Chapter 54: The Young Yearn for Glory

"Alexander Panfilov?" Inspecting the rear, Zhang Shan was surprised to see this name in the system.

He was not entirely sure if this Panfilov was the one he knew, as the surname matched, but the first name did not.

This did not prevent him from taking a gamble.

Actually, it could hardly be called a gamble. The most formidable feature of his system was the ability to peer into the traits of the generals under his command.

Initially, every 1st-rank new commander displayed in the system was a sea of question marks. Needless to say, they were essentially blank slates with all four attributes—[Attack], [Defense], [Planning], and [Logistics]—at a mere 1 point.

Yet there were always some extraordinary fellows who came with innate traits.

For instance, Panfilov possessed [Stubborn Strategist], which granted +1 Defense and +1 Logistics.

Having even one trait already marked someone as an exceptional talent, but he also had a second trait: [Conservative], which granted +1 [Entrenchment Limit] at the cost of reducing commander experience gain rate by 25%!

With both traits present, without even looking further, he was a textbook definition of a "born trench-dwelling entity," complete with inherent turtle-shell defense traits, capable of both absorbing punishment and holding his ground.

Given time to develop, he would likely unlock traits like [Infantry Commander], [Ambusher], [Urban Combat Specialist], or [Master of Defense].

After putting on a show of examining a report, he instructed Anna: "Help me request this man from Antonov. I want to promote Major Panfilov, who has shown outstanding performance in defensive warfare, to Lieutenant Colonel and assign him to command the 1st Brigade of the 3rd Guard-Protector Division. If he performs well, I'll transfer him to the 9th Belya Division."

Anna said nothing and swiftly prepared the promotion documents for Zhang Shan.

In peacetime, a battalion commander suddenly leaping to brigade commander was unthinkable and bound to face opposition from various factions.

In wartime, it was a completely different story. A massive number of newly raised units lacked experienced commanders, leading to all sorts of desperate measures.

Whether you were an officer from the old emperor's era or an unlucky wretch demoted during the civil war for backing the wrong side, Zhang Shan would take them all.

If the original Homeland Defense Brigade still possessed some semblance of a military framework, the Guard-Protectorate was a textbook rabble. They relied purely on Zhang Shan's innate talent and two weeks of emergency training to teach these strong-men-turned-recruits how to shoot and roughly how to defend.

As for coordination?

That's a laugh. Go fight a battle, survive it, and you'll figure it out. Being able to obey an order to retreat also counted as a form of coordination.

Over at his end, upon receiving Zhang Shan's transfer order, Antonov was not angry at all; instead, he felt a secret surge of relief.

For one thing, he saw no reason to cross swords with his own lord over a mere battalion commander.

For another, after Prince Andrei shouldered the heavy burden, he drew too clear a line between himself and nobles like them.

Antonov and the others knew it was their own fault—after all, who could blame the prince for always projecting the image of an utter playboy? Everyone feared his erratic commanding and subconsciously avoided all contact beyond official duties. Whatever the prince ordered them to do, they insisted he issue commands through the General Staff to make it count.

Faced with the nobles' passive-aggressive, non-violent non-cooperation, the Third Royal Highness was not annoyed; he simply focused on doing his job well.

Until he started making a name for himself, at which point the nobles were the ones regretting it.

Every newly raised division, along with the previous Homeland Defense Brigade, was personally assembled, equipped, and resourced by Andrei himself. The nobles of the Far East could not manage to stick their fingers into it at all.

They had originally assumed that the prince, lacking military experience and officer corps, would come asking the previous eight standing divisions to hand over personnel.

Instead, the Third Prince completely ignored the nobility, pulling well-performing soldiers straight from the ranks to serve as officers. Last time, he merely asked the 1st Division for a few junior artillery NCOs to form his own artillery regiment, and that was it.

And you had to hand it to him; the prince seemed to possess incomparably sharp eyes.

Almost everyone he pulled up from the ranks hit the mark, with very few proving incompetent.

These mid-level commanders, previously tainted by blemishes on their records or hailing from the old emperor's army, had never dreamed of a breakthrough in their lifetimes. Now, they had finally found a channel for promotion.

As Antonov stamped the papers and released the man, he quietly made a private phone call to the rear.

Meanwhile, back in the city of Khabarovsk at the [Andrei Composite Brigade Headquarters], Zhang Shan had just returned to listen to Gorsky report on the formation of the composite brigade. Elsewhere in the palace, his cheap father was granting an audience to a special visitor.

"Leonid, *cough, cough*, is there something the matter?" Grand Duke Vladimir gazed at the young major general.

"Your Majesty, how do you view the Third Highness's recent performance?"

The Grand Duke contemplated for three seconds; he knew this fellow had come asking with deeper underlying motives.

"Far too naive in domestic politics, but a once-in-a-century genius in military and diplomacy."

"Your Majesty, you ought to know what I really wish to ask."

The Grand Duke wore an awkward expression: "Without a doubt, Andrei is my only designated heir. The 1st Division is off-limits, but do as you please with the rest. He puts them to better use than I ever did."

"Thank you, Your Majesty!"

Major General Leonid offered a respectful bow and withdrew from the Grand Duke's sickroom.

The Grand Duke coughed a few times. Behind the screen beside him, his second son, Maxim, propelled the wheels of his wheelchair out into the open.

"Who would have thought? Of my three children, each one surpasses the last."

Maxim smiled faintly: "Indeed! I used to feel unreconciled about it. Now, as the second brother, all I can do is help hunt down some spies and clear out a few blind fools."

"Ah, same here. Ever since my lungs were damaged, my overall mobility has dropped drastically. Still, this old man can use his weathered face to help the boy accomplish a thing or two back home."

...

Elsewhere, Zhang Shan received a somewhat unexpected meeting request.

"Major General Leonid Kuznetsov requests an audience?"

Leonid, meaning "Son of a Lion."

Not just anyone dared to take such a name; families with martial traditions generally favored it for their sons.

And this particular man was none other than the commander of the 1st Belya Division.

"Let him in."

Before long, he laid eyes on the stern-faced giant with a classic square jaw, standing half a head taller than himself.

"What is it, Lord Kuznetsov? Is there an issue with supplies? Or something else?"

"Your Highness, you could place more trust in the knights of the Principality of Belya."

"Oh?"

Leonid said solemnly: "Those bastard Yamatoans have already deployed heavy infantry, and it is the duty of the Rashian Knight Order to meet them! Even though the 1st Division holds the responsibility of guarding the capital, quite a few Belya knights still hope to serve Your Highness."

Leonid gave a concise five-minute summary, leaving Zhang Shan smiling wryly.

He never expected such a curious twist—

In this world, the advent of [Steam Knights] and heavy infantry capable of bodily transformation had prolonged the lifespan of the feudal system.

The number of steam knights and heavy infantry a nation's economy could sustain was essentially fixed.

Most heavy infantry in this world held knightly titles. Translated to the Yamatoans across the border, they were the equivalent of the standard samurai class.