# 70
Chapter 70 – A Bond Stronger Than Gold
A moment later, an instructor stepped out from behind the gate and gave him a surprised once-over.
“New recruit?”
“Yes.”
“Name?”
“Lin Qiye.”
The instructor’s burly frame shook; he studied Lin Qiye as if staring at a priceless treasure.
“You… are Lin Qiye?”
Lin Qiye’s scalp prickled. “That’s me. Is there a problem?”
“None.” The instructor shook his head and pushed open the camp gate. “You’re the first to arrive this year—come in.
Name’s Hong Hao. I’ll be your instructor.”
“Good morning, Instructor Hong.” Lin Qiye walked in politely.
Instructor Hong nodded. “Kid, you’re early—lucky you. I’ll give you the grand tour myself.”
He led Lin Qiye through the empty camp. The place was far larger than expected. Nothing here was flimsy canvas or plywood; every building looked cast from some unknown material, seamless with the ground, as though the structures had grown straight out of the earth.
Lines painted the ground with obsessive precision: pedestrian lanes, vehicle lanes, landmarks for cafeteria, dormitories… The color-coded thickness soothed even the worst OCD. Had Lin Qiye not known this had been wilderness a month ago, he’d have sworn the base had taken years to finish.
Army trucks roared past, crates of supplies, food, water, weapons, bedding—one truck was stuffed to the brim with explosives.
Lin Qiye’s mouth twitched; suddenly the camp’s safety rating dropped a few points in his head.
Up to now he’d never had real group training—blind since primary school, he’d skipped every military drill in middle and high school and barely attended PE. If he hadn’t kept fit on his own, he’d be a wreck.
“That’s the training ground—most physical conditioning happens there.” Instructor Hong pointed at an airfield-sized expanse. “Phys-ed is priority. You look average; expect pain.”
“Cafeteria—place you’ll love and hate for the next year.”
“Classrooms—for theory.”
“Those derelict buildings—mobility course: urban combat, rappelling, zip-lines…”
“Range over there…”
“…”
Lin Qiye memorized each site, curiosity and anticipation rising.
“What’s that—a tuck-shop?” He pointed at a small store.
It looked like any school concession: single-story, shelves crammed with daily necessities. A cluster of instructors stood outside, arguing about cigarette brands on the wall.
“Supply station,” Instructor Hong said.
“Camp’s completely closed; money’s useless. Break or lose anything—get a new one here. Bread, water, smokes—fixed monthly quota, more than enough.”
As they passed, the instructors inside noticed something and turned in unison, whispering and pointing at Lin Qiye.
He frowned. “Why are they staring?”
“A Seraph’s proxy is rare—they’re curious.”
“No proxy has ever trained here before?”
“Sure.” Instructor Hong nodded. “Last proxy who graduated is now captain of the Mask Squad.”
“Mask Squad?” Lin Qiye blinked; Wen Qimo had mentioned them. “Which god’s proxy is he?”
“You’ll find out in a couple of days.” Instructor Hong smiled and said no more.
They reached a dense block of buildings. “Dormitory area—double rooms. First come, first pick.”
Lin Qiye wandered the block and chose the best-lit, south-facing room.
“Good eye. Registered.” Instructor Hong jotted the number. “Training starts in three days. Rest while you can—once it begins, you won’t have a spare minute.”
He left. Lin Qiye was alone.
The room was cleaner but sparser than expected: a low plank bed hard enough to bruise, no AC, not even a fan.
He was used to roughing it. He unpacked, made the bed, lay down.
No signal, no phone—three days alone would drive him crazy.
Luckily he still had the Asylum of the Gods in his head. Bored? Drink tea with Nyx, play chess with Li Yide in the activity room—time flew.
Next morning he hit the supply station for rations; the cafeteria wasn’t open yet.
Returning, he found several people outside his room.
“Young master, I checked every room—this one’s best: warm in winter, cool in summer, perfect sunlight!” A fawning man bustled beside a chubby boy.
“Tsk, Cangnan’s nothing like Guangshen—poor, shabby… Look at these walls—peel off in sheets! And this bed—can a human sleep on it? Young master, let’s go home! No need to suffer!”
The little fatty stuck his chest out. “Bullshit! I came to suffer—I’m staying! Open the door; I’m moving in!”
The man unlocked it, froze.
“Who’s so clueless? Took the young master’s room! Quick—grab that trash and toss it! Filthy!”
Bodyguards lunged for Lin Qiye’s belongings.
A cold glint flashed in Lin Qiye’s eyes.
Heh—classic rich brat bullies commoner; face-slap incoming—my favorite script!
Just as he stepped forward, the little fatty kicked the lackey square in the butt.
“Damn your mother! This is a double room—my roommate’s stuff! Touch a single item and I’ll break your legs! ‘Filthy’? I hate snobs like you—scram!”
The man scrambled out, slapping himself.
“Bring my roommate’s welcome gifts! I’ll wait right here—let him see what ‘love at first sight, a bond stronger than gold’ means!”
Lin Qiye: ( ゜-゜)？