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“Yulin Guards, heed my command!” Zhang Xun himself stepped down from the dais and strode toward the hundred Yulin Guards already arrayed in formation. “Full armament! Change to live blades!” he ordered his hundred elite men.

“What?” Many of the Yulin Guards froze in disbelief. Change to live weapons?

“Lay down your wooden swords. Take up your real blades!” Zhang Xun commanded.

The ranks stirred at once. “General? Are we truly to use war blades?” someone questioned him, incredulous.

“Must I repeat myself?” Zhang Xun retorted.

“It’s not that, General! If we use real blades, what about those child soldiers?” The Yulin Guards looked down upon the child soldiers, but they were still their own, after all. To brandish war blades at them—this wasn’t training with swords, but butchery. With the Yulin Guards’ prowess, armed with real blades, would any of those children survive?

“You’re not facing a hundred child soldiers, but eight hundred,” Zhang Xun explained. From the moment Li Miao had the Yulin Guards take up real blades, the rules of the test changed: now, one hundred elite Yulin Guards would face eight hundred cadets in open combat.

“But even if all those children come at us, we can’t use real swords!” someone protested, unable to suppress his conscience. The great war god Lü Bu once said, “My eight hundred Shock Troopers can withstand an enemy battalion.” In those days, a battalion meant five thousand men. Eight hundred of Lü Bu’s picked men could rout five thousand. The Yulin Guards had once tested themselves against them and were by no means inferior; the three hundred remaining Yulin Guards were truly the elite of the elite.

Let alone one to eight—even one to ten against such children would not be an issue.

“It’s an order!” Zhang Xun’s words brooked no dissent, and the Yulin Guards obeyed.

The war drums boomed. Within the camp, eight hundred child soldiers stood in formation, clad in bamboo armor, bamboo spears in hand, advancing steadily. Across from them, a hundred elite Yulin Guards also formed up.

The drums fell silent. Both sides were ready.

“Sound the advance!” Qin Huai mounted the Yulin Guards’ field. He was a captain; Zhang Xun would not command personally. The task fell to Qin Huai, who wore a grave expression, for the burden on his shoulders was great.

“Battle! Battle! Battle!” The Yulin Guards, worthy of the Li Army’s reputation, let out a cry. More than a hundred battle-hardened veterans, survivors of countless slaughters, roared with a bloodlust that filled the air above the camp. The difference between those who had seen battle and those who had not was instantly apparent; their killing intent was impossible to conceal. The faint of heart among the children nearly broke ranks.

The eight hundred cadets wavered, truly frightened. It was as if a pack of wild beasts had fixed upon them, bodies tense with dread, knowing that a single movement would set those beasts upon them, to tear them limb from limb.

“Steady! Steady!” Chen Dao shouted from among the ranks. “Drummers, to me!” His voice carried to every boy in the ranks, and the panic subsided.

“See the Yulin Guards before you?” Chen Dao bellowed at his men. “They are the Lord’s elite, the trump card of our army. Every hand among them is stained with enemy blood. Today, they are your foe. Do not harbor illusions. See the swords in their hands? They aren’t wooden—they’re real!”

A gasp swept through the ranks. Until now, the matches had been fought with wooden swords; so long as one avoided the head, there was little risk. The ten cadets who had already fought bore wounds, but none fatal—mere scrapes that would heal. But with real blades, there would be death.

“Heh. His Majesty says, as long as you train as he commands, believe in yourselves and your comrades, you may survive. Those who cannot, who do not have faith, deserve to die. There is no place for the useless in my ranks!” Chen Dao’s tone was harsh as he roared at his soldiers.

“We are not useless!” One of the cadets called out, his face reddening. In the child army, “useless” had a fixed meaning: those who could not protect themselves or their kin, leaving their fate to the mercy of others. Such people might as well be dead.

“Then prove it! The Yulin Guards before you—show them you are not useless!” Chen Dao shouted, pointing at the elite across the field.

In an instant, the cadets’ spirits rallied, united against a common enemy. Even Zhang Xun nodded in approval.

“Transmit my order: sound the advance!”

“What?” Many were stunned—the Yulin Guards attacked, but the child soldiers did not take a defensive posture. Instead, they counter-charged. Was this not suicide? Surely the first wave would be swept away.

Zhang Xun glanced at Li Miao, whose intentions were a mystery. Was he really trying to pit his child soldiers in a charge against the Yulin Guards? But seeing Li Miao’s calm smile, Zhang Xun felt uneasy. Would he really be tripped up by these children?

Li Miao appeared calm, but only if one ignored the cold sweat on his hands hidden in his sleeves, and the trembling of his legs. In truth, no one was more anxious than he. These child soldiers were his creation, his heart’s blood, his children. Now he had to watch them face the Yulin Guards in battle. He resented the Yulin Guards, but could not deny their strength. That was why he was so torn—he had to steel himself to let these boys taste blood, but feared too many would die. Li Miao was the most conflicted of all.

But at last, he hardened his heart. Better they face this storm now, under Zhang Xun’s measured hand, than be utterly destroyed later on the battlefield. Only by seeing blood would they truly grow.

