Going to the battlefield to kill, if they do it once, they can do it ten thousand tis!
But Fatty didn't expect that before he could enjoy the success, these guys started fighting among themselves!
This unhealthy atmosphere must be stopped! Damn it, they're maiming each other, and I'm busting my ass to discipline this team for nothing!
"It seems..." Fatty stood in the center of the training ground, looking around at the two distinct groups of disciples with a sneer on his face. "You still don't understand your current identities."
Fighting is one thing, but both groups of disciples knew who was in charge here. For a mont, there was complete silence, as they just glared at each other irritably.
Fatty's face twitched twice, then he sighed and asked Geoffrey beside him, "Fourth Elder, tell them your current identity."
"Mars Sect Mutual Assistance Alliance elder, bandit army advisor," Geoffrey looked at his undisciplined disciples with a stern expression.
"Mr. Smith, how about you?" Fatty turned to look at Old Smith standing next to him.
Clutching a copy of the "chanical Control Guide" Fatty had given him a few hours ago, the old fox replied just as decisively, "Mars Sect Mutual Assistance Alliance elder, bandit army advisor."
The alliance Fatty established aims to restore the sect's traditions by uniting their strengths.
The biggest fear within such an alliance is internal sect conflicts. If it were the old informal sect federation, clearly, such an organization would not be capable of competing in the Free World.
Therefore, at its inception, Fatty minimized the sect's image and established an Elder Council and an advisory group for it.
The Sect Alliance treats disciples from all sects equally. It only designates the bandit army as the singular military institution. The Elder Council advises on alliance affairs, while the advisory group advises on military matters. These positions are reserved for sect leaders. Disciples still belong to their sects, and sects remain as they are, still allowed to establish halls and branches in the future. However, in this chaos, before stability is achieved, they are one entity!
The identical responses from the two sect leaders imdiately caused the elders, who were glaring at each other like fighting roosters, to avert their gazes awkwardly.
Joining the bandit army ant conforming to military structure. Although they hadn't served in the military, they still respected the traditions of their sects and obeyed.
Geoffrey and Old Smith made it clear, so who still didn't understand their identity?
"Having a fighting spirit is good!" Fatty said, taking off his shirt to reveal a mass of white flesh. "But since you've joined the bandit army, you should know how to share the sa boat! If you've got the skills, protect your families, protect the brothers beside you, and fight your enemies to the death!"
Fatty threw his shirt forcefully to the ground and angrily shouted, "Aren't you good at fighting? If you haven't had enough, I'll fight you myself!"
Fight him?
So clueless disciples were still staring at Fatty's white flesh dumbfounded, while Weiseler, Baz, Cosmo, and others averted their gaze a long ti ago.
Cosmo and the core disciples of the Phantom Stream had seen Fatty kill several of Kubo's black fist fighters back at the Griffin Knight Main Hall and knew his terror. Weiseler and a few others vividly rembered Fatty killing Gandi while finishing off Monroe a few days ago. Only idiots would want to fight him.
Seeing the core disciples tremble with fear, the clueless outer disciples weren't stupid either and imdiately stood quietly and attentively.
"No one wants to fight anymore?" Fatty asked coldly.
The answer was dead silence.
"Good, now I'll personally give you your first lesson on joining the bandit army!" Fatty stood firmly, adopting the posture of Bear Instructor from the training camp, nodding towards Markovich, who shouted, "Assemble!"
At the command, Cosmo, Weiseler, and others moved first. After a brief disarray, everyone lined up neatly before Fatty according to their groupings.
"Too slow!" Fatty shook his head. Markovich shouted, "Dismissed!"
"Assemble!"
"Dismissed!"
"Assemble!"
As Markovich's repetitive commands rang out, the sky gradually darkened.
The training ground's sensor lights lit up, illuminating the figures repeatedly disbanding and assembling.
"You are soldiers!"
"Dismissed!" "Assemble!"
"In this world, only you can protect your families!"
"Dismissed!" "Assemble!"
"If you still want to live day by day in hiding, get out of here; this place isn't for you!"
"Dismissed!" "Assemble!"
"Listen to the cannon fire over there; you have no choice. Soon, you'll face your enemies. This is destiny; you can't escape!"
"Dismissed!" "Assemble!"
"What are your ideals? What has supported your rigorous training year after year? Just to beco rcenaries or pirates?"
"Dismissed!" "Assemble!"
"This era is an era of heroes! If you want to break the iron curtain of this world, you must first temper yourselves into soldiers as hard as steel!"
"Dismissed!" "Assemble!"
"Rember this: You are soldiers!"
*****************************************
The Blood-colored rcenary Army's First Armored Assault Group had already entered Puluo Town.
The Blood-colored rcenary Army wasn't a famous organization. In fact, in the top 100 of the Free World's rcenary rankings, you wouldn't find this na at all.
Similarly, in the top 100 of the Ard Fleet, you wouldn't find the Blood Wing Fleet either.
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