"Qingzi..." Yang Qingbai's tongue was tripping over his words, but his expression and tone conveyed everything he meant.
"Look, Qingzi," Liu Shiheng said after a moment's hesitation. "Those guys aren't afraid at all. And besides, we're already dead last."
The bit about already being dead last sounded genuinely tough.
At the start, this guy had claimed raw beef tasted good, but now nobody could even bring it up around him. Over the past two days in particular, he had evolved to the point where he wouldn't even touch raw fish slices, eating only leaves.
Finally, even Lai Shitou, the grave robber who was considered the most cowardly guy in their dorm, stiffened his neck. Stepping forward two paces, he looked at Han Qingyu and declared his resolve. "Even if Baldy Zhang beats me to death this time, I'll take it."
Without realizing it, Dormitory 11 had gradually grown used to letting Han Qingyu call the shots and make decisions.
Part of it was likely because he was the strongest. After all, across all these years, there probably weren't many recruits who had bashed Zhang Dao'an over the head with a stick.
Another reason was probably due to a certain subconscious impression. On that point, Wen Jifei's assessment was: "Because Qingzi is good at acting."
"The way he is, even if he's panicking so hard inside that he's about to piss himself, he can still put on a totally calm front."
"All in all, he's the kind of guy who can control his body from shaking most of the time, whether he's terrified or excited... No surprise, considering eighteen generations of his ancestors were snake catchers."
Right then, Han Qingyu was still turning things over in his mind.
He had always believed the military had a purpose in forcing the recruits to eat raw food, but he had never arrived at a conclusion.
Could it be to nurture our beastly nature? he thought.
Because during one of his reprimands, Zhang Dao'an had once pointed at the recruits across the grounds and said, "You, him, and me—people like us were chosen to become wild beasts."
Or perhaps it was purely high-pressure psychological conditioning, meant to train our endurance...
"Screw it." The thought in his head slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it.
Those two short words had an effect roughly equivalent to refugees hearing the magistrate announce that the granaries were opening. Everyone in Dormitory 11 instantly perked up, turning downright thrilled.
"Hey, how about we cover our faces?" the grave robber eagerly suggested before they headed downstairs.
Han Qingyu thought about it and nodded. "As expected of a grave robber... Good idea."
They each found a towel to wrap around their faces.
Turning around, everyone jumped.
There was an actual pro among them. While everyone else wore blue-and-white towels, the grave robber was the sole exception, sporting a professional black face mask... Back in the day, he had worn this exact mask on the night he dug his way into the Azure Coalition reserve depot.
They climbed down over the balcony railing and hit the ground.
"Wait, dressed like this, if we get caught, will they think we're foreign infiltrators... and beat us to death on the spot?" The grave robber looked up at the sky and added, "There isn't even a moon tonight."
"No way. We're wearing recruit uniforms, and the towels are military issue... Anyway, just watch yourself."
With that, Han Qingyu gave a wave, and the group hunched their backs, creeping through the darkness toward the kitchen. They had to hurry. If they arrived late and the previous bunch spooked the kitchen guards, they wouldn't even get a sip of broth.
"Who's there?"
"Who's there?"
In the dark, two groups nearly collided.
"Meat."
"Friendly."
"Let's go."
The scene was somewhat akin to an ancient peasant rebellion during a famine, where starving people raised their scythes and banded together along the road.
Along the rest of the way, Dormitory 11 ran into five or six more groups in succession.
When they finally reached the back door and peeked in...
"Damn, that's at least a dozen dorms." After marveling at the sight, Wen Jifei grabbed the guy who had come down with the first group and whispered, "Why are you guys still crouching here?"
The man turned and pointed inside, hissing, "Look for yourself."
Inside the kitchen, along a continuous stretch of long brick stoves, a junior cook lay fitfully asleep beside the glowing red fire, smacking his lips every now and then, scratching an itch, or rolling over.
