Dodim said a few words, and hurried to the headquarters, where there was a pile of papers as high as a hill waiting for him to deal with.

Qi Lang saw that Aotran's expression had relaxed a little, but the eyes looking at him didn't seem to change much.

"Dear Yuri, please step aside. Without the slightest embarrassment, Autran removed his mask and began to tilt his pin-like chin up again, as if he had to use two black nostrils to see people.

"Children, the future warriors of the Luman Empire, stand here!" he shouted, "Stand in a platoon, stand behind this Oriental boy." ”

Although Qi Lang didn't like Otrang to call himself "Oriental Kid" with such fanfare from the bottom of his heart, he knew that this was already a very polite title for Otrang. If Dodim hadn't come to say a few words, I'm afraid he would have called himself an "Oriental freak" or a "yellow slave" like everyone else, something even more ugly, because at this moment, just behind him, such a talk had been secretly heard.

"You're number one, Oriental Kid. Take two steps forward, yes, to the table. Autran was now acting with utter fairness, as if he had never received any hint from Dodim, "Raise your arm and turn it twice! Come on, pull this dynamometer. ”

At Otrand's table sat a large shelf made of redwood, with a handle in the center of the shelf, to which Aultron's swarthy nails pointed.

Qi Lang put his hand on the handle, and he clearly saw that the dial in front of Otran hadn't even moved, but Otron had already shouted: "Hey, hey, hey, hey, you have to be light, I guess you're going to pull it off!" ”

"Your name. "Autran's quill is ready at the top of the meter. It was mimeographed in beautiful Gothic font, with a light blue Luman seal in the upper right corner, and a majestic dragon monster that had been beautifully designed circled with four words - "God save my king".

"Qi Lang. Qi Lang replied cautiously. He hadn't figured out how he had passed the test like this for a while, because seeing Yuri's worried look, he had thought it would be a long and difficult assessment process.

Qi ...... Bright...... Oh my God, how do you write these two strange words? Can you write them yourself?" Autran pushed the list in front of Qi Lang with indignation, and waited for him to fill in his name neatly on it, and then eagerly pulled it back, "Age?"

"13 years old. ”

This time, Autran didn't even raise his head: "Well, 15 years old." What a coincidence, just crossed the line. ”

"Alright, Corporal Qi Lang. Before Qi Lang could react, Otrang had already completed all the registration processes, leaned back in his chair with relief, opened his swollen goldfish bubble eyes, looked at Qi Lang and said, "Your soldier number is 827001." You've been assigned to Tent 31. ”

Yuri had jumped for joy beyond the wooden fence, and he had accomplished a great thing, and he had fulfilled his mission. Qi Lang smiled and waved at Yuri, but he was not as happy as he imagined, because he had probably guessed what was going on: Dodim's words made him realize his dream of joining the Spiral Army without much effort!

"Go, Oriental boy!" but behind him came the shrill voice of Autrand, "don't stand still, you're wasting the warriors' precious time." Do you want me to kick your ass?"

But Qi Lang didn't know the way, so he could only sit on the side first. He had to wave goodbye to Yuri, for Yuri was anxious to tell the good news to the kind Dr. Coombe, and he had to get the hemostatic bandage back as soon as possible.

Qi Lang sat on the low wall made of black stone, trying to make himself more excited, but soon he realized that it was all in vain. There were already six or seven strong young men who had been eliminated from the dynamometer, and when they were leaving, they would all turn their flushed faces and cast resentful glances at Qi Lang, as if he had made them not perform at their best.

Qi Lang couldn't look back proudly at this time, and he really felt a little sorry in his heart, because he knew that he hadn't really competed with them fairly. It's complicated, but it's certainly not very pleasant.

"Oh, little Felix, you're here too?" Qi Lang heard Ottran's loud voice again, but this time his voice was full of kindness and cordiality, "Your cousin, Major William, has finally agreed to your request, hasn't he?"

A young man with golden hair was standing at the table, dressed in a neat white linen robe, with a pride on his face that was greater than that of the whole row of people combined.

