Henry Benson's words immediately stirred up a commotion among the new recruits below.

"He's just a deputy battalion commander. Sure, his rank is high, but in terms of strength, he may not be a match for my Baihe..."

"They say the soldiers of Zhenman Fort are stronger than the top generals in the capital—what nonsense! With my fifth-level Martial Refinement strength, I could easily take him down."

"Anyone can talk big. If he wants to show off by intimidating us, he's picked the wrong crowd."

"Let's see how he handles this. Daring to speak so arrogantly—he's bound to get what's coming to him."

Clearly, Henry Benson had already anticipated such a reaction from the recruits. Thinking back to when he first arrived at Zhenman Fort, he too had harbored the same naive thoughts as these new soldiers.

"George Foster, go out and test them. It's fine if you hurt them, just don't break any bones or tendons."

With a cold snort, Henry Benson gave the order. George Foster stepped forward, now fully sober, and grinned at the two hundred recruits: "Your Grandpa Foster is standing right here. If anyone's not convinced, come out and fight me. If you can last even a single move, you can skip the three-month recruit training."

Half an hour later, George Foster was swinging his arms, looking unsatisfied as he shouted, "A bunch of useless cowards—none of you can take a beating..."

Seeing more than a dozen recruits rolling on the ground, clutching themselves and crying out in pain, the rest of the new soldiers all wore looks of shock and fear.

It wasn't that George Foster was so strong, but that he was so ruthless.

Among the dozen or so who fell, at least half were at the fifth level of Martial Refinement, the same realm as George Foster, yet not a single one could last ten moves against him—most were taken down in just one.

There was even a new recruit who had just reached the sixth level of Martial Refinement, who confidently stepped forward, but still couldn't last ten moves against George Foster.

"Don't think a higher realm guarantees victory, dammit. At least a dozen brutes with sixth-level Martial Refinement have died at the hands of my bald head..."

Seeing no one else step forward, Henry Benson gestured for George Foster to stand down, then swept his gaze like a blade across the recruits and said, "On the battlefield, your realm doesn't decide everything. Combat experience and the methods of killing the enemy are what matter most."

"This is your first lesson. Dismissed. In one hour, the recruit training officially begins."

"Wait..."

From among the recruits, a cold and arrogant voice sounded. A tall, sharp-browed young man slowly stepped out. As soon as he did, he unleashed a surge of internal energy without restraint, and the powerful aura forced all the recruits within several meters to stagger back.

"If I beat you, does your position become mine?"

His arrogant words immediately caused an uproar among the crowd. Some with sharp eyes even recognized his realm and exclaimed in shock, "Externalizing internal energy and forming an aura—doesn't that only happen after reaching the eighth level of Martial Refinement, the realm of unmatched divine strength?"

"I know who he is—Philip Thompson, the top of the three great families in Dongshan County, one of the top ten in three generations of the Li family!"

"It's really him? With the Li family's influence and his strength, why is he just a recruit?"

"Who knows... but this is going to be interesting."

Seeing Philip Thompson step forward, even Henry Benson was slightly surprised. After all, it's rare for a new recruit to have reached the eighth level of Martial Refinement.

Even so, Henry Benson didn't take the challenge to heart. After all, he was no longer the new recruit who first arrived at Zhenman Fort five years ago.

Five years of bloody battlefields, hundreds of brushes with death, from killing ten to a hundred to a thousand—these forged everything he was today. Yet even that was not enough to give him the strength to bring his younger brother home.

Besides, he had even greater goals. Bringing his little brother back was only the beginning, and even that "beginning" had yet to happen. His father's dying words still echoed in his ears, and now that he knew the truth, he needed to gather more strength—otherwise, it was all just empty talk.

"You are not worthy!"

Just three simple words, but they exploded in Philip Thompson's ears like thunder.

Henry Benson's fist struck like a mountain, smashing into the ground with ferocity. In an instant, a terrifying thunderclap split the air, accompanied by a faint dragon's roar.

A crack appeared in the ground, widening visibly until it was a full three meters wide and twenty-four meters long before the force finally dissipated.

You have to understand, the borderlands are permafrost that has lasted ten thousand years, as hard as refined steel. With just a casual punch, Henry Benson utterly shattered all of Philip Thompson's confidence.

He didn't even have the courage to try punching the ground himself—not because he was timid, but because he knew his own limits.

"Damn, ever since our boss reached the ninth level of Martial Refinement, the Dragon-Body Realm, half a year ago, he hasn't even used his real strength..." George Foster rubbed his bald head and chuckled.

"What do you know? Our boss is just low-key. If you ask me, if he went all out, even Commander Miller wouldn't be a match for him." Mason Carter rolled his eyes at the former and snorted.

Over the past two years, more than a dozen squad leaders had followed Henry Benson through life and death. They all knew that without Henry Benson, even ten more lives wouldn't have been enough to survive to this day. In their hearts, Henry Benson was their "boss," their supreme commander.

Chapter 9: The Edict to Face Immortals Appears