I notice you've provided only the chapter title "第八十七章 更加套路" without the actual chapter content. To translate the chapter, I need the full source text. For reference, the chapter title "第八十七章 更加套路" translates to: **Chapter 87: Even More Formulaic**

After the meeting ended, the general summoned his son Satin over and gave him a thorough scolding. No matter how arrogant Satin usually was, in front of his own father he was practically trembling and barely uttered a word. After the scolding, the general waved his hand and ordered him to go hold a shield at the camp gate.

Though it was his own son, there had to be some measure for maintaining military discipline. No one else was in a position, nor had the nerve, to discipline his son—it had to be done by the general himself.

Although the general had only ordered Satin to hold a shield alone, the commander of the Second Battalion felt it was somewhat inappropriate, and immediately had everyone who had recently gone to train with Kevin join Satin in holding shields. After all, they had indeed violated regulations.

At the camp gate there were around a hundred people. Although only forty to fifty people usually gathered to watch Kevin, the personnel rotated daily, and this time, as punishment, they all came out. These people lined up in two rows extending into the distance, all holding shields aloft, as if forming a peculiar welcome ceremony.

But once there were enough people, the sense of humiliation diminished considerably. Everyone wore a composed expression, and when no one was paying attention, they would whisper among themselves. Holding just a shield wasn't tiring at all—it was merely dull.

Kevin rode past the camp gate atop his catapult, looking down at the crowd. The people raised their shields and looked up at Kevin with plainly hostile gazes.

Kevin grinned. "Oh? What's wrong with you all? Made a mistake?"

No one responded; they simply stared at him.

"Ah!" Kevin sighed. "That's too bad! I was planning to let you all watch me train today. Sigh."

The crowd snorted coldly but remained still.

"How long are you going to be holding those?" Kevin asked with great concern. "Did you drink water before you started? Do you get to pee in the middle of it?"

The crowd: "…"

Kevin drove the catapult out, leaving the crowd with his back. They clutched their shields tightly and began muttering among themselves. "Commander, tomorrow's the assessment. What say we find a way to do something underhanded tonight?" a soldier beside Satin suggested in a low voice.

But Satin tried to stay out of it: "I didn't hear that. Don't talk to me."

The crowd held their shields, each plotting their own sinister schemes.

Kevin went to his usual training grounds as always. Today, naturally, no one dared come watch him, which made things quieter, but unfortunately, it was difficult to carry out his training plan. He practiced on fixed targets twice—easily hitting all—but continuing would be a waste. Helpless, Kevin began experimenting with optical refraction tactics for his magic shield.

The day passed like that. When Kevin returned, the hundred-odd people were still holding their shields. Kevin greeted them warmly: "Hard work, hard work. I waited for you all over there the whole day."

"Let me tell you, during training today I figured out a new way to instant-kill a Sword Saint," Kevin said with surprise. "Oh? You're not laughing? Why aren't you laughing?"

The crowd: "…"

Kevin raised his hand, signaling the raven to greet them too. The raven flew to hover above their heads: "Caw... caw... caw..."

Everyone's faces darkened: "…"

Kevin departed calmly. These people came every day to mock him, and Kevin harbored some resentment. He usually didn't let it show, but now that he had the chance, he naturally mocked them back—a small counterstrike.

"Commander," the soldier beside Satin whispered again, "this guy is way too arrogant. Are you really not going to get him? Commander, you're the general's son. What is he—some civilian officer nobody knows where from—compared to you?"

Satin fell silent for a moment. Having just been scolded by his father, he dared not act rashly for now. But the veterans beneath him weren't stupid either; without Satin's order, they wouldn't easily do anything bad.

"Never mind, then. If the Commander doesn't care, we won't say anything more," several veterans replied.

"Could it be that this Kevin is your nemesis?" another veteran goaded. "I heard back during recruit training, you two—"

Satin clenched his teeth, his expression already eager to try.

The veterans suggested again: "No need to go yourself. Send a few new recruits. Even if they get caught, it can't be traced back to us."

Satin, young and hot-blooded after all, finally spoke: "Fine. Let's do it." The veterans didn't mind stirring up trouble. Having been influenced by Satin for so long, they too looked down on Kevin from the bottom of their hearts. Moreover, the catapult had always been a dispensable piece of equipment here, and as for Kevin being its captain, they also felt he was useless.

