From soldier to king

Chapter 3lei

In the southernmost region of the Vantorian Empire lies Siliri Province, nestled along the border of the Gentle Breeze Plains. This province belongs to Duke Green, whose name has a slightly humorous connotation. Home to over five million people, Siliri is the empire's largest producer of grain, lumber, and fur.

At the southern edge of the province, near the Gentle Breeze Plains, lies a small mountain range, stretching just over a hundred miles. In the middle of these mountains is a small village with a population of only about three hundred. Isolated from the continent’s main trade routes, the village remains relatively disconnected from the outside world. Even after two weeks of war, they have yet to catch a hint of the brewing conflict.

The rain had just stopped, turning the ground into black, sticky mud. The sun peeked out from behind the clouds, causing steam to rise from the wet earth, making the lower half of one’s body itch uncomfortably. However, the air was remarkably fresh, as if every speck of dust had been washed away, leaving behind only the purest air.

A group of teenage boys, about sixteen or seventeen years old, charged down the village's only road, each carrying a long wooden stick nearly the length of a foot soldier's spear. Their bare feet splashed through the mud, spraying it onto their brown pants. They didn’t mind, knowing that once the mud dried, a simple brush would leave no trace. As for their upper bodies, which were bare, a quick dip in the nearby river would be enough to clean up.

The boys stopped in front of a small thatched hut at the village entrance, shouting loudly, "Lei, Lei, come out! The weather’s cleared up, and Uncle Ster is going to teach us some spear techniques. Hurry up!"

A young man emerged from the hut, clearly stronger and slightly taller than the others, with dark skin, a shaved head, and a regular, though far from handsome, face. Despite his robust build, there was a subtle air of frailty about him, like someone who had lived in seclusion for too long or been worn down by the harshness of life.

This young man, Lei, shook his head, gesturing to the large bow in his hand, which was nearly five feet long. "You go ahead. I'm heading up the mountain. If I’m lucky, I might bring back some deer."

The blond-haired boy leading the group protested, "Lei, you always skip practice with Uncle Ster. What if something happens in the village?"

Lei shrugged and smiled. "Come on, what could possibly happen here? Duke Green’s army camp is just outside the village—no one would dare cause trouble. I’d better go hunt some game to sell; my mother’s been coughing again."

The group fell silent. They knew Lei’s father had died early, leaving him to care for his sickly mother. Unlike them, Lei didn’t have the luxury of time to practice martial arts or fool around. The blond-haired boy sighed and shouted, "Just be quick and careful up the mountain! We’ll teach you what we learn when we get back." With that, the group ran off toward the hillside, where the old soldier Ster’s house stood.

Lei chuckled softly, gazing wistfully in the direction of Ster’s house. He picked up a quiver of homemade bamboo arrows, slung them over his shoulder, and, barefoot, walked out of the fenced yard toward the mountain. He wished he could join the training, if only to hear old Ster brag about his battlefield exploits. Lei laughed to himself, "Ster must’ve been a great warrior. Otherwise, how could he have survived in a world where wars break out every few years? Even with a crippled leg, at least he’s alive."

A strange thought suddenly crossed Lei’s mind: "Maybe Uncle Ster survived because he’s especially good at running away." Feeling guilty for even thinking it, Lei glanced nervously behind him, half-expecting Ster, with his bushy beard, to appear out of nowhere and whack him on the head.

While Lei headed up the mountain with his bow and arrows, the group of boys rushed to Ster’s house, shouting, "Uncle Ster! Stop sneaking drinks, or we’ll tell Auntie on you... Haha, come out already!"

A large, red-faced man with a slight smell of alcohol hurriedly stumbled out of the house, cursing, "You little brats! Can’t I enjoy a bit of wine in peace? How much did your aunt pay you to snitch on me? Fine, Bet, you’re up first. Let’s see how well you’ve been practicing your punches."

The blond-haired boy, Bet, cheered, dropped his wooden stick, and rubbed his hands together before charging at Ster. He threw a punch aimed at Ster’s chest, but midway, his fist turned into an elbow strike aimed at Ster’s chin. Ster laughed heartily, blocking the elbow with his left hand, grabbing Bet’s belt with his right, and effortlessly tossing him into the muddy yard.

