Chapter 23 20

Chapter 23: 20

He Lin woke up completely sober. He quickly washed up and went for a run.

He preferred morning runs to night runs; the air was fresher, and he enjoyed the feeling of running towards the sunrise.

As he ran, he thought about the previous night.

Before his injury, he could hold his liquor well. After recovering, he had abstained from alcohol for a long time, following doctor's orders. It wasn't until a year later that he gradually started drinking again. So why had he blacked out this time?

He couldn't quite tell if it was due to drunkenness or a flare-up of his old injury.

After returning home, He Lin had breakfast and began tidying his room.

As he placed his badges one by one back into their collection box, memories of joining the special forces resurfaced.

Just as many adults still dream about their college entrance exams years later, some moments in life can become lifelong nightmares.

For He Lin, that nightmare was Hell Week.

During his years in the special forces, he had participated in over a dozen Hell Weeks, big and small. Some focused on physical endurance, others on wilderness survival, some required teamwork, and one special training was an extreme challenge. But the very first one was a large-scale live-fire assessment.

It was during that Hell Week that he earned a Bravery Badge.

After the selection ended, the remaining recruits were finally taken to Tianning Training Base. The entire team felt as if they had returned to human civilization from a primitive society.

After seven days of grueling training, the prospective special forces members were too exhausted to celebrate—all they wanted was to lie down and rest.

After the commanding officer's speech, the results were announced: He Lin was the top performer among all the newcomers.

Next came the team selection phase. The officers told them to rest where they were. Everyone collapsed to the ground, too tired to move a finger, caring little about how dirty or exhausted they were.

The officers didn’t expect them to maintain any semblance of military bearing at that point. The recruits were like sheep waiting to be chosen by the special forces team leaders.

Several team leaders stood to the side, reviewing the assessment results and discussing which recruits would best fit their teams based on their strengths. Only those selected would be reassigned to new dormitories, allowed to eat in the cafeteria, and given time to clean up and rest.

The four teams were the well-known Dragon Flame, Python Team, Wolf Fang, and Blue Sparrow.

Within the special forces, roles were divided based on specialization—demolition experts, snipers, point men, assault units—and each team would recruit according to their needs.

Those with specialized skills were easier to assign. He Lin watched as the chubby recruit was chosen by the Skull Mask.

The others waited eagerly to be called by their team leaders. Slowly, the number of recruits on the field dwindled.

When it came to He Lin, he was versatile—capable as a point man, a sniper, or an assault unit member. He was practically a free agent in the special forces.

Except for Blue Sparrow, the other three team leaders were interested in him.

The three leaders, still in their blue team combat gear and fully equipped, argued over who would take him.

Among them was the Skull Mask he had seen before.

After the other two leaders had argued for a while, the Skull Mask said calmly, "I asked for him first."

Immediately, the other two fell silent.

The Skull Mask walked over to take him.

He Lin was furious.

He still remembered hearing those offhand remarks outside the tent: "This one, I want him."

As if he were some pre-ordered trophy, his ownership decided with a single sentence.

He Lin was determined to prove that he was a living, breathing person who deserved basic respect.

He stood up and said, "How about asking what I think?"

Seeing an opportunity, an older team leader from Wolf Fang smiled and asked, "So which team do you want to join? How about coming to Wolf Fang?"

Another leader chimed in, "Do you want to hear about the perks? Python Team offers the most annual leave days."

The Wolf Fang leader scoffed, "Don’t fool the kid. More annual leave means more injuries. Everyone knows your team handles the most dangerous missions. If you want to spend weeks in the wilderness, dealing with bugs and wild animals without a hot meal, go ahead and join them."

The Python Team leader retorted, "Are we any more dangerous than Wolf Fang? Your team handles the most operations all year round."

He Lin had a plan: "If you want to be my leader, you should at least be better than me at everything. Whoever can beat me, I’ll go with them."

As he said this, he locked eyes with the Skull Mask, deliberately provoking him.

The Wolf Fang leader saw through his tactic and laughed, "Using reverse psychology, huh? We’re all more experienced than you, kid. Trying to challenge your superiors?"

The Python Team leader backed out, saying, "I don’t want someone this wild. You can take him and teach him a lesson."

Only the Skull Mask looked at him and said, "You just finished grueling training. Beating you now wouldn’t be fair. Let’s compete in a few days. I’ll allow you to switch teams later."

That cold, condescending tone was infuriating.

"Are you so sure I’ll lose?" He Lin’s competitive spirit flared. "No need to wait. Let’s do it now."

The Skull Mask, his face hidden behind the skull mask except for his eyes, silently agreed.

"This is interesting. You youngsters go ahead," the Wolf Fang leader laughed, offering a safety net. "Your name is He Lin, right? If you lose, you join Dragon Flame. If you win, there’s a spot for you in my team."