Psychological contempt had become almost habitual. Even though Kevin had clearly surpassed the level of an ordinary catapult operator, they would still find other angles to criticize him—such as battle aura. Most of these veterans had orange battle aura, and a few had even reached yellow. In their eyes, a red-aura man like Kevin was nothing special.

Tomorrow was the army's semi-annual assessment, which was a significant event. But for those who had already met the standards, there was absolutely nothing to worry about. The few soldiers in camp who hadn't passed their standards were still being trained intensively, sweating profusely and looking like they were about to cry as their officers shouted at them.

In the dead of night, six masked figures crept furtively into Kevin's vehicle yard. The sentries nearby actually saw them all but deliberately looked the other way.

However, Kevin always locked the garage door at night. One of the masked figures produced a hacksaw and tried to saw through the lock. As soon as he moved, a grating squeak-squeak sound filled the air, especially piercing in the darkness.

Even the sentries nearby felt their scalps crawl. They had long received certain "instructions" to ignore what was happening. But these new recruits were so clumsy at their work that it was hard to watch. There was even an urge to arrest them all.

The masked figures seemed extremely nervous too. One sawed at the lock while the other five stared fixedly at Kevin's cabin, terrified of any movement from within. The harsh grating sound tortured their nerves. The novices consoled each other with hand gestures, hoping that soldiers in the army slept particularly deeply—anyone who could sleep through thunderous snoring surely wouldn't be woken by this little squeaking, right?

Squeak, squeak... The one sawing was drenched in sweat. The man beside him couldn't stand it, snatched the saw, and took his place. But this one used even more force, making even more noise. Cold sweat broke out on the sentries nearby. They thanked their luck that this garage area was rarely visited—otherwise, things would have gone wrong long ago.

After sawing a while longer, this man's arms grew tired, and another took over. They kept sawing, and after three changes of person, the lock finally seemed about to break. The masked figures' hearts pounded violently; they were nervous beyond belief. Of course, they were the new recruits from the Second Platoon—the ones with the lowest intelligence and worst physical fitness, drilled daily by their officers until they were practically dazed.

Their officer had simply given an order, claiming it was a night raid training exercise, and called them over. He told them to go to a corner of the camp and destroy a catapult. He clearly stated that if they succeeded, they would get three days of rest; if they failed and were caught, they must claim they had come out of curiosity on their own—otherwise, they'd be drilled until they died.

The new recruits had only arrived in December. Their skill was low, their caliber was low, and they knew nothing. Coaxed and deceived, the six new recruits actually thought they were completing some important mission—nervous but excited. To new recruits at this stage, getting rest was the best reward, and being drilled to death was the greatest punishment.

Bang! The lock finally broke. The six new recruits, along with the nearby sentries, all breathed a sigh of relief. Then they slowly pulled at the large door. But it wouldn't budge when pulled. They pushed hard—still wouldn't move.

The six new recruits exchanged bewildered looks, then crowded around to study the door, pushing or pulling, tugging or prying, but nothing worked. The lock had clearly been sawed through, so why couldn't the door be opened? Did they have to smash it?

"Cough." A cough suddenly came from the distance.

The new recruits looked toward the sound and saw someone in the corner beckoning to them—clearly their instructor. The new recruits' work was just too unreliable, so an old soldier had to be sent to secretly follow them. The six hurried over. The instructor immediately demanded, "What are you doing? Why haven't you opened the door?"

"No idea. The door won't open," the new recruits said, equally bewildered.

Smack! The instructor slapped one of them: "Useless!" The other new recruits hung their heads, not daring to move.

"Go! Go again! If you don't finish this task, I'll beat you to death," the instructor threatened.

The new recruits could only return to the garage door with fear and confusion—and then they were shocked to discover that a brand-new lock had appeared on the door.

The six new recruits looked around frantically, but there wasn't a single figure in sight. The sawed-through lock lay quietly on the ground as before. The night remained silent; Kevin's cabin was still tightly shut, showing no sign of having been opened. Could it be that in the moment the new recruits had turned to see the instructor, Kevin had sneaked out and put on another lock? Or... was there a ghost?

The new recruits were terrified and confused, pacing around in front of the door not knowing what to do. Should they keep sawing?

"Cough!" The instructor couldn't bear watching anymore and coughed again from the distance.

Flustered, the new recruits ran back: "Sir, there—there—there's another lock on it!"

"How is that possible?" The instructor said this outwardly, but inwardly he too felt a twinge of panic. These new recruits were stupid, but even they couldn't be so dumb as to not open a door. Could Kevin really have been on guard?

