The morning mist had not yet fully lifted when the bugle sounded over the East Barracks.
The long, deep notes cut through the thin fog and echoed across the plains east of Draco. It was the reveille—and the assembly call!
For the 1,500 soldiers stationed here, a new day had begun.
The East Barracks occupied a carefully chosen location: ten miles east of Draco City, ten miles north of White Stone Town, and only five miles from the God's Eye.
It was close enough to water, far enough from civilian areas, convenient for supplies, and caused no disturbance to the populace.
The site Luke had personally selected fulfilled almost every requirent of a modern military base.
The Jaqenion Family Guard now numbered two thousand n in total.
Fifteen hundred were stationed at the East Barracks, while the remaining five hundred were garrisoned on "Lakeheart Island"—the forr Isle of Faces.
On that island, most of the weirwood forest had already been cleared and replaced with sturdy barracks, docks, and training grounds.
Five hundred elite troops were stationed there both for defense and as a show of force.
From above, the East Barracks looked like a ticulously carved chessboard.
The camp was laid out in a perfect rectangle. A wide main avenue five zhang across served as the central axis, with buildings arranged symtrically on both sides.
This layout had been designed by Luke himself. He had never served in the military in his previous life, but he had seen enough modern barracks online to replicate a practical and efficient plan.
The outer periter was enclosed by a fifteen-chi-high brick-and-stone wall topped with a patrol walkway. Arrow towers stood every twenty-five ters, with sentries on duty day and night.
Beyond the wall lay a two-zhang-wide moat filled with sharpened stakes at the bottom—not decoration, but real defense, and a clear statent: this is a military camp, not a market. Unauthorized persons keep out!
The main gate faced east, flanked by two thick wooden pillars from which hung House Jaqenion's black-dragon-on-red banner.
Beneath the flagpoles, two sentries stood ramrod straight, spears resting on their shoulders, sunlight glinting off their helts.
Their eyes stared dead ahead, motionless as statues.
The first rule of the barracks: when standing guard, even if a fly lands on your face, you do not move.
Following the main avenue north led to the soldiers' quarters.
Each row of barracks was thirty zhang long and housed an entire company of one hundred n.
The buildings were timber-and-stone, with neat grey-tiled roofs and whitewashed walls—simple yet spotless.
Push open a wooden door and the interior was imdiately clear.
Two rows of continuous bunks ran along each side, five n per bunk. Half-man-high wooden partitions separated the sleeping spaces, and each man had a wooden chest for personal belongings.
The space was not spacious, but it was sufficient.
The quilts were folded into perfect squares, sharp-edged like blocks of tofu.
This folding thod had been demonstrated by Luke himself, drawn from a certain army tradition of another world.
Wooden racks on the walls held canteens, packs, and weapons in perfect order. Spears stood against the wall, points upward, gleaming coldly. Bow cases hung on the opposite side, strings relaxed and well maintained. Every piece of equipnt had its assigned place; a man could find it with his eyes closed.
The floor was packed earth, swept clean twice daily—not a single blade of grass or speck of dust.
On the windowsills stood rows of clay oil lamps, wicks trimd evenly, chimneys polished until they shone.
In the corner sat an iron stove for winter heating, with neatly stacked, uniform-length firewood beside it.
What astonished the native soldiers most was the "running water pipes"!
Turn the iron faucet and clear water flowed out.
The water ca from a tall water tower in the camp and was piped to every dormitory block. Every morning the soldiers lined up to draw water and wash. The washing area had rows of faucets, so no one had to wait long.
There were also "solar water heaters" that supplied hot water twenty-four hours a day!
Order reigned. There was no noise—only the crisp clink of buckets.
A new recruit fresh from a Riverlands village had stared at the faucet for a full teacup's worth of ti on his first morning.
"Is… is this magic?"
An old soldier clapped him on the shoulder. "You'll get used to it. Serve under Lord Luke long enough and you'll realize magic is everywhere."