The Python Team leader withdrew from the competition and volunteered to referee. "What will you compete in?" he asked.

The Skull Mask glanced indifferently at He Lin. "You decide."

He Lin didn’t hold back. "Firearm disassembly and assembly, shooting, and hand-to-hand combat. Best two out of three."

These were his three strongest skills. Since his opponent was a team leader and likely skilled, he didn’t dare risk a single round and allowed some room for error.

The Skull Mask couldn't be bothered to agree—he just gave a slight nod.

The other team leaders laughed softly at this, especially the Python Team leader, who smiled without a word.

The selected recruits, seeing the spectacle, gathered around to watch.

The equipment was readily available at the base. The Python Team leader brought two unloaded guns and handed one to each of them.

They stood opposite each other at a table on the side of the base.

At the signal to begin, He Lin instantly picked up the gun and started disassembling it. The Skull Mask, however, stood motionless.

He Lin’s hands moved swiftly—in mere moments, he had disassembled the gun into several parts and spread them out on the table. Before his opponent had even started, He Lin was already beginning to reassemble it.

Some of the recruits in the audience began to cheer.

He Lin felt certain he had this round in the bag and shot a provoking glance at his opponent.

Only then did Skull Mask leisurely move his hands, picking up the gun and giving it a slight shake. His movements could only be described as smooth.

With a faint click, the gun was disassembled into its various components.

Magazine, slide, recoil spring, barrel… all laid out in a row.

He Lin looked up and saw the scene before him, his pupils contracting in disbelief.

Just moments ago, the gun seemed to perform a magic trick in that person’s hands, suddenly falling apart.

Shattered…

Along with it, He Lin’s heart crumbled too…

The sidelines fell silent, almost forgetting to cheer.

Only then did Skull Mask lower his head, his slender fingers picking up the parts with precision and swiftly reassembling them.

Sweat beaded on He Lin’s forehead as he fumbled to continue assembling his own gun.

Skull Mask, however, handled it with ease. The gun gradually took shape in his hands, the slide locking into place with a crisp click.

Before He Lin could even finish, Skull Mask inserted the magazine, released the safety, and mimed a shooting gesture at him.

Shortly after, He Lin also completed the task. His heart sank—if this were a battlefield, he’d already be dead.

The Python Team captain checked the timer in his hand. "Everyone can see who won and who lost. I won’t bother announcing the time." He then turned to Skull Mask and said, "That was so slow—you were going easy on him, weren’t you? You could’ve done it blindfolded faster than that!"

Skull Mask offered no explanation, twirled the gun silently, and placed it on the table.

He Lin also realized the other had intentionally started much slower.

When it came to disassembling this type of gun, He Lin’s performance was already among the best of the trainees. Further practice would make shaving even a second off his time difficult.

What kind of monster was this person before him?

He Lin understood that even if he excluded the errors from his lack of rest and poor condition today, he still couldn’t match up to that person.

Suddenly, He Lin felt uncertain about the shooting competition. Skull Mask asked him, "What’s next?"

He Lin replied, "Hand-to-hand combat."

He had to win the second round, at the very least to avoid losing too badly.

At the Python captain’s command, He Lin charged forward immediately.

Although he had just endured seven days of inhuman training, he channeled all the frustration built up during that hell week into this moment.

Seeing him charge, Skull Mask stepped back.

He Lin sorted through his thoughts. The person before him was completely different from the burly opponents he’d faced before. Skull Mask was slightly shorter, with a lean but muscular build. His movements were agile, and his strength was nothing to scoff at.

This person was undoubtedly a formidable opponent.

He Lin frowned, running through all the grappling techniques he’d learned in his mind.

Since the other kept retreating, he decided to force him to engage with even faster attacks. Once he settled on this tactic, he launched a relentless assault.

He Lin’s specialty was the whip kick, a curved leg technique from Sanda. With his long legs and ample strength, he was skilled in both high and low whip kicks, covering a wide range and delivering powerful blows.

But after unleashing a series of consecutive whip kicks at Skull Mask, he only managed to force him back two steps—without even getting him to raise his hands.

He Lin grew even angrier. In his eyes, every dodge was a provocation.

He quickly changed tactics, throwing rapid punches. Skull Mask tilted his body, and the force of the punch barely grazed his ear.

As he fought, He Lin couldn’t help but acknowledge inwardly that Skull Mask had real skill. His reaction speed was incredible—almost as soon as He Lin made a move, he knew how to respond and dodged immediately. To win, He Lin would have to catch him off guard.

Skull Mask conserved his energy while He Lin fought like he was tireless, growing more aggressive with each move, combining punches and kicks.

As time passed, although Skull Mask still hadn’t struck, his dodges grew increasingly clumsy.

Meanwhile, He Lin’s stamina was draining rapidly, and he began to gasp for breath.