“I wish to learn the ways of old!” Chen Dao roared, and behind him, eight hundred voices took up the chant:

“Once there were valiant men,
Bound by honor and their word.
They rode across the world,
Boasting only of sword and blade.
Today, to seek their like
Is but to grasp at moon shadows.
A man’s path is his own,
Let not a manly form hide a woman’s heart.
West Gate bids his mother farewell,
She weeps, but he does not.
His life pledged to history’s cause,
Never to return home again.
Have you not seen, the lion and tiger win renown,
But who pities the gentle deer?
The world has ever favored the strong,
Reason is ever forfeit to might.
In ages past, virtue led only to ruin,
Righteousness was never true!
A man’s place is on the killing field,
With courage of bear and wolfish eyes.
A man does not spare himself,
Even in death, he laughs in the enemy’s face.
To kill one is a crime,
To slay thousands, a hero.
A hero among heroes, the path diverges:
See through a thousand years of hollow virtue,
And let this life be spent in glory.
Gaze out upon ten thousand years of men,
Where has a hero not killed?”

“Battle! Battle! Battle!”

“Kill! Kill! Kill!”

“To kill one is a crime, to slay thousands is to be a hero?” Zhang Xun glanced again at the young lord. This war song could not have been Chen Dao’s creation; naturally, it must have come from Li Miao, the founder of these child soldiers.

Zhang Xun was correct. This “Song of Valor” was taught to the cadets by Li Miao. He did not want men who would only recite poetry and speak of propriety—he wanted men willing to kill, able to kill, and unafraid to kill. Stirred by the song, the morale of the cadets soared; all their eyes were fixed unswervingly on the path ahead.

“Spearmen to the front, shield bearers to the flanks, throwers—prepare to launch!” At Chen Dao’s command, countless bamboo javelins were readied.

The spearmen had only one task: thrust, withdraw, thrust, withdraw! Anything else was a burden.

The Yulin Guards had not yet clashed with the child soldiers when, suddenly, a rain of short bamboo javelins fell from the sky. Lacking bows in their ranks, Li Miao could only employ this method. Every bamboo shaft was sharpened.

Each squad of soldiers had two throwers, each with eight short bamboo poles. All had to be hurled before the melee began; then, the throwers would take up war blades and defend the flanks.

With a muffled sound, forty throwers in the eight-hundred-strong force unleashed a storm of sharpened bamboo. Hundreds of shafts rained down. Though not tipped with iron, they were not to be underestimated. Under this bamboo storm, Zhang Xun’s face darkened.

“Scatter! Scatter!” Qin Huai shouted as he led the charge. The Yulin Guards hardly needed the warning; they had seen arrow storms before, if not bamboo. As soon as the rain fell, they scattered.

But there were always the unlucky. The bamboo, flung high, descended with the force of gravity, turning what seemed harmless into deadly weapons. Unless the shaft struck armor, there was little protection.

Three Yulin Guards could not evade in time. One was pierced through the neck and died instantly; two others were struck in the arm and thigh, losing combat ability and soon finished off by the next volley.

Before the two sides had even met, the Yulin Guards had lost three elite soldiers. Zhang Xun’s face clouded, and Qin Huai looked grim. These were his brothers-in-arms. The Yulin Guards, who had felt some sympathy for the child soldiers, now burned with fury. Any who killed their comrades would die.

“Spearmen, form up!” Chen Dao’s orders and signal flag flew. The throwers’ initial success eased the tension among the child soldiers. The Yulin Guards were not invincible; they too were mortal. The cadets grew calmer.

Countless sharpened bamboo spears were raised, forming a thicket before the army.

“Charge! Break through!” Qin Huai led his men forward, determined to breach the spear wall. It wasn’t that he underestimated the cadets, but his confidence in the Yulin Guards was absolute. The elite always led the charge, shattering the enemy’s front, sowing terror, then driving deep into the center.

“Thrust!” Chen Dao roared, and the spear tips lunged forward.

The Yulin Guards, ever the elite, saw the spear points and immediately ducked, hacking at the bamboo with their blades.

With a swoosh, the spear tips were chopped off; a spear without a tip was just a stick.

The Yulin Guards smiled, a cruel smile. Spearmen relied on the length and point of their weapons. Without the tip, what good was a stick? Once the enemy closed in, spearmen had no hope.

But before that smile could spread, they were stunned—for the spears stabbed at them again.

Even headless bamboo spears could kill.

Luckily, the Yulin Guards had heavy armor, so casualties were light. But the longer the fight went on, the more uncomfortable it became. The bamboo spears, several meters long, had been carefully selected by Li Miao. A blade could cut them, but every time a piece was lopped off, the remaining end was still sharp, still lethal. Unless the entire spear was destroyed, there was always another point to stab with. And with spears arranged in two ranks—front row thrusting, rear row drawing back, alternating with no pause—there was no gap for the enemy to exploit. Many Yulin Guards fell victim to this tactic.

“Hm?” Zhang Xun now dared not underestimate the child soldiers, nor the bamboo weapons devised by his lord. Several meters long—cut off a piece, another remains; cut again, still more. One thrust into the body and it’s over. The Yulin Guards had heavy armor, but what of those with only light protection? This was a true meat grinder. Zhang Xun looked again at his young lord, surprised at such ingenuity.

But this was not Li Miao’s invention; there was precedent. He merely borrowed from history—the renowned Qi Family Army. In the late Ming, the coastal raiders were unmatched. The government troops were helpless against them, in part because their weapons were inferior—their spears easily chopped by the raiders’ katana, finely honed swords. The raiders’ samurai would charge, cut off the spear tips, and rout the army. The court had no funds to forge iron-tipped spears, so General Qi Jiguang devised this method—using sharpened bamboo poles, several meters long. The katana could cut a piece, but there would always be more. The only way to stop the spear was to cut the entire length, which was impossible in battle. Meanwhile, a single thrust could kill. The raiders favored weapons over armor; their swords were sharp, but they wore little or no protection. The bamboo spears, therefore, pierced them with ease.