Chapter 84 - 85

As soon as Zhao Li appeared on the parade ground, he sensed a change in the atmosphere. The air today felt heavy with an unusual, oppressive chill, reminiscent of a gathering storm.

Following the routine morning assembly, the troops waited for Zhao Li to announce the day's training tasks. As he began to speak, he felt a piercing sensation—a cold, focused intent directed at his head.

It was killing intent. Zhao Li had felt this once before while recuperating in the hospital—a bone-chilling cold that signaled the precise moment death was unleashed.

Without a second's hesitation, Zhao Li threw himself into a dive, his body horizontal as he lunged away. The troops watched as two small plumes of smoke rose from the ground nearby, leaving behind two small craters.

These men had all survived the hail of bullets in the Golden Five-Star region; they knew exactly what those puffs of smoke meant. Bullets had struck the earth. The lack of sound meant the attackers were using silencers.

The open ground was clear of targets; the enemies must be hidden in the surrounding jungle. Zhao Li reacted with lightning speed, dodging the two shots and preparing to rise, only to suddenly realize he was still being targeted.

Without thinking, Zhao Li darted again, diving behind a bunker. Just as his body vanished from sight, a string of bullets struck the ground in a perfect, uniform line, leaving a row of neat little craters.

He walked back and forth in front of the men, staring into their faces one by one, as if trying to discern some hidden truth written there.

"Are you still soldiers of the Federation?" Zhao Li’s voice boomed. "Facing gunfire, what were you doing? Is that how a soldier should react? Tell me!"

"No, sir!" A few voices replied, low but uniform. Someone quickly added a grievance: "But we have no weapons!"

"Does a lack of weapons excuse your panic?" Zhao Li shut down the excuse immediately. "I admit, I haven't trained you for combat reaction, but this is a basic tactical drill from recruit training. Are you lot really inferior to mere recruits?"

The group stood silent, unable to refute his words, forced to endure his fury.

"I know you are dissatisfied with me, feeling I've ruined your peaceful life here," Zhao Li said, his tone shifting as he looked at the slackers. "I also admit, that attack was aimed at me. But you all know why, don't you? I have no enemies here, do I?"

He walked before the formation again, reading the varied emotions on their faces. He realized this was a perfect opportunity. "The last time the captain left, he told me that almost everyone in this barracks is connected to the guerrillas outside, that you are essentially their own people." Zhao Li couldn't remember the captain's name, so he kept using that title. "I didn't believe it then, and I don't believe it now."

The men stared at him in stunned silence, waiting for his reasoning.

"Your own people?" Zhao Li sneered. "I have never heard of 'one's own people' trying to kill a low-ranking lieutenant who has shown them no hostility, who hasn't even interfered with their interests, and who is merely training his own soldiers—and doing so while firing wildly without regard for their own cohorts present at the scene."

"Or perhaps, in your hearts, this is how 'your own people' are supposed to behave!" Zhao Li’s voice rose with anger. "Wonderful, truly f***ing wonderful. To have such 'own people' is a blessing from a past life. You can live in harmony with them, let them bless you with a stable life in this hellhole until the day you retire. And then, you can proudly retire with the title of 'accomplice to drug traffickers'!"

"It's laughable. You nod and bow to these people, desperately trying to please them just for a pitiful scrap of 'hard work' money, and that makes you happy to be their lapdogs." He scanned their faces, and everyone instinctively avoided his gaze. "And when necessary, these people can even help you get rid of annoying superiors or comrades you don't like, isn't that right?"

He stopped in front of a wounded man, whose shoulder and arm were bandaged, hanging from a sling. There were no advanced recovery devices here; extracting the bullet and injecting antibiotics was the standard procedure.

"..." The wounded man didn't know how to respond. Zhao Li spoke for him: "You don't dare complain even if it hurts, right? It was a gift from your masters. They graced you with a bullet—isn't that a blessing? How dare you complain?"

"I don't know what status those people hold in your eyes, but I know what you are in theirs!" Zhao Li let out his pent-up anger. "Dogs. Dogs that are called when needed and discarded when not!"

"Ah! Sorry, I misspoke. I shouldn't compare you to dogs." Zhao Li’s tone changed, a mocking apology. "That’s an insult to dogs! Even a dog, the master treasures its life. After all, it's a pet! But what are you? Dogs? Bullshit! You're not even worth bullshit!"

