Trouble on the First Night

Once the laughter faded, Dormitory 11 fell silent once more. On this first night when their lives had undergone an irrevocable change, everyone likely had plenty on their mind. In the upper bunk by the window, Han Qingyu turned his head and quietly looked out. Above the wilderness, the starry sky was like a painting, the celestial dome an endless deep sea. Unlike the recruit quarters, some of the distant buildings hadn't turned off their lights on schedule and still glowed warmly. According to Lao Jian, most of the people living there were veterans rotated back to recuperate. They took off their gear and returned here to live two months of carefree, comfortable ease, before strapping their devices back on, taking up their blades, and retreating into mountains and islands to wait for the next sudden, deadly clash. By regulation, they could return at least once a year, but in reality, many never came back. *They've probably had many sleepless nights like this too, haven't they?* Han Qingyu thought, withdrawing his gaze and preparing to count sheep. He had to get some sleep. Otherwise, how would he survive tomorrow's training? Having witnessed the battlefield, Han Qingyu was all the more certain that he needed to seize every opportunity to train hard. The saying *Sweat more in peacetime, bleed less in wartime* was plain, but unquestionably true... unless one was extraordinarily unlucky. "Hey, so how did all of you end up here?" Out of the blue, from the upper bunk near the door, Wen Jifei rolled onto his stomach in the dark and spoke up. "My situation is pretty complicated, so I won't get into it right now. Qingzi ran into them while walking at night... What about you guys?" He figured there were plenty of stories behind that question. In a line of work with such a high probability of death, those who volunteered were probably passionate, upright youths sharing the same patriotic zeal. The involuntary ones, however, likely had their own unique misadventures. No one answered right away, probably lost in bitter retrospection and inwardly cursing their luck. "Come on, spill it. Tell us how you took that first step onto this road of no return." In high spirits, Wen Jifei rephrased his question, pressing them again. The rest chuckled once more, though this time the laughter held a heavier dose of bitterness and self-mockery. "Well... I saw someone back home dig up an ancient tomb, find treasure, and get rich..." someone finally spoke up, though his words were somewhat hesitant and sheepish. Wen Jifei quickly asked, "And then?" "Then I got greedy and wanted to dig one up too." "Do you even know how? Like reading feng shui to pinpoint graves?" "I... I don't." "Then how were you—" "I figured I'd try my luck. There used to be a lot of old graves in our area," the man explained. "I packed dry rations and searched the mountains for half a month. With great difficulty, I finally found a hidden underground burial chamber. Seriously, I walked over that spot five or six times during the day before I happened to spot the clues." "Was it really a tomb?" "I thought it was." "And what happened?" "I waited until nightfall to dig, since it's illegal after all," the man said. "And then a bunch of flashlights shone on me. A group of people were squatting and standing around, surrounding me, staring at me, and said..." "What did they say?" "They said, 'Why did you come back? We thought you'd left... You've been pacing around over our heads all day, you know that? We were going to let you off, but then you came back carrying a hoe. Look, sorry, but we can't let you dig here, so we have no choice but to take you with us.'" "*Sigh...*" Having laid out the whole story, the man fell silent for a moment before letting out a long, drawn-out sigh. A roar of laughter erupted instantly. Even Han Qingyu couldn't help smiling in the dark. That tomb had probably been a concealed supply depot, he guessed. With the first story out of the bag—and an illegal grave robber's at that—everyone loosened up, and a second voice soon chimed in. "I'll go next," said Yang Qingbai, the recruit who had spoken first when they had initially gathered in the dorm. "I was driving a girl around on a trip. Late at night, we ended up on an isolated dirt road, parked, and started making out... "We were kissing and kissing, when that thing came crashing down... "Then a swarm of people charged over. "At first, I thought it was a neighborhood patrol busting us for indecency, but then—*crash, bang*—a full-on brawl broke out." He went quiet. Amid another round of laughter, Wen Jifei asked, "What about the