Chapter Fifty-Two: The One Who Dares to Stand Out

The instructors above the rank of squad leader were the core of Qin Cheng’s cavalry training team, and naturally, Qin Cheng would not be careless with them. He summoned these men to his command tent and explained the relevant matters in detail, mainly expressing his earnest hope that they would lead their troops well and set a good example. He urged them to act strictly according to military orders, assuring them that if any problems arose during the selection process, he would bear the responsibility. Of course, he did not forget to use the promise of future promotions as motivation. The instructors listened and, given Qin Cheng’s title and authority as Cavalry Commandant—holding the power of life and death—there was no reason not to comply. As for Qin Cheng’s recently accumulated prestige, it held sway over some but was met with indifference by others. Those who respected him would be heavily relied upon in the future, while those who did not would be brought to heel by other means. But that was a matter for another time.

Once the arrangements for the instructors were complete, the selection of recruits for the new cavalry battalion from among the veteran chariot and infantry troops began. Qin Cheng had strict rules for this process as well. Besides the previously stated requirements—disqualifying those who were too old or whose memories were poor—he also excluded anyone above the rank of squad leader. The reason was simple: these officers were used to commanding men, and to be suddenly made ordinary soldiers in the new cavalry would certainly sit ill with them and prove hard to adapt to. Though the military notices had made it clear that the future prospects for cavalry far outstripped those for chariot and infantry troops, it was unrealistic to expect everyone, especially the senior officers, to accept this shift overnight. For them, it was not merely a change in military doctrine but a direct blow to their interests—an immediate demotion, even if it might only be temporary. Furthermore, even some mid-level officers, if transferred to cavalry, might not regain equivalent positions, as the skills required for infantry and cavalry were vastly different.

Other than these higher-ranking officers, the mid- and lower-level officers had no choice in the matter. If the cavalry instructors selected them, they were to report to the new cavalry camp, regardless of their previous rank. If any of these officers tried to help their comrades by intentionally failing the selection, and this was discovered, the penalties Qin Cheng had set down were quite severe.

Necessity sometimes trumps principle; there was no time to let everyone fully grasp the changes in their fortunes before proceeding.

This approach ensured the effectiveness of the cavalry recruitment to the greatest degree—its benefits were clear, but so were its flaws.

The next day, Qin Cheng gathered the three or four thousand chariot and infantry troops in the camp. First, under the blazing sun, he delivered a rousing speech, reiterating the rules for rewards and punishments, never one to shy from making these matters clear. Once he finished, he waved his hand grandly and dispatched the five hundred instructors to evaluate the soldiers in batches. He himself played the role of overseer, roaming the training ground and handling emergencies as they arose.

Li Guang, it must be said, truly showed his support. Aware that Qin Cheng was new to the army and lacked a strong foundation, Li Guang sent his own personal guard to help maintain order at the site. Though their stated purpose was to keep order, their true effect was more to intimidate. When Qin Cheng saw Captain Li Hu leading Liu Mu and others swaggering onto the field and stationing themselves imposingly at the edge, he couldn’t help but smile wryly.

Qin Cheng appreciated Li Guang’s good intentions, but placing his personal guard on the field was less than wise. Qin Cheng would have preferred a disturbance to break out—he could then seize the chance to make an example of some troublemakers, establishing both the authority of the selection process and his own personal prestige. He had no intention of winning hearts by virtue; in the army, the whip was the only real argument. Rank crushed all beneath it—he was Cavalry Commandant; who should he fear? If a mere private dared to challenge him, he would not waste time with earnest persuasion; this was not a world where reason ruled over power.

Li Hu, with his forty or fifty men, was not a high-ranking officer, but he had experience, reputation, and as Li Guang’s chief bodyguard, he represented his master. No one would dare offend him unless they were either madly bold or hopelessly foolish.

Though Qin Cheng thought thus, he could not ignore such well-meant assistance. When Li Hu approached, Qin Cheng met him without putting on airs, cupping his fists and saying, “Captain Li, it’s been some time. How have you been?”

Li Hu’s face was calm and stern, reminiscent of Liu Mu, though whereas Liu Mu was icy and distant, Li Hu radiated an upright and unsmiling dignity. Seeing Qin Cheng approach, Li Hu did not presume upon his status—after all, Qin Cheng now outranked him by far, both as a squire and as Cavalry Commandant. He returned the gesture respectfully and replied in a clear voice, “Thanks to General Qin’s good fortune, I am well. Today, by order of the general, I have brought the guard here to assist you. If you require anything, just say the word—my men and I are at your service.”

