Unconsciously, summer has arrived, the scorching sun hangs high in the air, the scorching heat bakes the 3,000 soldiers standing on the training ground, beads of sweat the size of beans continue to flow down from the forehead, seeping into the collar, the whole body is wet and very uncomfortable, but no one dares to move.

Old Yorke had been standing on the training ground for two hours, and there was nothing in his body that was not sore, but he still gritted his teeth and persevered, until noon, when the whistle blew for rest, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

But he didn't have time to rest, so he hurried out and ran in a long line to get his lunch for the day—two pieces of white bread, a small pot of vegetable soup, and a palm-sized piece of grilled fish, or an equal amount of camel meat.

This was a happy luxury for old York, and although they were paid a full twenty silver coins a month to join the Musketeers, they were reluctant to eat such a luxury on weekdays.

It is only here that there are three meals a day, meat is served at every meal, and they usually eat two or even one meal.

"Old York, you said that the city lord suddenly summoned so many people for training, is it going to war?" During the break, a tall man patted him on the shoulder and couldn't help but ask.

This is a statement that has been going viral throughout the seaport of Iyeta lately, and almost everyone with a modicum of intelligence can see that a war is near.

After all, Iyeta used to be managed only by a few security teams, but now she suddenly recruited 3,000 people to form a musket team, and the meaning was already obvious.

"I guess so." Old York bit the white bread in his mouth and muttered, feeling a little apprehensive in his heart.

They had not experienced any wars in the Wizarding Lands, but every year on the twilight of the day, the shipwrights who had arrived in Iyeta from the outside world would squander copper coins in the tavern and complain to them about their misery in the outside world.

In the Secas Empire, whether it was farming or working as a laborer, a small part of the remuneration received had to be paid to the local church to repent of the mistakes he had committed in the past year, and then he had to pay taxes to the so-called nobleman, and in the end only two or three out of ten were truly his.

This made the residents of Harbour Town even more convinced that the outside world is a wild hell, and if they lost this war, their families would be brutally killed by the enemy, their land would be robbed, and their property would be looted.

Old York, who had just seen some hope for life, naturally didn't want to be robbed of everything he had worked so hard for, so his training on weekdays was also extraordinarily serious.

It's just that what puzzled him was that these training programs were so strange.

All they do every day is to run around the city a few times, shouting slogans, or stay in a standing position in the sun for hours, or stab a dummy for more than an hour with a mallet with a long knife on the top.

The strangest thing is that they are required to make the beds where they sleep neatly, and to get up at any time when they hear the whistle, and rush to the training ground within the specified time to assemble, and the queue must not be disordered in the slightest, otherwise the whole team will be punished.

These strange regulations made Old York and others complain, and in their opinion, these trainings had no effect at all, and they were deliberately tossing themselves.

I heard that after a while, those wizards and adults plan to catch a few earth trolls and let them deal with them in the form of a team of eight people, hone their courage and ability.

"Isn't that embarrassing?" Old York took a bite of the white bread and complained to himself.

He used to be a hunter, but he knew how difficult these magical beasts were to deal with, even if a team of eight people was fully armed and armed with crossbow arrows, at least half of the casualties would have to pay the price of victory, and it was more likely that the entire army would be wiped out.

After a break of about an hour, the shrill whistle sounded again, and Old York immediately got up from the ground, and it took less than half a minute to find his place in the queue.

Normally, the afternoon is the time to practice stabbing shots, but this time it was different, and their lord of the city, Lynn, the actual controller of Iyeta, also arrived at the training ground.

For a while, Old York and the others suddenly felt that their waists were no longer sore, their legs were no longer painful, and they stood straighter than the other.

Their instructor, Rowan, did not give them anything that looked like mallets, but a grotesque long stick with a sparkling bayonet hanging from the top.

Is this a spear?

Old York was confused, and the wooden target in front of him was also added with a layer of armor, presumably to simulate those heavily armed enemies.

Soon the lord told them that it was called a musket, a second-generation product of the Alchemy Workshop, and that he personally instructed them on how to use the new flintlock pistol.

The hands of the guards of the musketeer team were trembling with excitement, but they still had a preliminary grasp of how to use this thing within half an hour.

"The first three hundred people come out of the ranks, place the ammunition, aim at the target in front of you, pay attention to maintaining the balance of your body, and pull the trigger!" Rowan shouted loudly.

Old York immediately took two steps forward, slightly rustily stuffed the round lead bullet into the chamber of the gun, and then aimed at the target about ten meters away, and pulled the trigger as Rowan commanded.

Then a thunderous sound sounded in his ears, and the unprepared old Yorke only felt his ears buzzing, and fell to the ground under the strong recoil.

"Thunder...... Thunder! ”

With a series of thunderous gunshots, on the training ground, the 300 people standing in the front row suddenly became scattered, about a quarter of them were knocked to the ground by recoil because they were unprepared, and several people were stimulated by the sudden explosion, and they were stunned, and their mouths kept shouting 'Thunder exploded'.

Ron's face was very ugly, and he immediately whistled, and the originally chaotic team immediately reflexively quieted down, and Old York and the others subconsciously jumped up and stood back in place.

Only then did Old York notice that the target in front of them had been shattered, and even the sturdy armor had been pierced directly, and the powerful power made everyone staggered.

Many people only now remembered that Lynn had just told them that this thing was a creation of the Alchemy Workshop, which means that it probably contains the magic of wizard masters, such as gathering the power of thunder and fire in this musket, so that it will have such a powerful power!