Chapter Fourteen: The Interim Leader (Part Two)

It was clear that Zhao Li stood apart from the other new recruits in his training squad; at the very least, his physical endurance far surpassed theirs. Even without cultivating a first-level martial art, and even while holding back his true strength, he still managed to outdo the others—a testament to the original capabilities of his fellow team members. Zhao Li couldn't help but suspect, with a touch of malice, that these people were the sort who hadn’t excelled in their usual cultivation, perhaps even somewhat dull-witted, and that they’d joined the army solely for the martial techniques the military was rumored to teach. In truth, Zhao Li’s suspicions weren’t far from reality. In this modern era, society had been at peace for so long that being a soldier was no longer a particularly distinguished occupation; only those with nowhere else to turn would choose this path. Few, if any, were here with more complicated motives.

“Lin Jie, why did you join the army?” During a break, Zhao Li asked one of his teammates quietly, as a matter of casual conversation.

Caught off guard by Zhao Li’s sudden question, Lin Jie, also a new recruit, hesitated, unsure whether or not to answer honestly.

“Don’t want to say? That’s fine,” Zhao Li said, not expecting a straightforward response anyway. He’d already learned from the officer who administered the psychological test that most people came in reciting empty slogans, with only a handful revealing their true intentions. “But regardless of what you want, you need to do one thing.” Zhao Li held up a single finger in front of Lin Jie.

“What’s that?” Lin Jie asked, drawn in by Zhao Li’s simple words. The other team members turned their heads as well, curious to hear what he would say.

“It’s very simple. While I’m acting as temporary team leader, do your duty, train hard, and follow orders!” Having made his point, Zhao Li began to instill his own will.

“That’s all?” Lin Jie felt as if he’d been tricked.

“No, not just that,” Zhao Li replied, unwilling to let his carefully crafted moment slip away. “The most important thing is this—surpass me!” As the others fell into thoughtful silence, Zhao Li added, “Only by surpassing me can you hope to advance further in the military. You might not reach your ultimate goal, but at least you’ll be closer to it.” With that, he closed his eyes and began to rest, while the exhausted soldiers pondered his words.

After a period of training with practice firearms, the time finally came for the real thing. Everyone was excited, for actual live-fire training was about to begin—the moment they had all been awaiting.

In reality, modern firearms posed little threat to experts above the seventh level, almost none at all. But in a society where such experts were exceedingly rare—so rare that people could only look up to them as legends—firearms remained deadly weapons for the other ninety-nine percent, no matter how much physical conditioning had improved.

“Watch the gun parts!”

“Careful with those springs!”

Shouts of warning echoed across the firing range. Those who had just received their real firearms weren’t yet qualified for live ammunition; first, they had to become familiar with the weapons and perform basic maintenance. Many of the excited recruits, however, couldn’t resist the urge to strike a pose with their first real guns—until inevitably rebuked by the team leader or instructors. A warning from the leader was one thing, but when the instructor intervened, it often came with a hard knock on the head or a well-placed kick.

Zhao Li didn’t supervise his team too closely. Upon receiving their weapons, he simply said, “Maintain your firearms,” and then began disassembling his own. His teammates, perhaps having taken to heart his earlier words, were unusually disciplined, behaving much better than other groups who required their leader’s constant oversight.

Because Zhao Li had never tried to dominate his teammates with sheer force, and because it was clear he wasn’t pretending, the other team leaders would often lament his physical limitations when they chatted—everyone was aware of it. In that context, surpassing Zhao Li no longer seemed such an impossible task.

Judging by the various assessments, Zhao Li only held a slight edge over everyone else—at most, a hair’s breadth. It seemed that with just a little more effort, anyone could catch up to him. In fact, during the stability training, Lin Jie even managed to match Zhao Li twice, both lowering their training weapons at the same time.

Hope was now within reach. The rules binding everyone seemed to tighten, and they chased after Zhao Li with renewed determination, occasionally managing to draw even with him. But Zhao Li was no easy opponent; just as the others felt on the verge of overtaking him, he would surge ahead, leaving them trailing by another step.

For that single step, everyone pushed themselves to the limit; even during breaks, they’d reflect on whether there was something wrong with their training.

“Reporting: firearm maintenance complete!” The first team to report wasn’t Zhao Li, nor was it Lin Jie, but another new recruit, Kong Bao. As he waited for the instructor to check his work, Kong Bao glanced over at Zhao Li.

While Kong Bao was looking at him, Zhao Li finished his own task and raised his hand to report completion—about fifteen seconds behind Kong Bao. Yet even this small victory made Kong Bao beam with satisfaction, as if he’d won a battle.

“Disassemble and do it again!” The instructor, expressionless, checked the time and pressed a button on his handheld device.

“Faster! What are you dawdling for—haven’t had enough to eat?” As he moved away, the instructor’s voice thundered across the range, leaving only the clatter of gun parts behind.

All day long, everyone repeatedly disassembled and reassembled their weapons, maintaining them with painstaking care. Everyone knew this was training, but no one dared slack off.

“Who performed best today?” one instructor asked another.

“Victor. That guy’s always been physically outstanding—almost always finishes first,” the supervising instructor replied casually.

“Which team performed best?” Another consecutive question.

“Still the first team. Zhao Li’s not bad—he’s managed to get his group to train their hardest. He’s got potential!”

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