At the hour of Mao (5-7 AM) on the second day, they continued their unwavering routine of long-distance running with weights.

The recruits were in agony, as today brought additional inspections on top of yesterday’s training. All recruits wore uniform red training clothes, and their appearance had to be impeccable during morning roll call. This included their beds, which despite being disheveled during sleep, had to be neatly made before departure. Those with messy quarters would be assigned an additional lap.

Lap after lap being added – who could endure it? Amidst cries of despair, the recruits quickly learned to maintain proper military discipline and appearance. In just over half a month, though these recruits hadn’t yet mastered weapons or formations, their military bearing had become quite impressive.

He Yan observed this with admiration, thinking that while Xiao Jue might be a bit harsh, his methods were quite effective. Compared to Commander Xiao, He Yan felt her previous training methods had been far too lenient.

As the saying goes, “Excessive kindness cannot command troops, just as excessive righteousness cannot guard wealth.” It seemed she still had much to learn from Xiao Jue.

As the recruits ran lap after lap, the instructors chatted during their break.

Head Instructor Shen Han looked toward Liang Ping and asked, “Where’s that one from your unit… you know, that weakest recruit?”

Over these days, everyone had come to know about the weakest recruit among the new arrivals at Liangzhou Guard – one of Instructor Liang’s soldiers. Small in stature with terrible stamina, he always fell far behind during morning runs. While this might be overlooked for a day or two, after three days, nearly everyone knew about this person.

He had become notorious for his weakness.

“You mean He Yan?” Liang Ping gestured toward the mountain path, saying, “Up ahead, see that one running with the middle group? That’s him.”

Shen Han looked over and saw the youth running with sandbags on his back. Though everyone wore the same red training clothes, the recruit was easily spotted due to his unusually small and weak stature.

Shen Han was surprised, “He hasn’t fallen behind?”

“How could he?” A complex expression crossed Liang Ping’s face. “That kid has an iron will.”

Truth be told, Liang Ping hadn’t thought much of He Yan at first. In his many years as an instructor, he’d seen countless recruits and could usually judge at a glance whether someone had the potential to become a fierce warrior. He Yan’s physical attributes were simply too poor. He seemed to have grown up pampered, with barely any strength. On the first day of morning runs, he’d been completely exhausted. Liang Ping had immediately concluded: that he could only serve as a cooking soldier.

Unexpectedly, though physically weak, the youth had a strong spirit. Even though he always brought up the rear, he kept running with the unit. Liang Ping had noticed that from day one until now, he had never tried to slack off, just earnestly running.

For a fallen noble’s son serving as a common soldier to show such determination and perseverance was already remarkable. Moreover, He Yan wasn’t running in vain.

She seemed to have grasped certain techniques or perhaps had gradually adapted to running with weights. From initially falling multiple laps behind, to gradually reducing the gap, to now barely keeping up with the unit. Liang Ping even had the strange feeling that if this continued for a few more days, he might even end up running at the front.

As he pondered this, he heard Shen Han’s voice beside him.

“What good is determination? Natural ability is a natural ability. Even if he can barely keep up with the running, the later skills training will still be too demanding… I wonder if he can even pass the skills assessment.”

Before skills training began, the final morning run would evaluate the recruits’ physical condition and potential. Those who fell too far behind wouldn’t even get a chance at skills training. With limited manpower, they couldn’t waste resources on unpromising recruits.

The war was cruel, and before facing its cruelty, they could only select those capable of bearing such hardships.

“I think he can make it,” said Liang Ping.

Shen Han looked at him, as did the other nearby instructors. Someone said, “Instructor Liang, are you sure? Don’t misjudge. You know that in all these years, such weak individuals… never survive on the battlefield.”

Even so… Liang Ping smiled, “As you know, ‘The spirit grows stronger through hundreds of trials, its sharp edge never dulling.’ Who can say for certain?”

He looked toward He Yan. The youth’s forehead was covered in sweat. In the summer heat, his fellow runners wore expressions of gritted teeth and impatience, but he alone maintained a bright smile, showing no signs of complaint.

Such determination was truly rare.

…

He Yan was unaware of being the subject of the instructors’ discussion. After completing her final lap and setting down the sandbags, Hong Shan came up and punched her shoulder.

“Hey, good job, kid! You’ve got something,” Hong Shan stroked his chin while looking him over. “Now that you can keep up with us, you must be happy about not having to become a cooking soldier?”

He Yan laughed heartily, “That’s wonderful.”

Seeing her much-improved condition compared to the near-collapse of previous days, Hong Shan felt happy for her. Just then, Xiao Mai waved to them from afar, “Brother He, Brother Shan, hurry up! We have meat buns today!”

After being here so long, they finally got some meat. He Yan’s mouth watered at the news. Hong Shan also licked his lips, saying, “Finally some good food. Come on, let’s hurry!”

There was thin porridge in iron pots, one bowl per person, and beside them were large wooden tubs of steaming meat buns, their aroma wafting from far away. The soldier in charge of distribution stood before the tubs, allowing one bun per person.

He Yan received her portion.

Holding her porridge bowl and seeing no empty seats, she thought to find a shady spot to eat. From afar, she spotted the clever Xiao Mai waving to her from under a tree, having found a good spot in the shade.

He Yan started walking over.

She had only gone halfway when someone suddenly brushed past her shoulder roughly, making her stumble and spill half her bowl of porridge.

Her meat bun also slipped from her grasp. As she reached to catch it, a hand shot out and snatched it away.

She steadied herself and found herself facing a tall, muscular man with a small mustache and an old scar running from his left forehead to his cheek, his appearance exuding a bandit-like aura. Having grabbed the meat bun, he acted as if it were perfectly natural and continued walking without even glancing at He Yan.

A foot extended in front of the man.

The man paused and looked at the person before him.

The youth withdrew his foot, still wearing a polite smile as if not understanding what had just happened. She said, “Brother, you seem to have taken something by mistake.”

“That bun in your hand is mine.”

Scar Face gave him an odd look, then suddenly burst out laughing as if hearing a great joke. He spoke in a harsh, unpleasant voice, “Do you know what you’re saying?”

“I said,” the youth replied calmly, “That bun in your hand is mine.”