This was precisely why Zhang Dao'an had been so on edge just now. What had always been treated as a traditional diversion and training exercise—an operation kept firmly in their grip for decades—had descended into chaos this time. Someone had actually made off with the stewed meat.
Keep in mind that even the three previous batches who had managed to topple the veterans had never actually touched the stewed meat in the cauldrons. Scrambles had certainly broken out before, but with more than twenty veterans guarding the stoves, their defense had been more than sufficient—an absolute, crushing advantage.
The problem was that everything had happened too suddenly. And then there were the lights—if they had been able to switch them on back then, this never would have happened... Perhaps they should consider mounting lights on the three-dimensional maneuver gear in the future?
With only a dozen or so days left until the source energy field opened again... the anxiety was immense.
Both Zhang Dao'an and Li Wangqiang were worried now, terrified that the recruit named Han Qingyu had eaten the cooked meat... There was no way he could be granted special treatment, because in truth, the regiment had no way of guaranteeing he was a genius or would test at B-grade or above. Far too many real-life examples had already proven that excellence and talent in every other area did not mean a person would possess an outstanding, or even merely passing, degree of fusion with source energy.
They merely hoped he would do somewhat well, not that he be placed on an altar. By the same token, they had no way of letting him wait until the following year to enter the source energy field, because the following year, there might only be the battlefield. Nobody could guarantee otherwise... especially judging by the landing frequency of the shuttle-shaped craft this year.
So if that boy really had eaten the meat, then even if he tested as a B-plus, an A-minus, or even an A in the upcoming degree of fusion test, the regimental commander and Zhang Dao'an would still be tormented with regret. They would think: maybe he was originally meant to have an A-plus degree of fusion.
As for anything above A-plus, they were seasoned veterans; they wouldn't harbor such unrealistic fantasies.
And if Han Qingyu hadn't eaten it... then as long as he tested at B-grade or above, they would accept it with joyous celebration.
Because that was already plenty good enough.
Although the vast majority of people in Azure ultimately passed the degree of fusion test, most of them hovered at D-grade and E-grade... These two ranks encompassed the overwhelming majority of soldiers in the Azure Coalition today.
As for F-grade, one technically could don the armor, but it was too wasteful, so they were usually passed over.
Han Qingyu had already eaten the meat.
Then again, he had also communed with source energy long before this, right after finishing a wedding banquet... and from an unrefined, dull metal block at that, absorbing it at a terrifying rate.
In that case, if his situation were made public, would it prove that the statement in the scientific notes was wrong?
Probably still not. Because he was an isolated case—an extraordinarily freakish exception... So the tradition would continue, and future recruits would still have to endure all of this, including Tradition Day.
Of course, it was also possible that later generations' understanding had been completely wrong from the very start. Get the premise wrong, and everything built on it is wrong. It no longer mattered. At least for Han Qingyu, it didn't matter.
...
That night, Han Qingyu ultimately failed to bring the meat back to the dormitory.
The boys of Dormitory 11 were intercepted on the way... Standing before them now was a veteran—one who had pursued them while equipped with three-dimensional maneuver gear. Slung diagonally across his back alongside his war box was a straight-bladed sword, its hilt protruding over his shoulder.
"Come on... is this really necessary?" Wen Jifei asked, looking meek and submissive on the outside, though his tone brimmed with grievance and indignation.
Faced with the question, the veteran—who had been frantic with urgency just moments before—merely offered a warm smile. This time, there wasn't the slightest trace of violence or contempt. Instead, he scrutinized the recruits before him with something akin to appreciation.
Then he turned his gaze to Han Qingyu, who was clutching the beef, and reached out, saying gently, "Hand it over."
Han Qingyu glanced down at it, clutched it tighter, and didn't budge.
The Dormitory 11 crew stepped forward in unison, bracing against him.
The veteran kept smiling without making any other move. But with a resonant hum, the source energy three-dimensional maneuver gear on his back vibrated. Blue light flashed, and with a sharp shink, the straight blade shot out from over his shoulder...
He didn't even reach out to catch it, standing motionless as the black blade plummeted before him, sinking into the ground like a knife through bean curd all the way to the hilt.
And so, in the end, the beef slipped from Han Qingyu's fingertips...
Inch by inch, it was pulled away.
During the handover, he took the opportunity to rub the meat through the fabric several times.
The veteran unwrapped the clothes to inspect it. Finding nothing wrong, he examined Han Qingyu closely. "Did you eat any?"
Han Qingyu shook his head.
"Did anyone else touch it?" the veteran asked, observing him intently.
Han Qingyu shook his head again.
