As the war approached, the training intensified significantly.

Every day, the elite students were so exhausted that they fell asleep as soon as they returned to the dormitory. Few had the energy to joke or play, but everyone felt that they had learned a lot of combat skills during this period and their strength was rapidly improving.

"Captain, give me another bottle of recovery potion, I'm so tired I'm cramping," Stanley said. After the big battle between Rody and Chris, he decided to support Rody as the middle squad leader, a sentiment shared by Jesse, another squad leader like himself. A middle squad leader could manage a hundred people, and they believed Rody would be the most suitable person to lead them.

"Find Chris, he knows hydrotherapy magic!" Rody didn't really want to stand out. He had erupted in anger that day when pushed by Chris. However, Instructor Wood appointed three middle squad leaders, and Rody was one of them. He couldn't refuse the position, and Jesse and Stanley also supported him.

"Captain Chris is too tired, I don’t want to bother him!" Stanley said with a smile, stretching out his hand until he got Rody's recovery potion.

Chris, who had fought a big battle with Rody, also became a squad leader, taking over Rody's vacancy. With his strength, he could have been a middle squad leader, but he chose to follow Rody. Instructor Wood didn't object. Every day, besides a small amount of training, Chris spent most of his time enchanting everyone's badges, looking pale from overexertion. Everyone almost wanted to worship him, fearing he would collapse from exhaustion.

In the team, he was as popular as Rody. Both were relied upon by everyone.

Rody, who could make Instructor Wood sweat in sand table simulation battles, could lead everyone to survival on the battlefield with his wisdom and strategy. And Chris could provide the best protection for everyone.

"Gentlemen, the training is temporarily over," Instructor Wood announced, shocking everyone. "I think you should train for at least another half a year before going to the battlefield, but we don’t have the luxury of time. Tomorrow, you will be deployed to the front lines. Fortunately, you won’t be the frontline soldiers charging into battle, but logistics soldiers responsible for transporting supplies. I feel lucky for you, otherwise, each of you, living elites, would turn into lifeless corpses, buried underground, or become food for the orc soldiers, existing in this world only in the form of their feces."

"Report, Instructor," the boldest Lopeck raised his hand and asked, "Why are we, the elites, assigned as logistics soldiers?"

"This is a decision from above. Maybe they think you haven’t trained in horsemanship, so they assigned you to logistics!" As soon as Instructor Wood said this, Rody immediately understood the good intentions of the bearded General Kunting. He didn’t train them in horsemanship because he didn’t want them to be frontline soldiers immediately upon entering the battlefield, but to adapt as logistics soldiers.

The greatest loss of soldiers in war happens during the first battle of new recruits.

New soldiers are not accustomed to the brutality of war, resulting in a high casualty rate. However, once the battle starts and the soldiers adapt, even in the fiercest of battles, the casualty rate significantly decreases. Especially experienced veterans have a survival rate more than ten times that of new recruits on the battlefield.

This old fellow was indeed cunning, with a far-sighted vision.

Rody admired him greatly. Being able to predict the decisions of the marshals above even before the war started, this unknown General Kunting seemed to be a remarkable and astute figure, a sly old fox.

"If all 300 of you can stay together and watch out for each other, you would be much safer, but that's not possible in reality. You will be divided into three parts and sent to serve in different military departments. From now on, you should follow your middle squad leaders and rely on your own abilities to survive on the battlefield. All we can do for you is to wish you luck. Good luck, soldiers!" Instructor Wood shouted, "You have a day off today. You can do as you please—drink, dance, find women, prepare your weapons and armor! Don’t expect the military to provide any useful equipment; you'll need to prepare everything yourselves if you want to protect yourselves with your weapons. Tomorrow at this time, I want to see every one of you, and I want to see the bloodthirsty eyes of hungry wolves. Always remember, you are soldiers of the Iron Blood Cavalry Camp!"

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

"Yes!" Over three hundred people roared in unison, their voices fierce as fire.

After the dismissal, everyone gradually dispersed.

In the tents, people were packing up, some were drinking, some singing, some dancing, some counting money, probably figuring out what kind of girl they could afford that night. Stanley was in a frenzy because his purse was as dry as the desert. Although he wanted to find a woman to vent, no one was willing to lend him even a small amount of money, not even a single gold coin.

At this peak time, even the worst woman in the tavern, with breasts sagging like big sacks, would probably cost a gold coin.

Stanley asked several of his close buddies for a loan, but as soon as he mentioned borrowing money, they immediately shook their heads and waved their hands.

