My Players Are So Fierce

1707: 571.

Maxim!

I order you, charge!

– Adding more for the ‘Ho Zhen Ting Hao’ brothers 【13/30】

1707: 571.

Maxim!

I order you, charge!

– Adding more for the ‘Ho Zhen Ting Hao’ brothers 【13/30】

On the second morning after the main force of the Cadman People’s Army stationed in Shadow Valley, Major Ron rose early, completing the morning assembly with the soldiers as required by the Exploration Corps’ military orders.

After some simple training and task allocation, the major received his breakfast.

By continental standards, the training level of the Exploration Corps soldiers is exceedingly high.

Their daily training intensity far exceeds the general level of this era, yet at the moment, Major Ron, holding a bowl of oatmeal and a few bagels, looks helplessly at the clearing in the valley, as the People’s Army continues its training.

Even though they’re only running around the platform, the neat formations and sporadic slogan chants during runs give the major some concern.

Although this was his first week of real interaction with the Cadman People’s Army, being an excellent soldier, he already discovered the differences between the Transian armed forces and other armies.

Serving under Governor Murphy was absolutely exhausting, and Major Ron found more than once that these guys’ daily schedules were packed with various duties.

The soldiers have only a few hours of free time each day, and the rest is either spent training or organizing endless internal affairs.

Even after dinner, specific personnel gather the big head soldiers to teach them basic grammar and explain military regulations.

This practice has been solidified over the past few months, forming a habit among the soldiers, and they continue these learning activities even while traversing beyond the swamps.

Even though not every big head soldier enjoys this kind of life, living in this collective makes even the laziest person develop a lifestyle that appears quite disciplined to outsiders.

Major Ron of course understands the significance of literacy to the soldiers.

This means that the superior’s orders can be executed very well most of the time and implies that soldiers can find relatively decent jobs after retirement.

The intake of knowledge has made them less ignorant.

Just like Marshal Loren’s famous saying, when soldiers truly understand the definition of loyalty and honor, they will instinctively pursue those supreme virtues.

But this is precisely the part Major Ron cannot comprehend.

The number of Transian standing army is too low.

Against the backdrop of the Black Calamity, ordinary lords have long begun conscripting.

According to previous Transian “customs,” during wartime, the ratio of temporary soldiers drawn could even reach a terrifying five to one or even three to one, and this ratio has remained relatively high for hundreds of years, which is the primary reason for the Transian people’s ruggedness.

In this place, not fighting really means dying!

Under Governor Murphy’s command, there are nearly 300,000 people.

Even at a ratio of ten to one, he could muster an army of 30,000, yet this army stops growing once it reaches 3,000.

Murphy and his generals seem to intentionally control the army’s size, maintaining this “small elite” mode and spending months setting intricate rules and iron-clad regulations and discipline for this force.

While eating a bagel, Major Ron admitted that these 3,000 men, in terms of training level, had already reached the elite backbone of the Exploration Corps’ “Marshal’s Guard Brigade.” In normal confrontations, these 3,000 could achieve very impressive feats.

But the problem lies in the fact that when facing enemies like the Black Calamity, 3,000 is simply insufficient!

Unless these 3,000 can transform by merely flicking a finger like Super Saiyans.

So, what exactly is the ambitious Governor Murphy thinking?

With this question in mind, Major Ron entered the command center assigned to them, intending to discuss artillery positioning with Fraser, only to see his superior bent over the table writing something as soon as he arrived.

“What are you writing?”

The major leaned in for a closer look, but was startled as soon as he caught a glimpse.

He said:

“Are you kidding?

Writing a will at this time?

Aren’t you afraid of frightening Count Leon to death?

You’re his only son!”

“Better safe than sorry; lest we really have no time to write these down when the time comes.”

Fraser was indifferent.

He nonchalantly waved his hand and said:

“Hold on a moment while I finish this section.”

“You’re not going to die; your father has four silver bodyguards here precisely to prevent you from doing anything foolish.

Even if we were besieged on the front lines, I’m sure your father would spend a fortune hiring some powerful fellows to get you out of there.”

With arms folded, Major Ron teasingly said:

“He might even hire a Golden One!

Your father would absolutely do something like that.

Plus, you’re being overly cautious.

Although Marshal Loren demands we engage in combat, we have the right to retreat if necessary.

We all understand the defense line built by the Transia people and its significance, so if you plan to fight to the death here, it just shows you’re not a qualified commander.”

“I understand it all, but we cannot predict whether accidents or tomorrow will arrive first, which is a saying I learned from those Transia warriors, and I find it very sensible.”

Fraser chuckled, stopped writing, and amidst the backdrop of guards busily tidying up the command center, he turned to Ron and asked: