Chapter 377: One Against Ten (Part 2)

To be honest, Wu Qingsong was far from satisfied with Nagrand’s conventional military forces.

The firearm that could be wielded flexibly by individual mousefolk while still maintaining adequate power had yet to be perfected. Because of this, he often had no choice but to delegate most of the patrol duties—primarily to the werewolves of Silvermoon, though some were also assigned to the personnel sent by various tribes to work for Nagrand in exchange for supplies.

Given Nagrand’s vast and open surroundings, the likelihood of anyone launching a sudden attack was almost nonexistent. As a result, these personnel were mostly tasked with security operations on Nagrand’s outskirts—protecting the few beastfolk trade caravans that traveled across the wastelands, safeguarding villages, and exterminating bandit gangs that had just wandered into the area, ignorant of Nagrand’s power and foolish enough to try looting before fleeing.

For the beastfolk assigned to these tasks, none of this posed much difficulty.

Most of the beastfolk who resorted to banditry were the losers of the brutal competition on the Stampede Plateau or even farther west on the Mojina Plateau. By the time they trekked across the wasteland to reach this territory, their strength was already significantly depleted. Armed with Nagrand’s superior military equipment, the disparity in combat effectiveness between the two sides was simply insurmountable.

Internal security within Nagrand, on the other hand, was primarily handled by the houndfolk troops from the former Orgrimmar garrison. However, their numbers were far too few, and many of the beastfolk who had just severed ties with their respective tribes to join Nagrand were reluctant to take up arms.

In a way, it was out of sheer necessity that Ram, Nina, and others ultimately agreed with Wu Qingsong’s proposal to establish a mousefolk militia of over a thousand members.

These mousefolk were selected from Nagrand’s tens of thousands of residents, chosen for their faith, loyalty, and fervor—all of which had been thoroughly tested. Yet, until a firearm truly suited to their use could be developed, they could serve only as eyes and voices, not as fists. This was an undeniable reality.

Wu Qingsong had already taken bold steps to involve many skilled and trusted craftsmen in the production of firearms. With the example of Mahaan as motivation, many artisans were working tirelessly to refine the strange ideas Wu Qingsong had provided as references. Their efforts had already yielded several promising results.

But sometimes, science wasn’t a problem that could be solved overnight.

The need for both manageable weight and sufficient firepower was an inherent contradiction when designing firearms for the mousefolk. Wu Qingsong had initially thought this would be simple, but reality had ruthlessly shattered that notion. The small bullets that modern firearms used could deliver enough kinetic energy only because of advanced propellants developed within an industrial system—whereas the only propellant available to him was crude, impure black powder.

Wu Qingsong understood that the issue likely lay in the formula of the gunpowder and the purity of its raw materials. However, his limited knowledge of chemistry and physics meant he could only point out the problem to the craftsmen—he had no way of offering them a solution.

Lacking the foundational technology and scientific knowledge necessary, there were many things that neither magic nor extraordinary abilities could resolve. He had no idea what impurities existed in natural saltpeter, charcoal, or sulfur, let alone how to refine them effectively.

Unless Wu Qingsong himself possessed a complete and structured body of knowledge—enough to single-handedly educate the craftsmen from basic literacy to scientific theory—achieving his goal in a single step was impossible. All he could do was propose feasible directions and let these artisans repeatedly experiment, fail, and accumulate experience. He could only hope that among them, a true genius would emerge or that luck would strike, just as it had in certain historical discoveries he had read about—where a breakthrough came purely by accident.

For now, the firearms Nagrand was producing in large quantities were designed for the larger, stronger beastfolk—because only they could handle the recoil. 

However, due to limitations in craftsmanship and technology, even the smallest inconsistencies in loading could cause drastic variations in trajectory. The only reliable way to ensure these weapons were effective in combat was through massed volleys, which placed a high demand on the discipline and coordination of the soldiers using them.

Theoretically, these large-caliber firearms could hit targets over a hundred meters away. But in practice, at that range, only the girl in the Divine Knights with a shooting-related ability had any hope of landing an accurate shot. For everyone else, hitting the mark relied purely on faith. It was only at fifty meters—or even closer—that the weapon’s accuracy could be considered reliable.

The adoption of paper cartridges and flintlock mechanisms had significantly improved the rate of fire and reliability. However, at such close range, beastfolk, insectoids, or other formidable enemies could easily charge into melee before a second volley could be fired.

Wu Qingsong had no intention of letting his painstakingly invented firearms become a laughingstock.

Thus, he needed someone who could subdue these unruly fighters, transforming them from undisciplined herders and hunters into soldiers who could stand their ground under pressure—who could remain calm enough to reload and fire even as enemies bore down upon them.

Moreover, he needed this person to help convert these soldiers, who had begun to understand and identify with Nagrand, into his own men—men who would be loyal to him rather than their old tribes and clans.

Sertans had no idea that Wu Qingsong had suddenly placed such high hopes on him. But the truth was, Wu Qingsong had no one else to rely on.

Nina had never received formal military training, and Harold was merely a veteran mercenary. Angus and Baker had absorbed some of Wu Qingsong’s teachings, but apart from scattered bits of tactical insight and numerous regulations, Wu Qingsong himself had little more to offer them.

And they had another fatal weakness: they were not strong enough.

In this world, strength was always more revered than intelligence among beastfolk.

Angus and Baker could command the loyalty of the personal guard, but the approach that had worked in Orgrimmar did not translate well to Nagrand. Even if the personal guard could consistently defeat equal numbers of werebears, minotaurs, werewolves, and boarfolk in sparring matches, their lack of raw physical strength meant that these groups simply refused to acknowledge their authority.

Wu Qingsong could command their respect through sheer force, but he could not compel them to follow Angus’s orders. And as Nagrand’s leader, he had far too many responsibilities—he couldn’t afford to spend his days micromanaging and personally training soldiers as he had in Orgrimmar.

He had once seen tigerfolk trained by Sertans. Though they still fell short of his ideal, they had been mere civilians—he couldn’t expect them to meet military standards.

But if Sertans could organize a group of hunters into a semi-military force, then he must have some capability. The question was: how much?

If given the chance, could he exceed expectations?

Wu Qingsong was eager to find out.