"Caw... caw... caw..." A raven's cry suddenly came from midair, jarring and bleak in the night sky.

The group all shuddered violently. The instructor instinctively turned and bolted. The new recruits didn't think twice and sprinted after him. Though no one was chasing them, once they started running, each feared being the last one behind, so they all ran for dear life.

The sentry had no choice but to step forward: "Password!"

"Thirty-four. Countersign," the instructor replied. Fortunately, he'd managed to find out the password, but by the time he gave the countersign, he had already run past the checkpoint and into his own barracks. The new recruits' physical levels differed greatly, and they had only just reached the sentry post. The sentry stepped forward again: "Password."

The new recruits looked utterly blank—they hadn't heard the instructor's answer clearly at all. Then one of them had a clever thought and mumbled whatever came to mind: "En and ah! Countersign."

"Get lost." The sentry was annoyed by this group, but bound by the prearranged "instructions," he couldn't say much. The new recruits didn't even lift their heads, sprinting all the way back.

The instructor ran back to the barracks, deftly stripped off his clothes, threw open his blanket, and dove in with a whoosh, then went to sleep.

The six new recruits arrived right behind him, panting and drenched in sweat. They looked around, finally found their instructor, and went over to pull open his blanket: "Sir, can we go to sleep now?"

The instructor: "…"

Early the next morning, Kevin came out of his cabin as usual and rode his donkey to morning drill. Satin and the several hundred others were still at the camp gate holding shields, continuing their punishment from the day before. They had to hold them for a full week—this wouldn't be done in just a day or two.

Kevin naturally had to pass in front of them, but this time he said nothing, as if he knew nothing about what had happened the night before. And Satin and the others certainly weren't going to bring it up. There was a tacit mutual understanding.

In truth, opposing Satin brought no real benefit. He was the general's son; if things truly turned sour, it would be Kevin who suffered. No need for a sharp counterattack—just enough to let them know he wasn't to be trifled with. In fact, Kevin truly knew nothing about last night's events. It was all the raven's doing.

When the new recruits were sawing the lock, the raven had quietly slipped out, wedged two stones into the top of the garage door's track. The door was over three meters tall—how could the new recruits below possibly notice anything? After returning, the raven had grabbed a new lock and secured the door with it. Only this raven could do such a thing; other ravens, and even many parrots, couldn't lift that heavy iron lock. The raven was pitch black, already extremely hard to spot in the darkness, and Kevin had been asleep the whole time, making no move at all.

Though Kevin had been startled awake when the new recruits were sawing the lock, he was too lazy to get up. Anyone making such a racket was certainly not a competent thief. And inside the camp vicinity, only new recruits would be fooled into coming to cause trouble. Such people were more than enough for the raven to handle. So Kevin plugged his ears and went back to sleep.

In the morning, the entire regiment began its semi-annual assessment. Since it happened to fall at year's end, it was also called the year-end assessment. This was a major event in the whole army. Sometimes regional leaders—such as city lords or high nobles, or even His Majesty the King or his retainers—would come down to observe the legions.

However, the Lightning Knight Order had been inspected many times in recent years and was considered a reliable legion, so no one would be coming this year. Meanwhile, the regimental commander, chief of staff, and other important figures would also visit other legions that day. This served as a mutual supervision mechanism, preventing anyone from falsifying combat reports.

General Oder had gone out early in the morning—no one knew which legion he'd gone to visit—leaving matters here to the regimental chief of staff. Every department was assessed, whether combat units or logistics units. Of course, due to the large number of people, each department used random drawing or the examiner randomly calling names.

Those who had already been reported as failing were not called. They were gathered in one place in advance. Though no label saying "failed" was pinned to them, everyone knew who the people in that area were.

And all soldiers or officers who had passed would be randomly selected for testing. The assessment's original purpose was to prevent anyone from impersonating a qualified person and trying to slip through.

"Kill!" On the training ground, squads of cavalry charged back and forth, battle aura bursting from their bodies, their momentum formidable. The examiners chosen by the chief of staff scribbled notes from the side. For the soldiers, this assessment was no different from usual training—nothing to be nervous about. Following that were archery tests, infantry combat tests, magic tests, communication tests, and on the logistics side, even cooking was a subject for the chefs.

