Chen Mo chewed the dry food he had bought from the town and moved forward slowly. Sixty miles wasn't far, but it wasn't close either. Without something to eat, he wouldn't make it.

The dry, hard unleavened bread slid down his throat, and the meager nutrition it provided fueled his body.

The reason Chen Mo had dared to join the army wasn't just desperation—though that was certainly a part of it. He also had something to rely on, but it was something he couldn't use just yet.

Inside his abdomen, nestled in his dantian, was a bead—the Transformation Bead. Its function was simple: to help someone transform and increase their physical strength.

To be reborn, though, he needed to accumulate enough qi and blood. But since arriving in this world, Chen Mo had been in constant flight, constantly escaping. His body was far too weak, and there had been no time to eat enough or gather energy for the bead to work. So, for months, the bead had remained empty.

Joining the army seemed like the only option. At least it would provide food, even if it meant hardship. By enduring through this, he would eventually be able to accumulate the necessary energy, and once that was done, he could use the Transformation Bead to be reborn.

Chen Mo ate half of a large unleavened pancake and took a few sips from the water bag that Zhao Yu had given him. He then continued walking.

As the day wore on and the sun began to set, his shadow stretched long across the path.

He found a dead tree to shelter from the wind and rested for the night. The next morning, he continued on his journey. Along the way, he passed many other refugees, all of them seemingly heading to the same destination: to join the army. It was a miserable existence, but at least it was a way to stay alive.

By midday, the sun was hot, and exhaustion began to set in. Chen Mo could see the low-hanging black flag ahead. His pace quickened as he moved toward it.

Under the flagpole were a few rickety wooden tables. Several soldiers sat around, sipping tea, while three or four refugees surrounded them.

"Are you here to join the army too?" A stout, fair-skinned soldier looked at Chen Mo and asked.

"Yes," Chen Mo replied with a nod.

The soldier stretched and asked one of his companions, "Old Liu, didn't we already recruit enough people?" He turned to Chen Mo and rubbed his fingers in a clear gesture of wanting money.

There were so many refugees, and soldiers were responsible for recruitment. The soldiers saw this as an opportunity to profit, and even if the refugees didn't have much money, they weren't going to miss the chance to make some.

Chen Mo's expression remained calm. He didn't say much, but his hands were busy searching his pockets. He didn't have much, but he gathered thirty-eight copper coins and handed them over.

The soldier took the coins with a wide smile, counting them slowly on the table. "Not enough!" he said with a grin that resembled a greedy merchant.

Chen Mo's brows furrowed, but he didn't argue. He shook his head and quickly added, "This is all I have. I used the rest to buy food."

To reinforce his claim, he pulled out half of his remaining pancake and showed it to the soldier.

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The fat soldier looked at him impatiently, clearly uninterested in explanations, and changed his posture, making himself more comfortable. "What's your name?"

"Chen Mo," came the reply.

The soldier named Old Liu took a wooden plaque and quickly carved Chen Mo's name onto it, then tossed it to him. "Take your wooden plaque and head to the tent on the left. Go find Lao He."

Chen Mo nodded and left without saying much, passing the other refugees who couldn't afford to pay and were lingering around, hoping for a chance. He made his way to the tent.

Inside the tent lay an older soldier, a weathered veteran with dark skin and a stern expression. He looked at the wooden plaque Chen Mo handed him, then pointed to another tent.

"Go there and wait."

Chen Mo made his way to the second tent. Inside, there were many other refugees, all sitting silently on the ground, weary from their long journey. Everyone had escaped here with little energy to spare, and no one had the strength to speak.

Chen Mo found an empty spot and sat down, blending in with the crowd, waiting without a word.

After a long while, more refugees entered the tent. Two of them had no money, yet somehow managed to get in. No one knew how.

The fat soldier returned, his face cold. "You, you, you, follow me," he barked, pointing at several refugees, including Chen Mo. They stood up and followed him.

"Don't say I didn't take care of you. First, pick out some clothes," the soldier continued, leading them into a new tent.

Inside the tent were several old, gray military uniforms, all in various states of disrepair. Most of them were the same worn-out uniforms the soldiers themselves wore.

There were no weapons or armor for the refugees; getting a uniform was already a stroke of luck. The earlier you arrived, the better the chance of picking out something decent. Those who arrived later had to settle for the tattered pieces.

Chen Mo looked through the uniforms. He was lucky to find a set that fit and was still relatively intact. He held it carefully in his hands but didn't rush to change.

"Go wash yourself up, change, and I'll send you off later," the fat soldier instructed.

It was clear these new recruits were not going to be trained as soldiers. They would be sent to military camps to either farm, raise livestock, or serve as servants in the generals' families. Joining the army was no different from selling oneself into slavery.

By the well outside the tent, several large wooden basins sat with warm water. It wasn't that cold, though the refugees still wore heavy clothes out of hunger and weakness.

Chen Mo stripped off his layers, washed himself carefully, and trimmed his hair, which had become dry and brittle from lack of food. Afterward, he put on the military uniform. Though still thin, he now looked more like a soldier than a refugee.

He walked back to the pile of clothes he had shed, carefully wrapped his remaining bread and water bag, and collected the few coins he still had. He took three other sets of relatively clean clothes from the pile of discarded uniforms, wrapped them up, and bundled them with a piece of rag. These would serve as spare clothing, and he wouldn't need to buy more.

The other refugees did the same, carefully picking out a few usable items from the discarded clothes.

As more recruits cleaned themselves up, the fat soldier returned and led them out. "I've taken your money, and I didn't take it for nothing. You'll be sent to the military camp later. What happens there depends on your luck."

Chen Mo nodded, chewing the remaining half of his pancake. The bitterness of being exploited had faded. At least the soldier seemed to be doing his job—taking their money and sending them where they needed to go.

The refugees followed the fat soldier to a large locust tree outside the camp, where a toothless black man stood.

The man sized them up carefully, then sighed. "Why is it always refugees? No one else wants to join?"

"If there were other ways to survive, do you think anyone would want to be a soldier?" the fat soldier replied, clearly uninterested in the black man's complaints.

The black man shrugged and spoke in a more respectful tone, "Come with me. I'll take you to the camp."

Chen Mo followed the group, feeling the strength returning to his legs. His hunger had lessened, and though his body was still weak, he no longer needed a stick to walk.

By sunset, they arrived at a military camp—rows of earthen barracks lined the perimeter, and a wide training ground lay in the center.

An elderly man, dressed in a flowered jacket and wrinkled with age, approached them.

The toothless black man gave a polite nod and said, "That's all of them. You pick one."

The old man eyed the group before pointing to Chen Mo. "You. Come with me."

The black man nodded and waved. "Go ahead and feed the horses with He Maguan."

The other refugees cast envious glances at Chen Mo as they watched him being led away. Feeding horses was a coveted task, as it meant you could sneak food from their feed.

End