1770, the first day of September

In the afternoon, the sun shines brightly.

As the continuous gunshots rang out, wisps of blue-black gunpowder smoke slowly rose from the training ground on the outskirts of Figari, dyeing a large expanse of pure light blue sky into a hazy gray-black.

This training ground was originally a large piece of lush green grassland, but under the trampling of more than 10,000 soldiers day and night for more than ten days, it has long been turned into a bare sandy land.

As usual, Master Justin was accompanied by Sir Robert to observe the training scene of these new recruits. Most of the landowners who stood on the same front as Master Justin were also present.

"If you ask me, these mud-legged people have made some progress."

Sir Robert was still wearing the black gentleman's uniform, crossed his legs, narrowed his eyes and looked down at the army formation not far away, and whispered to Master Justin:

"At least their formation is much more orderly, which is a bit of progress. I remember last week, their formation was almost as arranged as a scattered formation."

After receiving the compliment, Mr. Justin scratched his head and smiled flatteringly:

"That's not to say that we can't do without your help. Without the professional instructors you brought, we wouldn't be able to do anything. Hehehehe, I can't even load a musket now. I bet no other master can do it either.

Yes, let alone letting us practice formations and tactics on our own."

Sir Robert curled his lips slightly and waved his hands with a half-smile:

"No need to say thank you, friend, this is just a necessary investment, as long as you still remember our agreement."

"Of course, of course, of course I remember."

Mr. Justin nodded repeatedly like a chicken pecking at rice, and took the initiative to repeat the agreement:

"We will raise an army to resist Bonaparte's attack, accept your funding while accumulating strength, and when the time is right, we will drive the damn Bonaparte out of Ajaccio, establish our own government, and then...hehehehe...

"

Having said this, Master Justin couldn't help lowering his voice. Regardless of Sir Robert's disgusted expression, he leaned into his ear and whispered:

"It's time to repay your kindness."

"I believe you will, my friend." Sir Robert slowly took out his silk handkerchief and wiped his face, nodding.

The two of them continued to watch and supervise the lively training on the field, watching the linear phalanxes advance and retreat under the command of the foreign instructors, loading and firing.

Just as the two were sighing that everything was proceeding in an orderly manner, a small commotion suddenly occurred on the field.

I saw that a certain phalanx suddenly stopped during the march, and several soldiers fainted on the ground without warning, which immediately disrupted the march of the entire array.

Even the soldiers in the square formations nearby were startled. These serf conscripts, who were already undisciplined, immediately gathered around and wanted to see what was going on.

"Damn it! Get back to your places, idiots!"

It took the foreign instructors a while to curse and disperse the crowd of onlookers, but the neat square formations they had just now turned into a pile of scattered sand, and they did not recover for a long time.

"Um?"

Master Justin frowned. Although he noticed the small commotion on the field, he was too far away to see clearly, so he sent a landowner beside him to find out the situation.

After a while, the landowner jogged back, panting while reporting:

"Mr. Justin, it seems that several soldiers suffered from heatstroke and dehydration. The instructors said that dozens of soldiers have fainted due to this today."

"Heatstroke?" Mr. Justin couldn't help but smacked his lips and looked up at the scorching sun high in the sky.

Although it is already September, the air is still very dull, like a big steamer.

The afternoon sun was even more scorching, and even these gentlemen wearing cool silk robes couldn't help sweating.

As for the serf conscripts on the field, long-term malnutrition and hunger have already made their physical fitness very worrying. In addition, they have to wear sweat-tight coarse cloth military uniforms for high-intensity training activities. Heat stroke and dehydration are simply a serious problem.

Things that make sense.

What's more, this empty training ground doesn't even have a shady area to avoid the sun.

Even those soldiers who did not faint, most of them were dizzy at the moment, holding on in the array in a daze, silently enduring the burning of the sun.

"The instructors suggested that we suspend the training and wait until after sunset in the evening to continue, saying that they also need to rest when encountering such weather in their home country."

The landowner who went to inquire about the situation glanced at Master Justin and relayed the instructors' suggestions to him.

"What? Suspend training?" After hearing this, Mr. Justin's eyebrows suddenly twisted into a ball and he exclaimed:

"How is this possible? There is another group of soldiers to be trained in the evening. We must not relax."

The landowner wiped the sweat from his forehead and said with some hesitation:

"But... the condition of the soldiers is indeed very bad. I saw that some of them are so hot that they don't know where to go from east to west. People are complaining everywhere... Maybe it would be much better to postpone the training process?"

Many landlords nodded in approval, even they themselves were dizzy from the sun, let alone the soldiers on the field.