"You ungrateful bastards, I curse you to die on a woman's belly!" Stanley was furious. These guys were really annoying, leaving him out of the fun. Didn't they fear being drained dry by prostitutes and turning into skeletons? Everyone was willing to lend anything else. They were generous with the liquor they usually hid, but lending money was out of the question, as it might never come back.

"Stanley, whose subordinate are you?" Rody asked, and the big black guy immediately realized, showing a grin that gave people goosebumps.

"Captain, I'm of course your little brother. Do you have any orders for me?" Stanley got up from the bed, ready to polish Rody's shoes, knowing that once Rody spoke, he would be in luck.

"I have too much money and don’t know how to spend it!" Rody tossed him a heavy bag of gold coins. "Don’t come back to see me if you can’t spend it all!"

"At your command!" Stanley was so happy he nearly fainted.

"My dear captain, perhaps you remember, your subordinate isn’t just Stanley!" Many people rushed forward with towels, nearly tearing Rody's shoes into eighteen pieces. Others rolled up their sleeves, ready to give the wealthy Felick a shoulder massage, while fighting over who would pour water for him, busily bustling about.

"Go and flatter Stanley!" Rody said with a faint smile. "You should know that the current Sergeant Stanley has a hundred gold coins…"

"Stanley, you look really good today. I woke up this morning because you were so handsome, it shocked me awake!" someone flattered him excessively.

"We're like brothers, always have been!" another person emphasized their relationship.

"There's a blonde, blue-eyed beauty in the eastern part of the city, her large breasts could squirt water, I know her well. Every time I visit, I get a 20% discount. Let's go have a drink with her together!" someone offered, showing they had connections.

"Keep talking, and don't stop until I, Lord Stanley, am pleased." Stanley was now strutting around, full of pride.

A large group surrounded Stanley, noisily heading out, leaving only Rody and Chris in the huge tent. Rody was sleeping lazily, while Chris, sweating, enchanted weapons for everyone. Two squads were leaving soon, and the chances of seeing them again were slim, so Chris felt the least he could do was enchant their weapons.

Everyone in Rody's middle squad consciously let the other two squads have their weapons enchanted first, as they would have more opportunities with Chris around.

After half a day, Chris finished his work, sat tiredly on Rody's bed, took a sip of water, and sighed. Seeing Rody ignoring him, he patted Rody's shoulder, "Hey, why aren't you going after those women who can squirt water with their breasts?"

"Mind your own business!" Rody brushed his hand away and continued to sleep.

"You'll suffer from keeping it all bottled up. As a man, you should let loose when you need to!" Chris laughed heartily, seemingly experienced in such matters.

"Why don't you go?" Rody asked curiously.

"What? Me? Ah, this... How do you know I'm not going? I'm going in a bit! I have someone who waits for me, freshly bathed in bed every day, I'm not in a hurry!" Chris grinned, "Virgin captain, are you too shy? Want me to take you for some fun? I guarantee once you try, you'll crave for more!"

"Stay away from me!" Rody turned and kicked at Chris, but he dodged easily, anticipating Rody's reaction.

"Ha-ha, someone's angry!" Chris clapped and laughed, then said, "It's getting late, I can't make the beauty wait too long! Not a gentleman’s act to keep a lady waiting, heh, I'm off. You can sulk here all you want. Want me to find you a woman? We’re all friends here, I can treat you!"

"Go to hell..." Rody was furious, suddenly remembering the tavern owner. If she were here, he could talk to her.

Going to battle was indeed depressing. Despite possessing considerable strength, on the battlefield, one faces not a single enemy but thousands. A moment’s lapse could mean death at the hands of an enemy. The battlefield was unpredictable, with constant threats of hidden arrows and magic. Unless one had the power of a king, no one could guarantee a safe return.

If the tavern owner were here, even though she often spoke incoherently with a mouth full of alcohol, she was the best listener.

Whatever he wanted to say, she would listen quietly.

Sometimes, she would even hold him in her arms.

Of course, the next day, she would claim she was drunk and didn’t remember her actions. If it weren't for the curse she bore, she would have been a great tavern owner... Rody sighed softly, his thoughts drifting to the two succubus sisters, wondering if their facial wounds had healed, if they were thinking of him.

And Jill, knowing he was about to go to war, she must be worried.

Just like his mother, if she knew, she would be deeply concerned, hoping the one-armed man could continue to keep it a secret...