Chapter 42: The Crow and the Knight

June 1916, with incessant, lingering rain.

A convoy of military transport trucks drove from the industrial hub of Amiens toward the frontline twelve kilometers away.

The hum of engines echoed endlessly in the air. As the transport truck jolted up and down, Jiang He, snapping back to his senses, caught the rich scent of damp earth. Raindrops pattered against the canvas hood overhead. Complete darkness surrounded him, and as he gently exerted force with his hands, he encountered resistance.

"Old-fashioned handcuffs."

Half an hour later, the transport truck came to an abrupt halt. The truck bed was instantly thrown into chaos, sparking a chorus of curses and complaints.

The blindfold was snatched from his eyes, and Jiang He quickly surveyed his surroundings. Including himself, there were seventy-two people in total, packed together like sardines and all wearing handcuffs. Judging by their initial identities, they were undoubtedly death row inmates.

"Scum! Though your crimes deserve a thousand deaths, you are still men for the time being. I know the vast majority of you chose to enlist in the army from prison just to escape execution, but it doesn't matter. Welcome to the Prussians' hell! Next, you're going to the most dangerous places to do the most dangerous jobs, and all of this is nothing less than you deserve!"

A man wearing the shoulder insignia of a lieutenant roared at the top of his lungs. Immediately following, a squad of military policemen carrying rifles rushed forward, roughly unlocking the handcuffs and escorting everyone out of the vehicle.

Jiang He went with the flow, following the crowd into a camp. A wooden sign carved with the word "Birmingham" stood upright at the entrance.

The British military still relied on the volunteer system, organized by battalions based on county recruitment zones. A lieutenant colonel served as the battalion commander. Under normal circumstances, a battalion's strength hovered around one thousand men, divided into four rifle companies.

"Hey, pal, how come I've never seen you before?"

Beside the queue, a tall youth made a suggestive expression and sidled up to him. "I grew up in Birmingham, you know. I've entertained every single young lady on Black Coal Street."

Jiang He replied indifferently, "So you've latched onto me to form a group because everyone who knows you wouldn't deign to be seen with you. In fact, I left for other parts early in childhood."

A roar of laughter erupted from the queue. Everyone loved a good show. The lieutenant in charge of the escort lit a Mahorka cigarette, completely indifferent to the commotion unfolding before him.

The tall youth's face flushed red. "You're just a foreigner! Our Birmingham regiment doesn't want you!"

Cursing to prove anything was the last thing Jiang He wanted to do. He continued, "Murder, arson, piracy, treason—these are the only four capital crimes left nowadays. If it were treason, you'd already be dead; the last notorious pirate to be hanged was decades ago. You're either stupid enough to accidentally start a fire, or you murdered the elderly or women and children. After all, nobody here seems to be afraid of you."

The tall youth lowered his head, anger and frustration mingling together. A stone struck his forehead, and blood quickly welled up from the cut. Clutching the wound tightly, he continued to stare fixedly at his muddy boots.

The death row inmate who had hurled the stone shouted, "Coward! A coward who set fire to his own house yet didn't have the guts to go inside to save his younger brother and sister! A man like you should have gone straight to hell long ago. Hurry up and go play the Prussian; even your drunkard father is ten thousand times better than you!"

"Such a disgrace."

"Does he even deserve to face the death penalty with us?"

"Drunkard Henry was just a scoundrel in character, so how did he end up spawning a creature like this?"

Jiang He feigned confusion and said, "How can a human being possibly be cowardly to such an extent? I don't believe it."

With a resentful expression, the tall youth suddenly jerked his head up. "My name is Charlie! Whether I'm a coward or not, I'll prove it to you in the future!"

"Who knows when you might suddenly drop dead? Such empty talk is completely meaningless."

"Then I'll stick to you like glue and watch closely when we reach the battlefield, you foreign bastard!"

The queue entered the camp. After a brief handover with a sergeant, the lieutenant departed directly.

The sergeant was lean and gaunt, sporting a bushy yellowish-brown mustache and hawk-like eyes. His khaki field uniform hung loosely on his frame, and an unmistakable reek of alcohol emanated from him.

"Private Arthur, you bloody, missed-you-so-much bastards, don't you dare say you don't know me."

"Look at you making something of yourself, Arthur!"

"What about Tommy? Your younger brother was always a sharp lad since he was a kid."

The death row inmates grew lively. Birmingham had a population of hundreds of thousands, and locals who had made a name for themselves were well-known to one another.

Arthur let out a scoff and roared, "Since you're here, follow your commanding officer's orders! Now, everyone go draw your military supplies. If you don't want your feet to rot off, take a few extra pairs of socks."

Upon hearing this, the death row inmates hurried to the supply depot, moving around to collect the essentials for a private soldier.

Jiang He moved the fastest, completing a circuit ahead of the rest. The British army's primary issue .303 Lee-Enfield rifle was legendary, second in production volume only to the yet-to-be-born AK series. It had an effective range of over eight hundred meters, a ten-round magazine, and supported optical scope attachments.

Aside from that, the bayonet, leather boots, field uniform, and entrenching tool added up to a considerable weight. Then there was the most crucial item: the steel helmet. Large-scale distribution to infantry had only begun six months ago—a hard-earned lesson learned at the cost of countless lives.

Charlie, the tall youth, followed closely at Jiang He's side, excitedly working the bolt and feeling the sound was utterly delightful.

Arthur secretly took a gulp from his flask, and seeing that everyone had finished drawing their equipment, he shouted, "Follow me, all of you."

