Strongest Soldier King

The welcome banquet was held punctually at seven o'clock in the evening. People were there to greet the guests. When Luo Zheng entered the banquet hall, he saw it was already filled—either with school officers or lieutenants, and a few generals too. Barely having cherished his hard-earned rank as a lieutenant, he was back to feeling like a non-commissioned officer, the lowest rank present.

With a keen eye, Luo Zheng spotted a table with his name on it. As he checked the other nameplates, he saw that the competitors had already taken their seats, along with a few others he hadn't seen before, their identities unknown to him. He greeted the captain and made his way to his seat, sitting upright just like the others, staring straight ahead without speaking.

Soon, the Commander, accompanied by two other generals, entered and took a seat at the head of the room. After signaling that everyone who had stood to welcome him could sit down, he said with a smile, "Brothers, please sit down, we all know each other well here, no need for such formalities. Today's banquet is to welcome our competitors, but it's also a farewell party to send our warriors to the battlefield. Now, let's all raise our glasses to wish our warriors a triumphant return."

Everyone raised their glasses. The military had its norms. Despite the Commander saying to make themselves at home, no one dared to take it lightly. The discipline and hierarchy in the military were stringent, and crossing the line wouldn't be tolerated. After downing their first drink, the atmosphere noticeably relaxed. As the waitstaff filled the second round of glasses, the Commander stood with his glass and approached the competitors' table, beaming, "Warriors, today I lay my old face here. With half a year until my retirement, whether I can retire with dignity is now up to you all. Let's drink to the full."

"Thank you, Commander," the competitors replied, not daring to declaim, and drank up with gratitude.

"Show your true skills as thanks to me. I believe you are all well informed by now? Right, these folks are competitors from the previous round that I specially invited. They've experienced the same competition, gathered experience, and acquired insights. Please take the opportunity to learn from them. Of course, you shouldn't hold back either—it's all for the honor of our Group Army," said the Commander cheerfully.

"Yes," the competitors responded in unison. By then, Luo Zheng had finally grasped the identities of the others at his table. No wonder they all seemed formidable—they were competitors from the previous session.

"Alright, you young people should mingle more. I, the old man, won't disturb you anymore. Wang Zuo, I'll leave them to you." Having said that, the Commander turned and left.

"Yes," a burly man readily agreed. As soon as the Commander left, he cheerfully told everyone, "Brothers, I'm Wang Zuo, 'Zuo' as in blindly chiseling. I was the captain of last session's squad. I must admit, leading as captain is embarrassing: bottom of the collective standings, bottom of the individual standings—it's all my poor command."

"Captain, others may not know the inside story, but we do. It's no one's fault but our own for not mastering our crafts well enough," a spry major gently consoled at the side, and seeing everyone curious, he poured himself another drink, necked it, and put down his glass with a mournful expression.

"Something fishy?" Luo Zheng wondered in surprise and glanced at the other competitors. A scholar-looking man was slowly savoring his wine, each sip minuscule yet enjoyed thoroughly, as if the glass would never empty. Luo Zheng chuckled; this fellow had some tricks up his sleeve.

Looking at another competitor across the table who had the honest look of a farmer facing down and back to the sky. Indeed, this man was a farmer by origin, officially registered in a rural household—a genuine son of the peasantry, called Luo Hai. When asked by an instructor one day what he was, Luo Hai had blurted out: "A farmer."

After the joke spread, his comrades, aiming to please, nicknamed him "Farmer," a moniker Luo Hai felt suited him well, as a reminder to never forget his roots. He accepted it, and from then on, the nickname was widely adopted and used to this day. Despite appearing like a simple farmer, Luo Zheng had read the files: Luo Hai was clever, even exhibiting a cunning "peasant-like" shrewdness, and moreover, he possessed incredible strength.

Perhaps sensing someone watching him, Luo Hai looked up at Luo Zheng and showed a naive expression. Luo Zheng knew that beneath this simplicity hid a "cunning" heart. He didn't dare be overconfident, nodded with a smile as a greeting, but his attention was drawn to the somewhat overweight contestant next to him, who was actually murmuring Buddhist scriptures in a sorrowful manner, just like a monk performing rites for the dead.

Seeing this scene, Luo Zheng recalled some information. He knew that this guy was nicknamed Monk and was indeed a monk with no legal name. He had been adopted by a monk from childhood, given the religious name Shi Neng, and was brave enough to learn brilliant martial arts. In a peaceful society, being highly skilled in martial arts might not be useful and could even be a curse. The old monk, worried that Shi Neng might get into trouble in the future, simply sent him to the military. However, the guy couldn't change his habit of chanting scriptures whenever he moved.

"You are Luo Zheng, right? Do you recognize this flower?" a voice from beside him asked.

Luo Zheng was startled and turned to see a contestant intently looking at a small porcelain bowl in his hand, adorned with flowers. Luo Zheng glanced at the bowl and immediately thought of someone—contestant Wang Yue, nicknamed Gardener. This guy loved raising flowers, reportedly to the point of obsession, and knew all the famous flowers in the would. His nickname came from this. Luo Zheng nodded and said, "Gardener?"

"Wrong," the Gardener said softly, his eyes still not leaving the bowl.

Luo Zheng paused for a moment, then smiled and said, "Peony."

"Oh? It seems we are indeed alike. How many years do you think it takes for such a large flower to bloom?" Gardener Wang Yue asked Luo Zheng, setting the porcelain bowl on the table.

"Five-year period. The tree is too old, lacks nutrients, so the flowers are smaller, but the thickness of the petals is still there, not something a two year old tree could produce," Luo Zheng replied with a smile. Luo Zheng's mother loved flowers and raised many to exchange for living supplies in town, naturally influencing him.

"Oh?" Gardener's previously indifferent expression now showed more surprise, looking at Luo Zheng with a more friendly expression and smiled, raising his glass.

Luo Zheng also raised a glass and the two men drank in tacit agreement.

Meanwhile, Wang Zuo had clearly recovered from his grief, raised his glass, and said seriously, "You can see, your group is stronger than ours. I have a few words of advice for you—never count on being lucky, never assume you are better than anyone else, never trust anyone outside your teammates," he said, tilting his head back and downing the drink in one go.

"Uh?" Luo Zheng was somewhat surprised upon hearing these three pieces of advice, finding them a bit creepy. The first two he could understand, but what did the last one mean? However, it was clear that Wang Zuo meant every word, and Luo Zheng took them to heart.

ps: Considering the continuation of three more parts, if you don't have a recommendation ticket, leave a message to encourage me.