After Luff shouted "Two!", the children let their left foot strike the ground, making a neat clapping sound. Then they stepped forward with their right foot while swinging their left arm.
Days of training had already made their formation look very professional, which pleased Tang Mo greatly. Tang Mo's training requirements for these children were so strict they nearly bordered on the perverse, even demanding that they stand still in the blazing sun for over ten minutes at a time.
If there were enough time for classes, Tang Mo would have even liked to have them practice standing still for hours — but unfortunately, these children only had a little more than an hour of training each day, so Tang Mo had no choice but to give up on that idea.
Even so, such training was considered harsh in this era! It was known that even the less strictly trained Northern Ridge Legion of Earl Fisello was already called a strong force.
The slightly older children, after basic formation training, would follow Bernard for tactical drill practice. Every day they had to practice with wooden rifle models, drilling in firing and bayonet combat.
"Stab!" Right now, Bernard, with his hands behind his back, watched a group of teenagers holding rifles, following Tang Mo's training illustrations, step by step, methodically practicing stabbing.
Every time they thrust their rifle forward, they would shout loudly as if facing an enemy right in front of them: "Kill!"
Accompanied by their shouts, the formation of seven or eight people simultaneously lunging with their rifles immediately appeared ferocious.
"Continue! Stab!" Bernard, with hands still behind his back, looked at these young children who were starting to exert a sense of pressure, and ordered loudly.
"Kill!" Hearing the command, the children stabbed with their long rifles once more, lunged forward, slightly sidestepping as if dodging an oncoming bayonet.
Compared to studying, these children clearly found this kind of drill more interesting; they earnestly executed all sorts of commands, imagining with their youthful souls that they were fighting valiantly on the battlefield.
Which child doesn't have a dream of becoming a hero? Which young person doesn't fantasize about going into battle and killing enemies? Therefore, on the drill ground, these children had an extraordinary enthusiasm for bayonet fighting training.
Meanwhile, not far away, other students, generally over fifteen years of age, were spreading out in front of Wes, practicing with wooden swords they had whittled, as they followed Wes's movements, slowly rotating their bodies.
Wes demonstrated in front of these children with his real longsword, loudly instructing them to turn and thrust out their longswords.
"Thrust it out! If your longsword does not strike at your enemy at this time, they will seize the opportunity and hit you from behind! That's very dangerous!" while speaking, he reminded everyone.
"So! At this time, you must thrust it out! With all your strength! As long as the enemy thinks they've got an opportunity, you will gain the advantage!" After completing a turn and delivering a retaliatory stab with his longsword, he returned to a guarded stance.
All the students, following his example, also turned and thrust out their wooden swords, then, mimicking Wes, returned to a defensive posture.
Wes, reasonably satisfied with these apprentices, nodded and once again began a new round of demonstration: "Good! Turn!"
The students in front of him also began another round of turning like his, their movements a bit rough but proper.
"Right! After turning... maintain your sword holding posture!" Wes, holding his longsword, corrected the students' postures after they turned.
"Be on guard!" He walked over to one of the children, adjusted the child's shoulders, making the longsword in the child's hand cover most of his body.
Years of fighting had given him many life-saving techniques, and passing on these experiences to the children was the command given to him by Tang Mo.
Wes didn't know if Tang Mo was testing him, so he dared not hold back, teaching with utmost seriousness.
And these children were also very serious learners, for they were all teenagers, very sensible, and knew that this was their only chance to reach higher and further.
"Watch your eyes!" Wes pointed at his own eyes and then pointed ahead: "Intimidate the enemy! Fierce! Be very fierce! Make the enemy fear you!"
The new mercenaries were also busy; they were repeatedly performing the tactical movements required by Tang Mo at Roger's command.
Roger stood at the edge of the uneven field, ignoring the passing Tagg, and ordered the mercenaries on the field loudly: "Hit the deck!"
The mercenaries who heard the order immediately lay down, using the uneven mounds of soil to conceal their figures as if there was a heavy machine gun firing at them from Roger's position.
Tagg stopped in his tracks, looking at these mercenaries who were doing something he couldn't understand, then at the children far away practicing marching, swordsmanship, and bayonet fighting, and his brow involuntarily furrowed.
Then, Roger's shouted command brought him back to reality: "Crawl forward!"
The mercenaries following the order thus began to crawl carelessly through the uneven mud, looking as awkward as one could imagine.
Actually, soldiers of this era didn't need to practice crawling forward at all, and even lying prone was explicitly prohibited.
