During evening class, a temporary announcement summoned all trainees to the tactical demonstration hall. After dinner, students trickled into the hall in small groups.
Little Clownfish and the Firefly clutched notebooks, trying to blend with the larger crowd. The Firefly pulled him along, running to secure a spot near the front.
Bai Chunian hadn’t replied yet. The little clownfish’s stomach knotted. He tugged the Firefly. “Let’s sit in the back row…”
The Firefly disagreed. “We barely get a full assembly. I want to sit as close to the instructor as possible. If only I could sit next to him…”
The little clownfish dragged his feet backward. Suddenly, his back bumped into a solid chest. He trembled and turned around—Bai Chunian stood behind him, hands in his pockets, reaching out, palm up, open.
At this moment, most of the trainees hadn’t taken their seats yet, and all eyes were turning toward the two of them. The scene looked straight out of Domineering Instructor Falls in Love with Me: Instructor Bai reached out, firmly took him by the hand, and swept him up in a princess carry.
Little Clownfish drooped his eyelids, pulling his phone from his pocket and placing it into Bai Chunian’s hand.
Bai Chunian confiscated it and casually tucked it into his own pocket, walking on as if nothing had happened.
“…How unfortunate. How did he know you were sneaking a phone?” the Firefly whispered from behind Little Clownfish, quietly watching Bai Chunian move ahead. “And he didn’t get angry, didn’t punish you? Instructor must be in a really good mood today…”
Every full assembly was usually a public display of discipline, replaying trainees’ every success and mistake on the big screen. But this time, the start brought something new.
A new instructor had joined the special training base.
Bai Chunian lazily leaned in his seat, tapped the speaker twice to test the sound, and the hall immediately fell silent.
“Let me introduce a new instructor: Han Xingqian. There will be an additional biochemistry class in the schedule.”
The already tight and grueling weekly timetable would now include a challenging new course. The audience groaned, and the bolder ones asked, “Why?”
“No why. I make the rules here.” Bai Chunian twirled a pen between his fingers. “Alright, let’s start the review.”
Each instructor compiled highlights and mistakes of their students, showing them on the big screen.
Bi Lansheng’s practical skills had improved at lightning speed, and many clips would be analyzed individually for his thought process.
Dai Ning was particularly displeased. Bi Lansheng had originally been his student, but after the monthly exam, Red Crab had forcibly taken him, arguing that the Arrow Poison Wood gland was meant for tactical use, and studying combat was a waste of his strengths. The two instructors had clashed fiercely, eventually deciding that Bi Lansheng would be assessed in both combat and tactics, and whichever score was higher would determine whose student he became.
Indeed, Bi Lansheng’s adaptability made him more suited to overseeing the whole field. Tactical classes benefited him more, which was Bai Chunian’s intention. Combat training was just to build a foundation and ensure self-defense.
Speaking of Bi Lansheng, Instructor Red Crab couldn’t get enough of him. It was rare to see a student with such tactical talent—young yet high-ranking, and humble in personality. Red Crab wished he could prepare every meal for him himself.
No one knew the trainees’ origins. Each was carefully selected and screened by headquarters to ensure no ties or interests with other factions for three generations. Some students’ backgrounds were even unknown to Bai Chunian. Their identities were strictly confidential—heroes without concern for origin.
This system prevented the external culture of cliques, comparisons, and bullying common in aristocratic military schools. All necessities were provided by the training base. Being bullied didn’t mean you had family backing, and offending wealthy students didn’t matter—the rules valued ability above all. Bai Chunian often said: “Others don’t get weaker because you look down on them, and you won’t get stronger by despising others.”
Most trainees had grown used to Bi Lansheng’s daily spectacular performances. Over time, he blended in with the group. Admirers whistled and winked at him; the jealous vowed to beat him next test.
Sniping instructor Lorenz also played clips of his students—young snipers in ghillie suits patrolling the valley. Becoming a competent sniper required immense time and resources, and those with natural talent were rare. Most trainees were hawk-alphas.
Among the footage appeared a Lingti omega, visible for only a few seconds.
Xiao Xun froze when he saw himself, suddenly aware of all eyes seemingly on him. Goosebumps rose on his arms, and he wished he could slip into a crack and hide.
A nudge from the student to his right broke his thoughts.
Startled, Xiao Xun whispered, “Sorry.”
The other replied, “How can you aim so fast? Amazing. Please, teach me.”
Slowly, Xiao Xun raised his eyes, meeting his gaze uncomfortably. In a quiet voice he said, “I… haven’t trained, but I have some tricks… I’ll tell you in class tomorrow.”
“Great, great!” The hawk-alpha tore a piece of paper from his notebook, wrote his name and number, and handed it over, asking Xiao Xun to do the same.
Xiao Xun pursed his lips, took the pen, and wrote Xiao Xun.
