Volume Two: The Battle of Hulao Pass Chapter Forty-Two: The Three Kingdoms and the Spirit of the Army

If it were only this, at best it would produce a band of obedient killers, still far from the invincible forces Li Mingyu envisioned. The army was composed of rough, uneducated men, barely literate, with little sense of right and wrong. Their loyalty to and respect for the King of Qin stemmed not only from strict military discipline, but mostly from the belief that following him would bring victory and rewards. Concepts such as military honor or the conviction to defend one’s homeland were absent. Such soldiers, when faced with defeat and adversity, could not be relied upon to maintain their morale.

After all, ancient soldiers were not like modern professional troops, who from childhood had been steeped in patriotic education and instilled with reason and faith. Today, films and television relentlessly propagate such ideals, and in the barracks, tales of heroes and positive examples are constantly used to teach soldiers the proper sense of right and wrong and the purpose of their fight. There are counselors who converse deeply with soldiers, addressing their mental wellbeing. Modern armies, having learned from ancient shortcomings, pay special attention to cultivating soldiers’ psychological resilience.

To foster this spirit among his men, Li Mingyu employed a familiar method: storytelling. Compared to the children, “Romance of the Three Kingdoms” was better suited for these soldiers, its vivid characters embodying loyalty, righteousness, benevolence, and courage. With their rough backgrounds, Li Mingyu was sure that the unmatched loyalty of Lord Guan, the fierce yet meticulous Zhang Fei, and the fearless Zhao Zilong would move them.

Li Mingyu had already practiced storytelling for over half a year in the village, honing a sharp tongue. Every evening after drills, he would take up a bamboo megaphone and recount the tales of the Three Kingdoms. The stories themselves were brilliant and gripping, and with his deliberate guidance, the soldiers listened, utterly enthralled, praising him without reservation.

Li Mingyu hoped these stirring stories and heroic deeds would subtly influence the soldiers’ values, not only uniting morale, but also establishing idols and role models in their hearts.

The power of example proved immense. The soldiers often sighed, wishing they were born in such an age of heroes, so they could follow their idols—even if only to lead a horse, wave a flag, or shout encouragement. They would gladly retreat with Lord Guan at Maicheng and die on the battlefield without regret.

At first, only the thousand men of the Black Armor Army listened, but soon his master joined in. Within days, Cheng Yaojin and Qin Qiong shamelessly attended as well; Fang Xuanling and Du Ruhui brought their books, nodding along, and eventually even Li Shimin never missed a session.

From the great commander Li Shimin down to ordinary soldiers, everyone was captivated by the stories, pounding the table in admiration. Frequently, Li Mingyu would speak until his throat was dry, yet still the crowd begged for more. Eventually, out of desperation, he introduced the old North Sea Army song from his previous life. Its catchy lyrics, rich with references, and easy melody quickly swept through the ranks of the Black Armor Army.

Nowadays, whether ordinary soldiers or mighty generals like Cheng Yaojin, they often recited verses like, “Among the warriors of the Three Kingdoms, Zhao Zilong leads the charge; at Changban, he proved his heroism… Lord Guan, skilled in arms, slew Hua Xiong over warm wine… Alone, he rode thousands of miles with blade in hand…” Even Li Mingyu once overheard the scholarly Fang Xuanling quietly humming, “Borrowing mist, summoning the east wind, clever schemes succeed… burning Cao’s camp, a million soldiers perish…”

Standing atop the table, bamboo megaphone in hand, Li Mingyu looked over the vast sea of faces below and secretly rejoiced—perhaps he was born with the gift of storytelling. Even the future emperor Li Shimin, the renowned ministers Fang Xuanling and Du Ruhui, and the stalwart generals Cheng Yaojin, Qin Qiong, and Yuchi Gong were his loyal listeners. The more he thought about it, the more delighted he became, and his narration grew even more vivid and eloquent.

Each person, shaped by their position, character, background, and experience, focused on different aspects. The soldiers were inspired by heroic deeds, their blood boiling with longing; Li Shimin paid close attention to the strategies and dominance of figures like Cao Cao and Liu Bei; Fang Xuanling and Du Ruhui valued cunning and wisdom, the subtle calculations of the mind; Cheng Yaojin, Qin Qiong, and their fellow warriors cared most for tactics of offense and defense, ambush and maneuver.

After more than ten days of deliberate guidance, everyone in the army now admired the eternal loyalty and unmatched bravery of Lord Guan. When his name was mentioned, they could recite his heroic feats—his refusal to surrender at Tushan, the slaying of Yan Liang and Wen Chou, relinquishing riches and crossing five passes, attending the banquet with single blade, and having his bone scraped by poison. All would raise their thumbs and declare, “Guan Yun Chang is a true hero! A model for us all!” When speaking of the white horse, silver spear, and fearless Zhao Zilong who charged through Cao’s encampment seven times to repay his lord’s kindness, no one failed to proclaim, “Gratitude repaid—he’s a real man!” And when discussing the fickle, self-serving Lü Bu, all spat and cursed, “Faithless! Scoundrel!” Whenever Li Mingyu heard soldiers discussing these stories in private, he grinned like a fox stealing a chicken, pleased that his efforts had not been wasted.

