Beyond the Zenith

Apart from that somewhat unexpected blow to the head Han Qingyu had landed at the start, Flying Plague Chicken was, to date, the first recruit with the guts to openly court death in front of Zhang Dao’an.

This was probably what Lao Jian meant when he said that Wen Jifei had much greater spirit in him than everyone else. This spirit meant he didn’t fear death.

Shockingly, Zhang Dao’an did not fly into a rage at Wen Jifei’s gall, perhaps because the recruits’ performance the night before had genuinely satisfied him. After a brief moment of astonishment, Head Instructor Zhang burst into laughter, stroking his bald head with one hand as he stood at the window.

Then, glancing down at the watch on his wrist, he suddenly said, “There are still a few minutes left. Come on up and chat.”

According to rumors, all the recruits who had been to Zhang Dao’an’s office had all been pounded to a pulp, so Wen Jifei was understandably hesitant.

“Uh...”

Unfortunately, he had no choice but to go.

If Regiment Commander Li’s office was simple, then Zhang Dao’an’s could only be described as shabby. A battered wooden desk, a stack of folders, and a wire-frame cot that he could probably only just barely lie flat on.

As Wen Jifei called out his arrival, he carefully glanced around and found that there was also half of a broken blade set on a wooden rack on the wall directly facing the desk. It was the front half of the blade, its body marked with many nicks and cracks.

The only thing that could sever a dead-iron black blade was probably a Sharpie’s pillar sword. There was also no telling who this blade had once belonged to, and why the Azure Coalition, which was forever claiming an extreme shortage of key resources, had not hauled it back for recycling.

“Sit.” Zhang Dao’an kicked a stool over with his foot.

This caught Wen Jifei a little off guard. Uneasy from the unanticipated politeness, he said, “Uh, I’ll just stand.”

“No need. You’re not the by-the-rules type. No need to put on an act with me.”

Wen Jifei reluctantly sat down.

Fixing his gaze on the recruit, Zhang Dao’an hesitated a moment, then continued seriously, “I just felt like saying a couple more things to you on a whim.”

Wen Jifei signaled with his eyes that he was listening.

“I actually quite like your character, kid.” Old Zhang gave a small chuckle, then glanced at Wen Jifei once more. “If I told you that my character was pretty much like yours when I was young, all laughs and giggles, carefree and thoughtless... you’d probably find it hard to believe, huh?”

“It really would be,” Wen Jifei honestly admitted.

Zhang Dao’an chuckled again. Then, his face abruptly froze, the corners of his lips dropping into a somber expression. “Yeah. I’m not quite the same anymore. Anyway, I called you over just to tell you one thing. If one day you make it onto the battlefield, don’t let that carefree nature make you careless. Don’t let down the people who trust you, and don’t make others bear the consequences for you.‌ By that, I mean the ones who treat you as a brother and fight at your side.”

The seriousness in Old Zhang’s eyes could not be faked. Wen Jifei could see it.

With rare seriousness of his own, he stood up, nodded hard, and said, “Rest assured, Instructor Zhang. I’ll remember what you said.”

“Good.” Zhang Dao’an stared up at him, breaking into a smile. “Hey, don’t be so formal. There’s nothing wrong with having a temperament like yours.”

Wen Jifei nodded.

“Oh, right. You didn’t get any meat last night, did you?” Zhang Dao’an suddenly asked, twisting to rummage through a drawer with his head down. “The food thing... The army mainly does it to temper your spirit, will, and ability to endure being worn down. We’re afraid you won’t be able to stand before the Sharpies otherwise.”

He tossed a sealed packet of pickled mustard greens and another packet labeled dried tofu onto the desk, where they landed with respective smacks.

“I know this doesn’t mean much to you. You can handle that kind of pressure by nature...” Zhang Dao’an trailed off with a shake of his head. “Anyway, I can’t give you meat, but these have a strong flavor, so take them to satisfy the craving.”

Wen Jifei hesitated.

The training bell rang.

“Put them away.” Zhang Dao’an shooed him away, getting up at the same time. “Now, let’s go. Off to training.”

***

At the training ground, Zhang Dao’an, arriving a few steps behind Wen Jifei, stepped onto the platform and started the day’s address.

“I’ve looked into the meat-grabbing incident last night. Since it’s one of the army’s traditional events, we won’t be handing out punishment,” he said, as blunt as ever, without lead-up at all.

The crowd below the platform erupted in conversation.

So that was it. No wonder the ones who had gone up and fought had gained points. It was actually an Azure Coalition tradition. The recruits buzzed with discussion, spurring zeal in some.

