Lance paid little attention to the new recruits. His focus was on the panel before him, watching as his level changed from Traveller to Apprentice and strength flooded his body.
With the help of the Abilities [Bless] and [Flesh Reconstruction], he could ignore all side effects. He improved rapidly, like a machine undergoing terrifyingly intense training.
Reynard and Balistan’s combat skills were simple yet practical, gleaned from the blood and fire of war, and now they imparted them to him without reservation.
His powerful learning capacity, combined with their instruction, led to significant improvent, though it depleted most of his accumulated [Tribute].
His strength had clearly surpassed that of an ordinary person; staying here wouldn’t offer much more improvent.
So, he usually ca out to inspect the training camp after their sessions ended. He would review their progress and pick so for sparring matches, thereby igniting their enthusiasm for training.
Yet, to this day, Lance had not tasted defeat.
Lance’s indifference to a battle’s outco didn’t an the others felt the sa. They all discussed the recent fight. Even the defeated new recruit wasn’t discouraged but rather excited, considering it an honor to have sparred with My Lord.
"My Lord is too strong!"
"I’m afraid only the two instructors can contend with My Lord now."
"I think even the instructors might not be a match for My Lord."
The new recruits showed an almost fanatical adoration for Lance. He was simply too strong. This had nothing to do with status, rely the sheer gap in strength.
When Lance first joined, he had indeed spurred them on, but they soon sensed the vast gap between them.
Lance learned everything after a single attempt. Soon, even double the training intensity wasn’t enough for him. So, he left the main force and, under their watchful eyes, trained at several tis the normal intensity, constantly pushing his limits.
It wasn’t that no new recruits tried to catch up to Lance’s pace; however, these individuals were ultimately humbled by reality, left only to look up to their Lord.
It could be said that Lance utterly eclipsed these new recruits in every aspect. He passed the assessnt at a pace they couldn’t dream of matching, so it was no wonder they worshipped him so intensely.
And this was why Lance, although he could have trained separately, chose to train with them.
If he invested so many resources into an army over which he had no influence, could it truly be called his army?
Military power must remain firmly in his own hands.
"If you want to earn one of those, you’ll have to work even harder," Lance declared, raising his hand and pointing to the five breastplates standing on the training ground as he addressed the new recruits. "You won’t take it from at your current level of skill."
Lance wasn’t very knowledgeable about training troops. However, in his previous life, he had collected a vast number of fitness videos and, having undergone military training a few tis, he possessed so insights into systematic exercise.
Therefore, during training, he implented many thods to optimize and improve their regin, while also trying various ways to unlock the recruits’ potential.
For example, the five breastplates laid out were trophies from the Guards he had defeated—incentives he offered to motivate them.
When this batch of new recruits finished their training and were inducted into the new army, he would award armor to five individuals. This spurred them to train hard for those five coveted slots.
He also established training records. As long as the training field existed, the records he set would remain, influencing every new recruit who trained there.
Lance also launched a literacy campaign. They trained during the day, and at night, they had to study, starting with learning to recognize characters—ten new words each day. Those who rembered more were rewarded, while those who rembered less faced extra training.
Most of these n disliked using their brains; for them, studying was more difficult than physical training. Nevertheless, with Lance’s stringent enforcent, the initiative still yielded considerable results.
He was about to continue picking recruits to spar with, but Susan suddenly appeared on the training field. Sensing sothing, Lance imdiately halted the ongoing training session.
"Rember this: no matter how many of you are left in the end, there are only thirty spots in the new army. If you don’t want to be eliminated, then train even harder!"
After this exhortation to the new recruits, Lance left the training ground to find Susan.
"What’s the problem now?" Lance asked, his tone matter-of-fact.
As the Lord, besides his high-intensity training, he was also responsible for various affairs in town these days. Fortunately, he had assessed the situation and promoted so individuals to begin forming an administrative team; otherwise, he truly would have been overwheld.
However, issues that required his personal attention were usually quite troubleso.
But as Susan began to speak, Lance couldn’t help but smile.
"Mr. Dismas has returned."
"Oh!" Lance exclaid, then asked excitedly, "Where is he?"
"Just outside."
"Quick, quick, quick!"
Lance hurried outside. Upon seeing Dismas, he imdiately went to him, gently supporting his arms as he greeted him.
"The journey must have been hard," Lance said, looking Dismas over. "Are you injured?"
He noticed Dismas looked quite haggard. His greatcoat was torn in several places and caked with mud, his face was gaunt, and even his usually sharp eyes were filled with fatigue.
Thankfully, he wasn’t injured.
Wandering alone in the wilderness for so many days... it’s a miracle he returned alive.
He then turned to Susan and instructed, "Go back and prepare so hot water and a change of clothes. And ale, of course."
Dismas was stunned by Lance’s reaction. Hearing his Lord’s words, he felt deeply moved. His Lord hadn’t imdiately asked about the mission but instead showed concern for his well-being—a kind of care Dismas hadn’t experienced since leaving ho.
A warm current surged through his weary heart.
"My Lord, I..."
Lance raised a hand, stopping him. "It’s good that you’ve returned safely. The rest can wait," he said, patting Dismas’s shoulder with a smile. "And finally, welco ho."
As [Bless] activated, its subtle Strengthening effect began to improve Dismas’s overall condition.
Ho...
Dismas suddenly realized he had almost forgotten what "ho" signified. Or rather, the concept itself had beco blurry in his mind. After wandering for so long, he had thought he would never have a ho again...
For so reason, his eyes grew moist. Am I... ho now?
"Co! Let show you around the town."
Lance led Dismas through the streets.
He had to admit, the construction had progressed rapidly. In just a few days, Dismas could see many changes. For instance, excrent no longer littered the streets; instead, small structures had been built at intervals along them.
"That’s a latrine," Lance explained, gesturing to one.
It was essentially a small shed built from wooden planks, with a bucket inside. Every morning, designated people would tend to them, collecting the waste and transporting it to a large pit outside the town for composting.
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