Finally, Skull Mask was forced to block with his hand.

Between the glove and the sleeve, a section of his wrist was exposed. The skin hidden beneath the black clothing was surprisingly fair. As He Lin closed in, brushing past him, he opened his mouth and tried to bite the exposed wrist.

He Lin’s former combat instructor had taught them that in a life-or-death fight, there was no room for gentlemanly conduct. Moves like groin kicks, eye jabs, and biting were all fair game—these "childish" techniques could sometimes be surprisingly effective in a real fight.

In short, using them wasn’t shameful; losing was.

Skull Mask reacted with lightning speed, pulling his hand back just as He Lin’s lips grazed his wrist. He then stumbled back a step, his brow seemingly furrowed.

He Lin caught a whiff of hand soap from Skull Mask’s hand and grew even more irritated. They had been rolling in the mud for seven days without a shower, each of them filthy as eels. This Blue Army captain, however, had delicate skin and was clean as a whistle.

He Lin spat on the ground deliberately, trying to provoke Skull Mask.

Then he charged again.

He Lin fought with increasing ferocity, unleashing a variety of moves and intentionally driving Skull Mask toward the crowd. When he had nowhere left to retreat, He Lin raised his leg again.

This move looked like a whip kick but was actually a feint. Instead of extending his leg, he lifted his knee and drove it sideways into the other’s ribs. If it landed solidly, it could cause injury at best or broken ribs at worst.

Skull Mask could no longer afford to take it lightly. He blocked the incoming knee with one hand while raising his own knee to strike He Lin’s supporting leg.

He Lin didn’t panic. Adopting a scorched-earth tactic, he dragged Skull Mask down with him, and the two rolled twice across the grassy field.

He Lin pinned the other down under the scorching sun, and the onlookers erupted in cheers.

In one swift motion, he yanked off Skull Mask’s mask…

.

Back in the living room, as He Lin recalled this point, a sharp pain pierced his mind again, followed by endless confusion.

It was as if he were walking on a bridge—just as he reached the center, the bridge collapsed, and he fell into the water below.

His memory fractured. The once-clear images suddenly vanished like bubbles. Though he remembered many details leading up to that moment, everything afterward turned into fragmented pieces.

He couldn’t remember what he saw when he lifted the mask, only the outcome of that fight.

He thought he had the second round in the bag, but his momentary daze cost him the opportunity.

The instant he clearly saw the other’s face, he was thrown off, and the situation reversed in a flash. Skull Mask gained the upper hand and gave him a thorough pounding.

Although the other held back and stopped short of going all out, He Lin still lost completely.

He Lin had carefully analyzed his failure: first, the hell week had indeed affected his physical condition; second, his opponent’s skills were simply too superior; and third, having lost the first round in gun assembly, he grew too impatient and desperate to win, burning through too much energy in the first half.

The most crucial point was that he had zoned out during the fight with his opponent—a grave mistake that could mean the difference between life and death.

After that, honoring the wager, he joined the Dragon Flame special forces team. Skull Mask also became his captain.

But as Fatty later lamented, "Of all people, why did you have to provoke that disaster?"

It seemed that from then on, he was constantly harassed by the captain.

Extra training every day, chores in his spare time—helping move equipment before training, cleaning up the training room afterward, constantly running errands everywhere. He even had to wait in line at the cafeteria to get meals for the captain and clean his dorm. It was as if he wasn’t treated like a human being…

He Lin felt the blood boiling in his veins.

He hated that person.

What was his name again?

It should be two characters…

A faint shadow lingered before his eyes, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t grasp it…

He Lin rarely pushed himself this hard, but at this moment, he truly wanted to know. Every debt has its debtor, every grievance its cause. How could he hate someone so much yet forget even his name?

His brain felt as if it were searing in a boiling pot over flames. Every search felt like scraping at his own mind with a spoon, scooping it out bit by bit. He Lin clutched his head in pain, trembling all over, feeling nauseous. The headache was so intense he wished he could smash his head against the wall.

He Lin covered his head, unable to suppress a few low coughs. Something warm surged up from within him.

Startled, he covered his mouth with his hand and spat out a mouthful of blood. It was one of the aftereffects of his brain injury—stress-induced ulcer bleeding.

At the same time, two words broke through the bloody haze.

Dragon Bone.

After spitting blood, He Lin broke out in a cold sweat all over his body. His temples were damp and clung to his cheeks. His chest heaved violently, as if he had just run a long distance or as if his spirit had returned from death's door.

Fortunately, this episode wasn’t too severe.

After He Lin stopped recalling, the headache faded. He took some clotting medication, and the bleeding gradually stopped.

He thought, so that person was called Dragon Bone…

It wasn’t a real name, just a codename. In his mind, the person’s face remained blurry.

He Lin closed his eyes wearily. Ah well, just someone who doesn't matter anyway…