Brotherhood in the army is the purest and strongest of bonds. Having grown up in the barracks in his previous life, Li Mingyu knew well how to connect with these soldiers. Besides storytelling, he joked and chatted with them, discussed martial skills, complained together about harsh training, and mocked Dou Jiande for his ten thousand strong army that dared not fight, dragging his feet like a timid woman. Soon, the Black Armor Army accepted him as a clever and lively little brother.

Though still a child, Li Mingyu’s martial prowess was impressive. The techniques taught by his master—sword and spear—could not be shared without permission, but his previous life’s mastery of combat arts posed no such restriction, and he taught freely. In exchange, the Black Armor Army was filled with veterans, not always skilled in martial arts, but rich in battlefield experience, each with at least one or two tricks for survival. Both sides learned much from each other.

The master and apprentice played their roles: Li Xuanba, stern and uncompromising, was the iron-faced officer; Li Mingyu, cheerful and friendly, blended easily with the troops.

Day by day, the effects of training became evident. The soldiers’ spirit and energy grew stronger than ever—more fierce, more resolute. Each harbored a burning ambition to become a hero like those in the stories, renowned throughout the ages. Though intangible, an invisible force—a military soul—was gradually forming. If one were to compare, the previous Black Armor Army was like a sharp sword, brittle and easily broken; now, after arduous forging, it had become an exquisite and indestructible weapon.

One day, Li Xuanba ordered a great banner brought forth: white cloth with a black dragon coiling and roaring across it.

Li Xuanba pointed at the flag fluttering in the wind, addressing the soldiers standing rigidly below, “From this day forward, this is the battle flag of the Black Armor Army. The Black Dragon Banner! It is the soul of our force!”

The soldiers stood straight as rods, watching the flag wave in the breeze. Though the black dragon was fierce, its stark contrast with the pale background made it glaringly conspicuous. Lacking a command from their officer, they were puzzled but dared not whisper.

Li Xuanba paced before the ranks, hands behind his back. “I know what you’re thinking—isn’t white unlucky? Who goes to war under a white flag?”

The soldiers nodded hurriedly. White flags meant surrender, a tradition since the Qin dynasty. How could any army bear a white battle flag? They’d be mocked.

“This flag was bestowed by the King of Qin. Originally, it was a red background with a black dragon. Red, like raging fire, represents fierce fighting spirit—a flag that brings bloodshed wherever it appears! The black dragon signifies the Black Armor cavalry as the King’s own, and hopes we can dominate the world like a black dragon. But I changed it to white! Why? Because you are not worthy yet!” Li Xuanba declared sternly.

The soldiers’ expressions turned awkward, anger boiling beneath the surface, but none dared to argue.

Li Xuanba scanned their faces, shouting, “Not convinced? The black dragon stands over all, roaring amidst mountains of corpses and seas of blood! But since the Black Armor cavalry was formed, what victories have we achieved? If you want to be worthy of this flag, you must charge, fight, and win! Take the enemy’s blood and dye it red!”

“Reporting!” At last, one soldier could not contain his anger and stepped forward, shouting.

Li Xuanba turned to him, “Liu Erhei! What do you have to say?”

The soldier named Liu Erhei stepped forward, snapped to attention, and declared loudly, “Reporting, commander! Since following the King of Qin, I’ve helped defeat Western Qin, destroyed Liu Wuzhou, fought Wang Shichong, taken sixteen heads, earned seven commendations, always at the vanguard, never retreating! I believe I’m worthy of this flag!”

Li Xuanba nodded. “Hmm! Are you the only real man in the Black Armor Army?”

The rest refused to be outdone, stepping forward and shouting, “Reporting, commander! We all have victories, never retreat!”

Li Xuanba snorted coldly. “I know you all have merit—but is that enough? Who are you? You are the Black Armor cavalry, named by the King of Qin himself! You are the elite chosen from fifty thousand men! You are the sharpest blade in the commander’s hand! You have the best equipment, the most training, the highest rewards! Is it not your duty to win?”

At these words, the soldiers blushed deeply, ashamed, their voices dropping. “It is.”

Li Xuanba extended his little finger, showing a tiny gesture. “Is this bit of achievement enough? Are you satisfied with defeating a rabble? As Black Armor cavalry, you must fight the strongest foes, win against the best enemies! Even if faced with Dou Jiande’s hundred thousand army, you must have the courage to charge! Now, tell me—do you have confidence to dye this flag red with enemy blood, to forge the Black Armor Army’s undefeated renown with enemy bones?”

The soldiers, mostly young men in their twenties, easily fired up by Li Xuanba’s words, felt their blood surge like a rooster given stimulant. Together they roared, “Yes! Yes! Black Armor cavalry! Unmatched wherever we go! Black Armor cavalry! With us, invincible!”

Li Xuanba curled his lip and shouted, “Louder! Did you skip breakfast?”

A thousand voices, at full strength, burst forth—the veins on their necks rose high like angry dragons, their shouts shaking the heavens, piercing the clouds!

Only then did Xuanba nod in satisfaction, thinking his apprentice was right—stirring courage was better than persuasion. With morale soaring, all they needed was a great victory; the military soul would be forged! When the dragon sharpens its horns, the tiger grinds its teeth, and the battle against Dou Jiande comes, it will be the day the Black Armor cavalry’s fame spreads across the land!