Chapter 117: Evolution x And x Supplication

Such a philosophy could mobilize a vast number of civilians struggling on the brink of death, win their support, and rapidly accumulate formidable strength.

"In the battles ahead, we will leave this place and fight in various regions. I demand of you: strictly respect discipline! Do not harm the people and laborers who are just like you! They are our natural friends and allies; strive to win them over and have them join us. But kill the landlords who exploit them! Just as we killed the local landlords who exploited us!"

Another burst of cheers.

Could they pull it off? In the early stages, it should be fine. Before greed is fully awakened and while they still face immense pressure to survive, there shouldn't be any major problems.

During this period in history, no one adopted such an approach. Back then, there was no theoretical system robust enough to support such behavior, and leaders and officers had their own demands—both material and spiritual.

Even if they themselves did not, their wives, children, and relatives certainly did.

"When you are fighting, think of the collective we belong to! Think of the comrades around us! We are never alone! Countless people support our actions and are willing to join us—they simply lack the means to do so at the moment!"

After a succession of victories, the soldiers of the Han army might eventually do so. But first, they had to be defeated.

"Now, what we must do is provide a way for the people in the north—those blinded by the Yellow Turban deceivers—to join us! Kill those liars who speak endlessly of gods! Those people raise the banner of liberating the people, yet they deceive many suffering souls, plundering everywhere and slaughtering the innocent at random! What we must do is rescue them from the clutches of those frauds!"

Coupled with the previous narrative, this served as a reasonable justification for their actions.

"In the subsequent battles, if you capture Yellow Turban officers, do not spare them! But if you take ordinary Yellow Turban soldiers captive, do not kill them! Those people are just as innocent as we are!"

As for religion, it was hard to tell whether it might flare up again later. However, the Yellow Turban movement still belonged to a primitive form of religion, so its ideological erosion power shouldn't be too severe.

Besides, this was China; my compatriots were naturally disinclined to believe blindly in gods.

"Now, we set out!"

Below the platform, the three battalions, still in a state of high excitement, totaling nine thousand troops, began their march toward the ferry.

The contractors, along with those captured and those who had surrendered earlier—except for Zhou Yingxiong, who was left behind to manage the camp—also moved forward with the main army.

Wang Luo stood on the high platform, gazing at the camp not far away.

The Han army had built it in haste, only for it to be captured by their own side after a decisive battle. Over the past few days, everyone had been busy celebrating the victory, recruiting prisoners, and preparing for the military parade. The camp's fortifications had not been meticulously reinforced—after all, there were no Han forces left in the vicinity.

And once they left this time, they likely wouldn't return. Their army was taking away the bulk of the baggage train. As for the remaining five thousand and some men, some would stay in the camp to recover from injuries, train, and learn to read; others would go out to hunt for prisoners, gather wandering refugees, and distribute land...

Once the land policy was enacted, it meant an irreconcilable, life-or-death conflict with the ruling class of the Han dynasty—the landed gentry and powerful clans.

With him around, any situation could be handled. But what about after he left? This brief period of time was not enough for them to acquire sufficient knowledge; the restrictions on their movement area also prevented him from capturing key cities.

How to fight for more support, how to provide greater convenience, channels, and conditions for popular backing; how to utilize reforms in the succession system to divide and disintegrate the enemy, win over capable and independent-minded individuals within the enemy camp, and strike at the weakest and most stubborn foes...

Could they understand all of this? What kind of problems and mishaps would arise during execution?

He felt something growing warm inside his pocket. Reaching into his tunic, he found the first volume of the Selected Works.

Its attributes had changed, and the specific details were as follows:

"Attack power increased by 10%, critical hit probability reduced by 10%, evasion rate +5%.
Skill: Find Weakness
Equipment Effect: The holder has a chance to discover enemies' weaknesses during attacks, dealing greater damage to them.
Skill: Stronger When the Enemy is Strong
Equipment Effect: When facing an enemy stronger than oneself, combat capability is forcibly elevated to an equivalent level (immune to overwhelming suppression, instant-death effects, and the like)."

On the first page of the book was a line of fine print: I oppose all your opinions.

Had the requirements been met? He took out the third volume as well.

"It provides an advantage regarding fire-based skills. The effect should be increased damage when attacking enemies with fire; moreover, our own troops will not suffer damage from flames."

What about the effects of the remaining three volumes? To possess such powerful attributes without even needing to equip them—was this the reward for doing good deeds?

Although he hadn't sought a reward in the first place, receiving one was always pleasing. Wang Luo put the book away, preparing to step down from the platform. Inadvertently looking back, he discovered that Zhou Suyan was still lingering by his side.

"Ah, I forgot to assign troops to you. You weren't included in the commission orders, but there's still time. After the military reorganization, manpower is lacking everywhere."

"N—no, thank you." Faced with Wang Luo's words that implied she should leave, Zhou Suyan hurriedly lowered her head.

Everything that morning had been too blissful, too wonderful—it hardly felt real.

He had chosen her. Not the regiment commander, who was as noble, beautiful, and powerful as a goddess, but insignificant, ordinary-looking... her.

It was her! He had kept her by his side beforehand! Within the team, he had chosen her; before everyone else, he had held her hand; upon the high platform, it was she who had presented medals to the officers who had performed meritorious service.

And she, trembling and intoxicated, was savoring this brief yet ultimate excitement.

This wasn't a dream; it was real!

She was still somewhat dizzy even now. But this one thought was what she constantly reminded herself of.

Yet, after the ceremony ended and he spoke to her, she hadn't dared to raise her head or look into his eyes.

She vaguely sensed danger and was afraid. The ball was over, and she was terrified that the magic of her dancing shoes would fade, turning her back into an ugly Cinderella; she was terrified that she wouldn't see love in the prince's eyes, thereby shaking her own confidence; she was terrified of the approaching truth—that all of this had been a joke.

However, what could she do? She could only close her eyes and pray.

O gods, I beg you! Even if it's fake, let this moment last just a little longer!

"I... I don't know how to command. I don't want to go. Can I stay by your side?"

The moment the words left her lips, she regretted them. The voice she produced sounded terrible, and her phrasing was entirely improper.

Thus, she was on the verge of tears, barely managing to hold them back. No... she couldn't, crying would look too ugly. Right, what did he like?

"I... I learned a few new dishes, and you will definitely love them. Next time I definitely won't spill tea leaves into your cup! Truly!"

She heard a soft chuckle. He was laughing; he must be laughing at her presumption and insatiable greed...

"Alright," he said.