Chapter Sixteen: Hardships at Their End (Part One)

All the way there, Zhao Li kept pondering what this "Special Logistics" department really was, and what kind of unit it belonged to. Among all the new recruits, not a single one seemed to know. Even the instructor, when reading out the group assignments, had looked puzzled, as if he couldn’t make sense of what this department actually did.

Could it be...? Suddenly, Zhao Li felt a chill run down his spine. Was it a secret experimental unit? Was he still doomed to end up as a lab rat? He couldn’t help but grow nervous. The more he thought about it, the more the word “special” seemed to encompass too much—anything was possible.

In the end, Zhao Li had to force himself into a training state to temporarily push aside these frightening thoughts, which finally brought him a measure of calm.

The flight wasn’t long, and Zhao Li had no idea where they’d landed—most likely, they were still within the larger training base. As the hatch opened and the bright light flooded in, Zhao Li took several deep breaths, gritted his teeth, and strode out to meet a future he could not predict.

Fortunately, there wasn’t a single white lab coat in sight, which put Zhao Li greatly at ease. Ahead, a small group was already assembled, about a dozen people standing together in silence. Judging by their uniforms, they too were new recruits, likely assigned to this Special Logistics department as well.

“Recruit Zhao Li?” Standing at the front of the group was a man unmistakably an instructor. Before Zhao Li could speak, the man had already called his name.

“Yes, sir!” No lab coats—he wasn’t a lab rat! Zhao Li’s spirits immediately soared, and his reply was full of vigor.

“Fall in!” The command was sharp and unmistakable. Zhao Li quickly ran to the end of the line and stood at attention. It seemed his late arrival had annoyed the instructor, but that wasn’t his fault—the pilot had flown the ship too slowly.

“Very good, everyone’s here,” the instructor said, pacing in front of them as though memorizing each face.

“My name is Xiao Qiang. I am your instructor for this term.” Standing in the middle of the line, the instructor bellowed, “Now, everyone, right turn—double time, march!”

As the ship that had dropped Zhao Li off lifted off, he finally saw that this was a large training field. Everyone looked as though they’d just reported for duty, each carrying a standard-issue, fully packed backpack—heavy and unwieldy. There was no time to rest; they were immediately ordered to run.

They circled the field, and there was no sign that they’d stop soon. No need to ask—this was the new instructor’s way of asserting control. Best to run obediently!

Fortunately, Zhao Li was well prepared. Before leaving, he’d supervised his own team to make sure their packs were securely fastened, and of course he’d done the same for his own. Despite the continuous running, his pack didn’t become a burden.

Some of the other new recruits weren’t so lucky—some couldn’t even finish a single lap before their packs started coming apart. But an order was an order. After the rigorous training of the first and second phases, no one dared tend to their scattered belongings. They kept their ranks, stepping in unison, running steadily forward.

After several laps, only Zhao Li and three others still maintained a proper military bearing. For the rest, their packs were coming apart. Who would have thought that reporting for duty wouldn’t mean heading to the dorms to settle in, but endless running instead?

They ran in this disciplined formation for a full four hours. The pace wasn’t fast, but the rhythm was constant, and everyone managed to persevere.

It wasn’t until the sun was nearly down that the instructor finally ordered them to go to their assigned dorms, according to the names on the doors, and get organized. At the end of the run, at least a dozen people were left staring tearfully at their scattered personal items, now mixed with others’ gear all over the field.

The conditions here were much improved; at least everyone had their own room. Zhao Li settled in quickly, then hurried back to the field. After making several trips helping others collect scattered belongings, he’d basically learned the names of all twenty of his teammates.

The training base wasn’t large, so perhaps the number of trainees was small as well. In any case, Zhao Li had only seen two squads—twenty people, a far cry from the company of a hundred he’d started with.

“I know you’re all very curious—just what kind of unit is the Special Logistics Department?” Instructor Xiao Qiang, dressed in his training uniform, stood before the twenty new recruits, bellowing as usual.

“Let me tell you: our department doesn’t belong to any branch of the military.” At these words, though no one dared whisper, the glint of curiosity and eagerness in the recruits’ eyes made Xiao Qiang feel almost elated.

“Not belonging to any branch doesn’t mean we’re a special forces unit,” he continued, dashing their hopes with a wave of cold water.

Seeing the undisguised disappointment in their eyes, Xiao Qiang seemed rather pleased. “Good, at least you’re prepared for pressure.” The remark was cryptic—no one knew quite what he meant.

“But, even though we don’t belong to any branch, we can manage any branch.” With that, everyone’s spirits soared from the depths to the heights.

Manage any branch? Zhao Li’s mind spun—was that possible? Did such a unit exist? Apart from high-ranking generals or marshals, who could manage all branches? And just these few dozen new recruits?

Not just Zhao Li; everyone was puzzled. What kind of department could oversee every branch? Then it hit them—the word "logistics." Indeed, no branch could function without logistics. In that sense, perhaps they really could oversee everything.

“But!” Instructor Xiao delivered another twist, and by now everyone was getting used to it. “We cannot manage everyone in the other branches—only a very small portion.” Everyone waited quietly for the answer, eager to solve the mystery.

“And that small portion,” Xiao Qiang said with relish, “are those who have made mistakes. We call them prisoners!”

Prisoners? That word flashed through everyone’s mind.

“That’s right!” Xiao Qiang confirmed their thoughts. “Our department manages the military’s prisoners—in other words, what’s usually called the prison administration. And you—are what people commonly call prison guards, or in ancient times, jailers!”

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