girl? Did she also..." "A flying piece of metal pierced her head," Yang Qingbai said. Silence descended. The grave robber asked, "You're so young, and you were already driving a car?" His focus seemed to be slightly off-mark. "Ah... yeah," Yang Qingbai answered quietly, saying no more. "I... I'm from Gangcheng." A third voice spoke up. Liu Shiheng's Mandarin was somewhat clumsy, but still understandable. "Gangcheng?!" Wen Jifei said, surprised. "Then how did you get hauled all the way over here?" "A few friends and I came to the mainland to hunt." "Oh." "We got separated in the woods," Liu Shiheng explained. "I didn't see anything fall from the sky. I just suddenly noticed something thirty or forty meters away through the leaves—something pitch-black. I thought it was some wild beast, so I took a shot at it..." So the boldest of them all was right here. Han Qingyu realized the guy had actually shot at a Great Spike. Someone nearby asked, "Did you kill it?" "No, couldn't pierce it," Liu Shiheng said. "And then, pretty much like Yang Qingbai's story, a bunch of people came flying in out of nowhere. Scared the living daylights out of me... I just froze, unable to move." Wen Jifei remarked, "Good thing you froze. If you'd taken a shot at them, you'd probably be dead right now." Raucous cackles broke out once more, someone laughing so hard they ran out of breath. A group of one-in-ten-thousand unfortunates, taking sheer delight in hearing how everyone else had met their bad luck. "Shut up!" a furious roar exploded in the hallway outside. "I could hear your dorm from down the hall, squawking like a vegetable market! Do you have any idea where you are?! Huh?!" The voice drew closer with heavy footsteps. With a loud bang, the door was kicked open. The doors were forbidden to be locked from the inside. Two burly men stepped across the threshold of Dormitory 11. "Damn it, I thought I was hearing things. Didn't think there were recruits this suicidal." A dead hush fell over the room. Everyone clutched their blankets, feigning sleep, not daring to utter a peep. Until—"Uh..." The moment Wen Jifei's voice sounded, Han Qingyu knew trouble was brewing. That rascal had gotten far too used to courting disaster and playing the clown back in school; without careful restraint, his reflexive impulses would slip out. Yet it was too late to stop him. "Is it possible that you misheard, sir? We were all sleeping in our—" Before Wen Jifei could finish, A chilling silence fell over the officers. "Very good. I like people who aren't afraid of dying." Zhang Dao'an's bald head was conspicuous even in the dark as he stepped out from the side, half of his head visible from behind the two burly men. Only by comparison did one realize just how massive he was. In the next instant, one of the burly men grabbed Wen Jifei clean off his bed... and slammed him onto the floor. "All of you, fall in at the main training ground," Zhang Dao'an said, checking his watch. "Three minutes. Anyone late gets double." *** The immense training track was at least a thousand to twelve hundred meters around, likely built for those freaks who had absorbed source energy. Ten laps. Liu Shiheng fell into rank half a foot late—half a second. In truth, he probably wasn't late at all, but if Zhang Dao'an said he was, then he was. Twenty laps. As a group, the task was utterly impossible to complete. Han Qingyu understood this well, so he didn't push himself needlessly. When the others from Dormitory 11 collapsed vomiting one after another, stopped, or even passed out, he slumped limply onto the ground as well. The burly overseer kicked him, ordering him to keep running, but he didn't move. Zhang Dao'an strolled over, took a look, then bent down and seized Wen Jifei by the collar with one hand, hoisting him clean off the ground. He suspended him in midair, his gaze boring into him. "What are you?" his voice was low. Wen Jifei kept quiet. "What are you?!" Zhang Dao'an demanded again, his eyes piercing. His tone wasn't explosive, yet it radiated an overwhelming pressure. "I'm a recruit," Wen Jifei replied. "No, you're trash! A piece of trash who came to the Ninth Army to run his mouth, someone who is almost guaranteed to get his teammates killed in the future!" Wen Jifei's expression froze for a second before he struggled violently. "I won't!" "You will, because you're trash! You can't even finish ten laps!" Zhang Dao'an's eyes suddenly turned savage. "Go on, say it! Say that you're trash! Say it ten times, and I'll let you go back to sleep!" Wen Jifei remained silent. "Trash." With that, Zhang Dao'an released his grip. Long since drained