The bubbling of meat in the pots drowned out the faint noises outside the back door while relentlessly tempting everyone inside.
"What do we do, Qingzi?" Wen Jifei turned to ask.
"Go in, of course. There are so many of us. If we're spotted in the pitch black, just snatch what you can and run... Even if a couple get caught, most of us will still get to eat meat."
After saying this nonchalantly, Han Qingyu caught himself by surprise... Is that me? Could this be the bandit streak Lao Jian said was hidden inside me?
Yet what he said seemed right... Everyone thought so too, and each was convinced that those unlucky two wouldn't include himself.
"Screw it!"
The first group charged out.
Then everyone else swarmed in behind them.
"Ouch!"
"Wait, something's wrong!"
"Run!"
*Snap.*
...
The kitchen lights flicked on, and over a dozen groups found themselves herded against one side of the wall.
Old Man Geng and a squad of veterans stood guard, blocking the stoves and both the front and back doors.
It was a bloody trap.
Just how petty and bored could these people be?
"Heads down... keep your heads down," Han Qingyu whispered to the rest of Dormitory 11, warning them not to look up or draw attention, while quietly edging toward the back of the crowd.
On the other side, someone was already tearing up in fury, arguing with Old Man Geng.
"Eating raw, drinking cold water, treated worse than dogs... Do you take us for wild beasts?!" the recruit roared, tears streaming down his face, teeth chattering, as if finally venting all the grievances and pain he had swallowed for so long.
For a moment, many of the recruits were moved, because they felt the exact same way—the same stifled resentment, the same rage.
Old Man Geng merely gave a contemptuous smirk. "Wild beasts... You think you qualify? Do you have any idea how high an evaluation 'wild beast' is in the Ninth Army? You useless bun—"
"We're not! We're not useless!"
Suddenly, the entire crowd bellowed back at Old Man Geng in unison.
At the same time, behind a dark glass window set into the kitchen wall, Zhang Dao'an turned his head toward the assistant instructors and several regimental leaders observing beside him... and smiled with gratification.
Cultivating obedient, disciplined soldiers was the natural mission of any armed force, and that held true in the Azure Coalition as well.
Yet at the same time, they cherished the courage to fight back—a courage that erupted despite the habitual fear built up through prolonged high pressure, under relentless cruelty and torment.
That courage was still far from enough, but it was a fine beginning. Allowed to develop, it would one day enable them to swear, "Fuck your mother!" while fearlessly lunging with blades at the Great Spikes.
Precisely for this reason, Zhang Dao'an, Old Man Geng, and the others had worked from the start to establish a brutal, authoritative, tyrannical, formidable... and terrifying villainous image in the recruits' minds.
They had always been an unreasonable, terrifying, and hateful presence.
Of course, the regimental leaders were an exception. Any cadre not directly involved in recruit training would never act this way. They needed to be obeyed, trusted, reasonable, and dependable military leaders—the soldiers' most steadfast backing... always, and without fail.
"Tsk."
In front of the darkened one-way window, Zhang Dao'an suddenly clicked his tongue, his tone rather conflicted.
Because right then, the recruit he had finally managed to spot and track down had his head held firmly down, leading his roommates as he slowly shuffled behind the crowd, edging toward the corner against the wall.
*Too clever, and you lose your courage.*
Zhang Dao'an felt a touch of disappointment.
He still preferred the recruit from that day—the one who hadn't hesitated for a second and had cracked him right over the skull with a stick.
...
"The Ninth Army's rule is simple," a veteran wearing copper stars on his shoulder boards announced, stepping forward. His gaze swept across the room before he raised a fist. "Use your fists to earn what you want, whether that's meat or respect."
The recruits fell silent, watching him.
"Four on eight. Four veterans against one dormitory at a time... Win, and you eat meat. Lose, and you go to the infirmary... We won't wear armor, but we'll go all out."
When the veteran finished, a hush fell over the room.