“Damn, that sounds good.” The hawk-alpha tore the paper in half, giving one half to Xiao Xun—they had exchanged names and numbers.
Other sniping students noticed and began passing over notes. All were alphas, and seeing an omega was rare, especially one so strong.
Xiao Xun quietly folded each note neatly, tore a piece of paper from his notebook to wrap them, and tucked it into his training uniform pocket.
Suddenly, he felt a gaze upon him. Looking up, he caught Han Xingqian at the front instructor’s desk. By coincidence, their eyes met.
Xiao Xun quickly lowered his head, only daring to look again two minutes later. Han Xingqian was focused on the screen, occasionally jotting notes in a notebook. He wore a short-sleeved camo jacket, neatly buttoned to the top, with a delicate chain from his gold-rimmed glasses resting calmly on his shoulder.
The session ended around nine in the evening. The rest of the time, trainees had free rein. Those wanting late-night snacks or billiards had an entertainment hall; fitness enthusiasts had access to professional equipment. For extra training, each range had night-shift security staff available.
Xiao Xun followed the crowd toward the hall’s exit, coincidentally in the same direction as Han Xingqian and Bai Chunian, who were chatting casually as they walked.
He hesitated, unsure whether to keep moving. Before he could decide, the rest of the trainees had cleared out. If he ran now, it would be too obvious.
Bai Chunian passed by, pausing to ask, “How’s it feel? More than you’d learn at home, right?”
In the Lingti household, omegas weren’t allowed to train alongside alphas, not even the legitimate heirs.
Xiao Xun nodded. “Teacher Lorenz taught me to keep a sniper log. Every shot records weapon type, ammo caliber, scope, weather, altitude and temperature, sun position, distance estimate, target speed, barrel heat, and shooting results.”
Every skilled sniper maintained a log to preserve experience, develop precise muscle memory, and sharpen their thought processes. Xiao Xun had never encountered anything like this—it was like stepping into a whole new world.
“Good. Go tidy up.” Bai Chunian pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.
“Well…” Xiao Xun hesitated, then softly said, “Thank you.”
Bai Chunian lit a cigarette, holding it between his lips. “Mm, no need.”
Xiao Xun dared not look at Han Xingqian and didn’t know what else to say. Hugging his notebook, he turned to leave.
“Give me your phone.” Han Xingqian suddenly spoke.
Xiao Xun froze, stiffly turned, and obediently handed over his phone.
“Anything else?”
Thinking he meant other electronics, Xiao Xun shook his head.
Han Xingqian glanced at the bulging pocket filled with notes.
Bai Chunian, never one for unnecessary words when confiscating things, said, “Take it out.”
Reluctantly, Xiao Xun removed the pile of notes and slowly placed them in Bai Chunian’s hand. “Nothing else.”
Seeing his pitiful puppy eyes, Bai Chunian almost felt like teasing him a little. He tore open the outer wrapper of the notes right in front of him. “Heh, barely any class time and already this many notes. Trying to rebel, huh?”
Xiao Xun’s lashes drooped, trembling like a thin insect wing.
Han Xingqian pressed Bai Chunian’s hand down, took the notes, and tucked them into his own pocket. “Go. Focus in class next time.”
Facing the two alphas’ imposing presence, Xiao Xun had never seen anything like it. He fled, heart racing, as soon as he cleared their view.
Once the hallway emptied, Bai Chunian leaned against the railing, nearly laughing out loud.
“Look at those eyes—so round,” he said, smoke pinched between his fingers, comparing notes with Han Xingqian. “So timid, I can make him squeal if I pinch him. First time I met him, I scared him to tears—laughed my ass off.”
“If I catch you scaring him again, I’m going back to the medical society,” Han Xingqian warned.
“…Huh?” Bai Chunian stopped in front of him, hands in his pockets.
Han Xingqian raised an eyebrow. “You’re being unusually mischievous today. With Lan Bo gone, you’re getting bold.”
Bai Chunian bit the spent cigarette. “Well, I have a family, after all.”
“I recently received a report from the medical society.” Han Xingqian adjusted his glasses. “The Caribbean’s environment is deteriorating faster than it can be reversed. There are also reports of deep-sea monsters attacking merchant ships. This is abnormal.”
“Remember that AC accelerator we switched at the ocean park with Lan Bo? We tracked its trajectory.”
“The subject injected with the AC accelerator was a giant octopus, experimental number 809, dubbed the ‘Kraken’ by the lab. Once the drug took effect, it matured, grew 3,000 times in size, easily swallowed its transport vessel, and is now roaming the Atlantic. Its path suggests it might reach the Caribbean.”
“You should know, subjects cultivated from embryos in Lab 109 are of two types: human-derived, resembling humans; and animal-derived, resembling their original species. The latter are harder to cultivate but far stronger.”