Longevity by Picking up Attributes in the Battlefield Chapter 4: I Have No Ambition for Promotion; Survival Matters Most

The Qin Army enforced a military merit system of utmost rigor. Soldiers kept watch over one another, while dedicated officials scrutinized every achievement. Those bold enough to fake or steal merits faced direct reports to the King of Qin, ensuring ruthless and irreversible penalties. In the system's early days, certain nobles might have chanced it, yet nowadays, none dare.

"Bao Qiu fell to a soldier in your Logistics Army?" Wang Ben questioned, astonished.

"Reporting to General Wang, yes, it's accurate," the Junhou responded promptly. "Bao Qiu shed his armor and pretended to be dead amid the bodies. As our logistics soldier drew near, he sprang up abruptly, slaying two men. Luckily, that soldier from our camp reacted swiftly and finished him off."

"Bao Qiu, slain by a mere Qin logistics soldier... what a pitiful demise," Wang Ben lamented, gazing at Bao Qiu’s staring eyes brimming with unavenged fury.

A mere logistics soldier! Not a fighter on the front lines, but handling chores like battlefield cleanup and wound care. For a Han general to perish by such hands marked utter humiliation.

Wang Jian spared Bao Qiu a casual glance, unperturbed. "Haul him off. Inter him with the Han troops," he commanded. "Promote the logistics soldier who slew Bao Qiu per the merit rules—three rank jumps and one nobility level up." With that, he spun around and headed to his tent.

To a Shangjiangjun like him, it was a minor affair. Bao Qiu’s misfortune, that soldier’s windfall—pure chance.

"Yes, sir." The Junhou acknowledged crisply and departed.

"Battle reports and casualties compiled?" Wang Jian inquired.

"Finalized, dispatching to Xianyang posthaste today," Wang Ben answered.

"Add the bit about Bao Qiu dying to our logistics soldier. It’ll make a fine tale," Wang Jian chuckled.

Wang Ben nodded at once. "Got it."

"One more thing—where’s Yan’er?" Wang Jian asked abruptly.

Wang Ben paused, at a loss for words.

"What?" Wang Jian’s brow furrowed as he barked, "Out with it!"

"She headed to Yang City with General Li Teng," Wang Ben admitted reluctantly.

"Why didn’t you keep an eye on her?" Wang Jian demanded, irritation rising.

"Father, you know Yan’er’s fiery nature well enough," Wang Ben shot back mildly. "You never should've let her tag along with the army."

Wang Jian scowled, sighing in frustration. "You think I chose to drag her here? The moment she learned of the campaign, she hounded me without cease."

"Relax, Father," Wang Ben grinned. "Your five hundred elite guards shield her, and General Li Teng watches over too. She’s secure."

"Fine," Wang Jian grumbled. "Let the girl play. Once this war ends, I’ll wed her off—let her husband’s kin handle her."

Wang Ben chuckled. "Can you bear to, Father? Anyway, Yan’er’s reputation rings through Xianyang—who could win her favor?"

「Late at night.」

The battlefield corpses along the border lay cleared, thousands of Logistics Army troops back in camp, resting.

Darkness cloaked the tent area. Near a modest campfire, Wei Quan and Zhao Feng sat, roasting meat over the glow.

"Mr. Zhao," Wei Quan ventured.

"Yeah?" Zhao Feng responded.

"You’re not worried at all?" Wei Quan pressed.

"Worried about what?" Zhao Feng looked baffled.

"You took down Bao Qiu today—a massive feat. It means three promotions and possibly a noble rank," Wei Quan marveled. "How are you staying so composed?"

"Promotions don’t drive me much," Zhao Feng confessed plainly.

Wei Quan’s face lit with shock amid the night shadows. "Don’t you realize? Ranks boost your pay, titles bring land grants?"

"I do," Zhao Feng laughed, "but what’s grand about climbing ranks? Two years from now, I’m heading home. Mother and little sister need me—they await my care. I won’t risk dying here."

"You’re truly unique," Wei Quan sighed.

"Not unique—just scared of death, valuing life. No rank beats breathing."

"Lieutenant, how many years in service?" Zhao Feng inquired.

In the ranks, Zhao Feng avoided enemies, greeting all warmly. Army life cut straight talk, and Wei Quan stood as his sole true comrade.

"Drafted at fifteen—eight years or so," Wei Quan recounted thoughtfully. "I’d enlist for life if possible, piling up pay to feed my kin.

"Times are brutal; without my wage, they’d have perished from hunger ages ago."

Zhao Feng stayed silent.

This age suffered food shortages, few bellies full. Starvation stalked everywhere, winter worst with freezes and famines—an enduring curse.

Back home, Zhao Feng’s family tilled a bit over an acre, sustaining three. His sturdy build let him hunt mountains, hauling rich hauls. Adept at traps from youth, he snared more, trading with locals for easy days—sans extravagance.

"Mr. Zhao," Wei Quan said once more.

"Shoot, Lieutenant," Zhao Feng urged.

"Drop the ‘Lieutenant.’ I’m almost ten years your senior—call me Mr. Wei," Wei Quan smiled.

"Mr. Wei," Zhao Feng echoed, grinning.

"That’s it," Wei Quan beamed, scooting nearer.

"For that ‘Mr. Wei’ and sparing my life, I’ll share some wisdom," Wei Quan grew solemn. "Care to hear?"

"Yes, Mr. Wei—I’m listening," Zhao Feng nodded eagerly.

"I noticed today—your sword thrust," Wei Quan eyed him piercingly. "Nailing Bao Qiu dead from ten paces... impressive prowess, kid.

"You outmatch real Sharp Warriors.

"In training, you sandbagged, right? Else, why Logistics Army?"

"Haha," Zhao Feng dodged neatly. "No choice—I shun battlefield death. Logistics skips the vanguard doom. Perfect spot."

"Mr. Zhao," Wei Quan started. "Having endured the mighty’s heel, I must warn you..."