Soon it was Kevin's turn. His squad had only one person—himself—so he was bound to go up. He rolled out his catapult and, without even using the raven, fired normally. Projectile speed, accuracy, and the catapult's mobility were all impeccable. This was also expected of him, since everyone had seen Kevin fire the catapult more than once before.

But only now did they suddenly realize how powerful this catapult had become. Remember, six months ago, it had been a broken cart barely able to move, which countless previous catapult captains had been helpless to fix and had merely sat by waiting for retirement. Unconsciously, the changes had grown this great, and at this moment, they had to admit admiration for Kevin's abilities.

Suddenly, the chief of staff spoke up: "Here—bring a horse over. Test his horsemanship."

Kevin was stunned: "…" Even the onlookers nearby were somewhat confused.

"What's the matter?" the chief of staff asked matter-of-factly. "Everyone in the Lightning Knight Order's combat units knows how to ride. That's why it's called a Knight Order. It's a regulation of our legion. Don't you know that?"

Kevin sneered: "Has anyone ever assigned me a horse?"

"Does something like this require someone to personally teach you?" the chief of staff said with an air of arrogance. "Can't you go ask on your own?"

Kevin nodded: "Right. A trap. Always a trap."

"Cut the nonsense. Are you testing or not?" The chief of staff waved his hand, and a soldier led a horse over. There was nothing wrong with the horse, but Kevin had never trained in horsemanship since joining the army—how could he possibly pass the moment he mounted?

Kevin waved his hand, not wanting to humiliate himself: "Forget it. I've never practiced riding. I only know how to ride a donkey."

"Hmph! Let me tell you, everyone in the Lightning Knight Order is first and foremost a knight, and only then fills other roles," the chief of staff declared with righteous authority. "If you aren't even a knight, then you're inherently unqualified. Previous catapult captains may not have been able to throw stones, but at least they could serve as knights."

"Ha ha ha," Kevin laughed. "So by that logic, I shouldn't have bothered with the catapult at all. I should have just parked that broken cart in the garage, found a horse to ride, and that would have been enough. Is that right?"

"Enough with your nonsense," the chief of staff waved his hand. "The army has its rules. It's not me who made them."

"I'm asking you: yes, or no?" Kevin's voice rose.

"What thing?" The staff officer seemed not to understand.

"If you say yes!" Kevin said. "Then I'll immediately strip everything off that catapult. The magic crystals used for those magic formation arrays can sell for a few thousand, and that money is all my own. From now on, I'll ride a horse, just like my predecessors. That's all." Kevin sneered. "If you say no, then kindly take back what you just said. Don't compare me to my predecessors—because they don't deserve it!"

"You!" The staff officer gritted his teeth in fury, and with all these people watching, he couldn't save face. "Is that the tone you use when speaking to a superior officer?"

Kevin only sneered, didn't waste more words, grabbed his donkey, and led the catapult around to leave.

"Where are you going?" The staff officer felt humiliated. "Get back here!"

Kevin turned around: "Are you sure you want to debate with me?"

The staff officer: "…"

"Go stand over there. I'll deal with you later!" The staff officer waved his hand. Some of the veterans nearby showed faint smiles, clearly seeing that the staff officer didn't dare keep making a fuss, afraid of being torn apart verbally. Kevin only sneered and returned alone all the way to his garage.

Kevin was human too, after all. Even someone as composed as him had lost his temper today. To have his long efforts go unrecognized—if there had been a rule established beforehand, he could have accepted it. But to suddenly add "the Lightning Knight Order is all knights" on the spot—what was that? A fair assessment or competition at least tells both sides the rules in advance so people can be genuinely convinced. Adding rules on the spot is nothing but the conduct of a petty scoundrel.

But thinking of his own isolated position, he knew it was ultimately unwise to openly argue with the chief of staff in front of everyone, so he left on his own. Sitting in his room, he drank three cups of water, drummed his fingers on the table, gradually calmed down, and began pondering how to break through this trap.

A moment later, a knock suddenly came at the door. Kevin thought it was the staff officer coming to find him and prepared for a confrontation, but when he opened the door, it was Stadt.

"Sigh! You again... never mind," Stadt shook his head. "As someone in a position of authority, they'll think of every possible way to get you."

"They're already thinking of every possible way to get me," Kevin said expressionlessly.

"What are you going to do from here on?" Stadt asked.

"We'll deal with that later," Kevin quickly changed the subject. "By the way—you've been distributing books in the camp, right? So when is my book actually going on sale?"

"Uh... soon. Really soon," Stadt replied.