# 103
Chapter 103
Regret
Lin Qiye’s lips curved upward at the words.
He flipped the small knife in his hand and slipped through the forest like a ghost. Now he held nothing back, pushing his speed to the absolute limit. Although that mysterious artifact suppressed most abilities, its effect on [Starry Night Dancer] was weak. At this moment he was like a gamer who’d activated every cheat: “night vision,” “double recovery,” “super stamina,” “double speed,” and “full-map reveal.”
On the instructors’ trackers, Lin Qiye was streaking across the entire Mount Jinnan in a straight line for the opposite slope.
The four buses carrying the other recruits had long since left; only one vehicle loaded with supplies and instructors now rolled toward the exit in the darkness. The drones’ batteries died and they were forced to return to base; the medics who had been chasing him began to falter, were gradually dropped, and finally lost him completely. If not for the little red dot still racing across the map, the instructors would have thought he’d vanished.
Nine hours into Mount Jinnan…
Ten hours…
The instructors’ bus had already reached the far side. They climbed out, raised their night-vision binoculars, and scanned the ridgeline.
“How much longer?”
“Very close… Only two hours—how is this possible?” The instructor holding the tablet couldn’t help exclaiming. “Even if the [Town-Ruin Stele] can’t fully suppress his Forbidden Ruins, this speed is insane! Did he turn into a ghost and float out?”
“Are all Agents of Gods this monstrous? What was Wang Mian’s record?” Instructor Han Li asked.
“Best time was six hours, but that was near graduation. In the five extreme-training runs before that, he never once made it all the way through.” Instructor Hong stared at the black peak ahead. “The training ground wasn’t Mount Jinnan then, but the terrain was almost identical—Jinnan’s even rougher. Not just him; in the entire history of the recruit camp you can count the cadets who actually finished on one hand. Nobody has ever cleared it on the first try.”
“If Lin Qiye really walks out of there tonight, he’ll have written a new page in camp history…”
“He’s almost out.” The instructor’s voice cut in again.
Everyone fell silent, binoculars lifted.
A mud-smeared youth stepped slowly from the shadow of the mountain. His uniform was shredded by branches and stained with earth; his cap was gone. He clutched the little knife so tightly blood dripped from his palm.
Moonlight revealed a handsome, exhausted face. He walked up to the instructors and stopped.
“Does this count as finished?” he rasped.
The instructors were stunned. After a moment Instructor Hong stepped forward and clapped his shoulder.
“You finished,” he said. “You made history.”
Lin Qiye swayed. Instructor Hong caught him before he hit the ground.
He was spent. Even with [Starry Night Dancer], the brutal pace had pushed him far past any normal limit—then shattered it. He had reached this point not only on the strength of the night but on sheer stubborn will.
Instructor Hong helped him sit. Instructor Han Li passed over a canteen and gave a big thumbs-up.
“Awesome!”
Lin Qiye smiled weakly, tipped the canteen back, and drank in long gulps. Ten hours with only a mouthful of stream water—his throat was on fire.
“Easy, easy,” Han Li clucked.
“Just remembered something.”
“What?”
“You still owe me compensation,” Lin Qiye said seriously.
“Compensation?” Han Li blinked; he’d arrived only this morning and knew nothing of yesterday’s mock battle between the recruits and Mask. The other instructors looked away, embarrassed.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get it. Drop by my office tomorrow,” Instructor Hong said, twirling a ring between his fingers.
“All right.” Lin Qiye nodded.
“As the history-maker, care to take a forfeit?”
Lin Qiye blinked. “I succeeded—why a forfeit?”
“Just for fun. No one else can hear. One question.”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Fine.”
He took the [Ring of Truth] and slipped it onto his ring finger.
Instructor Hong wrestled with the choice, then asked the single question.
“What is your greatest regret in life?”
Lin Qiye froze.
He didn’t know the answer himself. There were plenty of regrets: climbing the roof that night, seeing the Seraph, losing his eyesight and the ordinary childhood everyone else took for granted; falling from that roof and being locked in a psychiatric ward, labeled a freak; failing to give Aunt and A Jin a better life… His life seemed woven of tragedies—of regrets.
He stared into the dark sky for a long time, then spoke the answer he had buried deepest:
“I couldn’t save him…”
…
In a daze, Baili Pangpang opened his eyes.
“Huh? Why am I in a barrel?” He stared blankly at his stark-naked self lying in a large bath-tub of foul-smelling liquid.
Instinctively he tried to climb out.
“You’d better lie still,” Lin Qiye said from the next tub.
“Qiye, what’s going on?”
“I got back later than you. No idea. Instructors prepared a medicinal bath for everyone—gets rid of fatigue, strengthens the body.”
“Then who stripped me—”
“No clue. When I arrived you were already lying there like a boiled chicken.”
“…”
Baili Pangpang scratched his head; his once-aching arms felt new again. “Works pretty well.”
“Night Watch secret recipe—of course it does.”
The dorm door opened; Cao Yuan stood in the doorway, toothbrush in mouth. “Morning. No PT today—straight to the canteen.”
“Canteen…” Baili Pangpang’s eyes lit, then dimmed.
Cao Yuan left, tossing over his shoulder: “Steamed buns, youtiao, soy milk.”
Splash!!
The white, plump Baili Pangpang shot upright, eyes round, vaulted from the barrel, shoved on his shoes and sprinted out.
Lin Qiye glanced at the forgotten clothes on Baili Pangpang’s bed…
A girl’s scream ripped through the window.