“I hope this becomes a fond memory for you down the road.” Zhang Dao’an’s expression turned stern. “But there’s no denying that this also shows that your willpower and obedience still have serious problems. Diet during the recruit period is an important supporting component of the Azure Coalition’s recruit training. Apart from Tradition Night, it’s always been strictly enforced. But I now have good reason to suspect that you haven’t been complying in private.”

The recruits went quiet.

“We just carried out a surprise inspection of your dormitories. Now”—Zhang Dao’an turned and gestured to the several soldiers behind him—“search them.”

His turning gaze met Wen Jifei’s.

Wen Jifei’s expression said many things.

Zhang Dao’an faced the crowd with a blank expression. “By the way, today we’re going to formally begin combat training. The Azure Coalition’s early-stage combat training isn’t like the norm. We won’t teach you forms, moves, or techniques. Instead, we’ll have you fight hand-to-hand, build courage amid pain, and train you to stay calm and composed. We want you to learn how to hone your technique, responses, and decision-making in the slimmest of margins.”

You can do that? Many wondered, though no one dared to question it aloud.

“Today is day one, so we’ll begin with a demonstration. I was just fretting over not having a target, so whoever has food found on him will be today’s live target along with their whole dorm.” With that, Zhang Dao’an stepped down from the platform.

Face blank, he walked toward Wen Jifei’s row and searched each man perfunctorily, with Wen Jifei clearly being his actual target.

The search soon reached Wen Jifei. The two stood shoulder to shoulder, facing opposite directions.

In a voice low enough that only the two of them could hear, Zhang Dao’an asked, “Are you taking it out yourself, or do you want me to do it?”

“Instructor Zhang, you—” Wen Jifei paused. “You’re childish.”

Zhang Dao’an gave a little smile.

Wen Jifei raised both hands, wordlessly giving him the go-ahead.

Zhang Dao’an got to work, searching him while continuing in a low voice, “I find this amusing, but this is also a lesson for you. I’ve always told you, you’ll get someone killed...”

The words died on Zhang Dao’an’s lips as he froze. He had clearly watched as Wen Jifei stuffed those two dummy packets into his pocket, yet they were nowhere to be found. Another quick search still bore nothing.

“You—”

“Tossed them on the way out, in the trash can by your door,” Wen Jifei said primly.

Zhang Dao’an was speechless.

“Don’t make others bear the consequences of your own carelessness.” The corner of Wen Jifei’s mouth curved up. “You just taught me that, Instructor Zhang.”

A flash of smugness crossed his eyes. There was a reason he had called Zhang Dao’an childish; this really was too juvenile.

“Very good.” Zhang Dao’an patted his shoulder and walked back to the stage.

“You’re too kind,” Wen Jifei said, winking at his band of brothers.

“Very good. Everyone’s been observing army discipline well. I’m pleased,” Zhang Dao’an said loudly as he walked. “Since that’s the case, I’ll just pick a dorm at random to be today’s target. Let’s make it... Dormitory 11.”

The rest of the crowd collectively sighed in relief.

Well, I’m screwed, Wen Jifei thought at the same time. Of course, he could only say it in his heart.

Soon, eight square wooden platforms, each roughly five meters per side, were set out on the field. These sat about fifty centimeters off the ground, with three instructors stationed beside each one.

The eight from Dormitory 11 wore simple protective gear over their vitals, each positioned at one end of a platform, waiting for their opponents to come up.

The hand-to-hand combat began without preamble. Getting knocked down or falling off the ring both counted as a loss.

Thus, an almost lawless series of duels began.

The instructors let the brawls run wild, but would call a stop in the middle of a fight and, in voices the whole field could hear, point out who had lost their composure, the mistake each party had made, the possible different attack angles, points where they could’ve dodged, and more.

“Open your eyes! Open your eyes!” the instructors repeatedly stressed in the most savage tone of all.

At the end of each brawl, they would also sum up the strengths and weaknesses of both parties. In this manner, the wild bouts gradually took on some form.

Round after round continued. In the end, the eight from Dormitory 11 were carried off one after another, their faces bruised and swollen.

***

Mira sat together with a female comrade at the edge of the training ground, in a fine mood. This too was a tradition. On the first day of recruit combat training each year, Zhang Dao’an would choose a set of live targets.

He always chose the dorm he most approved of, the one he secretly thought most highly of.

“Zhang Dao’an has a keen eye; his read on people is dead-on,” Mira said with a smug laugh. “Looks like I chose right.”

