Early the next morning.
Even though the army had scheduled half a day off for the recruits to rest and adjust, the morning roll call and calisthenics meant to boost morale could not be skipped.
As usual, the recruits lined up on the training field, counted off, and shouted the Coalition slogans.
In an old building not far from the edge of the training grounds, the fourth-floor window directly facing the field showed no sign of life.
The instructor watched it for a moment, withdrew his gaze, and shouted at the top of his lungs, "Voices so faint, worse than chickens? The man isn't awake yet!"
Word had it that this was also a tradition of the Ninth Army War Training Base. Even this half-classical, half-vernacular call-and-response had become customary, though no one knew which past generation had started it.
With that, the recruits snapped to attention in unison and saluted, their uniforms rustling with a loud snap as they shouted again, "For all that breathes, no retreat in battle; our bodies bar the boundless sky!"
This time, the window was pushed open.
Shen Fengting, the retired old corps commander of the Ninth Army whom Han Qingyu had met once before, stood at the window in gray thermal underwear, his white hair a disheveled mess, shouting curses:
"Shout, shout, shout! What the hell are you shouting for?! Can shouting kill a Great Spike?! You're making so much racket a man can't sleep!"
Low laughter broke out across the field. With that, the ritual was complete. The instructor smiled, clapped his hands, and called out, "Morning drill begins. In double time, run!"
Morning drill lasted an hour. Without wearing armor, it focused primarily on running and stretching. After dismissal came breakfast.
For the rest of the morning, the recruits were free to arrange their time as they wished. They could wander around the residential base, catch a glimpse of the female squad leaders, or wash their clothes and mail letters. As long as it did not interfere with the afternoon training, no one cared even if they went to the bar for drinks and a chat.
In addition, the living base sold local specialties from all over the country. Many recruits bought the corresponding goods based on their letters' forwarding addresses to send back home, leaving no flaws in their cover.
Because Han Qingyu had a spar scheduled for today, he did not dare eat too much for breakfast. Afterwards, he and Wen Jifei took the permission slip from the newly appointed acting head instructor, Lao Jian, and went to the equipment ground to draw his source energy three-dimensional apparatus.
He drew only the apparatus, not the dead iron straight sword that seemed made for him in heaven.
Under the Coalition's simulated combat rules, fighters wore the full apparatus but used ordinary iron swords. In a duel, whoever struck the opponent's body and shattered their own blade first was the winner.
Today's match was also the first time the war training base's simulated combat arena had been opened to recruits.
In the vast majority of cases, whenever soldiers engaged in simulated combat training here—or settled grievances to see who came out on top—they had to use their own source energy blocks... and ninety-nine percent of recruits currently did not possess any of their own.
Thus, under normal circumstances, it was effectively open only to veterans.
Because Han Qingyu had mentioned it in their dormitory the night before, word of the arranged duel had already spread by the time morning drills began.
Han Qingyu, the Eraser Ninth Army's strongest recruit in a decade, against Lao Jian, acting head instructor of the 425 Recruit Camp, ten-year veteran, and captain of Area Squad 752.
It seemed an utterly senseless match. No one understood why they were fighting, and it was asymmetrical and unfair. Whatever the outcome, things looked bound to turn awkward.
Throughout breakfast, the rumors spread further and stirred up heated discussions.
"Why are they fighting?"
"Because there's bad blood between them. Didn't you know?"
"No way. Didn't they say Instructor Lao was the one who recruited Han Qingyu?" The speaker paused, suddenly feeling something strange about his words—perhaps someone with the surname Lao was truly unsuited to be an instructor.
"Bullshit, where did you hear that nonsense?" someone nearby chimed in. "Han Qingyu isn't a volunteer, you know? He said so himself."
"Yeah, and he's an only child. Instructor Lao held a blade to him and forced him to enlist. He even hid the fact that Azure had other options and he didn't necessarily have to go to the front lines... Instructor Lao concealed all of that from him."
"Is that so? No wonder, then."
"Yeah, and the guys in his dorm secretly call Instructor Lao... Blood Calabash Brother."
"Blood Calabash Brother? Why?"
"Who knows? Probably just a random nickname born of deep hatred."
"Wait, is what you're saying actually true?" A female soldier cut in, gossiping. "The word going around our barracks is that back at 425, Instructor Lao harassed Miss Milla and wanted to take her as his goddaughter. Han Qingyu was furious about it, and that's why he wants to fight Lao Jian."
"Uh, it's that complicated? But that can't be right—Instructor Lao was clearly the one who issued the challenge."
"Then that's a bit like bullying."
"Yeah. No matter how strong Qingzi is, he probably can't beat him yet, right? After all, his opponent is a regional squad captain, a ten-year veteran."
The recruits' estimate of Han Qingyu's combat strength was not as exaggerated as one might imagine. After they returned from Squad 1123's zone, the army had promptly conducted "corrective education." The core takeaway emphasized during those sessions was: do not leap into the air.
From a practical standpoint, the brass had done everything to downplay the merit of Han Qingyu's flying strike against the Great Spike from the earthen cliff, stressing that had Lieutenant Milla not coordinated with him just in time, it would have been nothing short of seeking death.
In short: do not yearn for it, and under no circumstances imitate it.
As for Han Qingyu running while leading the blue-sheened Great Spike away later on... Had they not seen Instructor Zhang risking his life to buy him time? Had they not seen how heavily wounded the Great Spike already was, with two blades stuck in its lower back and one of its knee joints already sliced a third of the way through by Instructor Cao's two slashes?
In short, everyone was advised to stay grounded and not try to emulate Han Qingyu.
