Those people no longer had the fierce looks in their eyes from when they were fighting each other earlier. They curled up timidly, and Brian Clark was left puzzled as he watched. He had come to understand the strength and confidence of the Qin army, had seen the unique ferocity of the Six States’ prisoners of war toward their own kind, and at the same time, their fear of the Qin army and their inability to resist.

“What is it that causes the mighty Qin army to suffer defeat after defeat? What is it that makes the Six States, once meek as lambs, become as fierce as tigers?”

He didn’t know, truly didn’t know.

Wearing the Qin army’s battle robe, Brian Clark was filled with confusion at this moment...

Chapter 0008: The Cruel Era

Brian Clark discovered a very interesting subject for study in the Qin army: officers rarely spoke, and the soldiers, dressed in simple hemp clothes and armed only with long spears, almost never made a sound. From officers to soldiers, they all knew exactly what to do in any given situation—the entire violent apparatus operated like a precision machine!

How to deal with those who fought was a matter for higher-ranking officers to decide. Brian Clark’s squad had not received any orders and simply stood guard around them. He observed carefully; those people didn’t look particularly weak or frail—some of the prisoners were even quite strong.

“These people...” Brian Clark had never paid attention to the prisoners’ rations, but a quick glance made it seem like they were doing fairly well, even having the strength to fight. He couldn’t help but sigh, “I wonder if there are any ‘famous people’ among them.”

Most of those squatting on the ground showed no defiance or resistance toward the Qin army, and there was hardly any deliberate hatred in the glances they stole at the Qin soldiers. Having been through so much, most people were numb, as if it were only natural for ten thousand to be utterly crushed by a thousand Qin troops.

Lost in thought, Brian Clark’s gaze landed on a young man nearby, about seventeen or eighteen years old. When he snapped out of it, he saw the youth grinning foolishly. On a whim, he asked, “What’s your name?”

The youth froze, his silly grin stiffening, and he shrank down further before finally answering after a while, “Henry...”

“Henry?” Brian Clark wasn’t foolish enough to ask for a surname. “How did the fight start?”

“Why is this Qin bastard so weird?” the youth muttered under his breath, then answered bluntly, “My father said I’m as strong as a fine steed.” He thought seriously for a moment. “How did the fight start? I don’t know...”

Of course. In this era, names were chosen with great care. Brian Clark seemed to recall that this was a good character, and he figured the youth’s father had high hopes for him. After all, ‘千里驹’—a steed that can travel a thousand miles—was always a good thing in any era. Henry belongs to the ‘句’ character family, where the character serves as both a phonetic and semantic component. Characters in this family are all related to the meaning of something curved in shape.

“Are you from Chu?”

“Yes...”

Brian Clark wanted to continue the conversation, but before he could get another word out, a Officer arrived.

“The lord has given an order!” The Officer was actually a messenger. “Pick out some people to be beheaded as a warning!”

Other squads were already selecting people. Having received the order, Brian Clark felt a chill run through his body—not out of fear, but because he simply wasn’t used to this era’s utter disregard for human life.

Pick people? How was he supposed to pick? He paced back and forth, seeing the anxiety and trembling on the prisoners’ faces and bodies. It was clear they weren’t mindless animals; they were people with thoughts and a will to survive.

Each squad picked a different number—some as many as dozens, others just two or three. The truly ruthless picked over a hundred!

“Brian!” The newcomer was at least two meters tall, with a booming voice. “Don’t delay the lord’s order.”

Brian Clark had seen this man a few times before—a Captain under the same centurion. “Edward, Brian understands.”

Edward was actually a kind of restraint, but in this era, using it as a name carried no negative connotation. It meant his family came from a line of law enforcers (like constables).

By now, Brian Clark had observed enough. Many Captain picked people at random, while a few selected those who were seriously injured or particularly defiant. He made his decision: “Pick out those who are gravely wounded and beyond treatment.”

The soldiers under his command cupped their fists and bowed, carrying out the order as instructed.

The surrounding prisoners breathed a sigh of relief when they heard this, and the young man even gave Brian Clark a simple, honest smile.

Just as Brian Clark was about to turn and leave, the words “white-faced Qin bastard” reached his ears, making him stop and stare at the speaker. “White-faced” was never a compliment in any era; here, it meant cowardly. The whole phrase meant “this cowardly Qin bastard.”

The man didn’t look fierce, nor did he have a defiant expression. He seemed to be stating a fact. When Brian Clark stared at him, he even raised his chin and bared his yellow teeth in a grin.

This was provocation—courting death! Brian Clark walked straight over and struck him with the sheathed weapon. The man didn’t even dare to block and was knocked to the ground.

A soldier came over and, without a word, dragged him up and started beating him with the shaft of a long spear. “(Squad) leader, should we take him away?”

What could he say? Not killing him was no longer an option.

For reasons he couldn’t quite explain, Brian Clark still didn’t want to let it go at that. He walked among the prisoners, and anyone who dared to look him in the eye was either taken away if it was serious, or beaten if it was minor.

Originally, only seven people had been picked out, but after this commotion, the number rose to fifty-six.