# 110
**Chapter 110: Crisis**
The cold wind rose; winter was coming.
On the training ground of the boot camp, more than two hundred recruits in thin black T-shirts were circling the perimeter again and again.
Five months had passed since training began. Strictly speaking, they were no longer “newbies,” yet in this one-class-per-year camp, you stayed a recruit until you stepped through the gate for good.
January was bitter. Dawn dew turned to frost, and tendrils of cold slipped under skin like tiny snakes, forcing shivers.
Baili Pangpang rubbed his cheeks, exhaled a white cloud, and sighed mournfully, “Winter mornings, up this early for laps—pure torture. I’ve lost twenty pounds, I swear.”
Lin Qiye ran with ramrod back, silent. The freezing air reddened his exposed skin, but his expression never flickered.
“Baili Tuming! Running while rubbing your face? Cold, are we?!” A sharp-eyed instructor roared.
Baili Pangpang’s face crumpled. “Reporting! I… I’m a bit cold!”
“Cold means you’re not running hard enough! After everyone finishes, you stay for five more laps!”
“Yes, sir!”
He wailed inwardly.
Five months of devil training had shrunk him from a soccer ball to something like a rugby ball. The same regimen had transformed them all—bodies harder, minds sharper. Laziness and dullness were gone, replaced by steel clarity. They were blades, honed from blunt metal to bright edges; they finally looked like soldiers.
“Fall out—eat!” the instructor barked.
Instead of stampeding, the column slid in silent unison to the mess-hall door, then split into groups and filed in.
On the frost-white field, only Baili Pangpang remained, sprinting with a tear-streaked face.
“Wait for him?” Cao Yuan asked.
Lin Qiye shook his head. “The more delicious we look eating, the faster he’ll run.”
“Makes sense.”
Since winter began, the food had improved dramatically. Every entrance brought a wave of meaty fragrance that set stomachs growling. As the recruits’ stamina rose, so did their appetites, yet the cooks gauged portions perfectly—full but never stuffed.
Lin Qiye and Cao Yuan were halfway through when a sweat-drenched Baili Pangpang burst in. “Meat buns—where are my meat buns?”
Lin Qiye slid a steamer forward. “Four left, saved for you.”
“Qiye, you read my mind!” He beamed, grabbing two buns in one hand and biting huge crescents from each.
Cao Yuan rolled his eyes.
“Hey, New Year’s soon—any holiday?” Baili Pangpang asked suddenly.
Lin Qiye blinked. Time had blurred; five months gone in a flash. Without the reminder he wouldn’t have realized it was already February.
“We’re closed-training,” Cao Yuan said. “No leave. Dream on.”
Baili Pangpang drooped. “Thought we might get a couple days… I miss my mansion, my soft bed, my pretty housekeeper sisters…”
Cao Yuan took an aggressive bite of bun.
“Come visit me in Guangzhou-Shenzhen after camp ends,” Baili Pangpang said excitedly. “I’m king there—guarantee you’ll never want to return to Cangnan.”
Cao Yuan raised a brow. “What about me?”
“You? Book a tour.”
“…”
“Guangzhou-Shenzhen…” Lin Qiye murmured. “I’ve never left Cangnan City. Could be nice.”
“If we got New Year leave, I’d take you tomorrow!”
“Forget it. For New Year’s I just want a family dinner,” Lin Qiye said quietly. “If I can’t go home, eating with the team is good enough.”
“The Night Watch team stationed in Cangnan? Captain’s… Chen Muye, right?” Baili Pangpang mused. “Cangnan’s always had plenty of mysteries. Wonder what they’re up to—probably hunting some?”
…
Instructor Office, Boot Camp.
Chen Muye sat opposite Yuan Gang. “You have to give leave.”
Yuan Gang rubbed his temples. “Captain Chen, we’re closed-training. No New Year leave—you came through here; you know the rules.”
“Then approve leave for Lin Qiye alone. Let him have reunion dinner with us.”
“Against regulations…”
“I don’t care.” Chen Muye leaned back calmly. “Believe it or not, two of my teammates are camped outside your gate. If you refuse, they’ll start a rescue mission.”
Yuan Gang inhaled. “Captain Chen… don’t make this hard.”
“Fine. If you won’t let him out, let us bring New Year’s dinner in.”
“…” Yuan Gang frowned. “Captain Chen, what are you really after? The 136 team keeps a low profile—why now?”
Chen Muye was silent, then spoke slowly: “This time is different.”
“How?”
“…Someone plans to hit the recruits.”
Yuan Gang’s face changed. “Explain.”
Chen Muye held his gaze. “Lately Cangnan’s restless—plenty of rats scurrying in.”
“Rats?”
“Don’t know which faction, but our tail says one thing for sure—”
His eyes turned razor-sharp, each word falling like a hammer:
“Their target is this camp.”