"I don't require you to march 40 li every day, I'm not a demon."
"But what does it mean when you're getting slower and slower?"
"The first day was 40 li, the second 30 li, what will it be on the third day, 20 li?"
"As your instructor, I really must whip you, honestly!"
Holding a cork stick, Michelle, unlike her timid demeanor in front of Horn, appeared as stern as a bronze statue.
In front of him was the expressionless Defensive Army of Longbow Castle.
The obsolete saucershape brim helmets, obsolete half-plate armor, and inferior military boots and swords, all formerly discarded by the Holy Alliance, were neatly worn on them.
Yet under the autumn sun, the silver reflections wavered.
They gasped for breath, sweat running from their foreheads to their beards, their steps mechanical, with even a hint of sorrow at the corner of their eyes.
They had never marched like this before, at most going fifty li to attack a Knight Castle or some monastery around them.