“Captain Li, you are too kind. I’ll have to trouble you then.”

“General Qin, just give the orders.”

After the formalities, Qin Cheng had Li Guang’s guards spread out around the field, then called Li Hu and Liu Mu over to observe the selection and chat idly as they went.

Since this was a cavalry selection, the standards were those of the cavalry. First came horsemanship—Qin Cheng did not demand excellence from these seasoned soldiers, but at least that they could ride. Having spent time in the heavy infantry, Qin Cheng knew this was not unreasonable. By the reign of Emperor Wu, the Han dynasty had many official horse farms—horses were common even among civilians, and in the border regions, horsemanship was widespread. Families like Qin Cheng’s, destined for military service, had their sons learn to ride from childhood. After riding, next came archery—the chief skill of the cavalry, especially the light cavalry, who lived by their bows. Then came basic qualities such as balance, agility, and combat awareness.

“Before the last battle with the Xiongnu, I once agreed with Captain Li to test our sword skills together. At the time, Captain Li said that if we were both lucky enough to survive, we would have a proper contest. Do you still remember?” Qin Cheng asked as they walked the field.

“I remember well.” Li Hu, pleased by Qin Cheng’s modest tone—referring to himself humbly rather than by his title—responded readily. “If General Qin has the time, I am always willing. However…” Here, he paused and gave a sly smile. “General Qin, it’s best if we do it privately, for as I said before, I won’t hold back.”

“Haha!” Qin Cheng laughed. “You truly don’t know how to be modest, Captain Li. Very well, we’ll find a time and place for a private match—what say you?”

Qin Cheng knew Li Hu was not one to boast idly. He had surely watched Qin Cheng’s previous sword matches in the capital, and Qin Cheng was certain he was skilled indeed. He had no desire to show off by dueling Li Hu in public; besides, though he enjoyed testing himself against the strong—a habit from his black-market fighting days—this bout was more to build rapport than to win. The contest was a means, not the end.

“General Qin, do you mean right now?” Li Hu asked seriously, showing no disdain at Qin Cheng’s straightforward proposal.

“Why not?”

“All right, as you wish.” Li Hu, for once, broke into laughter.

Just as they agreed, Qin Cheng remembered Liu Mu was with them and said, “Sir Liu, if you want to watch, there’s an admission fee. But I see you’re not carrying much—how about teaching me some military strategy for a few days in exchange?”

Liu Mu shot Qin Cheng a glance, clearly unimpressed by the comment about his lack of possessions. But a duel between experts was not to be missed; for a master, watching was always instructive. He accepted: “If General Qin doesn’t mind me spreading word throughout the camp of your defeat and embarrassment, I have no objection.”

In recent days, Liu Mu and Qin Cheng had seen much of each other; it was nothing unusual for Liu Mu to teach him strategy, and they were familiar enough to speak bluntly.

“No matter—so long as nobody sees it, I don’t mind what’s said afterward,” Qin Cheng replied with a smile.

Just as they were about to go off for their duel, a sudden commotion erupted from the training ground.

The three looked over to see a crowd gathered at one corner, the noise coming from their midst. As they approached, it was clear there was some altercation.

“Captain Liu, you’ve snapped three bows in a row, farted a dozen times, and only managed to shoot one arrow—which missed the target! Are you deliberately causing trouble?” an instructor shouted, his face dark with anger barely restrained.

“What do you mean, causing trouble? You think I’m bored enough to do this for fun? If your cavalry camp didn’t provide these flimsy short bows, would I have broken them so easily?” a burly man retorted, sarcasm dripping from his words.

Unlike the longbows of the infantry, cavalry bows were shorter—so much so that some infantrymen mockingly called them “short bows.”

“Liu Shanhe!” the instructor roared. “First you claim to have hemorrhoids to avoid the test—when I checked, there were only some sweaty hairs. Then you pretended to have diarrhea and sat half an hour in the latrine, almost fainting. Now you break three horn bows in a row. You clearly don’t want to take the test and are defying orders!”

