“You’re really letting a chaotic-neutral, non-land creature act as a sparring partner?” Bai Chunian waved a hand. “He doesn’t do a single thing a normal human would do.”
Han Xingqian asked, “Can I collect some behavioral data on Lan Bo?”
“Go ahead.”
Leaning against her seatback, Dai Ning asked Bai Chunian, “So are we sticking to the original plan?”
“We proceed as planned.” Bai Chunian snapped his fingers. “It’s fine. Just one extra fish to deal with.”
He stared at the map on his wrist display. “That’s about right. Let’s move.”
The instructors pulled black hoods and skull masks from beneath their seats and quickly put them on, shedding their instructor uniforms and changing into plain clothes. With parachute packs on their backs, they opened the cabin door and jumped.
Bai Chunian remained crouched in front of the monitoring screens, gripping his hood and metal skull mask as he searched for Lan Bo.
Cameras and speakers had been installed across every corner of Red Heart Island to record each trainee’s combat performance. From thousands of feeds, he easily located Lan Bo.
Lan Bo was lying in a valley stream, basking in the sunlight. Small fish swam around him, cleaning and massaging his body; the lucky ones even got to snack on a glowing blue jellyfish. The “country fish” of the ravine had never seen a king before—now that a celestial being had descended among them, they were utterly devoted.
Red Heart Island lay far south, and this time of year the mountain wildflowers were in full bloom. Clusters of tiny white blossoms gathered along the stream, while the white-rose-like pheromones emanating from Lan Bo attracted a few blue butterflies to settle on him.
He rolled over, resting his head on an HK416 carbine. The sunlight was just right—his pale face and shoulders seemed draped in a thin veil of honey-colored light.
Bai Chunian found himself staring, entranced. For a moment, the bandages wrapped around Lan Bo even looked like the pristine silk draped over angel statues in a museum.
He didn’t notice his breathing quicken.
A sudden, intrusive urge rose in him—to grab a handful of dirt or anything at all and smear it over Lan Bo’s immaculate body. To dirty him. To tear those bandages off strip by strip, forcing him into a flustered panic as he tried to hide the scars on his back—only to find there was no one to protect him, leaving him to shrink in shame and burrow into Bai Chunian’s arms for shelter.
The more he understood Lan Bo, the more he felt the gulf between him and ordinary people. There was a kind of sacred purity about him—one that tempted others to fall.
He wanted Lan Bo’s body to be filled with his scent, wanted to mark him everywhere, wanted even that slender, flat abdomen to… change under his influence. A pilgrim seeking a god didn’t always need to climb step by step in reverence—sometimes, he could tie a red cord around the god’s neck and drag him down into the mortal world.
Bai Chunian suddenly snapped out of it, startled by his own thoughts. He raked a hand harshly through his hair.
“No. No.”
He muttered to himself, rejecting it.
“What’s wrong with that?” a voice asked from behind him.
Bai Chunian turned and realized Han Xingqian hadn’t jumped yet. He straightened his expression. “You know what I was thinking?”
“Of course.” Leaning on the seatback, Han Xingqian propped his chin in his hand and looked down at him. “Experimental subjects go through both physical and psychological maturation. Affection developing from dependence into desire—that’s nothing unusual.”
“Okay, don’t move. Let me check your heart rate.” Han Xingqian glanced at him, scribbling data into his notebook before adding casually, “You’ve grown up. As your ‘father,’ I’m very pleased.”
“Get lost. Can you stop observing me every chance you get?”
“It’s part of my job.”
Bai Chunian almost forgot—after Jin Shu had picked him up from the underground fighting ring, during his recovery in the Alliance, Han Xingqian had been the one overseeing his treatment.
“Whatever. I’m not arguing with a scholar.”
Bai Chunian activated the streamside communication speaker. “Lan Bo.”
Hearing the familiar voice, Lan Bo looked around before spotting the hidden camera nearby.
“I’ve got something to tell you.”
After listening, Lan Bo plucked a wildflower and played with it in front of the lens, his voice low and magnetic. “Fine. How are you going to thank me?”
A butterfly fluttered over and landed on the white flower in his fingers. His flawless face was so close to the camera it looked like he might kiss it.
“Don’t push it. You’re already causing trouble and still bargaining?”
“Then I’ll… make everyone I see cry.” Lan Bo sniffed the flower idly, clearly unimpressed.
“What do you want, then?” Bai Chunian’s throat felt dry as he asked hoarsely.
“I want you—after we go back—to pleasure yourself for me. Record it.”
He said it so bluntly that Bai Chunian didn’t even have time to cover his mouth through the screen.
Han Xingqian clicked his tongue. “Not bad. Send me a copy too—it’ll be useful for my research.”
“Go research your own drugs.” Bai Chunian kicked him straight out of the aircraft.
After finishing with Lan Bo, he slung on a parachute pack and jumped as well.
Bai Chunian landed near a dilapidated temple. A signal tower had been installed there, and the monitoring equipment and weapons were stored inside the modified structure. Thousands of display screens were arranged beneath a statue.
The other instructors had already landed, set up the equipment, and pitched tents, cooking by a campfire.
Bai Chunian and Han Xingqian gathered their parachutes and walked into the temple. The interior was vast, filled with marble statues of goddesses. In the center lay an abandoned altar, now overgrown with wildflowers. The site had originally been built as a Nordic-style set, but after the island was purchased by the Alliance as a military training ground, it had been left unused.
Sniper instructor Lorenz sat by the fire eating canned food, his black hood and skull mask pushed up onto his head. The other instructors were dressed in similarly intimidating gear.