of strength, Wen Jifei collapsed in a heap on the dirt. "What about you?" Zhang Dao'an turned to Liu Shiheng. "I... don't care," Liu Shiheng said. "Hahaha!" Zhang Dao'an laughed, then turned toward Yang Qingbai. "And you?" "I'm not!" The words were roared. Yang Qingbai seemed to harbor a deep revulsion toward the term, reacting with sudden, fierce intensity. Zhang Dao'an turned and pointed at the track. "Finish running." "I..." Yang Qingbai struggled to his feet, swaying unsteadily. Zhang Dao'an stepped closer, looking down into his eyes. "See that? No matter how stubborn your mouth is, you're still trash. If someone like you becomes my teammate in the future, you'll definitely get me killed... You'll get a lot of people killed, including yourself!" Finishing his words, he stood straight and cast his eyes over Han Qingyu. "Are you all feeling indignant?" No one made a sound. "Fine, I'll give you a chance. All eight of you come at me together. If even one of you can land a single hit on me, tonight's matter ends right here." With his hands behind his back, Zhang Dao'an stood firmly in place. On the balconies of several buildings not far from the training ground, a group of veterans was watching with keen amusement. "Old Zhang's at it again." "Yeah, same routine for years. High pressure, then more high pressure. First beat them into the dirt... then show them what a real expert looks like to give them hope." "Right. Did anyone in your batch ever hit him?" "How could they? Old Zhang's source energy degree of fusion is C+, alright? He hacked down Great Spikes for over a decade. You think a few years as an instructor made him rusty?" "..." "What, too scared?!" On the training ground, Zhang Dao'an cast his overbearing gaze across the recruits, then said, "Give these pieces of trash a staff. They're afraid of hurting their hands." *Clatter.* A round wooden staff was tossed onto the ground. "Pick it up. Hit me, and you go back to sleep." Nobody moved. "...Trash, cowards, garbage," Zhang Dao'an muttered. He bent down, picked up the staff, and struck each member of Dormitory 11—standing or sitting—cursing at each one. Then he picked someone at random and forced the staff into his hands. "Hold it! If you don't even have this much guts, how are you going to stand before a Great Spike?!" The grave robber hugged his arms tightly, refusing to take it at all costs, letting the staff drop to the ground. "If you don't dare hold it, then admit it: you're trash!" "I... I'm trash." In that fleeting instant, no one caught the trace of disappointment and pain that flashed across Zhang Dao'an's face. "I'll do it." Yang Qingbai walked over, picked up the staff, and gripped it tight, staring at Zhang Dao'an. "Come on." Zhang Dao'an stood square before him. "*Aaargh!*" Yang Qingbai roared, swinging the staff wildly at Zhang Dao'an. "Screw you! I'm not trash!" A sidestep, another sidestep, and one more. Zhang Dao'an barely made any broad movements. With almost every strike, it seemed certain to hit, yet each time, the staff grazed past his body, meeting only air. Drenched in sweat, Yang Qingbai hunched over, panting heavily. Zhang Dao'an gave him a cold, indifferent look. "Who's next?" "I'll try." Liu Shiheng seemed to have learned a bit of Western fencing; his attacks consisted mostly of thrusts. Yet the result was the same—not a single hit connected. In the end, an impatient Zhang Dao'an kicked him to the ground. "Look at them. Because of your big mouth, they've been dragged through hell." Staff back in hand, Zhang Dao'an walked up to Wen Jifei. "Don't you feel guilty? Aren't you going to do something about it?" *Whoosh!* Wen Jifei snatched up the staff with lightning speed, whipping it backhanded toward him. With his hands behind his back, Zhang Dao'an leaned backward, letting it pass harmlessly. "Again." Miss. "Trash." Miss. "Tired? Trash." Miss. "Go tell the Great Spike you're tired. Kneel down and beg it, see if that works!" Miss. "Trash! You'll get your future teammates killed! You will, understand?! You definitely will, because trash like you will get every single one of us killed!" Miss. "..." Wen Jifei was so exhausted he could barely move, yet Zhang Dao'an continued to provoke and humiliate him over and over again. Until the Plague Chicken collapsed onto the ground, unable to lift so much as a single finger. Whistles and laughter from the veterans echoed from the distant buildings... "Next..." Zhang Dao'an snatched the staff from Wen Jifei's hand and tossed it backhanded to Han Qingyu, who stood nearby. "Come." *Thwack!* Across the entire field, near and far, absolute silence fell.