Chapter 496

"Run, run, run faster!"

"Your comrade is now seriously wounded, surrounded by the enemy, and waiting for you to rescue him!"

"The faster you go, the more chance your comrade has to survive; a single second slower, and someone will die on the battlefield because of your laziness and slackness!"

In the morning, beside a wet, muddy shallow bank ten‑some kilometers from the camp, about a dozen soldiers were trudging with heavy loads, panting heavily.

Gao Feng followed behind, holding a megaphone, shouting at them loudly.

This is a temporary, ad‑hoc heavy‑fire squad, currently twelve men.

Leading the group is Guo Yongwen, with a cannon barrel slung on his back and a bulging pack filled with many training dummy shells.

He carries so much weight that he looks as if a snail shell is hanging from his back, appearing heavy and cumbersome.

Right behind him is the strong, sweat‑drenched Kong Long.

After two and a half years of training, he can now shoulder a 53‑pound Type 89 Heavy Machine Gun and run a five‑kilometre stretch alone.

Whether in the Army or the Navy, a soldier capable of this solo feat is as rare as a phoenix feather.

Even Gao Feng remarks that none of his protein shakes are wasted, and no muscle is gained for nothing.

Behind Kong Long are several soldiers with rocket launchers strapped across their packs, each holding an ammunition box in one hand.

The heavy machine gun fires so rapidly that ammunition consumption is huge, so dedicated personnel are needed to carry ammo.

Otherwise, Kong Long alone, even if exhausted to death, couldn't carry much ammunition.

At the rear of the squad is a guy clutching a sniper rifle, exhausted like a dead dog.

Wan Baoshan is the sniper of this heavy‑fire squad, and also a fire‑observer.

Although only twelve strong, once they enter the battlefield their instantaneous firepower can crush an entire company.

As the squad's main leader, Gao Feng constantly uses the megaphone from behind to spur them forward: "Come on, come on, come on, run faster, only five hundred meters left!"

"Charge to the sandbank ahead, we'll stop to rest, then run, run; give me all the strength you have, shout it out!"

"Ahhh!"

Guo Yongwen leads the charge toward the objective.

Kong Long hoists his gun and roars as he follows.

The rest bite their teeth and sprint forward with all their might.

Only Wan Baoshan, who fell to the back, is being dragged stumbling along, constantly shouting: "Wait for me, wait for me, you guys, slower!"

Finally, the whole squad reaches the destination, each one out of breath and exhausted.

Seeing Gao Feng approach, Kong Long pants heavily and shakes his head at him.

"Can't go on, really can't, Company Commander."

"We ate too little this morning; it's all gone now."

Gao Feng glared at him: "We ate that many eggs and buns this morning, and it's already all used up now—what are you, a liar?"

Guo Yongwen added: "With Kong Long's build, burning a few hundred meat buns over a hundred kilometers is no trouble; today's Cafeteria buns did have a bit less meat filling, and only two eggs per person—indeed a bit insufficient."

Wan Baoshan plopped onto the ground, gasping, and said: "Company Commander, if future breakfasts could match the Raptor Team's standards, I promise I'll be faster than Jamaica's Bolt!"

Gao Feng laughed; these kids aren't just exhausted, they're bargaining with him.

"If you want good food, you have to fight for it yourself; as long as you deliver results to me, I can get you good meals and drinks."

"Really?"

"When have I ever failed to keep a promise?"

"Company Commander, you promised Acting Platoon Leader Guo a permanent promotion, but it's been a blank check; from the Army to the Navy, years have passed without fulfillment."

Gao Feng snapped: "This is beyond my capability!"

Kong Long: "Then how did Lu Yang manage it?"

Gao Feng: "Who else am I supposed to ask? Believe it or not, as long as you deliver results, I'm happy to pay out of my own pocket, even subsidize you monthly."

Hehe~

Hearing that, everyone laughed.

Everyone knows Gao Feng's character—once he promises something, he goes all out to fulfill it.

Fighting for a permanent spot on the roster is indeed beyond the usual authority of a company‑level commander.

Those who understand know that Lu Yang's abilities can't be measured by ordinary standards; perhaps he could even take the matter straight to the Brigade Commander.

The soldiers of the Sixth Company all recall that when Zheng Chengfeng first went to Iron Foot, he proactively reached out to shake Lu Yang's hand; getting a Colonel‑level Brigade Commander to do that is something only a handful of troops in the entire army could achieve.

