The chaotic brawl in the dark diminished the gap in strength between the two sides to a certain degree. Groping through the pitch-black, outnumbering their opponents by more than four to one, the larger group had a clear advantage—especially since the outnumbered side also had to guard the meat in the pots.
Mob courage was human nature, and the craving for food was perhaps one of mankind's most primal instincts. Swept along by pure instinct and wildness, the recruits vented all the frustration and fury that had pent up for so long, swarming forward like madmen.
Ahead, from over a dozen massive iron cauldrons, the aroma of stewed beef beckoned to them.
The veterans guarded the stoves. Fearful of causing fatalities, they found it difficult in the dark to gauge strikes against lethal spots, saddling them with far more reservations.
Finally, "Fuck!"
The voice of the copper-star veteran, already familiar to everyone, erupted through the dark with rage and dismay. "Is there any discipline left here at all?! This is an army base—"
Nobody paid him any heed.
"Hurry, someone go turn on the lights!" he shouted, shifting his orders to his own men. At the same time, his back against a stove, he kicked two lunging recruits flying, used the momentum for a reverse kick to sweep down three more, and instantly retreated to guard the stove again.
"Sir!"
Several veterans immediately teamed up on the spot, forming a wedge formation to fight their way through the dark toward the light switch. Though the recruits fought hard to block them, their individual strength and coordination were leagues apart, and they quickly buckled under the push.
"Are we not going to do something?" Wen Jifei asked tersely from behind Han Qingyu.
"It's fine." Han Qingyu turned his head and slapped an object into his hand.
The next second, over by the wall: "Aaaagh—!"
A shrill, undulating shriek tore through the air, followed by a veteran cursing in a quavering voice, "Motherfucker... who—who ripped out the switch?!"
"...Holy hell, I almost got shocked to death!"
Laughter erupted throughout the dark.
If he could scream like that... it meant he wasn't going to die. Yeah, they were source energy monsters anyway, and Qingzi knew what he was doing. With that thought, Wen Jifei squeezed the thing in his hand and hurriedly tossed it away.
The brawl raged on. Dormitory 11 wisely stuck close to Han Qingyu, using him as the tip of their spear while helping ward off threats from his flanks and rear.
The entire room had devolved into absolute pandemonium.
"Torches... flashlights! Get flashlights!"
It was clear the lights couldn't be turned on anytime soon... The copper-star veteran had no choice but to find another way.
And that order meant time was running out for the recruits.
"Qingzi," Wen Jifei began anxiously amid the chaos.
"Move." Han Qingyu had already turned back from up front.
As he turned, his arm swept in a half-circle, scooping a massive haunch of meat into the clothes he had brought along to wrap it. Clutching it in his arms, he said, "Break out."
He pushed toward the exit.
How many of the remaining recruits managed to snatch meat was unknown, and none of their concern.
But then—"Mmph!" The grave robber's voice suddenly came from behind.
Because this fellow was the only true professional in the house, masked in black cloth, he stood out like a sore thumb whenever firelight flickered across him... A veteran had pinned him down.
"What do we do?"
"Save some for him later?"
"May the Bodhisattva protect him..."
While the rest of Dormitory 11 were still struggling through the crowd and debating, Han Qingyu had already spun around. Catching a glimpse of their position in an errant flicker of red firelight, he sprinted over at top speed, caught the veteran off guard, and kicked him right off the grave robber. "Move."
"Let's go!" Han Qingyu hauled up the dazed grave robber and dashed toward the door.
The next second, amid the clamor:
"Aaaagh... Fuck! Who?! Who kicked me?!" A veteran wailed in agony as he leapt splashing out of a lidless iron cauldron, hot broth sloshing everywhere. Standing atop the stove, he hopped around howling, swatting at his scalded rear. "Who the fuck did that?! I'll boil you alive!"
In the dark, he had kicked a little too hard... Han Qingyu hastily quickened his pace.
Before long, flashlights arrived on the scene... The recruits began to shrink back, and the veterans quickly suppressed the riot.
Meanwhile, Dormitory 11 was already racing back along the dark road to their quarters.
Strictly speaking, whether they ran back to the dormitory or not seemed unreasonable; it would be easy to trace either way. But they no longer had the bandwidth to care.
As he ran, Han Qingyu caught the rich aroma of stewed beef rising from his chest. Unable to resist, he reached in, ripped off a chunk, and shoved it into his mouth on the fly.
...Pure bliss.
The piping-hot, cooked meat flavor, the spice-soaked beef breaking down in his mouth—this taste was absolute happiness.
"Give me a bite, Qingzi, give me a bite!"
Wen Jifei chased desperately from behind, craning his neck with his mouth wide open, begging.
"I can't feed you!" The two were running at completely different speeds. Han Qingyu answered between breaths, "Wait till we get back!"
"Then stick your hand back and let me lick it first!"
Liu Shiheng, scion of a wealthy family from Gangcheng, suddenly made a horrifying request.
Yang Qingbai chimed in, "Let me lick it too!"
The grave robber yelled, "Me too!"
"..." Han Qingyu ran even faster, casually wiping his mouth several times with his sleeve.
