His entire family perished in battle; he rose from the ashes to conquer the world.

He wanted to show the 20,000 Xifu soldiers here, and also to declare to the whole world, that there were no cowards among the Mu family!

Before they had even finished fifteen laps, most of the new recruits had collapsed, slumped to the ground, groaning in pain.

Even the veterans who had initially been watching with amusement stopped laughing and became extremely serious, their eyes filled with awe.

Two more laps later.

Mu Yuan felt that his legs no longer belonged to him; every step he took was so heavy, as if they were two mountains.

His throat was filled with the strong taste of blood, and the scene before him kept changing. It felt as if he was being ripped out of his senses.

Just then, a large hand reached out, intending to catch his body as he was about to fall.

It was Coach Wang Lie. He couldn't stand it anymore.

"roll!"

Mu Yuan managed to squeeze out a single word, his voice hoarse like metal scraping against metal.

He suddenly shook off Wang Lie's hand, and with this force, his body trembled again, almost falling over. But thanks to his tenacious will, he finally stood up and continued running forward without stopping for a second.

When we got to the last lap.

Ten thousand soldiers stood silently on the drill ground.

Everyone's eyes were drawn to the thin figure, and all they could hear were heavy footsteps and alarmingly deep breathing.

When Mu Yuan finally crossed the finish line, he did not collapse to the ground as people had imagined.

He hunched over, his hands bracing his knees, refusing to fall. His chest heaved violently, as if it were about to explode.

The hot sweat evaporated into white steam, enveloping him in it; the scene seemed to transcend the realm of humanity.

Even though his legs were shaking like a leaf, he stood up through gritted teeth.

Yang Daye rushed over, and upon seeing Mu Yuan's appearance, this nine-foot-tall man actually had tears in his eyes.

"General..." he choked out.

Mu Yuan barely managed to lift his head, his face covered in sweat and bloodstains. A strained smile, more like a grimace, appeared on his lips. In a hoarse voice, he asked:

"Time for...breakfast..."

At this moment, Yang Daye felt that the extremely weak and sickly man in front of him, who could collapse at any moment, was far more ruthless than any fierce general he had ever seen.

Upon hearing the word "breakfast," he couldn't help but look miserable, as if he wanted to cry.

Is the breakfast served to the Western Army even fit for human consumption?

In the mess hall, large pots were set up, filled with a thin porridge of sorghum that was so light you could see your reflection in it, with a few wild vegetable leaves floating on top.

Then there were some coarse wheat buns, hard and unpalatable, like a brick.

This is the daily diet of the Xifu Army.

Because the military pay was withheld by Prince Zhu Zheng of Ning, it has been several months since then, and the only thing that has finally been delivered is stale rice.

Mu Yuan remained expressionless, calmly picked up a bowl, and joined the queue for food.

When it was his turn, the cook hesitated, his long ladle trembling violently as he tossed it between his fingers. How could he dare to put such thin water into the bowl?

"General, you should go back to your tent. The young mistress has prepared breakfast for you..." the cook said meekly.

Mu Yuan kept a straight face and simply stretched out the bowl in his hand, his meaning was very clear.

The cook dared not say anything more, and could only scoop a spoonful of thin soup from the bottom of the pot, and pick out a steamed bun that looked decent.

After grabbing breakfast, Mu Yuan turned and left, randomly finding a corner and sitting down without caring whether it was clean or not.

The soldiers who came to get their meals all secretly glanced at him, and the steamed buns in their hands, which were hard to swallow, seemed even more conspicuous at that moment.

Mu Yuan picked up the steamed bun and took a big bite.

It was hard and cold, had a musty smell, and was mixed with hard bran and even sand!

After taking a few bites, Mu Yuan gave his evaluation:

Aside from giving the illusion of being full, this stuff has negligible nutritional value, and long-term consumption can lead to various diseases among the soldiers…

As the saying goes, "An army marches on its stomach."

How can an army that can't even guarantee basic food and clothing fight a war? Where is its morale?

Thinking this, Mu Yuan silently broke the steamed bun into small pieces, put them into the bowl of thin soup, and then drank it down in one gulp.

They looked as if they were eating the delicacies usually served in a royal palace.

What should I do?

If you want to train an elite force, you can't just rely on motivational pep talks. You also need to ensure that the logistics are in place, providing rice, flour, and meat. Otherwise, if the soldiers are too weak, how can they fight so hard?

But what about the money?

The imperial court can't count on it; that bastard Prince Ning is probably hoping something big will happen to the Mu family right now.

Mu Yuan suddenly had a thought and his gaze fell on a beautiful figure in the barracks not far away.

It's Third Sister-in-law, Fang Yuyan.

As always, she wore a magnificent red silk dress and a silver fox fur coat. Even in the filthy and smelly military camp, she exuded an innate elegance and beauty.

Fang Yuyan was holding an account book and talking to several generals. Her beautiful, willow-leaf-shaped eyes were slightly furrowed, clearly indicating that she was in a bad mood.

Mu Yuan gulped down the thin water in a few mouthfuls, wiped his mouth, and strode over.

"Third sister-in-law."

Upon hearing this, Fang Yuyan turned around and saw Mu Yuan covered in mud, his face smeared with sweat, and crumbs of steamed bun still clinging to his lips, looking like a beggar. A hint of surprise flashed in her shrewd almond-shaped eyes, but soon, a seasoned, professional fake smile covered her face.

"Oh dear, isn't this the Eighth Prince who stepped forward in times of crisis? By the way, you should be used to the food in the army, right? How does it compare to the food at the Prince's residence?"

Why bring up something you shouldn't talk about? Was this done on purpose?

Mu Yuan didn't answer, but pointed to the soldiers who were engrossed in eating steamed buns.

"Third Sister-in-law, you're in charge of the accounts, and you also manage the army's logistics. How do you explain all this?"

Fang Yuyan's smile vanished instantly. Her expression turned cold: "Eighth Brother, are you blaming me? As the saying goes, even a clever cook can't cook without rice. The imperial court has long since cut off the Western Army's pay, and the grain supplies they receive are getting weaker every day. The fact that they have food to eat every day is thanks to money diverted from the Prince's Mansion; they're barely managing to stay afloat. Do you know how terrifying the consumption figures are, waking up every day to hundreds of thousands of mouths to feed? If you're so capable, then produce some silver!"

She had been holding back her anger for a long time, with nowhere to vent it.

"Third Sister-in-law, I'm not blaming you." Mu Yuan looked at her calmly. "Actually, I wanted to discuss a business deal with you."

"Start a business?" Fang Yuyan scoffed, as if she'd heard a joke. "Old Eight, I didn't know you could do business? You don't even know how much an egg costs normally? And now you're telling me you want to start a business?"

"I can make your dowry generate ten times, a hundred times the profit."