Four days after their memorable feast, Zhang Zhiwei appeared at the charity cemetery with an enigmatic smile and an invitation that sparked Gustave's curiosity.
"Taoist Tiantong," Gustave said as they walked along the dirt path leading away from Renjia Town, "you've been maddeningly secretive all morning. Where exactly are we going?"
"Patience, My friend," Zhang Zhiwei replied with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "All will be revealed shortly. Trust me—you'll find this quite... illuminating."
As they approached a modest hill on the town's outskirts, the sound of rhythmic shouting drifted through the morning air, punctuated by sharp commands and the distinctive clash of steel on steel.
"Ah," Gustave said with growing understanding, "you're taking me to see this famous militia of yours, aren't you?"
"The militia is part of it," Zhang Zhiwei confirmed, quickening his pace with obvious anticipation. "But there are other surprises as well. Come, let's not keep them waiting."
The path wound upward through scattered pine trees and rocky outcroppings. As they neared the hilltop, two figures emerged from concealment with the smooth precision of professional soldiers.
"Halt!" one commanded sharply. "This is a restricted military zone. State your business!"
Gustave's eyebrows rose appreciatively as he studied the guards. Both wore crisp blue-green uniforms of modern cut, and their distinctive steel helmets were unmistakably French Adrian models. Their rifles—he could see they were Lebel or possibly Berthier models—were in perfect condition, and their bearing spoke of serious military training rather than the slovenly posture typical of warlord troops.
"Please inform your superiors that Taoist Tiantong has arrived with a guest," Zhang Zhiwei said calmly.
The guard's demeanor immediately shifted from suspicion to respect. "Master Tiantong! Please wait here while I fetch the platoon leader."
One guard hurried away while his companion maintained his professional vigilance, eyes constantly scanning the surroundings despite knowing Zhang Zhiwei's identity. This discipline impressed Gustave considerably—most regional forces would have relaxed completely upon recognizing a friendly face.
"Well?" Zhang Zhiwei asked with obvious pride.
"Remarkable," Gustave admitted. "Based on discipline alone, this militia deserves its reputation as an elite unit. Most warlord troops I've observed couldn't maintain this level of professionalism for five minutes."
Shortly, the messenger returned accompanied by a young officer whose uniform bore the insignia of a lieutenant. Despite his youth, he moved with the confident bearing of someone accustomed to command.
"Master Tiantong!" the officer said, offering a crisp salute.
"No no," Zhang Zhiwei waved dismissively. "I've told Colonel Lu repeatedly—I'm not a military man, so there's no need for such formalities with me."
He turned to Gustave with a gesture of introduction. "This is Platoon Leader Zeng of the headquarters guard company. Platoon Leader Zeng, meet my good friend, Gustave."
"Platoon Leader Zeng," Gustave said, extending his hand in the Western fashion.
"Master Gustave," the young officer replied, accepting the handshake with practiced ease.
"If you'll follow me, gentlemen," Zeng said courteously, "I'll escort you to headquarters."
The militia encampment spread across a natural basin beyond the hilltop, and the sight that greeted them was genuinely impressive. Rows of proper military tents were arranged with geometric precision, while training areas buzzed with purposeful activity. The rhythmic shouting they'd heard earlier came from soldiers practicing bayonet drill—dozens of bronzed, muscular men working through complex combat maneuvers with focused intensity.
"Oh wow," Gustave murmured, watching the sweating soldiers thrust and parry in perfect unison. "These men are in superb condition."
"Our soldiers receive meat several times per week and rice daily, thanks to Master Ren's logistical support and material aid from the Protector General," Zeng explained with obvious pride. "Proper nutrition makes an enormous difference in training effectiveness."
"I can see that," Gustave said admiringly. "On a battlefield, soldiers like these could easily handle five or ten times their number of typical warlord troops."
The compliment clearly pleased the young officer. "Thank you, Master Gustave! High praise from someone of your reputation means a great deal."
As they walked deeper into the encampment, Zeng continued his informal briefing. "This is our headquarters area, housing the companies directly subordinate to command—guards, reconnaissance, communications, and so forth. Our line battalions are stationed at various strategic points throughout the region..."
Gustave nodded thoughtfully. Those "strategic points" were almost certainly the routes used for transporting the Protector General's supplies from the coast to the interior.
They approached the largest tent in the complex, distinguished by signal flags and the constant flow of messengers coming and going.
"Report!" Zeng called out formally. "Guard Company Platoon Leader Zeng requesting permission to escort Taoist Tiantong and Master Gustave to headquarters!"
A medium-built officer emerged from the tent—clearly the commanding officer based on his bearing and the deference shown by nearby personnel. He appeared to be in his late twenties, with intelligent eyes and the kind of quiet confidence that marked natural leaders.
"Master Tiantong!" Colonel Lu said warmly, striding forward to clasp Zhang Zhiwei's hand. "What an unexpected pleasure!"
"Colonel Lu," Zhang Zhiwei replied with evident fondness. "I hope we're not interrupting anything critical. I wanted my friend here to meet you."
"Colonel Lu," Zhang Zhiwei continued, "allow me to present Master Gustave. Gustave, this is Colonel Lu, commander of our remarkable militia."
"Master Gustave," Lu said, offering his own firm handshake, "your reputation precedes you. I didn't expect someone so accomplished to be quite so young!"
"The honor is mine, Colonel," Gustave replied diplomatically. "Your achievements here speak to exceptional leadership ability."
"Please, both of you," Lu said with a gesture toward the tent entrance, "let's continue this conversation somewhere more comfortable."
Inside the command tent, maps and documents covered every available surface, but what immediately caught Gustave's attention was the figure standing before a large strategic map mounted on an easel. The man stood with his hands clasped behind his back, studying troop positions and supply routes with obvious expertise.
At the sound of their entrance, he turned with a welcoming smile.
"Master Tiantong!" the man said warmly. "What a delightful surprise—it's been far too long!"
The speaker was thin but wiry, with a neatly trimmed beard and remarkably penetrating eyes that seemed to take in everything at once. Despite his modest physical appearance, he radiated the kind of natural authority that marked truly exceptional leaders.
Gustave recognize the man. While he'd never met this man personally, he'd seen photographs and read some lore of his career.
"Indeed it has, General Cai E," Zhang Zhiwei said, using the Protector General's personal name as he stepped forward to clasp hands with obvious mutual respect.
"The last time we met was when you personally escorted Master Ren and me to the provincial border," Zhang Zhiwei continued. "That was... what, seven months ago?"
"Nearly eight," General Cai E corrected with a slight smile. "Time passes quickly when one is building the foundation for lasting change."