Chapter 82: The Collapse Plan

Zhao Li employed a method typical of special forces training: collective punishment. Originally designed to foster teamwork among elite soldiers, he was now using it to whip these lazy, insubordinate soldiers into shape.

This was a habit Zhao Li was intentionally cultivating. When people habitually learn that their individual dissent will immediately result in everyone being punished, they think twice before speaking up or acting out, weighing whether their input is truly worth the trouble.

Crucially, when the entire group is disciplined and everyone knows exactly who triggered the fallout, the resentment is directed at the culprit rather than at Zhao Li. This is a well-known psychological principle, a tactic that has never failed in special forces training. People learn best through lessons.

Aside from Zhao Li and the two women, the only ones enjoying breakfast were the few soldiers who had been more seriously injured the day before. Of course, the morning drills were played out right before the eyes of these wounded men. Even if they weren't personally being tormented, they were receiving enough sensory stimulation to deepen their awe of this young commanding officer.

After two skirmishes, Zhao Li realized that the combat effectiveness of these soldiers was truly problematic. He even doubted whether their combat techniques had reached the minimum standard of Level 4. Eventually, Christine explained the phenomenon.

Christine had participated in recruit training and was responsible for testing officer-track recruits during the first phase, so she was well-versed in the curriculum.

Officers were required to reach Level 4 to pass, but ordinary soldiers did not need to be that high—reaching Level 3 was sufficient. Many of the standards for regular recruits were significantly lower than those for officers. As for the Level 4 standard rumored in society, that was a case of misinformation, conflating the requirements for officers with those for enlisted soldiers.

Listening to Christine explain this without reservation, Zhao Li couldn't help but think of Qi Zhen, who had been taken away by the Military Affairs Office during his own recruit training for speaking about similar things. People’s fates truly differ; the same action leads to completely different outcomes depending on the person. This perfectly illustrated the utility of power. Even a slight difference in rank could change everything.

Only Level 3? No wonder none of them could withstand a single blow from him. But what good was Level 3 combat training? Zhao Li was baffled by their lack of combat capability. It seemed that if he wanted to strengthen their combat power in the short term, he would have to focus on improving their firearms training.

However, these guys still dared to shoot at their superiors at the drop of a hat. Until he had them completely subdued, returning their weapons would be a mistake. Christine and Li Mengdie might be fine, but Zhao Li didn't consider himself invulnerable to bullets just yet. Thus, he had to ensure they followed orders perfectly before giving them their guns back.

For two consecutive days, Zhao Li sorted through the intelligence files in the commander's office. To be honest, aside from being old and taking up space, these files had no real value. The captain’s attitude toward them was telling—there were even reports from guerrilla groups five years old. The problem was, could five-year-old information still be useful? Even news demanded timeliness; surely, military intelligence shouldn't be less relevant than social gossip?

The infirmary was the busiest place over these two days, with everyone having visited at least once or twice. Li Mengdie was proving the saying "practice makes perfect." From her initial clumsiness at resetting joints—which often left patients in agony—she had progressed to a few deft movements that snapped dislocated joints back into place with fluid, effortless precision.

Sometimes, Li Mengdie even hoped for more gunshot wounds so she could practice emergency battlefield care. If the men she treated knew what was going through her head, they would likely flee to the ends of the earth. While being treated by a beautiful woman was a pleasure—especially one as striking as Christine or Li Mengdie—it was, after all, their own bodies experiencing the pain! Furthermore, these two beauties were like tigresses; who knew if they might beat you into a critical state just because they were in a bad mood?

"Assemble!" Zhao Li’s order came out of nowhere, regardless of whether they had just stepped out of the infirmary, whether their joints were still aching, or whether they had even eaten breakfast.

Yet, this time, no one dared to drag their feet. Zhao Li’s two displays of authority had taught them that if even one person voiced an objection or made a mistake, everyone would suffer.

"Excellent. The assembly time was three times faster than the first, and the formation is much neater," Zhao Li said, satisfied.

"At ease! Given everyone's physical condition, there will be no physical training this morning." The relief was palpable, but his next words tightened their chests again: "However..."

The "however" hung in the air for a long time, keeping everyone’s hearts in their throats, rising and falling with his tone, causing them exquisite misery.

"However, I am extremely dissatisfied with the barracks' interior hygiene." Zhao Li shook his right index finger with theatrical emphasis. "So, your task before lunch is to clean the barracks thoroughly. Throw out all the junk and clear away all the filth I’ve had to look at! Go, right now!"

No one dared to object; cleaning was better than being beaten. Besides, everyone knew this young lieutenant had a temper. He would beat the lot of them at the slightest provocation. The moment Zhao Li gave the order, they scrambled, running back to the barracks in a panic.

"When will those guys be able to train?" Zhao Li asked Christine once everyone had disappeared. He was referring to the two men she and Li Mengdie had severely injured.

"The one with the fracture will need at least two months. There isn't proper equipment here. The one with internal injuries will be fine in a week." Christine was the professional medical officer; here, her word was law, and no one was qualified to argue.

"Zhao Li, if you keep suppressing them like this, won't it provoke other motives?" Li Mengdie asked, a rare question filled with concern for his safety.

