Chapter Twenty-Three: The Welcome Ceremony (Part One)

What troubled Zhao Li was the persistent sense that he was always different from everyone else. Among the dozen or so recruits, they had split into four groups; Zhao Li alone constituted one, while the other three groups were evenly divided, presumably each from the same unit. Only Zhao Li stood apart, and the feeling of solitude weighed heavily on him. Even more absurd was the fact that three transport ships had arrived for the others, who departed with his send-off, leaving him alone, still waiting.

He waited not for the ship, but for the arrival of his instructor and another officer. Zhao Li was certain this officer had never appeared at the base before. They came together, heading straight for him, and Zhao Li knew at once it must concern him.

Indeed, in the instructor’s office, Zhao Li heard for the first time about his own assignment.

“Excellent work, Cadet Zhao Li. In recognition of your outstanding performance during training, and by order of higher command, you are hereby awarded the rank of Sergeant,” the lieutenant announced, his tone solemn as he addressed Zhao Li.

“Thank you, sir!” Zhao Li raised his hand in salute, then waited for the lieutenant to pin the sergeant’s insignia onto his shoulder. Only Instructor Xiao Qiang stood witness.

“Among this batch of recruits, you alone have received an officer’s rank. Work hard,” the lieutenant said after returning the salute. Only then did Zhao Li realize that all the others had left as privates—none as officers. Though his rank was modest, as a sergeant, he had crossed the threshold into the ranks of the officers.

After the brief commissioning ceremony, Zhao Li was informed of his new assignment: the Montbatten Special Prison. He had never heard of this prison, neither its name nor its location.

The transport ship dispatched for Zhao Li soon arrived. It was a small vessel, with seats for only a handful of passengers. There was just one pilot, and no one else besides. As the ship arrived, Instructor Xiao Qiang had just invited Zhao Li for his last meal at the base.

After inspecting Zhao Li’s identification, the pilot said nothing, simply led him aboard. He indicated a seat, tossed Zhao Li’s small travel bundle aside, then entered the cockpit alone, locking the door from the other side. Zhao Li was left by himself in the passenger compartment.

The pilot was a peculiar one—never uttering a single word from start to finish. Zhao Li noted this silently, but said nothing. He secured his bundle in a suitable corner, but before he could return to his seat, the ship lifted off abruptly.

Caught off guard, Zhao Li nearly tumbled, but quick reflexes saved him as he grabbed hold of an iron post to steady himself.

“Damn it!” he muttered under his breath, forcing himself into the seat and fastening the safety belt, finally able to breathe with relief.

The small ship, unlike the medium-sized ones he’d ridden before, jolted violently. Worse still, the cabin lights dimmed, leaving only a faint red lamp for warning illumination.

Though the turbulence was severe, the seams of the cabin held firm, and Zhao Li heard no alarming sounds—this reassured him somewhat about the ship’s safety.

Whether this was the pilot’s intention or simply the nature of the route, Zhao Li could not tell. In the gloom, his body felt alternately tossed upward and down, swaying ceaselessly in every direction. There was not a moment of smooth flight.

Perhaps this was the army’s way of hazing new recruits. Zhao Li endured the discomfort, gripping the handles on either side of his seat, holding himself fixed in place.

He’d never received training for this sort of ordeal. The severe shaking seemed as if it would wrench his organs from his body. He wondered what kind of training the air force rookies went through to handle such flights so easily; at the very least, Zhao Li admitted he could not match the pilot’s sense of balance.

The discomfort became unbearable, and Zhao Li tried channeling his combat techniques to ease the strain. Yet, as soon as he began, the vibrations intensified, a nausea rising in his throat—he felt worse for it.

Abandoning combat techniques, Zhao Li switched to basic physical conditioning. Fortunately, exercising along his main meridians proved effective at alleviating the discomfort brought on by the turbulence. Soon, he felt his body was his own again, able to keep himself steady rather than being shaken helplessly by the ship.

It required considerable skill, but after some time practicing, Zhao Li mastered the ability to let his lower body move with the ship’s tremors while keeping his upper body—especially his head—within a limited range of motion. The violent shaking of his head and spine was counteracted by conscious movement, and his upper body remained relatively stable.

Strangely, the turbulence worsened. Loose parts in the cabin began to collide with a teeth-rattling clatter, as if they might break free and fly off at any moment.

Thankfully, gravity felt unchanged; they were still on the planet. Zhao Li racked his memory for any region with such hazardous flight paths but found none. The only explanation was the pilot’s mischief.

Realizing this, Zhao Li felt less anxious. If it was only a prank or hazing, the pilot would not risk his safety recklessly. Experiencing the state where his lower body was rattled but his upper body steady, Zhao Li began to wonder what kind of active duty awaited him.

About half an hour later, Zhao Li sensed the ship had docked somewhere unstable. Normally, a landing spot should be steady and quiet, but here there was no such feeling—still swaying violently.

This movement, however, was different from before; it was as though the ship was confined to a small space, moving unpredictably. It felt less like being on a ship, and more like a die shaken in a cup, tossed about by a giant hand.

This time, Zhao Li could no longer keep his upper body steady, forced to go with the flow. The only comfort was that each cycle of his basic conditioning brought a moment of clarity to his dizzy mind.

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