"Go!" With a snap, Charles Carter was whipped by Jack Foster, and he had no choice but to grit his teeth and jog after Jack Foster.

After running just a few hundred meters, he was already about to give out. Another snap, and he got whipped again. Charles Carter thought to himself, if this keeps up, never mind making it to the front lines—just carrying this iron spear alone would be enough to exhaust him to death.

Fortunately, this guy had some experience carrying out missions with the Dragon Squad before, so he simply started cultivating the Nine Heavens Vast World Technique while jogging.

And it actually worked—he felt the spear wasn't quite as heavy anymore. Of course, it was only a slight improvement. He kept running behind, gritting his teeth, because if he slowed down even a little, he'd get whipped again.

However, as the distance grew, his steps felt heavier and heavier. "Sir, can we stop for a bit before running again?" Charles Carter looked up at Captain Foster on his tall horse and asked.

"You're going to the front lines to atone for your crimes, not to enjoy yourself. Otherwise, you can come back with me and get a taste of a few dozen Savage Batons first." Jack Foster laughed dryly from atop his horse.

"I'll run." Charles Carter gritted his teeth and pushed himself forward. By the end, he was drenched in sweat and felt dizzy and disoriented. He just kept following the dust kicked up by the horse ahead.

"Kill!" Suddenly, a shout rang out, and black arrows shot out from the woods on both sides of the road.

"Kill!" Jack Foster really was a brute—he didn't even think to dismount and take cover, but instead led dozens of soldiers charging into the woods through a rain of arrows.

Charles Carter saw this and thought, a wise man doesn't court disaster, so he quickly pretended to trip over a stone and fell to the ground, rolling behind a big tree for cover.

Looking up, he saw that Captain Foster really was a hero, leading dozens of men into the woods. However, before they even made it in, about half the soldiers had already fallen.

Naturally, they had been turned into pincushions by the flying arrows. Soon after, the sounds of weapons clashing echoed from within the woods.

With a whoosh, a gruesome, spinning head, spraying blood, flew over and splattered Charles Carter all over with blood. He didn't dare move at all now—if he so much as poked his head out, he might get shot with an arrow.

After a long while, Charles Carter no longer heard the sounds of weapons clashing. He wondered if everyone had perished together. Cautiously, he slipped into the woods and found the ground littered with severed limbs and organs, making his scalp tingle and sweat break out.

And there was Jack Foster, actually locked in a standoff with a general. Both of their spears were stabbed into each other's shoulders, as if they were competing in internal strength.

The other man sneered, seemingly a bit stronger than Jack Foster. Blood gushed from Jack Foster's wounded shoulder, while the spear he had thrust into his opponent seemed to have penetrated less deeply, as not much blood was coming out.

Seeing this, Charles Carter quickly and quietly picked up a bow and arrow from the ground, took careful aim at the man, and drew the bow—it was so heavy! He mustered all his strength and finally managed to pull it back. Whoosh...

The black arrow flew out, veering slightly, and only struck the man's thigh. With a loud yell, Charles Carter grabbed a broadsword from the ground and hacked at the man from behind.

The man was still locked in a standoff with Jack Foster, and with an arrow in his leg, he couldn't dodge in time. Charles Carter struck him hard on the head, and a gush of blood spurted out.

At the same time, Jack Foster lunged forward, and his iron spear finally pierced through the man's chest. The man's eyes widened in unwillingness as he died.

"Sir, you're so mighty! Sir, you're so mighty!" Charles Carter raised the broadsword and shouted.

"Cut... cut off his head, let's hurry back to camp." After saying this, Jack Foster fainted from blood loss. Charles Carter hastily bandaged him, chopped off the head, slung Jack Foster over his back, mounted the horse, and slipped away.

"Reporting to the general, we were ambushed. Captain Foster was a true hero—he killed this man with a single spear." Covered in blood, Charles Carter entered the central command tent. In reality, he was completely fine; all the blood on him was from that unlucky fellow.

"Well, well, it's actually a Yuan Dynasty Le Wu Dao. Not bad, not bad. Well done." George Grant burst out laughing when he saw it.

"This was killed by Captain Foster; I just carried them back." Charles Carter deliberately gave all the credit to Captain Foster—this, of course, was the beginning of Charles Carter's efforts to win people over.

Because Charles Carter could tell that General Grant was very fond of this Captain Foster. Although his rank wasn't high, everyone has their favorites.

"Alright, go rest. Someone, reward Charles Carter with a ten-year-old ginseng." George Grant said happily.

Charles Carter was led into a tent, where he pretended to be badly injured and lay down on the bed. In fact, he was lying under the covers, gnawing on that ten-year-old ginseng and cultivating the Nine Heavens Vast World Technique.

Sure enough, that night Jack Foster came in, his whole body wrapped in bandages. As soon as Charles Carter saw him, he hurried to get up.

"Don't move, don't move, just rest." Jack Foster patted Charles Carter's shoulder kindly. "Well done, you're truly a soldier under my command." "I didn't do anything, it was all your might, sir," Charles Carter said modestly.

"You may not know, but Le Wu Dao was a seventh-rank commander of the Yuan Dynasty. One of our sixth-rank generals once died by his spear.

And, at the time, that general's relative was a second-rank official at court. That relative was furious and used the incident to accuse General Grant."