"Their own abilities are poor. The only thing they can rely on is their connection with the guerrillas outside." Zhao Li looked at the barren wilderness and the looming jungle in the distance. "If they choose to interfere when I discipline my own subordinates, then they have crossed the line."

"Constant suppression isn't the only way," Christine said, leaning against Zhao Li, allowing her soft frame to press against him. Who could have imagined the Federal military would be this rotten? Having grown up in the Genius Academy, where they were used to strict discipline, they found these soldiers hard to accept.

Christine was better off, having spent some time outside, but Li Mengdie was fresh out of the academy and had never seen such a state of affairs.

Seeing Christine’s intimacy with Zhao Li, Li Mengdie snorted loudly and said nothing more. Zhao Li offered a bitter smile. He now understood that Christine had developed this habit while practicing her charm techniques; she felt uncomfortable unless she was expressing herself with a seductive smile.

"There's no choice. Haven't you seen that these guys are even too lazy to wash their uniforms?" Zhao Li had spent significant time with frontline instructors and had heard of all kinds of incredible, impossible things that happened in the military. Theoretically and experientially, he knew more than they did.

"Unless someone is utterly dissatisfied with the status quo, they wouldn't end up like this." Zhao Li’s experience in practical command was deeper. "And I believe none of these men originally intended to collude with the local guerrillas. After all, they are Federal soldiers."

The two women understood this. In the places where Zhao Li and Li Mengdie grew up, drug use was a crime, let alone trafficking. Federal soldiers wouldn't be recruited from this planet, and even if they were, they wouldn't be stationed here—that would be like telling the guerrillas exactly what secrets were kept here and inviting them to take them.

If these soldiers hadn't come from elsewhere due to some unavoidable plight, who would want to associate with terrorists and drug dealers? The captain had once said that Zhao Li must have offended someone to be "exiled" here. Perhaps these soldiers had similar reasons.

"I have to suppress them until they can't take it anymore, until their confidence is completely shattered—ideally, until they reach the point of despair—and then give them a hand and offer them hope. That is the only way to truly master this force." Zhao Li had a complete plan, one he hadn't shared with the women before.

"But won't you break them by pushing them that hard?" Christine asked from her perspective as a medical officer. "Not everyone can handle this kind of pressure. They are just ordinary soldiers. In a place like this, without proper medical equipment or dedicated psychologists, even if their bodies can hold up, their minds will collapse."

"That is because they haven't truly faced the test of life and death." Zhao Li didn't remember who had said that, but it was certainly something he had been told during his own training. "To be a qualified soldier, one must be able to bear all of this. When the pressure is great enough to decide between life and death, it leads to two extremes."

"One is the collapse you mentioned—a total breakdown where they can't even serve as basic soldiers and must be retired." Zhao Li spoke with the air of an experienced psychological instructor. "The other extreme is the eruption of incredible strength. Most trained soldiers—I mean those who have completed recruit training and served in active units for over a year—usually fall into this category. The probability is over eighty-five percent."

Li Mengdie and Christine had been trained by others but had never had to train anyone themselves, so they listened dutifully. In this field, Zhao Li was an absolute expert.

"Eighty-five percent?" Christine’s delicate brows furrowed, a look of endearing concern on her face. "And what about the remaining fifteen percent? Do you just retire them? The higher-ups might not agree to that!"

"Those are just statistics. In a small group of less than two hundred, perhaps a miracle will happen." Zhao Li didn't seem to care about anyone's career prospects. Was this a result of the changes in his personality over the years?

"What if no miracle happens?" Christine stared into his eyes, trying to see if he was lying. In fact, she had the ability to tell. "I mean, what if the reality here is worse than the statistics you know?"

"I do have disability quotas, including those for psychological discharge." Zhao Li didn't hide anything, and his tone remained unchanged. "Perhaps, for them, leaving here alive is a good thing."

"But don't worry." Seeing their concern, he reassured them, "They have successfully lived in this place for at least two years; they won't break that easily. Just wait and see. We can even make a bet."

"What do you do after suppressing them to the limit?" Li Mengdie always asked the key questions. Her tone remained calm and icy, which Zhao Li found hard to get used to.

"Give them hope, give them honor!" Zhao Li looked at the barracks. "Restore their sense of honor as Federal soldiers, let them hold their heads high, let them stand tall and say, 'I am a glorious Federal soldier!'"

"How will you do that?" Li Mengdie asked again, seemingly afraid that Christine would lean on Zhao Li again. She hated Christine's posture and despised seeing Zhao Li look like he was enjoying it.

"It depends on the situation—how far they are suppressed and how they rebound." Zhao Li couldn't give a specific plan yet.

"How do you know all this?" Christine asked curiously, leaning closer, her breath warm against his face. Her confused expression showed she was genuinely puzzled.

"Do you know how I spent the last year?" Zhao Li asked with a smile. Both women shook their heads. Zhao Li’s service record was classified; all they knew was that he was a warden of a high-security prison.

"I am a warden! In my prison, every guard is an expert who has served at least three years in special forces or military police. Furthermore, among the inmates I oversee, there are at least thirteen former special forces instructors, twenty-one commanders from various branches, thirty-seven experts in various fields, and at least ten master psychologists. The so-called brilliant psychologists in society aren't even fit to tie their shoes."