Lei Zhengyang gently closed the woman's lifeless eyes, his body surging forward like a gale-force wind.
Bullets screamed through the air, each one a promise of death, ready to erase him into the void. But in that moment, an unstoppable fury blazed in his chest, igniting a power he didn't know he possessed. His clenched fist smashed into the face of an oncoming soldier, gun raised.
Crunch! The bandit's face twisted grotesquely, his rifle clattering to the ground as he clutched his ruined features, blood pouring from his nose, eyes, mouth, and ears. His dying wail was a chilling symphony of agony.
Even Lei Zhengyang was stunned. Since when was I this strong?
With a swift kick, he sent the corpse flying, crashing into four charging rebels. His hand slipped behind his back, drawing a military dagger that gleamed with lethal intent. Moving like a shadow, he followed the airborne body. Before it hit the ground, his blade flashed.
Shrrk! The sound was like tearing through a nest of rats. Four soldiers, one hand on their guns, the other clutching their throats, stared in horror at the man before them. The air reeked of slaughter—their own blood seeping through their fingers, staining the ground.
Before their bodies collapsed, Lei Zhengyang was gone, a phantom vanishing into the chaos.
In the control room, the old man watched the blood-soaked carnage on the screens, nodding with quiet approval. No disgust, only pride. His younger self—him—had finally awakened. Not just in spirit, but in power.
If he could unleash this strength a decade earlier, he'd crush the Six Kings in their fabled war, leaving them groveling in the dirt.
"Little Phoenix," he commanded, "issue my order: escalate the training one level per week. In three months, I want him ready to inherit the Golden Dragon's power."
Instructor Two's face betrayed her reluctance, but she didn't argue. "Yes, General," she replied, her voice low.
Lei Zhengyang spent three days in that war-torn town, cutting down 214 enemies. Thirty-six fell in the rebel command center, their lives snuffed out by his blade. From the shock of his first kill to the numbing thrill of slaughter, he was like a toddler forced to run before he could walk, molded by the crucible of violence.
On the third night, he infiltrated the command center, leaving no one alive. The rebel leader met a grim end—his wrists slashed, blood draining slowly. For an hour, he lingered, eyes wide with defiance, believing he deserved a warrior's death, not this pathetic bleed-out. But death cared little for his pride.
When the town was saved, the scene dissolved. The two instructors reappeared.
"001, congratulations," Instructor One said. "This combat training was a resounding success. As a reward, you're granted one day of rest. Tomorrow, the training escalates one level. Prepare yourself."
With that, he vanished. Instructor Two approached, her gaze different—softer, almost unsettling. Lei Zhengyang's skin crawled.
"Hey, Instructor Two, I'm not into… whatever you are. Save it for someone else. I'm off to rest." It was his first break in this hellhole, a rare treasure he wouldn't squander.
Normally, she'd snap at his jabs, but this time, she stayed calm. "001, a warning: the training intensifies every week. There's no backing out. To survive, use any means necessary. I mean any. You could even attack your instructors—slice me down if you want. Understood?"
Her words lingered, heavy with hidden meaning, but she left before he could question her. Lei Zhengyang didn't dwell on it. In this Hellfire Training Camp, conserving energy was survival. Danger lurked everywhere, and only strength would carry him through the 365 days the old man had promised.
The next day, he stood before a primeval forest. The instructors laid out the mission. "001, your task is to cross this forest. It's rigged with 36 traps and guarded by 24 snipers. Kill them or evade them—your choice. Reach the red flag, and you've won. Begin."
Lei Zhengyang was used to Instructor One's icy demeanor and didn't bother asking questions. He turned to enter the forest, but Instructor Two stopped him.
"001, this is the start of your Death Training. I hope you make it through." She held out a beaded bracelet. "Take this. It was my grandmother's, blessed by a high monk, imbued with spiritual power. It might just save your life."
A trinket from her? Lei Zhengyang wanted nothing to do with it—her gifts made his skin crawl. But before he could refuse, she was gone. Throwing it away felt wrong, so he slipped it onto his wrist, planning to return it later.
As he entered the forest, Instructor One blocked Instructor Two's path, his voice sharp. "Little Phoenix, giving him that bracelet was a mistake. We exist in different timelines. He has one year—success or failure, he'll vanish. Every item you give him risks destabilizing both timelines. It's reckless."
Her usual coy smile was gone, replaced by a cold glare. "Relax, I've checked. This bracelet won't disrupt the timeline, so you don't need to worry, Head Instructor. Oh, and since I'm a 'freak,' keep your distance."
Instructor One, usually unflappable, faltered. He could see she was genuinely angry. "Little Phoenix, don't be mad," he said, softening. "We grew up together—you know how I feel about you. My Golden Dragon power's at the third level now; I'm not unworthy of you. Let's not fight over someone who doesn't even exist, alright?"
She spun around, her voice dripping with disdain. "Don't act like we're close. We're just colleagues. You're you, I'm me. We're not friends."
With that, she strode off, leaving Instructor One stewing in frustration.
He glared at the forest, muttering through gritted teeth, "This is all your fault, you bastard, flirting with my woman. I'll make you pay."
Raising his wrist, he tapped a sleek, futuristic watch, tweaking a few settings. The Hellfire Training Camp was just a program, but an advanced one, capable of crafting hyper-realistic virtual worlds. Instructor One's changes were simple: he doubled the number of traps and snipers in the forest.