"You are just cannon fodder, meant to be erased or abandoned at any moment!" Zhao Li’s voice boomed again. "You don't admit it? Then what do these wounds on your bodies mean? Answer me!"

A flame flickered in the eyes of the wounded men—a look Zhao Li had never seen before. But it still wasn't enough.

"You think that by providing them with information from time to time and staying out of their business, you can stay safe? That they solve your problems with superiors and comrades makes you 'people' in their eyes? Bullshit!" Zhao Li shouted. "Look at your wounds, look at the corpses in the infirmary—that is your future!"

"You are government soldiers. Yet, look at your behavior—is there a shred of a soldier in you?" Zhao Li continued to berate them. "You've disgraced the uniform! You are nothing but trash and waste. Do you deserve to be called soldiers? It's shameful!"

"I don't want to be like you, and I don't want to be left speechless when someone asks me what I did in the military after I retire!" Zhao Li looked around at the men with lowered heads. "That is disgrace. An indelible stain!"

"Stationed in a drug-producing region without clearing out the source is already a disgrace! But to collude with those traffickers—that is a far greater one!" Zhao Li waved his hand. "I hope you all consider carefully what kind of soldier you want to be and what kind of memories you want to leave behind!"

At this moment, these men, who had long since lost any sense of military honor, could only lower their heads in shame under Zhao Li's piercing gaze.

"Starting tomorrow, training is doubled!" Zhao Li commanded. "I don't want my soldiers to be unable to maintain even the most basic military appearance when people call them trash!"

"Furthermore, the gunmen sent by the guerrillas have been taken out by us together. I will announce this to the regional media shortly." Zhao Li didn't elaborate on the consequences, but this shocked everyone.

"Taken out together" meant the entire barracks had acted in unison. For the guerrillas, their gunmen had been killed while trying to vent anger for the people in the barracks—this was a conspiracy that would surely invite retaliation. If Zhao Li did this, there would be no turning back; everyone would be forced to follow him to the bitter end.

"I believe you all understand the consequences." After throwing them into a desperate situation, Zhao Li offered a glimmer of hope: "This is the military, not a charity or a nursing home! You are soldiers, machines meant for combat and killing, not beggars hiding in a bird's nest to survive! Choose for yourselves: be a soldier with dignity, or be a beggar! Dismissed!"

Leaving the group to their thoughts, Zhao Li returned to the barracks with Li Mengdie and Christine. The men needed to think, and Zhao Li needed time to refine his strategy.

He had stumbled upon this incident, and by using the gunmen eliminated by Li Mengdie and Christine, he could force everyone to stand against the guerrillas. Only with this bond could he truly take control of these men.

"That was quite a stirring speech!" Christine teased, noticing Zhao Li still in deep thought.

"No choice. These guys are too lazy. They won't change without a strong dose of medicine," Zhao Li said with a wry smile. If it were easy to control this place, the world wouldn't have so many conflicts, and this place wouldn't be called the "Golden Five-Star."

"But those guys had no choice either. You forced them all onto the pirate ship; they can't get off now," Li Mengdie said, frowning. She was worried about Zhao Li's safety. "But I'm sure even if you succeeded, they must hate you. They might even sell you out to please the guerrillas."

"Even if I didn't force them, they wouldn't have let me go today," Zhao Li said truthfully. The gunmen were aimed at him. Since they were going to attack him anyway, why show mercy?

"What's next?" Li Mengdie asked.

"They need training. Their skills are too poor." Zhao Li felt helpless. "Let them return to a soldier's life first, then gradually increase their combat effectiveness. There's no other way."

"There's something off about this gunman," Li Mengdie said, studying the corpse. "Christine, what weapon did you use?"

At such a distance, it couldn't have been their assault rifles. Zhao Li had assumed it was Christine's sniper rifle.

The bullet wounds were indeed from a sniper rifle. But the gunman’s state before death was strange—as if he had been waiting for the shot. The bullet hit the center of his forehead.

It wasn't that Christine's marksmanship was bad, but it seemed almost *too* good. Zhao Li frowned. "What did you see in the scope?"

Christine sat down, throwing up her hands. "Just that—he was in a shooting posture!"

A shooting posture? Zhao Li and Li Mengdie exchanged glances. If the threat had already been neutralized from that direction, why were they so confused?

"Autopsy, Christine. See if there are any other wounds," Zhao Li decided. This mystery had to be solved.