With a splash, mud flew everywhere, and Bet yelled, "D*mn it, old man! We were supposed to be practicing punches! Why’d you throw me like that? Are we supposed to outmuscle you now?"

Ster grinned slyly, gesturing with his hands as he replied, "Who told you to threaten to tattle on me? Consider this a little lesson. Now, all of you, step up and try your hand. Don’t underestimate this simple ‘Heavy Strike Fist’ from the Vantorian military—it’s a lifesaver on the battlefield. I once used it to take down a mage from the Smart Empire. That’s right, a mage! I even earned a hundred gold coins for bringing back his head."

The young men’s eyes lit up at the mention of a hundred gold coins. Everyone knew Ster was the wealthiest man in the village, so his war stories must be true.

Inspired, Bet got up from the mud and resumed his training with renewed vigor. As Ster deflected Bet’s strikes, he boasted, "That mage was a Crystal Unicorn-level magician, carrying three oak leaves in his mouth! Normally, someone like that could wipe out ten soldiers from a distance, but once I closed in, a few punches were all it took. So, don’t look down on the basics I’m teaching you—they’re simple, but deadly effective."

After throwing over a hundred punches and kicking more than thirty times, Bet finally collapsed to the ground, exhausted, groaning, "Uncle, I’m spent. This technique is too draining."

Ster scolded him sternly, "Of course it’s draining! How else are you supposed to overpower your enemy? Don’t be lazy—if you stop moving, your strength will fade. In the military, there won’t be anyone as kind as me. Your drill sergeant’s whip will have you running laps around the entire square. My instructor was a Black Iron Knight with two fangs, and believe me, there was no outrunning him."

Bet, still sprawled on the ground, grumbled stubbornly, and Ster sighed, "You lot don’t know the value of hard work. Even if you don’t join the army, having some strength is always useful—it’s another way to earn a living. Don’t you want to see the world beyond this village? And Lei... If he trained seriously, he’d outshine all of you."

The others quickly chimed in, "Lei has to take care of his mother! Auntie Lisa is in poor health, and Lei can’t manage the farm alone. Without our help, he wouldn’t even have time to plant the crops. Besides, he needs to hunt to buy medicine and provide proper food for his mom."

Ster shook his head, sighing, "I offered to help him out, but that stubborn kid refused. It’s not like I’d scam him or anything."

Bet shouted jokingly, "Uncle Ster is a good man; he wouldn’t scam us. But his punches are too heavy—they could kill us!"

Ster, infuriated, kicked at Bet, but Bet grabbed his foot and twisted hard. With his other leg slightly crippled, Ster lost his balance and toppled into the mud with a furious roar. The other boys cheered, "Haha, show Uncle Ster what we’ve learned! This is ‘Heavy Strike Fist’ technique nine!"

The group piled on top of Ster, covering him with mud as he struggled and cursed. Finally, exhausted, he could only laugh helplessly, "D*mn it, you brats! Now your aunt’s going to scold me... ‘Ster, you old fool, playing in the mud at your age!’"

The boys laughed, carefully letting Ster up as he climbed out of the mud, covered in filth.

Ster wiped his face and suddenly shouted, "Strange, why is there a military unit coming to the village? One, two, three... Seventeen soldiers! And... Oh my god, it’s a Bronze Knight leading them, and the rest are all Black Iron Knights! Has something serious happened? D*mn, has war broken out again? It’s been less than two years of peace."

Ster’s face darkened with worry as he watched the soldiers approach. Bet and the others, curious, greeted the group and ran downhill to meet the knights. Bet shouted excitedly, "A Bronze Knight! I’ve never seen a Bronze Knight before!"

The other boys mocked him, "Bet, you liar! You haven’t even seen a Black Iron Knight!" Bet, frustrated, kicked at them, and they all ran off, playfully scuffling. Ster, meanwhile, hobbled down the hill to meet the soldiers.

The boys ran about three hundred yards before stopping by the roadside, watching the seventeen knights with a mix of awe and apprehension. The knights,