“The outermost weapon crates should already be empty by now.” Bai Chunian stared at the map on the screen. Each trainee had a status monitor, all visible at a glance—green dots marked their positions, turning orange when hit, and red when they lost combat capability and were considered eliminated.
“K, disable the outer fixed ammo crates. Then start wildfires at the points I’ve marked, and release a few bears and leopards. Drive those little brats hiding in the valleys out into the open.”
Technical instructor K, a taciturn alpha dressed entirely in black with a skull mask tightly secured, silently tapped away at the keyboard. Soon, several green dots scattered along the map’s perimeter turned orange and began rapidly moving toward the center.
The other instructors gathered around. Lorenz stood there eating canned food, scooping it up as he scanned thousands of surveillance screens for his own students. He wiped the grease from the corner of his mouth. “Hey, the kid found high ground pretty fast. As expected of someone I trained.”
Tactics instructor Red Crab stood with his hands on his hips, glaring at the monitors. “That brat—I’ve taught the valley tunnel assault a hundred and eighty times, and he still can’t remember it. I don’t know if his brain’s just for decoration. These kids are going to drive me to an early grave.”
Dai Ning leaned over the back of Bai Chunian’s chair and pointed at a screen. “Chu, look at this one.”
Bai Chunian followed her finger.
“This is a kid from the sniper class, last name Xiao. He’s been working really hard in my class,” Dai Ning said. “But lately, in the weekly exams, he’s always ended up on the same team as that other one. That clever little Lu Yan probably exploited a system loophole to team up with him on purpose. His sniping’s not great, but his scheming sure is.”
Bai Chunian chuckled. “They complement each other pretty well. From what I know, Xiao Xun is weak in close combat. Teaming up with Lu Yan maximizes his safety in close range.”
Han Xingqian leaned back in his chair, leisurely watching the monitors. He didn’t lead a class either—biochemistry had only recently been added and wasn’t part of this evaluation.
“K, find a chance to take one of them out,” Bai Chunian tapped the table lightly. “Let’s see if they run out of tricks.”
Instructor K gave a small nod.
Xiao Xun crouched on a dense banyan tree in the valley, holding an M25 sniper rifle, with another Armalite sniper rifle strapped to his back—two bolt-action rifles. It was clear he had completely abandoned close combat, focusing entirely on long-range sniping.
Their team also had a border collie alpha operating a drone to scout the next supply point, while the other three members handled their respective roles.
Lu Yan stood below the tree, carrying a looted rifle and scanning enemy positions through binoculars.
Licking his lips, he muttered, “Ah, I see Lanxing. We couldn’t decide a winner in the last few weekly exams—this time I’m definitely beating him.”
“Xiao Xiao, how far are they from us?”
Without moving, Xiao Xun steadied his rifle, peering through the scope with one eye. He answered calmly, “637.21 meters.”
“I’ll take three people and drive down. When we’re close, I’ll signal you—take out the one planting explosives on the upper floor first. Then we’ll try to force them out of cover, and you pick off the rest.”
Xiao Xun responded softly, “What about Bi Lanxing?”
Lu Yan said, “He’s got that toxic vine armor—one shot won’t take him down. I’ll sneak up behind him this time. They grabbed the missile ammo crate—I’ll steal it back for our collie. Let’s go, let’s go—get in the car! Follow Brother Lu and charge!”
Behind the monitors, several instructors burst out laughing.
Bai Chunian propped his head on his hand, smiling. “That little rabbit’s got guts.”
After Lu Yan’s group drove off, Instructor K adjusted the program and opened a beast enclosure.
Xiao Xun was fully focused on his target through the scope when the ragdoll-cat omega guarding beneath the tree suddenly stood up, alert. “Something’s moving.”
Xiao Xun turned just as a metallic mechanical wolf burst out of the dense forest, baring sharp fangs as it lunged at him.
He immediately flipped off the banyan tree to dodge, rolling on the ground with his sniper rifle and firing a quick shot straight into the wolf’s core. As he reloaded, another wolf charged from behind. He instantly switched to the rifle on his back, sliding low beside the ragdoll omega as the wolf pounced—and blew its head apart with a single shot.
After dealing with the two mechanical wolves, Xiao Xun climbed back to his original position and resumed aiming through his scope, focused on the enemy.
Behind the monitors, the instructors clicked their tongues in approval. “Not bad.”
Watching the remaining numbers on the field, Bai Chunian turned to Instructor K once more when casualties exceeded half. “Release Phase Two.”
Moments later, the task notification appeared on the map.
Lu Yan’s team was locked in chaotic combat with Bi Lanxing’s group. Xiao Xun had already sniped two of their members, but one omega on Lu Yan’s side had been killed by Bi Lanxing’s toxic vines. In the midst of the intense fight, the mission alert sounded.
“All surviving trainees, attention. Phase Two mission has been issued: seven armed terrorists have infiltrated the southeastern temple ruins of Red Heart Island. Eliminate all targets before the end of the evaluation. If all trainees are eliminated, the mission is considered a failure. Target profiles will now be displayed.”
Lu Yan ducked behind an abandoned warehouse and quickly reviewed the mission details.
“Seven…” He swallowed. “What is this? Definitely Old Nie’s idea.”
Having spent some time at the training base, Lu Yan had learned Bai Chunian’s nickname well.
The alert sounded again.
“Phase Two mission hint: locate a support unit within the map to assist with the assault. Support unit profile displayed below.”
Lan Bo’s photo appeared prominently on the screen.