My brother entrusted his child to me, and I livestreamed raising the baby, making the Empress cry wi

The drumbeats exploded, the sound as deep as muffled thunder rolling from the ground, making one's chest feel heavy and one's eardrums buzz.

One sound after another pierced through the rain and crashed into every barracks.

With each strike of the drumhead, the air trembled, even causing the rain curtain hanging below to snap and water droplets to scatter everywhere.

The sky seemed to have been torn open, and rain poured down in large swaths.

The mountain ridge behind the camp was hidden in thick clouds, leaving only a dark outline. Occasionally, a flash of lightning would appear deep in the clouds, illuminating the mountain shadow in a pale light before it was swallowed by darkness again.

The braziers on both sides of the gate had long been extinguished, and the lanterns on the watchtower shrank into dim, yellowish clumps in the rain, like flickering will-o'-the-wisps.

The wind rushed in from the north mountain pass, blowing the rain curtain in front of the tent at an angle. The raindrops hit the top of the oilcloth tent, making a dense, drum-like sound that mingled with the drumbeats, making it impossible to distinguish between the rain and the drumbeats.

The previously closed doors were kicked open almost simultaneously, the wooden doors slamming against the wall with muffled "bang" sounds, and the water accumulated on the door frame was shaken and dripped down.

The soldiers inside didn't even have time to put on their armor properly before grabbing their weapons and rushing out.

Some people were putting their helmets on as they ran, while others were only half-armored, their shoulder armor still dangling behind them, and the scabbards of their swords at their waists clattered against the doorframe with a crisp "clang".

In the passageways between the barracks, soldiers bumped into each other and quickly separated, pushing and shoving each other as they squeezed toward the drill ground.

An old soldier with a burly face was running, swallowing half a dry biscuit as he ran.

A hard, dry crumb got stuck in his throat, making him choke and his eyes roll back. He quickly opened his mouth and took two mouthfuls of rainwater. The rainwater mixed with the crumb and poured into his throat, making him cough, but he never slowed down.

A tall, thin man next to him had run so fast that his belt wasn't even fastened properly. He was holding up his pants with one hand and gripping a spear with the other, looking both disheveled and comical.

As they were running, one of them tripped over his pants, slipped, and stumbled, splashing mud high into the air. He almost fell flat on his face, but no one was in the mood to laugh.

He muttered a curse under his breath, then lifted his hand forcefully without stopping.

This is the drumbeat for an emergency assembly; there can be no delay.

The barricades surrounding the training ground were blackened by the rain, with water droplets clinging to their spikes, resembling rows of silent fangs.

The military flag on the flagpole was already soaked through, blown by the wind and tangled around the pole. Occasionally, a corner would be lifted, revealing half of the character "叶" (Ye), before it would be snapped back on.

The roofs of several hay sheds by the field were blown off by the wind, and the yellow hay was scattered all over the ground. After being washed by the mud and water, it floated in the puddles in pieces.

The warhorses in the stables snorted uneasily, their iron hooves digging deep pits in the mud. Horse manure mixed with rainwater flowed out, carrying a foul odor, but was quickly washed away by the rain.

The muddy ground on the drill ground was trampled into a mess by thousands of feet. With each step, mud was squeezed out from the soles of shoes, mixed with grass clippings, and kicked everywhere, splashing onto trouser legs and boots, only to be quickly washed away by the new rain.

Soldiers gathered from all directions and quickly formed squares in the rain. The sounds of footsteps, panting, clashing armor, and clanging weapons blended together, like streams of muddy water surging from all sides and eventually merging into the sea of ​​mud on the training ground.

The air was filled with a strong earthy smell, mixed with the stench of rust and sweat, which became even more pungent after being washed away by the rain.

Raindrops pounded on the helmet, making a fine, noisy sound. Rainwater streamed down the brim, past the eyebrows and eyes, and onto the ground.

In less than the time it takes to drink half a cup of tea, the training ground of the main camp was already packed with people.

Rainwater pooled at everyone's feet, reflecting their tense faces.

Water droplets clung to everyone's eyelashes, their eyes were squinted slightly as they peered through the rain curtain, everything appearing blurry.

The veterans in the front row stood with composure, while the new recruits tried to straighten their backs. Rain dripped from their chins, but no one bothered to wipe it away, letting the water droplets fall.

No one whispered among themselves; every pair of eyes was fixed on the tall figure on the platform.

But after lining up, the soldiers all started to have doubts.

There were no beacon fires signaling an enemy attack, no urgent reports from the border, and no unusual activity reported from the capital. Why was General Wang beating the drums?

These thoughts, like invisible threads, meandered and stretched through everyone's minds. But no one dared to ask.

Military discipline is as firm as a mountain; once the drums are sounded, assembly is required.

On the open ground in front of the command platform, the water had already reached above the instep because of the slightly lower terrain.

The water's surface rippled in the wind, reflecting the occasional flashes of lightning on the horizon, brightening briefly before fading away.

Wang Meng placed the drumsticks on the drum stand. The drumhead was still trembling slightly, emitting a very soft hum. It was like a giant beast that had just stopped roaring, its residual power still present.

He turned around, his raincoat having been tossed to a soldier before the drums were even sounded. Now, rain streamed down his dark face, dripping from his chin onto his cold, hard armor.

But instead of wiping it away, he put his hands behind his back, took a deep breath, and his loud voice drowned out the sound of the rain, reaching every corner of the training ground.

"I have summoned you all today for one matter."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the densely packed crowd below the stage.

The rain pattered against the wooden planks, making the momentary silence all the more vivid.

"Lord Lin is coming to provide disaster relief!"

The moment the words "Lord Lin" were uttered, the previously silent military formation erupted into a cacophony, as if a pebble had been thrown into it.

At first it was just a low buzzing sound, but it quickly amplified.

The veterans standing in the front row unconsciously widened their eyes and straightened their backs. Rainwater filled their eyes, but they didn't bother to blink, just staring straight at the stage, even their breathing became lighter.

They fought their way here from the northern border with Wang Meng.

In those years, the wind and snow in the North cut like knives on their faces, and on the battlefield, death chased them like a shadow, but as long as Lord Ye was there, they had boundless courage.

They had witnessed Lord Ye's extraordinary abilities firsthand. He was a master strategist, repeatedly winning battles against overwhelming odds, practically invincible in every fight…

And then there was Lord Lin's miracles. The divine soldiers, the divine water, and all those unimaginable things—they remembered them all.

They both had the utmost respect for the two of them.

Lord Lin, now that you've come to help with disaster relief, do you need manpower?

They can!

But... only the most outstanding soldiers can follow Lord Lin.

Almost the instant the thought crossed their minds, the veterans' fingers unconsciously tightened, their rough hands gripping their weapons so tightly that their knuckles turned white.

Most of them were already in their forties, which was considered quite old for soldiers, and their physical strength was no longer comparable to that of young men in their twenties.

Not to mention that they have fought for so many years, and they will all have some old injuries and ailments. It would be very difficult for them to compete for the spots with those young and strong men.