Four on eight wasn't an even match, nor was it the veterans showing mercy. Four on eight was still an absolute slaughter. Even Han Qingyu, without using liquid source energy and relying purely on his physical body, couldn't possibly win while leading the other seven from Dormitory 11.
It merely gave the recruits a chance to go down swinging.
"Don't dare? ...Then hold your heads in your hands, line up, and go squat on the training grounds," the veteran added, then turned to exchange looks with the veterans behind him.
Laughter broke out. The veterans stood or sat around lazily, their eyes brimming with scorn.
"We'll do it."
"Fine."
The first dormitory to step forward didn't say another word. They simply charged, all eight moving in sync to tackle one veteran first.
Yet in the end, they lasted less than twenty seconds...
It was an utter rout. The veterans really didn't hold back. Short of killing or maiming them, all eight recruits on the floor were left unable to get back up for the moment.
Their groans of agony grated on every recruit's nerves.
"Anyone else?" The veteran shook out his hands, turned to face them, and asked with a smile.
From the crowd came the reply: "We're up."
The swift answer and the person stepping forward caught the copper-star veteran off guard. He turned to the lead recruit, his eyes conveying his confusion.
"We think going to the infirmary beaten up is better than walking away with our hands on our heads like nothing happened,"
the recruit said.
Behind the dark window, the officers behind Zhang Dao'an grew visibly moved. Zhang Dao'an himself brought his right fist across his chest, knuckles facing inward toward his heart, a light gleaming in his eyes.
The Azure Coalition's everyday salute was the standard brim salute used by many countries' militaries, but the salute Zhang Dao'an was performing now only appeared on ceremonial occasions or particularly solemn moments, expressing loyalty or profound respect.
Then he glanced again at Han Qingyu behind the crowd... The guy was still inching along the wall.
"Sigh..."
Back in the kitchen, the recruits who had won the inward respect of Zhang Dao'an and the veterans ultimately failed to overcome their fists. They went down just as quickly... From the look of it, the veterans had a peculiar way of showing respect: they hit even harder than before.
With another bout finished, the unsatisfied veterans began pointing directly into the crowd. "Next group, step up."
The third group moved forward. Huddled in the corner, Dormitory 11 watched the grim spectacle while whispering among themselves.
"What's the plan, Qingzi? What about us?" Wen Jifei edged over to Han Qingyu and asked in a low voice.
"The grave robber and the others just suggested that we surrender the moment our turn comes. What do you think?" Han Qingyu turned and asked. "Agree?"
"Agreed... I was the one who suggested surrendering in the first place," Wen Jifei said earnestly.
Han Qingyu fought to keep quiet, his shoulders shaking with laughter.
Then the smile vanished instantly. His entire body coiled like a bow... and in a flash, he lunged from the corner along the side wall.
*Snap.*
The lights went out.
Aside from a faint strip of red light along the base of the wall behind the stoves, the entire kitchen plunged into pitch darkness.
"What are you staring at?!" Han Qingyu bellowed in a rough voice. "Get the meat!"
Two seconds later, over a dozen dormitories howled as one and charged forward. Exactly—they were going to get beaten anyway, so swarm them all at once and eat meat!
"Guard the stoves!" a veteran shouted. There were over twenty of them.
"Charge together!"
Nearly a hundred recruits swarmed forward...
Fists and kicks clashed, pot lids clattered, and screams rang out.
Behind the dark window, Zhang Dao'an and the others could no longer see what was happening. After trying in vain, the group drew back their gazes in silence, turning to exchange bewildered and stunned looks...
In the decades of the Ninth Army's traditional "Stewed Meat Night," there had been plenty of surprises—injuries, every single recruit showing up, nobody showing up at all... There had even been times when three dormitories managed to overturn the veterans.
Yet a situation like this, at least in all the years they had overseen it... was a first.
The corner of one regimental leader's mouth twitched. "Should this line of thinking be called... a bandit raid?"
Chapter 25