Chapter 174: Instructor! Please!

The establishment and operation of the "Wind Rises Future Fund" was like dropping a strategic depth charge into a calm lake, its ripples quietly reshaping the global scientific and capital landscape. But beyond public view, another, more secretive operation—focused on honing Qin Feng's sharpest blade—was raging within the "Zhu Long" Base—"Deepsea".

Qin Feng knew that possessing the two ultimate functions, "Super Technology" and "Wealth Prediction," along with nearly limitless capital, did not mean he could rest easy. The closer he drew to the peak, the more lethal the hidden dangers might become. "Zhu Long," as his core military guarantee and execution arm, must match, even surpass, the speed of his power's expansion.

Therefore, after briefly returning to Yunding Mansion to handle fund affairs, he came again to the "Deepsea" Base.

This time, he did not come as Leader to inspect—he came as… Chief Instructor, stepping down himself.

Inside the base's deepest level, the full-environment simulation training ground codenamed "Purgatory."

Eight Phase One "Zhu Long" members, plus four outstanding Phase Two recruits added later, twelve in total, lay sprawled on the cold, hard floor like they'd been dragged from water, gasping for breath, their combat suits soaked in sweat, fingers too numb to twitch.

They had just finished a seventy-two-hour, near-nonstop extreme comprehensive drill—extreme simulated environments, high-intensity combat, and bizarre battlefield traps and technologies designed by Qin Feng using "Super Technology" knowledge—all had crushed their physical strength, spirit, and will to their limits.

Even with their constantly upgrading "Living Performance Mobile Battle Armor," they felt as if their bones had been shattered and their souls hollowed out.

And Qin Feng stood before them.

He wore no battle armor—only a simple black training suit, posture erect, breath steady, barely a drop of sweat on his skin. A stark contrast to the collapsed, groaning team members.

His gaze swept calmly over every face etched with exhaustion and Pain, his voice low but clear to every ear, carrying a chilling edge:

"You can't even hold out now?"

"If that radiation dust had been real, your genes would already be collapsing."

"If the neurotoxin concentration had been five percent higher, you'd now be drooling idiots."

"If the electromagnetic pulse had extended ten meters further, your armor would be scrap metal—and you, lambs waiting for slaughter."

Each of his words struck like a whip across their hearts, refocusing their scattered eyes with shame and defiance.

"I know what you're thinking," Qin Feng walked up to the burly recruit codenamed "Panshi," looking down at him. "You think you're elite now—wearing the best armor, having completed dangerous missions—you can relax, you can sleep on your laurels."

"Bullshit!"

Qin Feng's voice suddenly rose, laced with lethal killing intent, making the entire training ground tremble!

"Real enemies won't give you time to prepare! They won't play by your rules! They may come from places you can't comprehend, wielding powers you can't imagine! 'Deepsea Technology'? That's just an appetizer! 'Zerg Spores'? That might not even qualify as a starter!"

He spun sharply, pointing to the holographic projections along the training wall, shifting endlessly to simulate cosmic extremes:

"Look there! Extreme heat, absolute cold, vacuum, intense radiation, gravity anomalies… that's the battlefield you'll one day step onto! With your current strength, you don't even qualify as cannon fodder!"

The recruits hung their heads, faces burning. They recalled their helplessness against Zerg Spores' spiritual contamination, the soul-shaking terror beneath that alien ship's pressure—every trace of pride from past victories shattered.

"Leader… we…" The female recruit codenamed "Yingwu" struggled to rise, then collapsed again from exhaustion.

Qin Feng made no move to help, only watched her coldly: " 'Zhu Long' doesn't need waste. If you can't keep up, apply for withdrawal yourself—go to logistics, retire in comfort. I'll give you a quiet post, enough to live out your days peacefully."

"No! Instructor! We won't withdraw!" "Panshi" slammed his fist into the floor, roaring.

"We won't withdraw!"

"We can still train!"

Other recruits struggled up too, summoning their last strength to roar in unison. Withdrawal? For these proud elites who had faced death, it was worse than death itself.

Qin Feng saw the fire reignite in their eyes—mixed with Pain, shame, and resolve—and knew the moment was right.

He walked to the training console and operated a few controls.

Hum—

From the center of the training ground, twelve peculiar, coffin-like metallic pods rose.

"These are 'Neural Link Deep Simulation Pods,' built with the latest technology," Qin Feng said, voice still flat. "They simulate combat environments, Pain, and even… the sensation of death at ninety-nine percent fidelity. For the next month, your rest time will be spent inside."

Ninety-nine percent simulation of Pain and death?!

The recruits stared at the cold-glowing metal pods, throats dry. Merely hearing the description conjured unimaginable torment.

"You have three minutes to rest. After three minutes, enter the pods for the first round of 'Desperate Survival' scenario training," Qin Feng ordered.

Three minutes? What kind of rest is that?!

The recruits groaned inwardly but dared not protest—only frantically adjusted their breathing, trying to recover even a sliver of strength.

Three minutes passed in an instant.

Qin Feng's voice rang like a death knell: "Time's up. Enter the pods!"

The recruits gritted their teeth, supporting each other, stumbling toward the metal pods.

As the cold doors slowly sealed shut and the interior filled with eerie blue liquid, the suffocating terror of drowning surged instantly—someone broke.

It was a new Phase Two recruit, codenamed "Hawks," famed for agility and precision shooting. But under relentless pressure and the terror of unknown torment, his mental defenses collapsed.

"No! I won't go in! Let me out! Instructor! Please! Spare me! I can't take it!!" He screamed through the comm, pounding the closing pod door.

Inside their own pods, the other recruits heard his desperate cries, a chilling sense of shared doom rising in their chests.

Qin Feng walked to "Hawks's" pod, watching through the observation window the face twisted by terror.

"Hawks," Qin Feng's voice came through the internal comm, cold as ice, devoid of any human feeling. "Remember this feeling. Fear. Despair. The urge to quit. On a real battlefield, your enemy won't give you a chance to beg."

"I withdraw! I apply to withdraw! Instructor! Please!" "Hawks" sobbed, tears and snot streaming.

Qin Feng fell silent for several seconds—just as "Hawks" thought he saw hope—he spoke slowly:

"Application denied."

"Once you chose 'Zhu Long,' there is no retreat. Either train yourself into a true dragon… or become fuel, and burn."

With that, he ignored "Hawks's" desperate screams and pressed the start button for all pods.

A shrill, inhuman scream erupted instantly through the internal comm system—the feedback of "Hawks's" simulated "fatal attack," a sensation nearly real in its Pain.

That sound, like the cruelest war drum, hammered against every "Zhu Long" recruit's heart.

They clenched their teeth, shut their eyes, swallowing all fear and weakness, sweat and possible tears, down into their guts.

The Instructor was right. There was no retreat.

To follow that godlike Leader, to touch a wider world, to survive—they must… forge themselves into steel, temper themselves into blades!

Qin Feng stood before the console, watching the data feeds from the twelve pods—recruits contorted in Pain, gritting through agony, on the verge of collapse yet forcing their will back again—his face expressionless.

He knew it was cruel.

But this was the "Zhu Long" he needed.

A weapon of absolute loyalty, absolute resilience, absolute power—capable of tearing through all obstacles... a divine blade!

And he, was the blacksmith who wielded quenching and hammering... the Sword Forger.

Training had only just begun.