On the training ground, the five hundred conscripts were running ps around the camp. Ten young men, armed with whips, acted as drill instructors.

  Too fast? A sh. Too slow? A sh. Out of formation? Another sh. The recruits were thoroughly broken, their spirits crushed.

  It was clear that the territory’s indoctrination system was quite effective. The expected troublemakers never materialized.

  After silently criticizing the backwardness of such indoctrination, Hudson comfortably enjoyed the fruits of its success.

  With so little time, proper military training was out of the question. All he could do now was teach them obedience.

  Even if he pnned to sck off, appearances still mattered. Actual combat capability wasn’t important; what mattered was looking capable.

  Though he had openly mocked Count Piers in front of his father, when it came to facing the man, Hudson didn’t dare to be careless.

  After all, someone of that stature could easily crush a small fry like him.

  "Hudson, we’re setting out the day after tomorrow. Is there enough time for training?" Baron Redman asked with concern.

  Though he believed his son had a talent for training soldiers, time was simply too short. To ensure they could depart on schedule, even the drills had to be toned down.

  In terms of intensity, it was less rigorous than a military academy’s basic training. It wasn’t that Hudson was soft-hearted—it was just that the soldiers’ physical condition couldn’t handle more.

  In this era of backward productivity, even eating coarse bck bread to seven or eight-tenths fullness was considered a sign of a benevolent lord.

  Filling their stomachs was hard enough; expecting proper nutrition was out of the question.

  With poor nutrition and heavy bor, their bodies were naturally in poor shape.

  This was also why people flocked to the baron’s estate whenever there was a recruitment drive. No matter the job, as long as they worked for the lord, they could at least fill their stomachs.

  For example, despite the grueling training, not a single person had backed out.

  Going to war was undoubtedly dangerous, but high risk came with high rewards. While they couldn’t rise to the top overnight, earning military merits could at least secure them a spot in the guard.

  Most of the baron’s guards had gotten their start this way.

  Taking this step not only solved their hunger problem but also gave them the chance to cultivate combat energy.

  Once they became warriors, their treatment improved further. Food, clothing, shelter, and even a sary were provided.

  "Don’t worry, Father. We’re not expecting to train an elite force in such a short time. As long as they look capable, that’s enough.

  With such a rge-scale conscription, even excluding the areas ravaged by the rebels, the southeastern province can mobilize tens of thousands of troops.

  With so many troops from different families, coordinating them won’t be easy. They’ll likely be mixed together, and once the fighting starts, who can tell who’s who?" Hudson replied calmly.

  His disdain for Count Piers’ mobilization order was evident.

  Take their own family as an example. The castle guard could easily crush these five hundred conscripts in a single charge.

  Mobilizing such a rge army might sound impressive, but in reality, it was just asking for trouble.

  Once the fighting began, it would become clear that logistics, command, and combat effectiveness were all disastrous.

  Instead, it would have been better to gather a smaller force of elite nobles. Not only would command and logistics be easier, but their combat effectiveness would also be far superior.

  Hudson doubted his family was the only one paying lip service. Any noble who sensed something was off would likely choose to hide their true strength.

  "Hmm."

  "If that’s the case, then it’s for the best. But you still ck combat experience. On the battlefield, be cautious and don’t try to show off.

  Here are some letters I’ve written to a few old friends. If you encounter them on the battlefield, give these to them. Out of respect for me, they should look out for you.

  But don’t rely on this too much. If real danger arises or major interests are at stake, these people won’t be of any help.

  If the battle turns against us, prioritize saving your life—without damaging the family’s reputation, of course. Remember: only the living have hope." Baron Redman spoke earnestly.

  But to Hudson, the words felt off. He couldn’t shake the feeling that his father was subtly suggesting he could flee if things got too dangerous.

  Fleeing from battle was completely against the spirit of knighthood. Nobles could be captured, but once they fled the battlefield, they would be ostracized from noble circles.

  For the sake of family honor, many nobles would rather die or be captured than flee.

  Of course, there were ways around this. For someone as insignificant as Hudson, as long as he was clever, even if he fled, no one would likely notice.

  At worst, he could move far away. Given the slow speed of information dissemination in this era, the chances of being discovered were slim.

  "Father, are you agreeing to let me lead the troops?" Hudson asked with excitement.

  He had already prepared himself for rejection. After all, letting a sixteen-year-old lead troops into battle was highly irregur. No matter how reasonable his arguments, they couldn’t overcome the hard limitations of age and experience.

  He hadn’t expected things to take such a turn. Regardless of the reason, Hudson was thrilled.

  Survival was his top priority on the battlefield, and no reminder was needed. As a transmigrator with an unreliable "golden finger," Hudson didn’t dare to take risks.

  Things like the spirit of knighthood, noble honor, and family reputation—the burdens of traditional nobility—meant nothing to him.

  From the start, Hudson’s pn could be summarized as: "Don’t aim for merit; just avoid mistakes."

  "Don’t get too excited. This rebellion won’t be easy to suppress. If you want to seize the opportunity to earn military merits, I can support you. But if you lose your life, don’t bme anyone else." Baron Redman said sternly.

  It was clear that he had high hopes for Hudson. Everything was dictated by the social environment. On the Asnt continent, minor nobles had only two paths to advancement: either become exceptionally strong yourself, or lead exceptionally strong armies.

  Compared to the first path, the tter clearly had a higher ceiling. After all, this was a low-magic world. No matter how powerful an individual was, they couldn’t stand against an entire nation.

  Even someone as strong as a Saint Domain expert had to run fast when faced with thousands of troops. The myth of a single person defeating a nation existed only in legends.

  Compared to the unattainable dream of becoming a powerhouse, the second path had countless successful examples. While the great nobles occupied the highest positions in the court, there were also traces of minor and medium nobles.

  After a few generations of effort, it wasn’t unheard of for a minor noble family to rise to greatness.

  To be precise, it wasn’t exactly a rags-to-riches story. The noble css had intermarried for generations, and their internal retionships were complex. If you traced their bloodlines, they were likely all connected in some way.