Caught out, Liu Shanhe’s face grew uneasy, but he stiffened his neck and replied, “It’s not that I want to defy orders, but we’re chariot troops—why are we being forced to join the cavalry? That’s asking the impossible. How can we pass these tests? And your cavalry bows really are poor quality—I just pulled, and they snapped. That’s not my fault, just that I can’t use these bows.”

By now, Qin Cheng and Li Hu had arrived at the edge of the crowd. Qin Cheng stood behind Li Hu, deliberately listening in. Hearing this, he smirked to himself—he’d been waiting for someone to stand out, and here was his opportunity.

It was obvious Liu Shanhe wished to avoid the cavalry test but dared not openly defy orders, so he resorted to these antics. Qin Cheng observed the crowd and noted that several soldiers near Liu Shanhe shared his attitude, glaring at the instructor—they had clearly chosen Liu Shanhe to take the lead in resisting.

Qin Cheng signaled to Liu Mu to bring another instructor over for a quiet conversation, quickly grasping the situation.

Having settled on his approach, Qin Cheng stepped out from behind Li Hu, parted the crowd with a stern shout, and the soldiers quickly made way when they saw the Cavalry Commandant. Liu Shanhe, seeing Qin Cheng, looked slightly embarrassed, but remembering his purpose, straightened up, a picture of righteous indignation.

Qin Cheng entered the circle, and seeing Liu Shanhe’s posture, put on a pleasant expression. “Captain Liu, do you still remember me? Last time, I faced you in a match in the capital—your skill left a deep impression.”

Liu Shanhe was unsure why Qin Cheng brought this up but had to reply, “It is an honor that General Qin remembers me, though my skills are unworthy of note.”

“Captain Liu need not be modest. I am well aware of your swordsmanship,” Qin Cheng said amiably. “But last time, I saw only your swordplay, not your archery. Why not show us your archery today?”

“I…my archery is poor; I fear I’ll only embarrass myself,” Liu Shanhe muttered, his face growing awkward.

“No matter—it is the time to assess everyone’s skills. Captain Liu, just do your best. Oh, you’re not suffering from any ailments? If you do have something like hemorrhoids, I won’t force you.”

Liu Shanhe blushed, out of excuses, and could only say, “I will shoot, then.”

He took a bow and arrow from the instructor, walked to the target, and drew hesitantly, unsure whether to shoot well or poorly. With Qin Cheng right behind him, he dared not use any more tricks to break the bow.

Seeing Liu Shanhe’s hesitation, Qin Cheng stepped closer and whispered, “To tell you the truth, if your skills are found lacking, I have the authority to strip you of your rank. Try me if you don’t believe it.”

Liu Shanhe, already ill at ease, was stunned. He glanced at Qin Cheng and saw only the sternest of expressions—gone was any trace of friendliness. Now truly nervous, he tensed up.

Qin Cheng stepped back, then suddenly shouted, “Liu Shanhe, cheating on the field! What punishment do you deserve?”

“Ah?!” The shout, coming from right beside him, made Liu Shanhe’s already taut nerves snap; he started violently, releasing the arrow, which flew straight into the center of the target.

Qin Cheng glanced at the arrow and, ignoring the gasps of those around, said coolly, “Captain Liu, your archery is superb—hitting the bullseye even when I tried to distract you, and the arrow sunk half a foot into the target. Excellent!”

The crowd buzzed with amazement, while Liu Shanhe’s companions looked ashen, their eyes shifting nervously between Qin Cheng and Liu Shanhe.

“But,” Qin Cheng’s tone suddenly hardened, “you broke three bows and missed every shot before, and your swordplay was so poor you nearly dropped your sword—all quite at odds with your performance just now. Isn’t that so, Instructor?”

“What General Qin says is true,” replied the instructor, loudly. The story of Liu Shanhe nearly dropping his sword had come from him, and he was quick to confirm it.

“Captain Liu, am I speaking the truth?” Qin Cheng demanded, his voice severe.

“Yes… General Qin speaks the truth,” Liu Shanhe muttered, miserable. Earlier, he’d faked weakness with his sword to cover his story about dizzy spells, but now it was being used as evidence against him.

“Very well, since that’s the case, you cannot blame me for being harsh!” Qin Cheng thundered. “Before the test, I made it clear—no tricks, no cheating. Captain Liu did not listen—”