“Maybe that’s the case, but they’re performing a little poorly today, don’t you think? Look at them, every last one in that state... If this keeps up, won’t the recruits start to doubt the effectiveness of your training? Everybody knows you’re always giving Dormitory 11 special coaching,” the female comrade said worriedly.

At this, Mira fixed her attention and thought back. Something did indeed seem off. It was as if none of the Dormitory 11 members were really fighting hard.

They always hit the ground or fell off the ring after taking a minimum amount of hits, ending a bout. It was clearly intentional.

“You’re right. We can’t let them go on like this.” Mira grew anxious about her prospects as a future platoon leader. “At this rate, the recruits won’t pick me later.”

“Right,” said the female comrade.

At the same time, against the base of a wall not far from them, Han Qingyu lay on the ground.

Lao Jian appeared in his line of sight.

“Hello, Platoon Leader Lao,” Han Qingyu greeted brightly, as if he hadn’t badmouthed him at all that morning.

“Hey.” Lao Jian crouched down, a slightly vindictive smile on his face. “Watching you take a beating just now made me pretty happy.”

“Is that so?” Han Qingyu smiled back.

Both of them knew exactly what was going on, but neither gave an inch. In the end, though, Lao Jian broke first, turning serious. “Never mind that. I came to find you because there’s something I want to go over with you.”

Han Qingyu sat up. “Go ahead, Platoon Leader Lao.”

“I just wrote up a report for you explaining the situation at Supply Depot 700 that night. I’ll serve as your witness.” Lao Jian paused and briefly thought it over, but decided not to bring up the great merit. “Over the next few days, someone may come to take your fingerprints for comparison. You don’t need to worry...”

“Mm.” Han Qingyu hummed in affirmation.

Fortunately, he had the forethought to lay the groundwork earlier with that line about messing up the scene and then tidying it again, so he wasn’t too worried about fingerprints and the like. Even his having touched the energy cores would be perfectly reasonable.

Going by Regiment Commander Li’s words and common knowledge about source energy absorption, there was no way anyone could tell that he had consumed those energy cores either. So, there was no problem at all.

Lao Jian naturally knew none of this. Earnest and well-meaning, he continued, “The key thing is, if they ask what you want, remember to make it sound respectable. Don’t keep harping on money. You’ve made it this far, but you’re still going on about money, money, money. Here, energy cores matter most.”

“Can I ask them for energy cores then?”

“Well, no. But if your performance is fine, you’ll get them naturally.”

“Oh.”

“Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Then that’s that.” Lao Jian made to get up, then paused and added, “I’ve already applied to rejoin my platoon, so I’ll probably be heading back soon. As for your family... given our special circumstances, I don’t dare promise to look after them, but if I get the chance, I’ll try to check in on them a bit, so... don’t worry too much.”

After a silent moment, Han Qingyu finally replied, “Thank you, Platoon Leader Lao.”

“Cut the polite crap with me.” With that, Lao Jian got up and left.

“Remember, stop toughing it out at the front all the time. You don’t have the build for it!” Han Qingyu called to his shrinking back.

Lao Jian wasn’t having it. “Bullshit. I’m plenty fierce!”

The exchange was brief, and hardly anyone noticed it, but Mira had watched it all from a distance.

“Oh no, oh no! That Lao Jian is a platoon leader too, right? Oh man, and I think he was Han Qingyu’s sponsor...”

She firmly believed that Lao Jian was laying the groundwork to bring Han Qingyu into his platoon down the line.

“Ugh, my best one’s about to get poached. What do I do? What do I do?” Mira lost her composure, tugging at her comrade’s arm and shaking it nonstop. “That one’s a veteran platoon leader. His strength’s probably top-notch too, and on top of that, they’re old acquaintances. Oh, how am I supposed to compete against him?”

“Well, it looks like your only option is to find another way.” The female comrade hesitated. “Anyway, weren’t you previously...”

***

That day, during the brief rest period after lunch, the eight sorry sacks of Dormitory 11 all lay in their beds, groaning and whimpering.

Mira pushed open the door and came in, setting down two tubes of ointment the army had specially made for combat personnel. “Apply this on each other.”

Dormitory 11’s groans immediately grew louder, as if every one of them were on the verge of death, unable to move on their own.

But Mira did not offer to help rub it on as they had hoped she would. Instead, she said, as naturally as could be, “The faucet in my room is broken, and I’m covered in dust. Mind if I shower here?”

The groaning stopped at once. The only sound echoing in the ears of Dormitory 11 was the thump, thump, thump of racing hearts.