Chapter Fifteen: Unknown Assignments (Part Two)

At this stage of recruit training, the soldiers were finally exposed to the essential skills required in the military: various offensive and defensive formations, tactical hand signals, firearms knowledge, marksmanship, special vehicle operation, and hand-to-hand combat, among others. These were the areas Zhao Li and his squad needed to master during this phase. Each skill demanded significant time and effort, and according to the schedule, Zhao Li wouldn’t even have the chance to encounter the military’s secret cultivation techniques within the next six months.

Zhao Li, made aware of this reality thanks to Christine’s subtle hints, had already steeled himself for the long wait. After all, if such combat techniques were unleashed into society, their power would be unmatched. Although Zhao Li could find many descriptions of these secret methods on the internet, none revealed their actual content.

These techniques were classified military secrets. Even those who had retired from service were undoubtedly bound by strict confidentiality orders, forbidden to spread these skills beyond the military.

Moreover, Zhao Li suspected that these methods weren’t taught to every soldier, and there were probably different grades of techniques. Otherwise, why would there be relentless tests and evaluations from the very first day of training, including character assessments? These were certainly not the idle amusements of high-ranking officers with nothing better to do.

Recruit training was grueling, with days and nights blurring together. There was no internet, not even a place to check the news. The management was completely closed-off. If not for the digital clock in the training ground, Zhao Li would have lost all sense of time.

The physical conditioning technique Zhao Li practiced could be cultivated even during exercise, bringing him not only physical changes but also profound internal shifts. Although his cycles took far longer than the standard method, the increase in internal energy after each session was exponentially greater.

Several times now, Zhao Li had felt his dantian so full it was nearly overflowing. Each time, it happened when he entered a meditative state during his evening practice—only after completing three cycles of nine could he compress the surging energy. Yet, even after this compression, the pressure within his meridians persisted, clearly indicating his power had deepened once more.

There hadn’t been any recent physical assessments, so Zhao Li couldn’t be sure how much he had improved. For three consecutive days, he’d felt the pressure of his internal energy constantly within his meridians, leaving him uncertain how to proceed.

Fortunately, on the fourth night, his energy became even more refined through meditation. Awakening from his cultivation, he glanced at the time out of habit, stretched a few times, and then realized with a shock that he’d spent nearly two and a half hours practicing.

One cycle took three minutes, which meant he had completed at least forty-five cycles—an unprecedented breakthrough. No wonder the pressure he’d felt in his meridians and dantian these past days had vanished; it had been condensed once again.

Zhao Li could not clearly define his current state, nor was there any reference point. He doubted anyone would believe such a chaotic state could arise during cultivation, or that one could practice during physical activity, or that the basic conditioning technique could break through the cycle limit and reach forty-five rounds.

One thing was certain: if news of his current state were to leak, he’d become the ideal lab rat. Zhao Li would never permit that. The secret he had guarded so carefully for years could not be exposed in these last crucial months.

His expectations were simple—just to pass these months in peace. Once he gained access to the military’s advanced methods, he could finally relax. Whether he excelled or underperformed after that, at least he’d no longer live in constant suspense.

Under Zhao Li’s subtle leadership—always seeming just one step ahead but never quite out of reach—his squad was full of vigor and enthusiasm, consistently outperforming the others. Their three instructors looked at Zhao Li with satisfaction each time, and even several squad members had achieved results that would be considered outstanding among ordinary soldiers.

“Soldiers, it is my honor to announce that you have successfully completed this phase of your training,” the chief instructor declared loudly, standing before the recruits assembled in neat rows. “I am pleased to say that not one of you has been eliminated!”

Everyone stood at ease, hands behind their backs, listening in silence. Though no words were spoken, excitement swelled in every heart. The grueling months of tactical training were finally at an end.

But what thrilled them most was not the conclusion of this phase, but the promise of the next. Soon, they would be introduced to the military’s true combat cultivation techniques. Only after mastering these would they become genuine soldiers.

Many had joined the army for this very reason. For Zhao Li, the anticipation was almost unbearable. Standing at the head of his squad, he wished the instructor would hurry through the formalities and begin the explanation of those secret techniques. Of course, this was merely wishful thinking.

“Next, you will be reassigned according to your specialties to learn different combat skills,” the instructor continued, his face as unreadable as ever. “I will now announce the new assignments.”

...

“Zhao Li, Special Logistics, Group Ninety-Nine!”

...

“Lin Jie, Infantry, Group Three!”

“Kong Bao, Starship Six Squad, Group Four!”

...

One by one, the names were called, and the recruits quickly ran to their new positions as directed.

Zhao Li was surprised to find that his new group consisted of only himself, and the group number—ninety-nine—was far higher than any of his companions’. What exactly was this “Special Logistics”? Why had he been placed in such a group?

It wasn’t the non-combat status that puzzled him—after all, some others had also been assigned to logistics—but why the word “special”? He’d never heard of such a department in the military before. Could it be a special forces unit? That seemed unlikely; special forces didn’t recruit from among new trainees.

With these questions in mind, Zhao Li boarded the troop transport ship, not even knowing where he was headed. The ship was empty but for the pilot, who neither spoke to him nor appeared in person. Zhao Li could only wait in silence as the transport carried him toward an unknown future.

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