"I should pull this thing, right, Otrang?" Felix rolled up his sleeves and took a step towards the dynamometer.

"Are you kidding me, little Fili?" Altrand almost stood up and ran to the front to stop him, "You once killed a mutant wolf with your own hands, and everyone in town knows it. Based on this alone, we still need to evaluate you?"

Autran brought Felix to the table, or rather, invited him to the table, and began to register him. Qi Lang saw Felix's tall hooked nose as if something was wrong, and skimmed in his direction, but it was obvious that his eyes were still looking in the other direction.

"Number 827002, Corporal Felix, your tent is number three. It's been reserved for you a long time ago, little Fili. Autran tried to pat Felix on the shoulder, but he dodged him in disgust.

"I'll go home and celebrate first, and then I'll be back in the evening, so that's fine, Otrang?" Felix had already started to walk outside the camp, and he hadn't even had a chance to hear Otrang's succession.

Now Qi Lang could relax a little, because he had just seen the other inductee not pull the dynamometer with his own eyes, and his reason was that he had killed a mutant wolf. That's probably something to be proud of, because mutant wolves seem to be more ferocious and powerful than the average wolf. As for Qi Lang himself, he was not killed by five wolves, and this matter is probably known to everyone in the world.

For the next nearly two hours, the lads were eliminated one by one, and the number of hires was not much, about twenty or so. Qi Lang didn't bother to remember the faces who were about to become his partners, because they didn't give themselves a straight face at all when they walked towards the barracks with their toes in high spirits.

Tent 32, Tent 33...... Tent 40, one by one, was lined up, and two recruits were placed in each tent, but another spot in tent 31 remained vacant. The corporals who were admitted all volunteered to apply with Autrand, and they insisted that they even be willing to become the owners of the unlucky Tent 13 as long as they were not assigned to Tent 31.

Their excuses are mostly similar - "It is said that the Oriental sometimes sits cross-legged in the house for days without moving, he needs to be quiet, and I don't want to disturb his ......", "The gods that the Orientals believe in are different from ours, and I am afraid that our god will quarrel with some of their monks...... "They don't have to be hungry to the point of faintness, they can eat their faithful dogs, and live in a tent with him, and I am afraid that I will never be able to sleep peacefully...... and so on...... Wait a minute......

Qi Lang gradually felt that there was nothing wrong with living in a tent, because he was indeed a very quiet person, although his brain sometimes turned quickly, but to be honest, he was really not very good at communicating with others. During his first year in a slave camp, many even thought he was a poor dumb man from the East.

However, Qi Lang's wish was soon frustrated.

"Oh, what a strong lad!" Otrang's fussy shout regained Qi Lang's attention. He saw that right in front of Autron stood a young man the size of a giant bear.

This young man has brown skin, and the hair curled against the scalp is probably black, and Qi Lang is not sure, because if anyone's hair has not been washed for half a year, it will be that color.

The bear monster pulled the dynamometer to the bottom at once, and surprised Autrand for a long time to get back to his original chatter.

"You've been admitted, lad!" said Ottran, picking up the quill. Before he could get on the bill, he had to say a little more, "You're from the south, aren't you?"

"Aba Dhaba. The stout boy replied in a rough voice. The last "bar" sound is followed by a long series of trills on the tip of the tongue.

Autran wanted to try it out, but quickly gave up: "Aba...... Whatever. Name?"

"Owu. ”

"Age?"

"15 years old. ”

Qi Lang saw that Otrang raised his head, and there was as much doubt in his eyes as his own—judging from the thick mustache on Aowu's upper lip, it was not too much to say that he was 30 years old.

"Owu, Owu......" Autran repeated the name several times as difficult to pronounce as Qi Lang, as if he really wanted to memorize it, "Well, Corporal 827024 Ou." You're lucky, you've been assigned to Tent 31. That little thin man can give you a large place to sleep, and thank your Allah. ”

Ou Wu also didn't look at Qi Lang along Otrang's fingertips, he just stood there very seriously: "I'm sorry, Mr. Sergeant. Allah is not our Allah...... But we respect all God, including Allah. ”