Gao Feng: "But don't envy them; Zhou Kaidong and his guys didn't have such a good breakfast either—whatever they ate, they'd have to spit it all out unchanged."

"Why?"

Kong Long didn't understand: if you already ate it, how can you spit it out? Isn't that wasteful?

Guo Yongwen asked curiously: "Lu Yang drove a van and took them out this morning—could it be that he's taking them out to sea?"

He turned his head toward the relatively calm sea in the distance, puzzled: "But it's a bright, wind‑less morning; no wind, no waves. Even if they set out by boat, the tide and waves are huge at night—wouldn't that make training more effective?"

Lu Yang's training plans have always taken the unconventional route.

So, prompted by Gao Feng, he immediately thought: after a full meal, take a speedboat out to sea.

This exercise is common among many Navy amphibious reconnaissance units, intended to combat seasickness.

It's said that the harsher version even drops people far from shore, forcing them to swim back alongside the speedboat.

But his suggestion was immediately countered by Wan Baoshan: "It can't be a boat trip; if it were, there'd be no need for such a rich, greasy breakfast this morning."

"Again it's stinky big‑yuan, fatty intestines, beef offal, and pork belly..."

He stroked his chin and said, "I heard—just heard—that some domestic Special Forces train newcomers' courage by having them eat tofu pudding in advance."

Kong Long slapped his thigh: "That stuff's tasty, all swirly, and throw in two more fried dough sticks—old Daipai!"

Guo Yongwen frowned: "I think I've heard that too—on the tofu pudding you have to drizzle oily chili oil, right?"

Yes!

Some also pour sesame sauce and fermented tofu; red, translucent yellow, white — all are there!

What, pouring sesame sauce on tofu pudding? How could that be tasty? Sesame sauce belongs on malatang, plus a thick layer of powdered sugar and a dash of rice vinegar—tsk tsk tsk~

Kong Long, being a true Northeasterner, is also a seasoned foodie.

A few words were enough to get everyone's appetite going.

Whether it's sesame-sauce tofu pudding or the sticky, gooey Northeastern malatang, just hearing about it makes one hungry.

Someone pressed Wan Baoshan: 'So what exactly did you mean earlier? Why would Special Forces eat tofu pudding? What kind of training is this?'

Wan Baoshan chuckled: 'After eating the tofu pudding, they're all taken to the execution ground.'

'Taken to the execution ground for what? To be shot?'

'To watch the execution.'

Everyone was baffled.

They didn't understand what was so interesting about watching an execution.

Guo Yongwen's face suddenly darkened: 'At execution grounds, they usually shoot the prisoner in the head; one shot leaves a hole in the back of the skull, and what comes out—doesn't that look like tofu pudding, red, white, and yellow?'

'Holy shit!'

Kong Long, lost in his food fantasies, was instantly nauseated.

Others also shuddered involuntarily, their expressions turning grim.

Although they knew those executed by firing squad were heinous criminals deserving no mercy.

But imagining that scene, then thinking of the tofu pudding's soft, smooth, pig-brain-like texture, everyone felt a wave of nausea.

Guo Yongwen turned to Gao Feng and asked directly: 'Company Commander, Lu Yang wouldn't have taken them to the execution ground to watch a shooting, would he?'

Kong Long and the others widened their eyes, staring fixedly at Gao Feng, their Adam's apples bobbing up and down.

Earlier in the cafeteria, watching those guys feast on meat, mouths glistening with oil, each one envious beyond measure.

But imagining those death-row inmates, handcuffed and kneeling on the ground, trembling violently from fear, urine and feces spilling everywhere.

Then being shot in the back of the head—sometimes twice—with various colored matter spilling everywhere, they felt an inexplicable physical discomfort.

Gao Feng observed their state, unscrewed his water bottle, took a couple of sips to wet his throat, drew out the suspense, then spoke.

'Hmm, you're getting close.'

'What, it's not about watching the execution?'

'Of course not.'

'Then what are they going to do? Surely not to collect corpses?'

Gao Feng choked on the water, laughing as he pointed at Kong Long: 'Hey, yours is even closer.'

Kong Long widened his eyes: 'Really? Make them collect corpses? The Raptor Team would become a corpse-collection squad—no way would we have to mop the floors too; that's disgusting!'

Gao Feng waved his hand: 'Forget it, the training Lu Yang arranged—you'd never guess even if you cracked your skulls; I'll reveal the answer: they were taken to a local medical school to attend class.'

'What class? Nursing?'

'Anatomy.'