Since the tactical requirements of the age eliminated the need for crawling forward, if soldiers were to attack, they were to do so in tight formations, charging at the enemy with steady strides.
In Tagg's view, soldiers crawling on the ground lacked courage, and soiling their uniforms was a disgrace! Even if shot and sacrificed, such behavior should never be used!
As he brooded over these dissatisfactions, he heard Roger's even more outrageous shout, "Stay down! Stay down! The bullets will fly right over your asses if you don't!"
As he walked toward these prone mercenaries, he loudly scolded them, "Every obstacle is an excellent hiding spot; leap up only to immediately hunker down! Dodge any incoming bullets!"
Tagg felt he simply couldn't bear to watch any longer; he crossed the factory area, which resembled a construction site, without even checking on the progress of gun production, and went straight to Tang Mo's office.
As soon as he entered, he began to express his dissatisfaction, "What you're doing isn't teaching a bunch of students! You're training a group of warriors!"
He felt deceived as Tang Mo wasn't aiming to cultivate workers at all, but to train a corps of highly skilled and efficient soldiers!
"No, they are just a bunch of students!" Tang Mo disregarded Tagg's words, continuing to account for the workshop's expenses while speaking to Tagg.
Although he was indeed nurturing followers who were both literate and martially apt, he absolutely wouldn't admit to any ambitions.
Tagg glared angrily at Tang Mo, deeply dissatisfied with his dismissiveness, "You teach them swordsmanship, you teach them to fence; each one of them can read, has been educated, can do calculations! They know more in this regard than even I do!"
"What's wrong with that?" Tang Mo put down the expense report for the past five days, looked at Tagg, and retorted.
Caught off guard, Tagg then answered Tang Mo's question, "In a few months, they will become the best soldiers, even capable of serving as officers! To be honest, even the officers of the Suthers Kingdom might not have such cultural refinement!"
Tang Mo smiled, feeling affirmed by Tagg's acknowledgment of the children's potential, and reassured that his efforts were in the right direction.
So he continued to defend his training methods, "They're still children, the youngest just eight or nine years old..."
"If you keep training them ! In ten years, you could arm 30,000 people at least! Equipped with your K1 Quick Gun, these 30,000 could be invincible." Tagg clenched his teeth and emphasized to Tang Mo.
Tang Mo was taken aback, then shook his head decisively, rejecting Tagg's hypothesis, "How could I possibly equip them with needle guns... What a joke... Not only will I not issue needle guns to them, but I also won't give them revolvers..."
Needle guns still in use ten years from now? I'm going to equip them with grenade launchers, MG42 machine guns, and AK47 assault rifles! Stop joking, why stick with Left-Wheel Handguns? Aren't Glocks and Berettas more appealing? Tang Mo scornfully criticised in his mind.
"You wouldn't really do that?" After hearing such assurances from Tang Mo and seeing his resolute eyes, Tagg muttered doubtfully.
Tang Mo truly wasn't lying, so his expression was as candid as can be. It's just that although he spoke the truth, he skillfully avoided Tagg's question. Thus, the candid Tang Mo that Tagg saw was already miles away from the topic at hand.
"Are you insane? Equip them with needle guns in ten years? I swear to heaven, that will never happen." Tang Mo "sincerely" emphasized again, even stressing the phrase 'needle guns'.
This sincerity made Tagg feel like he was wrongfully misjudging a good person, and he fell silent for a long while, as if to deliberate the tone of his subsequent words.
"...Alright, I'll trust you for now." Eventually, Tagg's tone softened as he spoke to Tang Mo. His words embarrassed Tang Mo, giving him the uncomfortable feeling of having conned a simpleton...
Therefore, Tang Mo took out a Revolver he had assembled from his drawer and handed it to Tagg, "This is the Revolver I promised to give you."
"You've finished it?" Tagg looked at Tang Mo in surprise, stepped forward, and took the exquisite Revolver from Tang Mo's hands.
"Yes, it's done, but the bullets will take a little while longer; as you know, I've been a bit busy recently," Tang Mo apologetically explained.
In fact, he did have some bullets, but he needed to share some of them with Wes, so Tagg would have to be inconvenienced for now.
Clearly, Tagg wasn't bothered by this detail; he held the Revolver, caressing it gently, as if it were the tender skin of a maiden.
The allure of this object was tremendous for him; holding the handgun, he even felt a surge of power course through his body.
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