North of the dormitory area lay the heart of the camp—the grand parade ground.
It was a square two hundred zhang on each side, paved with ramd three-part earth as hard as stone. Neither rain nor sun could turn it muddy.
Colorful banners ringed the field. Beneath each banner stood a company, each flag embroidered with its unit emblem: roaring black bear, spreading raven wings, galloping warhorse, crossed spears…
Every morning the companies ford up here for drill.
Footsteps fell in perfect unison, thudding dully against the ground and making it tremble faintly.
Commands rang out, short and sharp, echoing across the camp.
Sunlight flashed off the aligned spear tips, creating a blinding forest of steel.
The training was varied.
Formation drill: left face, right face, quick march, parade march…
These movents looked simple, but they were the foundation of discipline. Only an army that could march in perfect step could maintain formation on the battlefield. This was the core of basic training!
Weapons drill: spear thrusts, shield blocks, sword cuts. Every motion was repeated hundreds of tis until it beca muscle mory.
Formation practice: square, circle, wedge, open order, close order. Different formations for different enemies—must be mastered.
At the north end of the parade ground stood a three-chi-high reviewing platform with a massive flagpole flying the largest family banner.
Every Monday a flag-raising ceremony was held!
During inspections the commanding officer would stand on the platform and watch thousands of soldiers march past in formation.
On either side of the platform were drumrs and buglers. When the war drums rolled, the sound shook the heavens and morale soared.
On the east side of the parade ground was the archery range.
It was a long, narrow field, one hundred and fifty zhang long and fifty zhang wide.
At one end stood fifty straw targets shaped like n, red bullseyes painted on their chests. At the other end was the firing line, marked with clear white lines. Archers stood or knelt there to shoot.
Every afternoon the archers trained here.
The sound of arrows slicing through the air rose and fell—"whoosh, whoosh"—followed by the dull thud of arrowheads striking straw.
Instructors walked the ranks with hands behind their backs, correcting posture. "Back straight!" "Aim steady!" "Release clean!"
On both sides of the range were rain shelters. Beneath them hung every type of bow and crossbow—longbows, shortbows, composite bows, crossbows—all polished to a shine.
Bundled arrows stood ready, points up, neatly stacked and available at a mont's notice.
At the far end were special targets: moving targets, long-range targets, night targets. The most elite archers trained here. Their skill was not only accurate but fast—they could loose five arrows in three breaths, every one hitting the red.
Luke occasionally ca to the range to show off.
He rarely demonstrated his "magical weapons," but even with ordinary bows his accuracy was terrifying!
With his current physical stats and spiritual power, he could hit whatever he aid at—one hundred shots, one hundred hits!
Every ti he finished shooting, the range erupted in cheers.
What was "piercing a willow leaf at a hundred paces"?
What was "shooting the halberd at the camp gate"?
The soldiers looked at him as if he were a god.
It turned out the real "big shots" in the barracks were all "horse archers." True master archers were "Soldier Kings," not the fragile glass-cannon characters from gas!
On the west side of the parade ground was the combat arena.
It was a circular field thirty zhang in diater, covered in fine sand and ringed by thick wooden barriers.
Outside the barriers rose tiered seating that could hold three thousand spectators.
On rest days, martial contests were held here.
Soldiers fought in pairs, blades flashing, shouts shaking the heavens.
Winners received honor and rewards: ten silver coins, a silk banner, and the chance of promotion.
Losers were not discouraged—they trained harder and fought again next month.
In the center of the arena stood a massive stone stele engraved with the nas of every past champion.
It was the honor every soldier dread of.
Having your na carved on the stele was not for show—it counted toward military rit.
Every three inscriptions earned one Third-Class rit, up to a maximum of three!
On ordinary days the arena was also used for close-quarters combat training. Instructors led soldiers through blade work, sword techniques, and shield formations, polishing every move to perfection.
