Chapter 37
Chapter 37
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 37
Chapter Title: From Primitive Era Chieftain to Space Era Emperor
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We began war preparations immediately upon our return.
What sets the Whirlwind Tribe apart from other primitives?
It's the superiority of our equipment and the standardization of our training.
Even mastering just one of those would ensure victory, but my goal is to minimize casualties.
Even if we reduce close-quarters combat, accidents like getting hit by a stray stone or plain bad luck can still kill, so I'm working to cut those down too.
First, I adjusted the allocation of manpower.
I doubled the personnel at the workshops and forges, rushing production on crossbow assembly lines, horseshoes, stirrups, arrows, and improvements to our armor.
Improving existing gear isn't too hard, but crossbows have to be built from scratch, so I introduced a 'division of labor' system.
Splitting the process into stages is the only way to speed things up—anyone from the modern world could think of that.
I broke crossbow production into five stages: woodworking crew, bone and horn finishing crew, sinew-twisting crew, metal riveting crew, and final assembly.
Each crew had to pass a daily quality check before moving to the next stage.
Yellow Hand took overall responsibility, targeting 100 crossbows and 2,000 bolts first.
Frankly, that's an insane production rate.
Thanks to division of labor and refining techniques, production was speeding up steadily.
For the expanded forces, I kept military training as simple as possible.
The elite core was around 300 strong, but that was fine.
Our gear simply didn't exist in this world.
Drawing from various military treatises, we compiled an initial training manual.
Drills, maintaining formation, shield work, archery, emergency aid, and a few basic tactics.
Overcomplicating things could backfire and hurt efficiency, so simplification was key.
Simple movements don't mean simple power.
Our army's foundation is ranged strikes, with melee only when necessary.
Honestly, with that tactic, drills and formation discipline are what matter most.
New recruits and expanded units finished basic training on an accelerated course.
I designed separate training for the female troops.
They're not meant for the front lines—their roles are logistics, medical support, and crossbow operation.
If they handle sentry duty well too, it slashes fatigue for frontline warriors.
That directly boosts our war-making potential, so employing women from the dawn of civilization feels like a stroke of genius.
With my mates joining the training, Red Rock's burden lightened a bit.
For the women, we rotated two at a time, even drilling mental prep.
Of course, it wasn't flawless.
Head instructor Red Rock came to me with a sigh.
"Recruits and the women aren't shaping up well."
"Doesn't matter. Just make sure they can at least pretend to fight on the battlefield. Elites handle the real combat."
"Got it."
War rides on the elites anyway.
The women just need to shoot straight with their crossbows to do their part.
Meanwhile, I pushed the civil officials to hurry basic construction in the new sectors.
Wide boulevards radiating from the central plaza, drainage ditches to beat the rainy season mud, planned districts, and groundwork foundations.
We needed it ready for simple labor the moment new people arrived.
No rush per se, but dragging it out wasn't ideal either—better to handle sequentially.
The Whirlwind Tribe set out after a week of prep.
Departure day.
We needed defenders, so 100 stayed behind.
With walls in place, that was plenty for defense.
600 troops lined up in the plaza.
100 cavalry.
300 infantry.
300 crossbowmen and medics.
It was a sight to swell the chest—enough firepower to outmatch most medieval European lords.
Everyone armed with bows, I honestly couldn't see us losing.
I took the podium, my mates assisting behind me.
White Flame and Wise Flower insisted on joining too.
"The time has come at last!"
"Woo-ah!"
"Victory is assured, but no dying to mistakes. Nothing dumber than getting hurt from carelessness. Understood?"
"Yes!"
"We're not idiots!"
I know it too.
Search the world over—no other force can read, write, and handle basic math like the Whirlwind Tribe.
"Commanders, look after your men. Die in battle, fine—but injury or death from error means punishment. Clear?"
"Clear!"
Not much of a speech, but it showed the chieftain's authority.
Now our official tribe priest, Red Mane, held a wooden censer for a brief rite.
The scent of burning white sandalwood wafted from it, and as the smoke spread, the faithful knelt and bowed.
Atheists awed by the sight followed suit.
Without instruction, these zealots were crafting their own rituals, building a religious structure.
The rite had meaning too.
Ancestral spirits' blessing.
Early cadres with me from the start eyed it skeptically, wondering what this was, but religion was taking root.
'Theocracy's foundation is set.'
Not church-state unity or divine right of kings.
Church-state is a king ruling by divine revelation; theocracy is a living god ruling directly.
Egypt's pharaohs exemplify church-state, but here the god itself—me—rules, going further.
Of course.
It's still foundational, so full theocracy will take time.
"The spirits will bless us!"
"Woo-ah!"
All prostrated, cheering victory.
Less faith in the spirit (me) than swept up in the mood, probably.
I'd planned a theocratic state from the start, divine-chieftain unity, but being revered felt unfamiliar.
Face heating up, maybe.
Still, fine.
Humans adapt; give it a generation.
I put extra force into my voice.
"March out!"
A massive expedition is experience incarnate.
From supply transport to wagon-wall campsites, every step is training.
Naturally, it started clumsy, mistakes piling up.
Wagons tangled, rations delayed starving horses, hay stacks soaked in rain from poor storage.
But that's okay.
Errors get fixed on the fly.
Not just warriors—commanders and staff blundered too.
Yellow Hand recorded fixes nonstop during the march.
Troops learned volumes en route.
Staff realized mid-level commanders were essential.
"Chieftain! We should probably split into units of 10 or 5."
"Right. Fine now, but more troops and it'll be chaos."
"Stick like this for now; on return, introduce squad leaders and company captains."
"That'll improve things a lot."
A two-day trek stretched to a week.
Daily progress was visible, so I throttled speed deliberately.
During marches, we hunted to resupply: deer, game, even bison.
Hunting counted as training too.
Some sturdy women joined combats, showing male warriors women could hold their own.
Weaker ones fished riverside.
Wagons aplenty, but self-sufficiency is best.
"This expedition's invasion plus hardcore training."
"Exactly."
Black Stone joined this one.
I objected over his age, but he begged to experience mass expeditions for better strategy, so I relented.
"I'll study mass combat tactics after."
"Not overdoing it?"
"Want to leave a legacy before I go."
"......"
Black Stone won't last years.
He senses it, desperate to prove he lived—knowledge in an era where men leave only sons.
Proof my domain entered a new age.
A touch of bitterness.
Death's natural; nothing I can do.
End of march week one.
Finally, signs of prior battle and habitation appeared, as scouted before.
Advance scouts galloped back.
"Chieftain! Enemies detected us—going to battle stations!"
"Yeah?"
Battle stations probably just herding warriors haphazardly.
Rookies tensed; veterans smirked knowingly.
Me too.
"End the war in one battle!"