The stronghold's inner courtyard was silent before dawn, lit only by the faint glow of lanterns swaying in the cold wind. It was here, in the hour when breath turned to frost and even the mountains seemed to hold still, that Jeng Minh began forging a new weapon—one not of iron alone, but of loyalty, intellect, and silence.
The Elite Guard.
Forty warriors lined the courtyard, handpicked from hundreds. Some had served under Zhou Chen for years, others were newly risen talents whose abilities had caught Jeng Minh's eye. All had one thing in common:
They obeyed not out of fear, but belief.
Jeng Minh stepped forward, voice carrying calmly through the still air.
"Strength wins battles," he began, "but perception wins wars. The enemy we face from the west does not march with banners. They do not conquer with armies. They strike from shadow, unseen and unheard."
His gaze swept the rows of soldiers—focused, ambitious, dangerous.
"You will become the counter to those shadows."
No one dared breathe too loudly.
Bai Ye organized the drills with precise discipline, coordinating instructors who specialized in three domains:
1. Espionage and Intelligence
Warriors learned to move without sound, to recognize coded signals, and to read expressions as clearly as written text.
Lin Yue—a new recruit with steps so soft she seemed to glide—excelled immediately. Her presence became almost eerie.
2. Rapid Deployment and Strike Tactics
Jeng Minh introduced formations inspired by his former world—flexible, mobile, efficient.
Yuan Shan, a towering warrior with unmatched endurance, led the strike squads with thunderous energy.
3. Battlefield Deception and Psychological Warfare
Illusory troop movements.
Decoy banners.
False retreats.
Even staged arguments to mislead eavesdroppers.
Gao Ren, a scholar-warrior with an analytical mind, oversaw this division, turning theory into reality with unsettling precision.
The courtyard transformed from a training ground into a crucible where weakness melted away.
Jeng Minh watched from the balcony as the training intensified. Soldiers moved in coordinated silence, forming and dissolving squads faster than most armies could raise shields. Their movements were shadows, their strikes lightning.
Bai Ye joined him. "Commander… this is beyond elite. This is a force that can change the shape of warfare."
"Exactly," Jeng Minh replied. "Not merely soldiers. Observers. Strategists. A nerve system running through the entire north."
He knew the Shadowed Hand in the west would not be defeated by brute strength.
To counter an unseen enemy, he needed an unseen weapon.
After days of grueling drills, Jeng Minh devised a test.
In the dead of night, without warning, he extinguished the courtyard lanterns. Drums sounded—soft, rhythmic, coded. The Elite Guard scattered instantly, searching for targets they had never trained against.
Hidden instructors attacked from rooftops.
Traps sprung silently in the darkness.
Messages were planted where only the perceptive would find them.
Hours later, only twelve of the forty emerged with every task completed.
Jeng Minh nodded, pleased. "Excellence," he reminded them, "is not achieved by ease."
When dawn finally broke, faint rays lighting exhausted faces, Jeng Minh stood before them and spoke quietly:
"From this day, you are my shield in sight… and my blade in silence. Your loyalty is not commanded—it is earned, through shared purpose. And your purpose is simple:
Protect the north.
Illumine the west's shadows.
And stand at the heart of the future we will forge."
No oath was needed.
Their resolve spoke louder than words.
Within a week, the Elite Guard spread across the region. Some integrated into town patrols. Some traveled with caravans. Others accompanied envoys as bodyguards—or spies. Their mere presence stabilized the north, and their secret reporting system—designed by Gao Ren—began feeding Jeng Minh information faster than ever before.
Rumors traveled faster than riders:
Zhou Chen's elite can walk through walls.
They see everything.
Even the shadows fear them now.
Whether true or exaggerated, the effect was the same—Jeng Minh's influence deepened, stretching across mountains and valleys like a growing web.
For the first time since taking Zhou Chen's body, he felt the shape of his own power becoming clear.
The north had a sword.
The shadows in the west had competition.
And Jeng Minh—calm, observant, unyielding—was ready for the next phase.