.

"Look, what's that old man doing with that broadsword?"

The cooks who were chopping vegetables looked up and saw Su Mu carrying a horse-slaying saber toward the pile of firewood. Their eyes widened in surprise.

"Could it be... that he's going to use the broadsword to chop firewood?"

"Using a horse-slaying sword to chop firewood? That's a weapon for killing!"

"It's their choice, what's it to you?"

Su Mu walked to the pile of firewood, held the saber up to his eyes, looked at the blade, and a slight smile appeared on his lips.

"Although it's a bit dull, it's much easier to use than an axe."

He selected a damp piece of firewood as thick as his thigh and placed it in front of him.

His withered hands gripped the knife handle tightly, he took a deep breath, and with a swift motion, the knife fell.

"Snap!"

With a single cleaver, the damp firewood split in two, the cut surface as smooth as a planed wooden board.

Su Mu nodded in satisfaction.

One is too slow.

He took two at once, stood them side by side, and with one slash, both split open at the same time.

Then he kept adding more and more.

Three.

Four.

Five!

Five thick, damp logs stood side by side. Su Mu swung his sword down, the blade whistling through the air as it cleaved into the pile of firewood. With a muffled "crack," the five logs neatly split into ten pieces, scattering to both sides.

If the blade of the horse-slaying sword weren't too short, he could have cleaved ten swords in one stroke.

The cooks all around were dumbfounded.

"Is...is this old man even human?"

"Chop five pieces in one stroke? That would take me ages to chop even a single piece of firewood!"

"Look at his knife, it's chipped but he can still chop so cleanly? Is it the man wielding the knife or the knife wielding the man?"

Su Mu kept his head down, slashing with his sword, his movements slow but rhythmic.

Split one pile open, bend down to pick them up and stack them neatly, then split another pile open.

The broadsword flew up and down in his withered hands, scattering wood chips everywhere. Sweat streamed down the lines of his face, dripping onto the split firewood.

The pile of firewood visibly shrank.

……

Just as Su Mu was enthusiastically chopping firewood.

A commotion suddenly arose from the direction of the neighboring supply depot.

"Stop it! Stop it now!"

"Don't let it run around! It'll overturn the camp!"

"A rope! Bring me a rope!"

The screams, the sound of horses' hooves, and the crashing of things being overturned all mingled together, like a pot exploding in chaos.

Su Mu stopped what he was doing, looked up, and gazed in the direction of the supply depot.

The other cooks also stopped what they were doing and craned their necks to look in that direction.

A white shadow suddenly rushed out from behind the supply camp tent.

That was a horse.

It is pure white, without a single stray hair, and shines brightly in the sunlight, like a piece of moving jade.

It was tall and slender, a full head taller than an ordinary warhorse, with long, deer-like limbs and smooth, powerful muscle lines. Every step it took was like walking on clouds, incredibly light and agile.

As it ran, its mane flew up like a white battle flag fluttering in the wind.

"A Ferghana horse?" someone exclaimed from the group chopping vegetables. "Isn't that the Ferghana horse that General Qin captured from the northern border?"

"Yes, yes, that's it! I heard it's to be presented to the emperor!"

"How did it suddenly run out? Wasn't it properly tied up?"

"I guess General Qin is trying to tame it again. I heard that this horse is wild and difficult to tame. General Qin has been trying to tame it for several days, but he has never succeeded."

"Isn't it said that General Qin's horsemanship is unparalleled, and he's one of the top horse trainers in our Great Qian Dynasty? Even he couldn't handle it?"

Another veteran scoffed and shook his head, saying, "That's a legendary steed! If it could be tamed so easily, what would it be called a Ferghana horse?"

Su Mu put down his saber, straightened up, and stared at the white steed.

Akhal-Teke horse.

He had only seen it in books and paintings; it could travel a thousand miles a day and eight hundred miles at night, and was the king of horses.

He has lived for a hundred years, and this is the first time he has seen it with his own eyes.

So he wanted to see what it was like to train horses.

Su Mu wiped the sawdust off his hands and walked toward the open space ahead.

……

A large crowd had already gathered in the open space in the center of the military camp.

The Akhal-Teke horse rampaged through the center of the open space, its hooves flying and kicking up clouds of dust.

Several soldiers tried to lasso it, but the horse was like a gust of wind, darting left and right, and they couldn't catch it no matter what they did.

Some people were knocked to the ground by it, some had their hats kicked off, and some were carried by it for dozens of steps before finally losing their grip and falling face-first into the mud.

"Get out of the way!"

A sharp shout came from behind the crowd, and the soldiers quickly made way for them.

Qin Hao rode a tall, black horse, galloping from deep within the military camp.

He wore bronze armor and a black cloak, held the reins, stood straight as a pine tree, and exuded a fierce and battle-hardened aura.

The black horse galloped away, its hooves flying, as fast as lightning, chasing after the Akhal-Teke horse.

"General Qin has arrived!"

"With the general personally taking action, this horse can't escape!"

The soldiers shouted excitedly.

Qin Hao's horsemanship is indeed superb.

He gripped the horse's belly tightly with his legs, leaned slightly forward, and became one with the black horse beneath him, as if he had been born to ride on its back.

Under his control, the black horse charged left and right, relentlessly chasing the Akhal-Teke horse, almost running side by side several times.

Two horses, one white and one black, chased each other in the open space, their hooves thundering like drums, and dust billowing into the sky.

Qin Hao seized the opportunity, suddenly leaned out of the black horse, and reached out to grab the mane of the Akhal-Teke horse!

It was one inch off.

Upon noticing this, the Akhal-Teke horse suddenly accelerated, instantly widening the distance between them.

Qin Hao did not give up.

He spurred his horse sharply, and the black horse neighed and galloped off in pursuit.

The two horses galloped around the open space seven or eight times, one after the other, their speed increasing rapidly, dazzling the onlookers.

Finally, at a bend in the road, Qin Hao seized his opportunity.

He suddenly leaped off the black horse and pounced on the Akhal-Teke in mid-air!

"Good!" the soldiers cheered in unison.

Qin Hao grabbed the white horse's mane and landed steadily on its back.

The white horse flew into a rage.

It suddenly reared up on its front hooves, its entire body almost standing upright, and let out a deafening neigh.

Qin Hao gripped the horse's belly tightly with his legs, his hands clutching the mane, his body hunched over, like a plaster stuck to the horse's back.

Seeing that it couldn't shake him off, the white horse began to leap, spin, and kick wildly.

Its body writhed violently, like a white snake whose tail had been stepped on, every movement filled with power and ferocity.

Qin Hao gritted his teeth, veins bulging on his forehead, and stubbornly persisted.

"General, you are mighty!"

"The general must tame it!"

Suddenly, the Akhal-Teke changed its strategy.

Instead of leaping, it charged suddenly toward the wooden fence at the edge of the camp.

It suddenly stopped and turned around when it was only ten feet away from the fence.

Qin Hao's body was thrown off by the enormous inertia, flying off the horse and crashing heavily onto the sandy ground, rolling twice before coming to a stop.

"General!"

"General!"

The guards rushed forward and helped Qin Hao up.

His bronze armor was covered in dirt, and he had a scrape on his face, making him wince in pain.

The white steed snorted triumphantly, flicked its mane, and with a powerful leap, broke through the encirclement and galloped off to the other side of the camp.

And that direction!

It was the cookhouse.