BDSMST -Chapter 175 Gu Yan’s “Militia” Training Plan

Watching the group of martial artists obediently fall in line under Li Er’s guidance, Gu Yan couldn’t help but smile. But his thoughts were focused on a deeper issue.

The establishment of the “Agricultural Advisory Team” had solved the immediate problem of opportunity for most martial artists. They would become a mobile force of construction, spreading the Woniu Village model across the land.

But Woniu Village itself—with its accumulating wealth, technological advances, and the fleet about to set sail—was growing both in importance and vulnerability.

A prosperous, open, lightly defended “Tianxia No.1 Manor” was a prime target. Today, it could attract a group of “Qingcheng’s Three Talents”; tomorrow, it might draw real bandits, river pirates, or worse—forces with ulterior motives.

It was essential to establish a truly strong defensive force belonging solely to Woniu Village.

At dusk, Gu Yan found his father, the old Marquis Gu Changming, instructing Gu Xuan in stance training in the courtyard.

“Father, I want to select some of the martial artists who wish to stay and form a village guard team,” Gu Yan said bluntly.

Gu Changming paused in his guidance and glanced at him. “You mean you want to train troops?”

“Yes and no,” Gu Yan said seriously. “I call them a ‘militia.’ Normally, they’ll live and work as farmers and craftsmen like ordinary villagers. But if danger comes, they can immediately pick up arms and become a capable fighting force.”

Gu Changming’s interest was piqued. “Oh? Tell me more.”

“These people all have martial foundations; individually, they’re far stronger than ordinary soldiers. That’s their advantage,” Gu Yan analyzed. “But their weaknesses are obvious: they’re undisciplined, used to acting alone, and don’t know how to cooperate. On a real battlefield, a hundred such martial artists could still be defeated by a well-trained squad of fifty soldiers.”

“So your idea is to train them with military methods?”

“Exactly,” Gu Yan’s eyes sharpened. “I want to combine the combat techniques and small-team tactics I developed in the army with their martial arts. Preserve their unique moves, but teach them to follow orders and fight cooperatively. Ten people should fight like a hundred; a hundred should become an unstoppable blade.”

Gu Changming nodded slowly. Having spent his life in war, he understood the weight of Gu Yan’s words. Combining the free-spirited ways of jianghu wanderers with the discipline of the military was an audacious endeavor. If successful, the combat effectiveness of this force would be astounding.

“And how will you choose the members?” Gu Changming asked.

“Character first, skill second,” Gu Yan answered without hesitation. “Someone like Shi Daniu is the first choice. Pure-hearted, diligent, and grateful—people like that, when taught to protect their home, will guard it with their lives. As for cunning, untrustworthy types, no matter how skilled, I won’t use them.”

Gu Changming looked at his son with full approval. Gu Yan’s battlefield experience had honed not only decisive combat ability but also judgment of character and leadership.

“Good,” Gu Changming said with a single word. “Go ahead. If you need this old body for anything, just ask.”

The next day, Gu Yan issued the recruitment notice for the “Woniu Village Militia.”

Unlike the overwhelming enthusiasm for the “Agricultural Advisory Team,” the response for the militia was lukewarm.

“Join the army? Doesn’t that mean obeying the government?”

“Daily drills, so many rules… I like freedom too much.”

“We’re jianghu people, not government dogs.”

These martial artists, accustomed to freedom, had a natural aversion to the word “soldier.”

Gu Yan had anticipated this. He didn’t overexplain; instead, he posted a second announcement beside the recruitment notice—a militia selection test.

The test was simple: a real combat exercise on the village training ground.

Li Er would lead twenty “playboy assistants” trained in military formations as defenders.

Any martial artist wishing to join the militia could freely form a fifty-person attacking team.

The rule was straightforward: breach the defenders’ lines and capture the central flag within half an hour to claim victory. The entire winning team would be admitted directly to the militia and awarded a massive reward of 1,000 contribution points.

1,000 contribution points!

The reward alone was enough to buy fine weapons, large quantities of meat, or even several bolts of exquisite silk for one’s family. With such a generous prize, courage was guaranteed.

Soon, a fifty-person “ragtag army” of martial artists was assembled. Each member was impressive in skill, including elite disciples from second-tier sects and long-established lone heroes. In their eyes, fifty attacking twenty meant victory was theirs; the contribution points seemed almost handed to them on a silver platter.

The confrontation began.

The fifty martial artists surged forward like a swarm, converging from all directions toward Li Er and his twenty defenders in the center. Blades clashed, swords flashed, and shouts rang out—an overwhelming, fearsome scene.

Yet what they faced was a “wall.”

Li Er and his twenty men used no flashy martial arts. They quickly formed a simple circular defensive formation: shields in the front, long staffs in the rear, movements precise and synchronized, not a motion wasted.

“Hah!”

At Li Er’s command, the front line stepped forward, ramming with their shields in unison.

Bang!

A dull, heavy sound rang out. The first seven or eight attackers were knocked flying by the combined force.

Then the rear line’s long staffs shot out through gaps in the shields and retracted like lightning. Each strike targeted the attackers’ wrists, ankles, or other joints. The force was moderate, but enough to instantly throw them off balance or make them drop their weapons.

The fifty martial artists seemed to have collided with a giant hedgehog. No matter which direction they attacked, the orderly shields and elusive staffs repelled them. Their individual martial prowess couldn’t break through what appeared to be a simple formation. Their strength was divided, their techniques neutralized.

In less than a short incense stick’s time, over half of the attackers had fallen. The remaining few, staring at the unmoving “human wall” and Li Er’s slightly amused face, felt a chill run down their spines.

They finally understood what discipline and formation truly meant.

Half an hour later, the confrontation ended. The central flag remained untouched.

Gu Yan descended from the high platform, his gaze calm as it swept over the martial artists—some lying, some standing, all dejected.

“Now,” he asked, “does anyone still think military discipline and formations are useless?”

The arena fell completely silent.

“What I need,” Gu Yan continued, his voice clear in everyone’s ears, “is not fifty experts, but a team. A team that obeys orders absolutely, concentrates everyone’s power into a single point. Only such a team can defend the home behind us.”

He turned to Shi Daniu, the simple and steadfast man who had been silently observing from the sidelines.

“Shi Daniu.”

“Present!” Shi Daniu straightened instinctively.

“Do you wish to join my team and become its first soldier?”

Shi Daniu looked at Gu Yan, without a trace of hesitation. With a loud thump, he knelt on one knee, his voice resonant like a bell:

“I’m willing! My life was saved by this village. As long as I can protect it, I’ll do anything!”

With the first volunteer, others soon followed.

Those who had experienced the power of teamwork in the confrontation now stood up, fully convinced by the ironclad defense and flawless coordination.

Ultimately, a thirty-six-member first-generation Woniu Village Militia was officially formed.

Gu Yan personally distributed the custom-designed, practical, and protective dark gray uniforms created by Jiang Suisui. On the chest, a simple emblem was embroidered in silver thread: a head-down plowing ox with horns sharp as swords.

The symbolism was clear: Head down as an ox, work and build; head up as a sword, defend the home.

When they donned their uniforms and stood in neat formation on the training ground, the former casual, free-spirited jianghu aura had quietly vanished, replaced by a disciplined, iron-like military bearing.

Standing before them, Gu Yan felt a surge of pride. He knew that a formidable force, one capable of shaking the world, had been born—here and today.