"The clothes are confiscated... You, wash your hands." The veteran kicked his blade back up and escorted Han Qingyu to a water tap, watching him scrub both hands thoroughly three times with soap.
Only then did the veteran let him return to the dormitory, secretly tailing him for part of the way.
Once the veteran had completely departed, the very first thing Han Qingyu did was brush his teeth again...
As for the remaining seven, they stared at him with profound sorrow for a long while before finally remembering the perplexing part.
"Is it really over just like that? We won't get into trouble? They aren't going to punish us?"
There was no answer.
Meanwhile, the veteran carried the large cut of beef back into the kitchen.
Stepping through the door, he said, "All clear. He didn't eat any... I watched him wash his hands three times."
Setting down the beef, the veteran found a spot to sit. Washing hands had felt a bit unnecessary, but better safe than sorry.
Behind the one-way window, the commanders finally laid their worries to rest.
They were just preparing to head downstairs to join in eating the meat when—
"Where is it? Where's the stewed meat?..." A voice drifted in from outside the back door. Immediately after, a tall figure clad only in a sleeveless undershirt and shorts rushed in dazedly.
The guy didn't stop until he reached the veterans. He looked at the stoves, the beef, and then the veterans. "What... is nobody here anymore?"
The veterans were dumbfounded. After a pause, one asked, "So you came to raid the meat?"
The big fellow didn't deny it, giving an awkward laugh. "Yeah. I was sleeping like a log and overslept."
"...And the rest of your dorm?"
"None of them dared to come." The big fellow sounded a bit dejected. "They were the ones who told me that a bunch of dorms were heading out to the mess hall kitchen to raid the meat tonight, so I came running..."
As he spoke, he looked at the traces of battle on the floor.
"Oh, is that so? Then how about... we give you a private reception?"
Choking back laughter while chewing their meat, the veterans stood up and encircled the big fellow.
The big fellow thought it over, then said with reluctant resignation, "Guess I'll pass."
"All right... then forget it." In high spirits tonight, having had their fun, and with the meat smelling so fragrant, the veterans didn't give him a hard time. After a burst of laughter, they turned to disperse, chatting and laughing as they prepared to sit back down...
Out of nowhere, the big fellow snatched a piece of beef from the stove, whirled around, and bolted!
He was lightning fast.
"What the hell... is this batch of recruits out of their minds?!"
The copper-star veteran felt like he was losing his sanity.
Fortunately, the soldiers who had gone out to chase down Han Qingyu hadn't removed their three-dimensional apparatus yet. Activating them instantly, they closed the distance in a flash, snatching the meat with one hand while kicking him flying with the other.
"Wash your hands!" the veteran roared.
The big guy took two kicks to the backside while washing his hands. Without resisting, he dutifully scrubbed them three times with soap. Once clean, he turned around of his own accord, held out both hands, and said, "Squad Leader, check them?"
The veteran stepped closer.
The big fellow quietly, slowly lowered his hands.
The veteran unconsciously leaned forward.
Out of nowhere, the big fellow lunged with his mouth, snapping his teeth toward the beef in the veteran's hand!
"You—" Waving his arm and leaping aside, the veteran barely dodged the bite. "Fuck!"
...In the end, it had missed by less than a centimeter.
"I'm gonna slaughter you!" In the veteran's curse, there was resentment, anger, but above all, sheer exhaustion.
Having nearly made a grave mistake, the veteran was furious enough to lose his mind, and then so exasperated that he laughed. "Fucking hell, every generation of Azure really does bring forth new talent! Your batch is... Forget it, get lost!"
The veterans' gentleness and tolerance that night exceeded many people's expectations.
Because it was Tradition Night.
How many years had it been? Many years now. Of the dormitory brothers who had raided the meat and taken the beatings together back then, quite a few were already gone. For some, they were the only ones left.
The second half of the night belonged to the veterans themselves. No sleeping tonight; they were eager to drink a few cups over the beef, and once drunk, properly reminisce about those people and talk through the old stories.
There was no shame in crying.
...
In the dead of night, the drunken soldiers threw their arms around one another's shoulders and sang a song they all knew—the military anthem of the Azure Coalition's Huaxia Front, sung for nearly seventy years:
"I bear a sharp blade, shedding old robes to bear arms,
Striking midstream oars to uphold the grand harmony.
Through all time men have numbered in the trillions, yet how many are true heroes?
With heads shattered in the yellow dust, carving glory upon the firmament,
From the hour of death to this very day, our hot blood runs crimson still."
"I bear a red tassel, fit to bind the azure dragon,
..."
Chapter 27