In the kitchen, several banquet tables had been set up, with an impressive array of cold and hot dishes—roasted meats, chicken, duck, fish, and stir-fried vegetables—being served in waves to the assembled guests.

At the head of one of the tables sat a middle-aged military commander—broad-shouldered, thick-waisted, with strong brows and sharp eyes that radiated both courage and authority. This man was General Sun Shouren, the garrison commander of Xingyuan Prefecture.

"General!" Several personal soldiers entered, all of them bowing respectfully.

General Sun smiled and nodded in acknowledgment. He had recently returned to Xingyuan Prefecture after being reassigned, and during the past two months, he had been caught up in a whirlwind of social obligations—visiting officials, receiving family guests, and attending countless engagements. As a result, he had spent little time in the military camp.

Many of the new recruits were still unfamiliar to him, which troubled him. He knew that in times of war, a general could only rely on the loyalty and skill of his soldiers. If they didn't know and trust him, it would be impossible to lead them into battle. Sun had come back to Xingyuan Prefecture with the intention of focusing on his soldiers, training them rigorously, and getting to know them better. After all, at forty-five, he was still young. As long as he cultivated his men well, he could earn more merit in the future and rise through the ranks once again.

"General!" Chen Mo entered the kitchen and, after bowing, prepared to find a seat at a different table.

He didn't intend to sit at General Sun's table; after all, it would be awkward to dine with the general, especially when they hadn't had much chance to speak. But to his surprise, Sun Shouren, with his stern and formidable expression, smiled warmly at him and called out, "Chen Mo, right? Sit here."

The general still remembered this young man. Chen Mo had only been in the Royal Guards Camp for two months, but in that short time, he had managed to achieve an A rating in both evaluations—an impressive feat, especially considering that Chen Mo had no background in martial arts. Unlike many of the other soldiers, who came from martial arts families or had apprenticed to masters, Chen Mo had no prior training. He had earned his success through sheer talent and hard work. It was for this reason that Sun Shouren had taken note of him. If Chen Mo hadn't stood out, he would have been just another face among the dozens of recruits.

"Ah!" Chen Mo was momentarily stunned by the unexpected invitation, but he quickly complied and took a seat at the main table.

Mo Hu, one of the more relaxed soldiers, sat down next to General Sun without hesitation, casually grabbing a handful of peanuts and munching away.

"Pay attention, you little rascal," Sun Shouren scolded, pretending to be angry as he watched Mo Hu reach for another handful of snacks before the meal had even begun. "You've nearly finished all the peanuts already!"

"Oh!" Mo Hu laughed loudly and happily reached for another handful.

As more recruits arrived and took their seats, Sun Shouren stood up to address the group. He praised the performance of the new soldiers and briefly spoke about his plans for the coming months. Then, with a voice filled with authority, he declared the banquet open.

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Servers brought in large jars of wine, and the soldiers raised their coarse porcelain bowls, toasting each other with hearty, cheerful laughter.

Chen Mo, who was not particularly fond of alcohol, remained focused on the delicious food in front of him. He didn't join in every toast, only raising his cup when the occasion called for it. The wine, though not strong, had the tendency to sneak up on you—its lightness made it easy to drink more than one intended.

As the wine flowed and the soldiers grew increasingly boisterous, the atmosphere became livelier. The tension that had hung in the air when they first sat down started to fade, replaced by laughter and friendly chatter. Chen Mo, still somewhat out of place among the more experienced soldiers, began to relax as he dug into the feast. He hadn't had a meal like this in a long time, and now that he felt more comfortable, he allowed himself to fully enjoy it.

Each piece of meat he ate seemed to feed not just his hunger, but also his qi and blood. His strength was growing with every bite, a process that, for him, had become crucial. He had to improve as quickly as possible—there were still too many unknowns in his life. The gray fog, for one, continued to haunt him. He wasn't sure what it was or how to fight it, but he knew that the more powerful he became, the better chance he'd have of facing whatever threats lay ahead.

As the banquet continued, General Sun periodically raised his voice to call attention to a soldier's actions, offering words of praise or light-hearted rebukes. He spoke to the soldiers with authority, but he also made sure to treat them like comrades. This mixture of firmness and warmth was one of the reasons Sun Shouren was so respected by his men. He didn't merely command—they could see that he understood them, that he cared about their well-being.

For Chen Mo, the meal was more than just an opportunity to bond with the soldiers. It was a chance to nourish himself—physically and spiritually. With each morsel of meat he consumed, his body absorbed its energy, and his strength gradually grew. He knew it wasn't just the food; it was the process of accumulation. This was something he needed to do as quickly as possible—every moment spent strengthening himself was an investment in his future.

When the feast finally came to an end, the floor was littered with soldiers who had overindulged, some drunkenly mumbling to themselves, others already passed out. Chen Mo took this opportunity to act. There was still plenty of food left on the tables—dishes that would help him replenish his energy and continue his training. He quickly gathered a few of the better cuts of meat, including a large bowl of braised lamb, a bowl of braised pork, half a roast goose, and a half-eaten chicken.

He carefully took these back to his barracks, eager to eat them later that night, knowing that every extra meal would help his body accumulate more qi and blood. With his strength growing, he felt a sense of urgency. He couldn't afford to waste any opportunity to improve himself, especially with the unknown dangers still lurking in the background.

After returning the food to his room, Chen Mo went to the fire room where Mo Hu and the other soldiers responsible for patrolling were gathered. Mo Dao, a quiet but respected figure, was also there. He and a few other soldiers had not attended the banquet, instead taking on guard duties. They were the elite of the elite, the most trusted soldiers in the camp.

"You take Xiaohu back to his room," Mo Dao said, his voice calm and steady. "I'll send my godfather back."

Chen Mo had grown accustomed to Mo Dao's reserved manner. Although Mo Dao spoke little, his actions were always precise, and his judgment was sharp. Chen Mo had learned a great deal from him, especially about his bow-drawing posture. Without Mo Dao's guidance, his progress would have been much slower.

After Mo Hu was safely escorted to his room, Chen Mo took a moment to wash up and then lay down to rest. His body, still energized from the feast, was heavy with the weight of what lay ahead. He knew that, despite the camaraderie of the banquet, there was always more to be done—more training, more strength to be gained.

The following morning, just as Chen Mo was preparing to begin his usual training, a messenger arrived with urgent news: General Sun wished to see him.

End