By mid-to-late February, the winter chill in the southeastern military district had not fully receded. Though spring was on the horizon, the infamous “false spring” had swept in, bringing another layer of fresh white snow across the training grounds. Yet, the cold was the last thing on the minds of the recruits.
“One!”
“Kill!”
“Two!”
“Kill!”
Sergeant Zheng Sanpao led the recruits through their daily combat training. Nine young n stood before heavy punching bags, their fists slamming into the leather with varying levels of force. So hesitated. So struck with intent. But none t the sergeant’s expectations.
Zheng Sanpao’s expression darkened.
“Punch harder!” he barked. “The enemy won’t fall over just because you nudge them!”
The recruits gritted their teeth and struck again. Among them, Zhuang Yan’s bag shook violently, his punches fueled by frustration and sheer willpower. Lin Yi’s bag, on the other hand, barely moved. Yet, the rhythm of his strikes was perfect. Controlled. Precise. Efficient. The kind of asured power that ca not from brute strength but from true skill.
……………………………………………………………………………………………
Zheng Sanpao stepped forward, scanning the group. His eyes locked onto a particularly frail-looking recruit who barely made an impact on his bag. “You!” He pointed. “Get up. Step aside. Watch closely.”
The recruit quickly stepped away, shoulders tense. Zheng Sanpao took his place. Facing the punching bag, he exhaled sharply. Then—
“Kill!”
BANG!
His first punch landed like a gunshot, sending the heavy bag swinging wildly.
BANG!
A second strike, even heavier, followed by a third, the force of which rattled the tal chain holding the bag up. The recruits held their breath. Zheng Sanpao turned back to them, his expression stone-cold.
“Now that—THAT—is how you hit an enemy.”
The recruits swallowed hard.
“Again!”
Their fists t the bags with renewed force.
“One!”
“Kill!”
“Two!”
“Kill!”
Snowflakes drifted around them, but no one felt the cold anymore.
Then Zheng Sanpao’s gaze landed on one person.
“Zhuang Yan. Step forward.”
……………………………………………………………………………………………
Zhuang Yan froze.
I haven’t defied orders in weeks, and the tension between us has mostly settled. So why single out now?
Unbeknownst to him, Company Commander Miao stood in the shadows, observing every move with a smirk on his face. Zhuang Yan stepped up, chest tightening. Zheng Sanpao crossed his arms.
“Hit .”
The words stunned everyone.
“…What?”
Zhuang Yan’s eyes widened.
“You heard . Hit .” Zheng Sanpao’s smirk was taunting. “Or are you scared?”
The entire training ground went silent.
The other recruits exchanged glances, so confused, so worried.
Zhuang Yan’s hands clenched into fists. Sothing about the sergeant’s tone—that condescension—set his blood boiling. Then—
“Kill!”
He lunged forward and threw a punch straight at Zheng Sanpao’s jaw. But the sergeant wasn’t there. Zheng Sanpao had sidestepped effortlessly, and before Zhuang Yan could react—
BAM!
A sharp fist connected with his mouth, sending a jolt of pain down his spine. The recruits flinched. Zhuang Yan staggered back, a thin trickle of blood dripping from the corner of his lip. Zheng Sanpao cracked his knuckles.
“Again.”
……………………………………………………………………………………………
Fury flared in Zhuang Yan’s chest. He charged forward, fists swinging. But Zheng Sanpao was faster. Sharper. Another dodge. Another counterattack. A punch to the ribs. A jab to the stomach. Pain coiled through Zhuang Yan’s body, his breath coming in short gasps. The recruits watched, torn between awe and horror. But one pair of eyes stayed especially sharp—Lin Yi’s. Unlike the others, he had noticed sothing crucial. This isn’t just a random beating. It is a test.
And standing in the shadows, Miao smirked approvingly.
……………………………………………………………………………………………
“Get up.” Zheng Sanpao’s voice was as cold as steel.
Zhuang Yan wiped his bleeding nose. Sothing inside him snapped. This isn’t just training. It is humiliation.
This was payback for every push-up, every punishnt, every ti he had been singled out. With a roar, he lunged—not with a wild punch—but with his entire body. He tackled Zheng Sanpao, locking his arms around him, refusing to let go. Zheng Sanpao tried to counter, but Zhuang Yan was too strong. With a ferocious heave, he lifted the sergeant off the ground and slamd him onto the frozen dirt.
WHAM!
A collective gasp rang out. Before anyone could react, Zhuang Yan straddled the sergeant, fists flying.
“You wanted a fight? HERE IT IS!”
Punch.
Punch.
Punch.
Recruits rushed forward, grabbing Zhuang Yan before he could land another hit. “Stop! Stop! You’ll get in trouble!” But he wasn’t done. He kicked at the dirt, still seething.
Yet—Zheng Sanpao just lay there, not angry, not retaliating, but laughing.
“Good.”
The recruits froze. Zheng Sanpao, covered in mud, grinning from ear to ear, pulled himself up. He wiped his split lip and looked at Zhuang Yan with sothing new in his eyes: Respect.
Then the military police arrived. Zhuang Yan’s stomach dropped as he felt his wrists being grabbed.
“Zhuang Yan, you’re coming with us.”
He barely had ti to protest before he was dragged off to the military brig.
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Watching him go, Chen Xiwa looked panicked.
“Deputy Squad Leader!” he turned to Lin Yi. “They’re taking him! Shouldn’t we do sothing?!”
Lin Yi simply smirked.
“Don’t worry. For Zhuang Yan… this isn’t a punishnt. It’s a beginning.”
Chen Xiwa blinked, confused.
Then, he saw sothing even more shocking.
Zheng Sanpao, wiping his lip, turned to Lin Yi with a wild grin.
“You want a turn?”
Lin Yi’s smile widened.
“Of course.”
And with that, a new match was about to begin.
……………………………………………………………………………………………
From the shadows, Miao turned to his aide.
“Call all the officers. This fight… is worth seeing.”
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