By this time, order had been restored in the kitchen. The group of men behind the tinted window stepped forward, took a few looks at the shambles, and turned back, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.
"Eraser Ninth Army has held Tradition Night for decades. From now on, will there be a new story added to the lore... about a recruit so starving that he stewed a veteran?" the regimental chief of staff mused with a chuckle.
"And electrocuted one, too," someone beside him added.
Amid the laughter,
Clap, clap, clap... Zhang Dao'an was applauding, clapping for this batch of recruits.
Then, the copper-star veteran appeared at the door. "Reporting, sir!"
"Mm." Regimental Commander Li Wangqiang nodded, smiling calmly. "How's the situation?"
"Not bad, sir. No casualties. Most of those who grabbed meat were intercepted on the spot before they could eat any... but," the copper-star veteran said, looking somewhat rattled, "one slipped away, and a large cut of meat is missing."
"What?!" Every officer present instantly crowded around in alarm.
"I've already sent people after him. Four brothers went."
The copper-star veteran explained anxiously, as if he had committed a grave error.
"If I'm not mistaken, that person is probably named Han Qingyu, from Dormitory 11... Move quickly," Zhang Dao'an interjected decisively from the side, despite also being unable to see through the darkness... At the very least, he had seen who shut off the lights.
His meaning was clear: a top-tier recruit.
"Hurry, make haste!" the regimental commander urged, his expression grave and even anxious.
The veteran hurriedly acknowledged, "Yes, sir!" before spinning around and sprinting away.
The room fell silent for a moment. Zhang Dao'an, who had looked so tense a second ago, sighed softly and said, "To be honest, I really want to let them keep the meat they took as a reward. If only Tradition Night could be tweaked that way."
Reality was just that cruel. Even meat snatched into one's hands was never actually given to them; in previous years, even if someone fought their way to victory, they still weren't allowed to keep it... Regimental leadership would step in to explain it to them.
Regimental Commander Li Wangqiang nodded. "The reasoning makes sense, but..."
"But, truth be told, we don't even know if what's written in that notebook is actually true," Zhang Dao'an said.
The regimental commander replied, "The problem is that we have no way to verify it."
...
Back in the distant year of 1908, through a protracted and bloody war in Tunguska—heaps of corpses and seas of blood, the most cutting-edge weaponry from nations across the world, and over twenty million tons of TNT—humanity obtained the very first scrap of alien "relics."
Subsequently, the world's top scientists were secretly assembled to commence research.
Ultimately, three of them, through their genius intellect, trailblazing minds, and perhaps a measure of luck, joined forces to create the "source energy three-dimensional maneuver gear."
This changed the fundamental dynamics of the war between humanity and the Great Spikes. From then on, though mankind remained at a massive disadvantage, the nearly insurmountable chasm that had previously divided the two sides was erased.
They were the Azure Alliance's first generation of gods. In the scientific and cultural climate of that era, within certain circles and demographics, they truly were revered and trusted almost like deities.
Reflecting on it, had they not been so fortunate—had all three not possessed admirable personal character and hearts devoted solely to scientific research—that state of affairs would have been perilous indeed.
After the three scientists passed away, everything they left behind was treasured as priceless relics.
Such as the name "Great Spike."
And such as a sentence written by one of the scientists in his experimental notebook: [The more primal you are, the closer you are to source energy. The period was crossed out and replaced with a question mark.]
So the line actually ended with a question mark, and that scientist had never spoken publicly about the matter throughout his entire life.
Yet subsequent scientific elites of the Azure Alliance still invested vast amounts of energy into it, generating endless hypotheses and studies, and from them established certain special systems unique to Azure.
Some of these were later proven wrong through research and abolished, but others were preserved long-term.
For instance, in the recruits' first month and a half, prior to the degree of fusion test, requiring recruits to "eat raw meat and drink blood" was one of them.
Truth be told, current practice was far gentler than eating raw meat and drinking blood.
As for why soldiers were not informed in advance, first, because of the Azure Coalition's unique nature, matters could always be kept under control; second, over time, its role in tempering mental fortitude and psychological resilience came to be seen—and had already been proven—as the more important component. The cultivation of wild beastliness was as well.
Moreover, over the years, the existence and continuation of tradition—or rather, "Tradition Night"—became quite important as well.
It was history, a vital way for troop leaders to assess the recruits' temperament and training outcomes in stages; it was a source of entertainment for veterans, as well as a cornerstone of their memories from their own recruit days.
Regarding Tradition Night, some veterans had indeed participated directly back in the day, leaving them with many people and stories to talk about afterward. Others hadn't actually taken part, but when chatting later on, they would never admit it; almost everyone claimed to have participated, spinning tales of their own.
Aside from all that, the truly core reason was the exact one the regimental commander had just stated: it was "unverifiable." That was the most critical reason this seemingly laughable and completely irrational practice had been retained to this day, and why no one dared try to defy it.
Because every person had only one chance in their life to determine their degree of fusion with source energy.
From the moment a person first bonded with source energy and established their degree of fusion, it was impossible for that metric to change for the rest of their life.
Throughout all of history, no one had ever broken that rule.
Chapter 26