However, Mr. Justin shook his head decisively twice and said seriously:

"Brother, we don't have much time. Haven't you heard about Propriano?"

The landowner was stunned for a moment, then nodded heavily.

Two days ago, what happened in the town of Propriano had already reached the town of Figari. Naturally, the southern landowners would not be unaware of this matter:

Laurence Bonaparte forcefully used the army to imprison the big landowners in the towns, replaced the local alderman, expropriated all the land and redistributed it to the lowly serfs.

The big landowners are still being imprisoned, and their lives are uncertain. As for the small and medium-sized landowners, they either had their land and property confiscated and were treated like ordinary farmers, or they urgently packed their belongings and fled to the south overnight with their families and children.

This chapter is not over yet, please click on the next page to continue reading! In just the past few days, the southern landowners have seen no less than twenty unkempt landowners coming to seek refuge with Master Justin.

Now, when Master Justin mentioned this matter, the expressions of everyone present immediately became solemn. If the war fails, these people will not even have room to escape.

Mr. Justin glanced around at everyone's expressions proudly, feeling secretly happy in his heart:

"Well, I would also like to thank that Bonaparte. If it hadn't been for what he did in Propriano, it would not have been so easy for me to convince the public."

In Master Justin's opinion, what Lawrence did in Propriano was a complete fool's errand.

Originally, he was very worried that Lawrence would adopt a soft policy towards the landowners in Propriano and divide the southern landowner group by lavishly rewarding local dignitaries.

After all, the southern landowners were not monolithic in the first place, and a considerable number of them still had deep concerns about starting a rebellion. They still fantasized about being able to exchange part of their property to Governor Bonaparte in exchange for a luxurious life for the rest of their lives.

But now, after witnessing the embarrassment of the fleeing landowners, no one has any illusions that they can escape with luck at the hands of Bonaparte.

Although the current southern landlord group cannot be said to be united, everyone can be regarded as having a common goal of living and dying together.

Master Justin naturally wants to see this situation. After all, the greater the external pressure, the more united the group will be, and the prestige and power of his leader will become stronger.

After Ajaccio is captured, his proportion of power in the new Corsican government will undoubtedly increase.

No wonder Master Justin was ecstatic for a long time after learning what happened to Propriano.

"Everyone, I believe everyone understands the current situation."

Seeing that everyone was silent and serious, Master Justin couldn't help but said with satisfaction:

"Bonaparte's army will soon enter our land. At this critical juncture, not a single second can be wasted. The training must continue. It's okay for those mud-legged people to suffer a little. Anyway, from now on

Since their ancestors, they have already shouldered the obligation to serve us. Come here! Tell the instructors to straighten the order immediately and the training will continue!"

Everyone looked at each other in disbelief, and after sighing slightly, they had no choice but to obey Master Justin's instructions.

…

It wasn't until sunset, when another batch of troops arrived at the training ground, that these soldiers, who had been roasting for five hours in the hot summer, ended today's training schedule and returned like walking zombies.

In a shabby barracks.

"Ahhh! Damn it."

As soon as he returned to the barracks, a conscript couldn't stop shouting:

"Look, my arms have been peeled off by the sun, hissing, it hurts like hell."

His limbs were as thin as sticks, and he had a pointed mouth and monkey cheeks. The other conscripts casually nicknamed him "Skinny Monkey."

The soldiers looked at the thin monkey's arm and saw that the originally dark and thin arm was covered with layers of pale white dead skin, as if the entire arm's skin could be peeled off with just a gentle rub.

"Stop barking, skinny monkey, who the hell isn't?"

A soldier shook his head helplessly and showed his sunburned skin in front of everyone.

"Me too!"

"Yes, look at what I've worn here!"

"His grandma's, as if we haven't suffered enough."

"That's right, it's okay for you people from other places. I'm a local farmer. After training during the day, I have to go back to the fields at night. Otherwise, who will do the farm work!"

"Damn it, you think it's easy for us out of town. We joined the army, but we are not exempt from taxes this year. I don't know for sure. If we have to pay taxes this year..."

"His grandma pays your mother's tax, and the wheat will rot in the ground. What can I pay? Cut off my head and take it away!"

"That's right!"

…

The soldiers in the barracks opened their clothes one after another, showing each other the scars caused by intense training, and cursed their masters for their inhumane oppression.

For these serfs, if they are just tired from training and suffer a little, that's okay. After all, they have suffered all their lives.

What was most unacceptable to them was that the landowners had no intention of tax reduction or exemption for the serfs who had been conscripted into the army.
To be continued...