Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

"Don't talk nonsense!"

"Sergeant Lu Xirong did mention, just the small silver coins we have in our pockets could be wiped clean in less than a day, and we'd end up in debt."

"When did I say I was going to those kinds of places?"

"Alright, alright, call it my slander. Hey, have you heard?" The soldier leaning on the rail lowered his voice and said mysteriously, "The merit list is out. Bunir Captain's acreage is still the first this time, seems like the merit is called... Right, 'leading'? It means being the first to charge forward recklessly."

"Why else do you think he's impressive?" The other soldier shrugged matter-of-factly, "He leads in headcount-based merit, now there's no more counting, and he's still first."

"How many acres does he have?"

"A thousand?"

"A thousand? He's long past a thousand, I estimate, he has two thousand now."

"Gosh, two thousand acres. If I had two thousand acres, I wouldn't carry firearms, I'd go home and be a manor lord."

"You need the life to earn it, and the life to spend it too." The soldier leaning on the rail laughed and cursed, "By the time you gather two thousand acres, you'll probably have to put your life on the line."

After speaking, he looked up at the blue sky and sighed, "I don't need that much, two hundred acres is enough. I just want to finish this war early, go home to build a small cabin, and raise a few horses. The first year I'll only plant barley, and the second and third years I'll plant wheat when the land is ready. In less than ten years, I could upgrade my cabin to a big house. Then, I'll live there until I die."

The other soldier listened and couldn't help but sigh too.

"For those who are dead, how do they calculate the compensation?" Monkey suddenly asked, "Have they mentioned it?"

The soldier leaning on the rail was taken aback, scratched his head, "I think it's fully based on twelve years of service. If there are children, it goes to the children, no children, it goes to the parents, without parents or children, then nothing."

"What if there are none?" Monkey asked again.

"Then what else can they do? No ones left, then nothing is given."

Monkey hummed in response, pulled the reins, "We've arrived! Get off."

The three stopped the cart off the road, unhitched the harness from the horses, and let them graze. Then they grabbed axes, leisurely heading into the woods.

Chopping wood isn't exactly easy, but it has one advantage—it's possible to slack off.

Unlike digging trenches, where each camp and team progresses side by side, and any lag is glaringly obvious.

But Monkey was quite "thankless"; though there was no overseer, he swung his axe energetically.

Monkey actually didn't want to chop wood; he'd rather dig trenches, because heavy, exhausting manual labor kept his mind from wandering.

He struck the trunk again and again, as if slaying an enemy.

Woodchips flew, and one pine tree after another, thick enough to grasp, fell with a groan.

Monkey alone did nearly the work of the other two combined, gradually transforming from a skinny, sly "Monkey" into a strong-armed, silent soldier.

From morning till noon, they'd nearly filled one cart, so Monkey and his two comrades called the horses back to haul the logs from the forest to the roadside one by one.

As the three were drenched in sweat, a cavalry messenger raced up with a horse.

The cavalry messenger, wearing a smart green uniform, politely asked, "Who is 'Houdel'?"

The two other soldiers were a bit confused. Monkey was initially puzzled too, but recalling something, he walked toward the cavalry messenger under the astonished looks of his comrades, "That's me."

"Please come with me back to the camp." The cavalry messenger gestured to another horse tied to the saddle, "The Mason Commissioner wants to see you."

Monkey wiped his sweat, "But what about my work here?"

"Chopping wood?" The cavalry messenger almost choked, "You probably don't need to do that anymore."

Monkey frowned, "With so much lumber, leaving only two people here, when can it all be moved?"

"Don't worry! Go! Go!" His comrade from the same camp quickly walked up, grabbed Monkey's coat from the cart, and handed it to him, "The two of us can finish; it's just a few trees, a piece of cake."

The cavalry messenger kindly suggested, "How about this? You come with me to the camp first, and I'll report to the chief sergeant of Company A to send a few more people over to help."

Monkey thought for a moment, nodded, and added, "There's one more thing."

The cavalry messenger was puzzled.

"I can't ride a horse."

"No problem." The cavalry messenger smiled, "You can lie on the horse's rump."

...

Bouncing all the way, the cavalry messenger brought Monkey back to the main camp.

The military camp was like a small town, internally divided into different areas. Outside the central command area, the cavalry messenger let down Monkey, whose insides felt displaced from the bumpy ride.

"Inside is the main headquarters," the cavalry messenger said.

Monkey, confused, asked, "You're not coming in with me?"

"I don't have permission to enter the central command area," the cavalry messenger saluted, "You must meet the Mason Commissioner yourself."

Monkey had never been to the central command area. Even within the military camp, entering and exiting different zones had strict restrictions. It wasn't his place to tour the central command area as a mere soldier.

But this was the first time someone saluted Monkey, so he didn't want to embarrass himself. He returned the salute and clumsily walked towards the camp gate.

The guard at the entrance checked Monkey's ID and let him through.

At the center of the central military camp were three large tents set up side by side, with some smaller tents around them.