The title of Acting Surgeon-General came with no ceremony, only a sudden, deafening silence. The battlefields of Qiling Ridge had been replaced by a new kind of war, waged not with steel and fire, but with ink, seals, and implacable procedure.
Lin Wei's new command post was a larger tent, but it felt more confined than the bloody gully on the ridge. The air smelled of dried herbs and parchment, a sterile contrast to the stench of death he'd grown accustomed to.
His first official act was pragmatic: he drafted a requisition. It was a simple list, the bare bones of survival for his nascent Field Medical Corps.
Linen for bandages. Strong wine for disinfectant. A steady allotment of rations for his medics, who were now full-time non-combatants. And formal allocation of the training ground west of the stream for drills.
The response arrived not with a shouted refusal, but with the soft rustle of paper. A junior clerk, his face a mask of bureaucratic indifference, placed the returned requisition scroll on Lin Wei's table. Three bold, crimson characters were stamped across his request: REQUEST DENIED.
The reason was listed below in meticulous script. "Per Army Regulation 14, section 7, medical supplies exceeding standard company allotment require countersignature from the Board of Senior Physicians." Lin Wei didn't need to check the roster. The Board was comprised of Physician Wang's most loyal acolytes. They would never sign.
The next scroll, for the rations, was also denied. "Denied. The 'Field Medical Corps' lacks a formalized Table of Organization and is not recognized as a standard unit for provisioning."
The third, for the training ground, was the most brazen. "Denied. Training Field West is reserved for cavalry drills. Reassignment would impede core combat readiness."
It was a masterstroke of bureaucratic sabotage. Clerk Zhao and the remnants of the old medical establishment weren't confronting him; they were burying him alive in a landslide of paperwork, using the army's own regulations as the dirt. They hadn't raised a sword; they had built a paper wall.
Ox Li, standing by the tent flap, grunted, his hands clenching into impotent fists. "I could have a… word… with the quartermaster."
"That is what they want," Lin Wei said, his voice calm. An act of brute force would justify their claims that he was just a violent convict. "They are trying to provoke us into behaving like the penal battalion we used to be. We will not oblige them."
He looked at his core team: Sly Liu, fidgeting with a lockpick; and Scholar Zhang, peering at the denied scrolls with academic curiosity.
"Liu," Lin Wei said. "The quartermaster's depot. I don't need you to steal. I need you to listen. I need to know how the supplies really move. Where are the ledgers kept? Who approves the 'special allocations'?"
A feral grin spread across Liu's face. "Easier than picking a general's pocket, Doc. They're arrogant. They talk a lot and too loud."
"Zhang," Lin Wei continued, turning to the scholar. "These regulations. I need you to read them. Not like a soldier, but like a magistrate. Find the loopholes. Find the exceptions for 'emergency field conditions' and 'tactical innovation.'"
Scholar Zhang's eyes lit up. "A legal puzzle! I shall find the cracks in their wall, Physician Lin."
For two days, Lin Wei maintained a facade of calm. He received daily denials, each with a new, more obscure regulation cited. The propaganda war began in earnest. Whispers slithered through the camp: "The convict is hoarding supplies." "His 'medics' are just his private gang."
Then, his team delivered.
Sly Liu slipped into the tent one night. "The depot's head clerk, the one who stamps the denials? He's Clerk Zhao's cousin. They have a tidy business selling 'surplus' lamp oil and quality grain to merchants from the south. The 'reserved' training field? The cavalry captain uses it for two hours a day. The rest of the time, it's empty. It's a lie of convenience."
Simultaneously, Scholar Zhang arrived, unrolling a scroll covered in his neat annotations. "I have it! Regulation 22, subsection 3 : 'In periods of active campaign readiness, a unit commander may requisition materials and space for immediate tactical training deemed essential to operational effectiveness.' The 'Board of Physicians' clause is for garrison troops, not a frontier army on a war footing! They are misapplying the code!"
Lin Wei didn't go to Commander Xin. That would be an admission of defeat. He would act.
The next morning, he led his entire Medical Corps to Training Field West. The cavalry was not there. As Liu had said, it was empty.
The cavalry captain arrived an hour later with his troop. "You! Convict! This field is reserved! Get your rabble out of here!"
Lin Wei didn't move. He handed the captain Scholar Zhang's annotated scroll. "Regulation 15, subsection 6. We are conducting essential training for campaign readiness. Your scheduled time drill is not for two hours. We will be done by then."
The captain sputtered, his face reddening. "I don't care about your scribblings! This is my field!"
Ox Li took a single step forward. He didn't speak. He didn't draw a weapon. He simply stood there, a mountain of silent, scarred muscle, his presence a physical manifestation of the new reality.
The captain looked from Ox Li's impassive face to the determined faces of the medics behind Lin Wei. He cursed and wheeled his horse around. "You have one hour!"
It was a bloodless victory. The paper wall had a crack.
Next, Lin Wei went to the supply depot with Ox Li and two of his largest men. He approached the head clerk, Zhao's cousin, a man with greedy eyes and ink-stained fingers.
"I am here for my requisition," Lin Wei said, his voice flat. He placed the scroll on the counter.
"Denied," the clerk sneered, not even looking up. "Regulation 14 subsection 7, as stated."
Lin Wei leaned forward, his voice dropping so only the clerk could hear. "I'm not here to discuss 14.7. I'm here to discuss the thirty jugs of lamp oil and the five sacks of milled wheat that left the depot last night on a merchant's cart. The one registered to your brother-in-law."
The clerk's face went as white as the parchment. He looked up, his eyes wide with terror. He looked at Ox Li, then back at Lin Wei.
Lin Wei tapped the requisition scroll. "The regulation for emergency field training also allows for expedited procurement. Stamp it."
The clerk's hand shook as he fumbled for the approval seal. Thump. The crimson seal marked the scroll "APPROVED."
As they left the depot, laden with their supplies, Lin Wei knew this was only the first skirmish. The paper wall was breached, but the architects of the siege were still in place.
They had tried to break him with rules. They had failed. Now, they would get more creative. The whispers of slander would soon become shouts. The real battle for the soul of the army was just beginning.