The cold iron manacles lay in the dust where they had fallen. Lin Wei did not rub his wrists. His first action was to turn back to the hospital tent, his focus solely on the three poisoned men.
The crisis was contained, not over. He spent the next hours in grim, focused work, adjusting dosages, monitoring vital signs, his world narrowed to the fragile rhythm of his patients' pulses. It was there, in the dim light of the tent, that a messenger found him.
"Physician Lin," the young soldier said, his tone notably respectful. "Commander Xin requests your presence at the command post."
The walk through the camp felt different. The air itself had changed. Where once there were glances of pity or contempt, now there were looks of open curiosity, and even a few hesitant nods from regular soldiers. The story of what had happened in the tent had spread.
Commander Xin was not alone in the command post. Captain Guo was there, standing stiffly near a campaign table, his complexion still pale from blood loss but his posture rigid with military bearing. His presence was a statement in itself.
Xin didn't waste words. "The sergeant is stable. The others will live. Your methods yielded results." He gestured vaguely in the direction of the main camp. "Physician Wang has been reassigned to inventory duty. He is no longer a factor."
Lin Wei gave a single, curt nod. The victory was acknowledged, and the political obstacle removed with brutal efficiency.
"However," Xin continued, his eyes boring into Lin Wei, "his absence creates a problem that your success has highlighted. The health of the forward battalions cannot be left to chance. The survival rates of your… unit… are notable."
It was then that Captain Guo spoke, his voice rough but firm. "My men fought harder knowing a wound wasn't a death sentence."
He looked directly at Lin Wei, the last vestige of his former disdain replaced by the plain-spoken respect of one professional for another. "The Fifth Battalion would benefit from that certainty."
This was more significant than any order from Xin. It was an endorsement from a line officer, a man whose credibility was built on the field of battle, not in the corridors of power. It was a testament to the trust Lin Wei had earned by saving Guo's life.
Commander Xin grunted in agreement. "Effective immediately, you are the Supervisor of the Field Medicine. You report to me. Your task is to standardize what you've done. The sanitation, the forward aid, the training. I want it across the forward battalions." He looked from Lin Wei to Captain Guo. "You will coordinate with Captain Guo for the integration with the Fifth. Consider his unit the testing ground."
The mandate was clear. Lin Wei was being given authority, but it was being channeled through the established hierarchy.
He would work with officers like Guo, not command them. It was a pragmatic, sustainable solution that avoided the immediate friction of a convict giving orders to regulars.
As Lin Wei left the command post, Captain Guo fell into step beside him, moving with a slight limp. "My senior sergeant is a good man. Organizer. I'll assign him to you. He'll handle the men; you handle the medicine." It was a simple, effective plan. Guo was providing the military structure; Lin Wei would provide the knowledge.
That evening, the work began, but the atmosphere was different. It wasn't just the penal battalion toiling in isolation. A grizzled sergeant from the Fifth Battalion, introduced by Captain Guo himself, stood with Lin Wei as he addressed a mixed group of penal troops and regulars.
The sergeant Bo from the fifth bellowed orders about discipline and duty, while Lin Wei explained the "why" behind the rules of cleanliness. The authority was now shared, legitimized.
Standing back as the mixed group began digging new latrine pits under the sergeant's direction, Lin Wei watched the integration begin. The system logged the progress:
"[New Organizational Phase: Integration with Regular Army Units. Initializing.]"
The weight on his shoulders was still immense, but it felt different. It was no longer just the burden of his own survival or that of his small band of convicts. It was the weight of a system being born, its roots finally spreading beyond the soil of the penal battalion, finding purchase in the wider army.
The enemies would still be there, but now, so were the allies he had earned in the most definitive way possible—by proving his worth where it mattered most: on the field.