Chapter Sixteen: Exhaustion at the End (Part Two)

When everything fell apart, Zhao Li had never imagined, no matter how much he calculated, that his comprehensive psychological assessment would assign him to become a prison officer. This was far from the outcome he’d hoped for, yet it had landed upon him with stark reality.

On further reflection, perhaps being a prison officer wasn’t so bad after all. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about the outbreak of war or other sudden calamities. No matter what happened, prison guards would never be called to the front lines. Such a stable life, right up until retirement, didn't conflict with his original plans.

Soon, Zhao Li gathered his tangled thoughts. Now, what he cared most about was when he would finally gain access to the military’s combat techniques. Only on that day could he truly set his mind at ease.

Instructor Xiao Qiang had been patiently waiting as well, allowing everyone time to digest this news that would shape their futures. By now, nearly everyone had recovered their composure, so he continued his speech.

“Very well, it seems you’ve all come to terms with this arrangement.” He swept his gaze around the room. With that, those who were still wavering accepted their fate. This was the army—not some other place. Without strong connections within the military, the facts could not be changed.

“In the days ahead, you will have much to learn. I hope you will bring your utmost focus and determination, and strive to master everything.” Licking his lips, Instructor Xiao Qiang assumed a tone of responsibility: “This concerns your very safety—do not take it lightly. Because those you’ll be guarding are all criminals—the dregs of the military!”

“Their combat skills may surpass yours a hundredfold. One careless moment—a handful of seconds—and you could lose your life at their hands.” The instructor paced before them, his boots striking the ground with sharp, clear sound. “This is no idle threat. There are living examples—just recently.”

Prison guards could be injured or killed? For a moment, Zhao Li, who had been feeling a bit relieved, shuddered inwardly. But he quickly recovered his calm. Prison breaks resulting in the deaths of guards—how often could that possibly happen?

“During this phase of your training, you’ll learn prison administration, equipment operation, piloting vehicles, and a variety of related skills.” Glancing at the recruits once more, the instructor then announced the news Zhao Li most longed for: “And, genuine combat techniques!”

“Time is short. Now, if anyone has questions, speak up. I will answer them, but once training begins, there won’t be another chance.” With his hands behind his back, standing as a proper soldier, Instructor Xiao Qiang gave them this opportunity. “Who has a question? Ask now!”

“Sir!” Zhao Li was the first to call out loudly.

“Zhao Li,” the instructor responded, calling him by name. Whether it was because Zhao Li’s tardiness yesterday had left a strong impression, or because the instructor had already memorized everyone’s names, it was hard to say.

“Sir, why are only twenty trainees in this program?” This was what puzzled Zhao Li most. With millions in the Federal Standing Army, there couldn’t be only a handful of military criminals. How could so few new recruits possibly manage?

“Because in modern military prisons, very few guards are required.” The instructor did not seem annoyed by the question and answered patiently. “You’ll learn more about this in the coming courses. Any other questions?”

“For dangerous criminals, why not use highly trained special forces soldiers as guards?” Zhao Li pressed on. The small number of trainees, tasked with guarding a group of dangerous criminals—this didn’t make sense. Wouldn’t more skilled soldiers mean greater safety?

“Because training special forces is difficult and expensive. Training you costs much less.” This answer, delivered with chilling frankness, made the recruits uneasy. “And if you’re killed, the compensation paid out is cheaper as well. Are you satisfied with that answer?”

“Thank you, sir!” After only a couple of questions, the instructor’s tone shifted, and Zhao Li quickly adapted, wisely keeping silent. Only now did he recall—the instructor who’d given them all a hard lesson yesterday was not the type for endless patient explanations.

“Good. If there are no more questions, I hereby announce that this round of training begins now!” The instructor’s booming voice signaled the start of yet another grueling ordeal for Zhao Li and his fellow recruits.

Prison management was a required theoretical course, covering in detail the structure and daily operation of modern prisons. It was through these lessons that Zhao Li and the others understood why so few prison officers were needed, and why even new recruits could be assigned such positions.

Modern prisons functioned under fully automated management systems. Each prisoner’s internal energy was sealed by special methods, leaving only the basic channels for health exercises. Deprived of their energy, most prisoners posed little threat; a prison holding several hundred could be managed by just twenty personnel.

The incidents the instructor had mentioned, however, were of an entirely different nature. That particular prison had held elite special forces operatives who, for various reasons, had become prisoners. But, as Zhao Li had suspected, such cases were exceedingly rare.

In a sealed classroom, the instructor stood at the lectern, facing the rows of would-be prison guards. “Next, you will be introduced to authentic military combat techniques. Everything you’ve learned before—worthless rubbish. From this moment on, open your eyes, open your ears, and remember everything you see and hear. But keep your mouths shut—everything here is a military secret, to be kept until your dying breath.”

Zhao Li struggled to suppress his excitement, forcing himself not to leap up in anticipation, though his entire body trembled from the exhilaration.

Nearly four years had passed—from his first days practicing basic body-strengthening techniques, to laying his foundation over two years, to an extra year of cultivation, and half a year of recruit training. His practice times had shrunk from twenty minutes per cycle to less than three. From a single cycle to sixty-nine cycles, at last the moment had come to learn true combat techniques.

After so long, the constant anxiety, the exhausting secrecy, countless situations where he dared not ask for advice—all of it would finally end. From now on, Zhao Li would no longer fear becoming a lab rat. From this day forward, he would be a free man.

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