Chapter 1: Military Arms

　　“Hah! Ha! Kill! ...”

　　On the training ground, over a thousand soldiers clad in armor, wielding sabers, spears, bows, arrows, and shields, formed rows and columns, hacking and shooting with all their might under the blazing sun.

　　A strong, masculine aura, mixed with the thick stench of sweat, filled the field, making one’s blood surge with excitement, hard to restrain.

　　Not far from the training ground, at the outermost part of a row of houses, a half-grown boy watched the thousand soldiers maneuvering with bright, eager eyes, envy flickering within them.

　　Suddenly, a large hand reached out from behind him and grabbed him by the neck.

　　“Ow, ow, old man, be gentle, it hurts, it hurts...”

　　“Hmph, now you know pain? I told you to forge iron, but you ran off to watch the drills. Do you want me, this old man, to drill you instead?”

　　The boy shivered, quickly saying, “Old man, it’s my fault, please don’t!”

　　A half-gray-haired old man grabbed the boy by the neck, lifted him up, turned a few corners, and carried him into a house.

　　“William Carter, I know you want to join them. But right now, you’re not ready!” The old man waved his hand, tossing him into the room, and said, “Wait until you grow up!”

　　William Carter grimaced, rubbing his sore neck, and said, “Old man, I’m already grown up!”

　　“You?” The old man looked at him with disdain and ignored him. He reached into a corner and took out a broken saber. It was a military blade, but the handle was snapped off, making it unusable.

　　The old man examined the broken saber from all angles. After a while, he aligned the broken ends and placed it on a platform. Then, with a low shout, he rubbed his hands together, and a spark of fire instantly appeared, enveloping the break.

　　William Carter's eyes widened. He stood up straight, watching silently, not daring to make a sound.

　　Though the old man often scolded and kicked him, William Carter knew that in this military camp, only this unremarkable old fellow truly cared for him.

　　After a whole stick of incense’s time, the old man let out a long breath and withdrew his hands. Sweat could be seen faintly on his forehead, but as the firelight faded, the broken saber on the platform was already perfectly mended.

　　William Carter darted forward, picked up the saber, and examined it for a long while, clicking his tongue in admiration. “Old man, you’re amazing! This repair is flawless. Heh, in this whole camp, you’re definitely the best!” He gave a big thumbs up and shook it vigorously.

　　A trace of pride flashed across the old man’s face. Suddenly, he said, “So, want to learn?”

　　William Carter sighed and said, “Of course I want to learn, but I don’t have the opportunity...”

　　The old man’s technique was a military secret, a weapon-forging method bestowed by the imperial court, not something ordinary people could even dream of.

　　William Carter was an orphan, raised by the charity of many families in the village. By chance, he entered this military camp as a helper and hit it off with this equally solitary old man, learning forging skills under him. But while ordinary skills were easy to learn, military arms were out of reach.

　　The old man chuckled, looking quite pleased, and said, “Right, take this saber to Brian Bolton, he’s looking for you.”

　　William Carter frowned deeply. “I’m not going! That stingy guy, nothing good ever comes from him looking for me!”

　　The old man glared and kicked at him. “Still not going?!”

　　William Carter nimbly dodged the kick and called out, “Yes, yes, I’m going.” He grabbed the repaired saber and dashed off.

　　Behind him, the old man shook his head and sighed, “With that lazy nature, who knows if he’ll ever change. Sigh, I hope he finds his opportunity this time.”

　　William Carter hurried to the rear of the camp. Brian Bolton was a powerful figure in the army, in charge of logistics and supplies. Though not a primary officer, he held real authority as one of the key deputies.

　　Arriving at the rear camp, William Carter handed the saber to the quartermaster. Just as he was about to speak, the official smiled and said, “You finally came. Lord Bolton has instructed—go in quickly.”

　　William Carter responded and entered the rear quarters, feeling a bit uneasy.

　　Because he really couldn’t figure out why someone as important as Brian Bolton would want to see a nobody like him.

　　Entering a room, a middle-aged man inside looked up. He was a pale-faced scholar, exuding a gentle, almost feminine air, which seemed out of place in the masculine military environment.

　　“Lord Bolton, you were looking for me?” William Carter bent over respectfully and asked.

　　Brian Bolton nodded and said, “You’re William Carter, have a seat.” He actually poured a cup of tea for William Carter himself.