Zhao Li kept his word. That afternoon, the local media reported that government troops had killed two gunmen who had fired on the barracks, complete with clear photos and casualty figures.

The media was stunned. It was the first time the government forces had proactively publicized such a provocative event. Regardless of Zhao Li's motive, it seemed like madness. Wasn't he making himself a target? Could his small barracks withstand the guerrilla's wrath? But if someone wanted to court death, the media wouldn't stop them—why push away a chance to boost sales?

The soldiers who had hoped Zhao Li would back down now saw their hopes shattered. Throughout the afternoon, the men acted strange.

The autopsy results were shocking: the gunman's internal organs had been crushed long before the sniper shot. He had been attacked while still alive. Even if Christine hadn't fired, the gunman would have died.

Was someone secretly protecting Zhao Li? The General? The old Warden? Zhao Li could only guess. Secret protection? It sounded unbelievable, but there was no other explanation.

Unable to investigate further, Zhao Li put it aside. At least the mysterious party was currently on his side.

Under the threat of death, the soldiers began to train seriously. The barracks were filled with a tense atmosphere. Zhao Li had declared the surrounding area a restricted zone, and anyone entering without permission would be shot.

Within a day, they had installed motion sensors in the surrounding jungle and set up automated machine gun turrets. Anything not identified as a soldier would be fired upon.

"Sir, is what you said really what you think?" Old Lai asked during a break.

"Of course!" Zhao Li answered without hesitation.

"But sir, drugs can't be eradicated. As long as there's demand, there's a market," Old Lai muttered, looking down.

"Difficulties exist, but that doesn't mean we abandon our principles," Zhao Li replied sternly.

"Actually, there's a better way," Old Lai whispered. "Speak up!" Zhao Li said, relaxing his posture.

"We are government troops. We have backing, we have weapons. Why not control the drug trade ourselves?" Old Lai said, head bowed. "If we can't stop it, why not control it to reduce the harm? And if we control it..."

*Slap!* A crisp sound echoed as Zhao Li struck Old Lai across the face.

"Shut up! Is that something a government soldier should say?" Zhao Li berated him. "Don't let me hear that again!"

Old Lai thought he had wasted his breath. Zhao Li was just a stubborn idealist. But then, Zhao Li spoke.

"I understand what you mean!" Zhao Li looked into the distance, as if talking to himself. "Such things shouldn't be said by us. You can think it, but never say it!"

Old Lai looked up in disbelief, a spark in his eyes. Zhao Li continued: "But whatever we do, we need a strong military backing. Unfortunately, everyone here is lazy. We have two eighth-level experts, but no one meets their requirements. Without strength, words are meaningless!"

"Assemble! Resume training!"

Three or four days of high-intensity training left everyone miserable. Zhao Li was cruel; the soldiers were so exhausted that they would fall asleep the moment they were allowed to rest.

But Zhao Li stripped away even that. During breaks, they had to practice combat techniques to restore their *qi*. Sleep was a luxury.

"Just kill me!" someone finally snapped, throwing his tactical backpack down. "I'm dead if the guerrillas find me, and I'm dead if I train with you. Just kill me!"

The sentiment was contagious. Several others threw down their bags, complaining about the endless training. Zhao Li watched them coldly, silent. Li Mengdie and Christine stood up, ready to intervene.

*Clatter.* In the stunned silence, Old Lai, usually the laziest of them all, picked up his backpack, strapped it on, and began to run, loaded down with gear.

"Is he crazy?" the others wondered. Zhao Li smiled slightly.

"Hey, Old Lai, what are you doing?" someone shouted.

"I want to live with dignity!" Old Lai’s voice traveled back, accompanied by the rhythmic sound of his boots.

Old Lai’s words struck a chord. Soon, another soldier picked up his bag and followed. Then another.

Only the first man remained. Zhao Li sighed. "If you increase your training intensity by ten percent tomorrow, I'll pretend this never happened."

The man looked at Zhao Li, then at the retreating line of soldiers. Gritting his teeth, he picked up his bag and chased after them.

"How did you get them to be so disciplined?" Li Mengdie asked in wonder.

"I gave them a chance to live with dignity!" Zhao Li replied.

As everyone trained fervently for survival, the arrival of a single person left Zhao Li stunned. The moment he saw him, he couldn't believe his eyes—how could *he* be here?