Countless footprints and weapon scars marked the sand, each one a record of sweat.
Behind the combat arena lay the athletic field.
It was an open grassy area equipped with all kinds of training apparatus: horizontal bars, parallel bars, climbing ropes, vaulting horses, sand pits… Soldiers trained here—running, jumping, climbing, crawling—everything.
A standard running track circled the field—eight hundred ters per lap, the size of a football pitch.
There were four such tracks, with a full football field in the middle.
The sport of "football" had already beco popular in the barracks, a favorite leisure activity for the soldiers.
Lord Luke himself often ca down to play with them!
Whenever Luke joined a match, the scene was always entertaining.
On one hand, the soldiers dared not play too roughly against their lord. On the other hand, Luke's terrifying physical stats ant that even when they went all out they couldn't stop him.
When he dribbled, it was like a warhorse charging into a flock of sheep.
The most classic mont: Luke single-handedly dribbled past all eleven opponents, stopped the ball on the goal line, turned to the panting soldiers, and grinned as he waved them forward. "Co on—if you catch up I'll give you extra points."
After that match, the belief that "a Celestial Dragon cannot be defeated" beca even more deeply rooted in the soldiers' hearts.
Luke was simply too strong. When these soldiers played football with their "big leader," they didn't need to worry about saving face or holding back—otherwise Luke wouldn't enjoy it!
He was already thinking about holding a "Football World Cup" in Westeros soday…
Every morning soldiers ran laps on the track, round after round, until they were drenched in sweat.
Beside the track stood wooden racks holding stone locks, dumbbells, and sandbags for strength training.
In one corner was a deep pit filled with wooden stakes. Soldiers leaped and ran across them, training balance and agility.
The most eye-catching feature of the athletic field was the set of three-zhang-tall climbing ropes.
The best soldiers could climb to the top hand-over-hand, then perform a handstand on the rope, earning thunderous applause.
North of the athletic field stood a row of wooden buildings—the camp classrooms.
There were ten rooms, each able to hold fifty n. Inside were long tables and benches. The blackboards were made of charred wood, the chalk from li.
The Jaqenion Family Guard had a rule: anyone who could not read could not be promoted to lieutenant or higher!
Therefore, every evening soldiers rotated through these classrooms.
Instructors taught them to read, do arithtic, read maps, and understand signal flags.
Large military maps hung on the walls, marking mountains, passes, roads, and cities.
On another wall were after-action analyses of past battles, with simple text and arrows highlighting the keys to victory and defeat.
But the most important subject was "political and ideological education"!
Luke had personally compiled a manual titled Guidelines for Jaqenion Army Construction, filled with advanced modern military thought and concepts.
Of course, the ideological content had been carefully adapted by him. The core ssage was simple: House Jaqenion's interests co first, Lord Luke's prestige must be upheld, Lord Luke's will is the direction of action, and everything may be sacrificed for Lord Luke!
To cultivate loyalty, Luke had also created the positions of "political commissar" and "guidance officer."
He himself was the Supre Commissar!
Every few days Luke would personally give lectures, expounding on "the history of the Celestial Dragons," "the beliefs of House Jaqenion," or offering psychological guidance to the soldiers.
These were not ordinary lectures.
Luke's powerful spiritual force subtly influenced every listener.
Standing on the platform, his gaze sweeping across the room, every soldier would feel a warm and mighty power flow into their hearts, making them instinctively feel closeness, trust, and worship toward their lord!
This was real psychological influence. Ever since his Intelligence and Spirit attributes had reached the "transcendent" level of 11 points, he had gained the "Bewitchnt" skill—and it was most effective when used to indoctrinate soldiers!
Those "rooted and righteous" soldiers—the earliest followers who had been with Luke from the beginning—had long since been imprinted with the steel seal of loyalty: loyalty to House Jaqenion, loyalty to Luke.
Even the "Three-Body" character Shen, if he ca here, would have to bow in defeat.
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