Zhang Feng nodded, "Among the men present, who hasn't been on the battlefield and killed the enemy, even if just wielding a fire stick in combat."
"Good, good, good." The Duke nodded, then continued to ask, "So how many battles have you been in to date, and how many enemies have you killed? What's the most you've managed to take down in a single battle? Do you have any military merits to your name?"
Zhang Feng was stunned by these questions.
He opened his mouth, his face turning beet red, and for a moment couldn't find an answer to give.
He was of a criminal's lineage, tired of being treated as a lower-class citizen, so he had joined the army in a fit of pique. But once on the battlefield, he realized that his hot blood was nothing but a joke in the face of life and death.
So every time after going into battle, he would hide in the rear.
Only when an enemy fell in front of him would he pick up his weapon and finish them off, ensuring death.