"Forget it, arguing here won't settle anything. We'll know once we see it in person. Let's go."
One person called out, and a crowd followed.
Seeing more and more people gathering along the road, many broke into a run for fear of missing out on a good spot, hurrying toward the old-fashioned building at the northwest corner of the war training base.
The simulated combat arena was indeed an old structure, looking as though it dated back at least to the 1950s.
It had a roof of black tiles, and its unplastered, blue-gray brick walls were covered in creeping vines. In the depths of autumn, the vines were withered and bare of leaves, but their gnarls and tendrils remained, imparting a sense of decay that was distinctively striking and grimly solemn.
A veteran stood outside the venue, describing its layout to others. He explained that it had once been a basketball gym used by soldiers for exercise. It had bleachers and seats running all around the interior, enough to hold nearly a thousand spectators. The court in the center had later been converted into an arena platform by raising its height, though its length and width remained unchanged.
Falling off during a duel counted as a defeat.
"Then why aren't they letting us in?" a recruit asked.
They had all been kept outside the doors.
***
"Are you afraid of losing to me, Captain Lao?"
At the eastern end of the platform inside the arena, Han Qingyu smiled and gestured toward the empty venue. Sitting in the stands were only Regimental Commander Li, Milla, Qi Shantong, Lu Wuzheng... fewer than ten people in total.
Not a single one of his roommates had been allowed inside.
"I'm afraid you'll lose too quickly and too badly, dealing too harsh a blow to the recruits' confidence." Lao Jian smiled easily, drawing his iron sword and giving it two whistling swings.
To be honest, Captain Lao had not expected news of this "educational spar" to spread so widely. If the head instructor were to capsize in a shallow ditch and lose...
He could not afford to lose.
"Why don't you explain first: what on earth is a 'Blood Calabash Brother'?" Lao Jian asked, sounding somewhat aggrieved. "I was planning to hold back and build up your confidence a bit, but now you can't blame me."
Han Qingyu chuckled.
"You still hate me a little, don't you?" Lao Jian raised his chin and asked.
"Of course I do. I'm not a volunteer," Han Qingyu answered frankly. "Don't forget that both Plague Chicken and I were tricked into this by you. By rights, I should be in university right now, and he should be in a military academy."
"Bullshit! He scored a miserable 230 on the college entrance exam! What kind of military academy could he possibly get into?"
"That was just bad luck. He didn't roll the dice well that time... Don't forget, he knows how to flip faces."
"So he rolled dice during the exams too? No wonder..." Lao Jian murmured, breaking into a grin.
"By the way," Han Qingyu said, "why is there only a fifth of a source energy block left in each of the war boxes? It's not like I won't give it back to you when we're done."
"Do you think I'm swimming in source energy blocks? Or do you honestly think you're going to last that long?" Lao Jian turned his head away and said glumly, "I can't afford any more than that."
From the stands, Lu Wuzheng called out, "Hey, are you two going to fight or not?!"
The laughter of the fewer than ten spectators echoed through the hollow arena.
"All right, here we go... If you're harboring anger, vent it with your blade," Lao Jian said.
"Fine." As Han Qingyu answered, the three-dimensional apparatus on his back gave a deep, vibrating hum.
Lao Jian glanced at him. Seeing that Han Qingyu did not charge right away, a flicker of relief and smugness flashed across his eyes... and only then, about seven or eight seconds late, did he activate his own apparatus.
He did not know why he felt apprehensive. Had he read the squad report from 1123 too many times? Or was it because the kid standing opposite him was, after all, a Grade A?!
Regardless, Captain Lao was genuinely worried that a single slip-up might see him capsize in a shallow ditch.
At the same time, in the stands, several of the less seasoned instructors from Regiment 425, including Milla, also activated their three-dimensional apparatuses.
Combat aided by the apparatus moved and shifted at blistering speeds. With Milla's degree of fusion and combat ability, she might miss many fine details if she did not activate her apparatus to observe.
On the platform, the two men moved. Their opening collision blurred into afterimages as they closed the distance in an instant.
Lao Jian delivered a horizontal slash with the sword in his right hand.
Han Qingyu also held his blade in his right hand, but with the hilt high and the blade pointing straight down. *Clang!* He blocked the first strike.
Immediately after, an ear-piercing screech grated through the air.
The moment their blades met, Han Qingyu twisted his iron sword outward while spinning his entire body in a rapid turn, sweeping both man and blade into a full circle aimed at Lao Jian's neck.
Lao Jian leaned backward nearly sixty degrees on the spot, raising his iron sword while flipping it within his palm.
*Crack.*
Mid-flip, the edge of his blade caught Han Qingyu's right arm.
A network of tiny hairline cracks spread across the iron sword.
The first exchange on the platform ended with both fighters stepping back.
Han Qingyu stood there and looked at the sword in Lao Jian's hand. Because there had been no room to generate momentum, the strike had not carried much weight, and the cracks on the blade were extremely faint; it certainly would not have severed his arm.
Even so, Han Qingyu's right hand was effectively out of commission for the moment.
Therefore, even without a referee to make the call, he took the initiative to shift the blade to his left hand, letting his right arm hang limp at his side.
Then he lowered his shoulders, sinking into a stance to wait for his chance.
Usually, when recruits in the Coalition—or even some veterans—took a hit in the opening clash and fell into an absolute disadvantage, they would grow anxious and try to stake everything on a desperate gamble.
But Han Qingyu did not... He transitioned into a defensive posture, his gaze focused and intent, searching for an opening.
Up in the stands, Qi Shantong clapped a few times on his own.
Chapter 73