The group stepped through the mud into the trench network. Soldiers were using steel helmets to scoop out the accumulated water from the ground, still exchanging lighthearted banter with one another. Since the Battle of Loos, the British army had not launched a major offensive for eight months.

Arriving at the front-line trench, company quartermaster sergeant Tommy stubbed out a nearly burned-out cigarette against the ground. His blue eyes were the only clean spot on his entire body. When he spoke, his voice was surprisingly soft.

"Unfortunately, for the next week, more than half of your time will be spent surviving in this battlefield as tunneling troops. The environment down there is harsher than anything you can possibly imagine. The chalk soil could collapse at any moment, not to mention the enemy who might appear out of nowhere. From now on, you are under my command, and I will pray sincerely after you die."

Tommy relit a Somme-brand cigarette, activated his transcendent ability, and pointed at three privates.

"The three of you with hard heads, come with me."

Charlie turned his gaze toward Jiang He, and seeing the other man step forward, he too walked out of the ranks. The third person was the death row inmate who had thrown the stone at him.

Arthur arranged this batch of newly arrived privates. This stretch of trench was garrisoned by a single company, but due to an upcoming major operation, troop strength had surged to nearly three hundred men. Meanwhile, his younger brother Tommy served as the company quartermaster sergeant, holding the rank of second-class warrant officer, usually responsible for tunneling, coordination, and logistical work.

On the other side, Tommy snuffed out his cigarette and stated bluntly, "Orders have come down from above. Starting tomorrow morning, the artillery cluster behind the front lines will subject the Prussian positions to a barrage of saturated fire, pounding them continuously for seven days to destroy enemy barbed wire and machine gun nests. Once the bombardment ends, all front-line units must launch an assault. Our company's mission is to dig a tunnel, plant explosives beneath the enemy's Position 145, and detonate them."

"Time is short, which is also the reason for your arrival. The Prussians are digging tunnels as well; when we run into them, it will be hand-to-hand combat. I need men to advance along two fronts, and among the new arrivals, the three of you have the hardest heads. Forgive me for saying such nonsensical things—I have Romany blood."

Charlie shouted, "Leave it to us, sir!"

Jiang He offered no opinion. This wasn't a consultation; it was a notification, albeit delivered with polite phrasing.

Tommy handed over his aluminum cigarette case. At the front line, cigarettes could double as currency, traded with comrades for alcohol and other military provisions; a haircut cost roughly three cigarettes.

Both Charlie and the death row inmate looked toward Jiang He. Seeing that his probing had borne fruit, Tommy said, "You are now a private second class, and you will be responsible for leading the three-man squad. I'll handle the paperwork tonight. Next is dinner time."

"Understood," Jiang He replied, taking the aluminum cigarette case as a notification prompt rang in his ear.

[Prompt: Faction Reputation +10 points]

[Upgrade: You have become a Private Second Class (10/100)]

...

At dusk, simple campfires burned within the trenches. Steel helmets hung over wooden tripods, holding water that was slowly beginning to boil. Tobacco, alcohol, tea, and sugar were indispensable supplementary rations in the military, with the British army displaying an unimaginable devotion to tea.

As for military rations, Jiang He took a bite of the "wooden plank" known as Hardtack Biscuit Number 4. It was hard enough to chip teeth, with moisture-proofness as its only redeeming quality.

A sharp cry rang out from the sky. A large raven circled down and landed beside the campfire, dropping a wild rabbit it had caught straight into the fire to roast. Hopping closer, it lowered its voice and said:

"A welcome gift, partner. Stop gnawing on those biscuits that double as bricks."

Jiang He could not help glancing sideways. He had imagined his exclusive intelligence officer might be a man or a woman, but a large raven was truly beyond his expectations.

The raven introduced itself: "Player Level 8. No combat capability whatsoever, only good at escaping and gathering intelligence. Caw caw caw, my name is Wu He. I audited computer science and technology, so I've got my professional skills completely mastered."

Not far away, Charlie and the death row inmate were frying bacon and Hardtack biscuits. Jiang He reached out, allowing Wu He to hop onto his shoulder. Moving his lips slightly, he asked, "What is the Prussian 'Sword of the Inverted Tree'? My interface shows that a rule-breaker holds a high position within it."

Wu He replied promptly, "Currently, I only know it's an official Prussian intelligence organization housing more than one transcendent. The ancient alchemists of this remnant world made major breakthroughs in the realm of the soul. The alchemical matrix they researched is based on animal souls, transforming into armor to protect the soul and naming it 'Knight Soul Armament,' granting humans transcendent power."

"Take your current superior, Tommy, for instance. The intelligence I gathered shows his soul armament is a wildebeest—also known as a Wildebeest Knight. It possesses the Romany tradition of free migration and a deep love for family, with physical fitness slightly superior to ordinary people and the ability to experience a flash of insight in crises to turn danger into safety."

"It can even buff basic attributes?"

"Yes, but the magnitude is small—equivalent to two free attribute points. The key point is the ability derived from the animal."

Hearing this, Jiang He felt somewhat tempted and said, "Check out the veteran nobility on the opposite Prussian front line. They should have a stable lineage. If you and I can acquire soul armaments, our strength will step up a notch."

Wu He nodded. His resources were concentrated entirely in his professional domain, leaving him incapable of frontal combat. Rushing over to rendezvous at the very first moment he harvested information was precisely for the sake of cooperation.

Before leaving, Wu He added, "Partner, you can find a few extra helmets and stuff them into the ten equipment slots of a privileged player. That way, stacking head defense will make it much harder for a bullet to blow your head off. Oh, and let's add each other as friends first."