Chapter Thirteen: Special Training (Part One)

Winter is a season that makes people reluctant to get out of bed. At this time in previous years, Zhao Qiang would always lie nestled in his warm blankets, and unless absolutely necessary, he would cling to his wife, unwilling to wake. Whenever snowflakes danced outside, Zhao Qiang would at most glance at the scenery, then immediately retreat into his cozy bed, not rising until well past lunch, reluctantly dragging himself from sleep.

Now, Zhao Qiang, fully equipped and running ceaselessly, was drenched in sweat. Wei Tao stood to the side, watching Zhao Qiang’s exertion with a cold, impassive gaze. Dawn had not yet broken; thick clouds shrouded the sky, and the north wind howled, mingled with hail that lashed Zhao Qiang’s face. There were no words, no expressions. One moved, one stood still, seeming as if the storm and snow did not exist.

Hundreds of zombies clustered behind the retractable gate, waving their arms and howling encouragement for Zhao Qiang as he ran. For three days, Wei Tao had been dragging Zhao Qiang out before five in the morning to begin their daily training. At first, Zhao Qiang was like most city dwellers unused to exercise, complaining and exhausted after only a short run.

But for reasons unknown, though Zhao Qiang was drained like a dead pig the first night, by the next morning he was full of vigor, and by the third day he could easily complete a five-kilometer weighted run. Wei Tao had never seen anyone progress so rapidly—even in the military, no one had ever been as freakish as Zhao Qiang.

To test Zhao Qiang’s limits, Wei Tao pushed him relentlessly, squeezing every ounce of strength from him. Yet each time Zhao Qiang collapsed, the next day he rose as if nothing had happened, enduring Wei Tao’s hellish training and exceeding all expectations.

After three days of grueling training, Zhao Qiang’s physical abilities had already met Wei Tao’s requirements, which were based on the selection standards of the legendary Snow Leopard Commando Unit. Seeing Zhao Qiang steaming with exertion yet wearing an easy smile, Wei Tao signaled for him to stop.

“What is it?” Even after this long run, Zhao Qiang’s breathing was steady. “No more running?”

Wei Tao looked at the strange man before him with a wry smile and countered, “Do you think it’s necessary?”

Zhao Qiang found it odd himself. Since graduating from university, he hadn’t exercised at all; his fitness had deteriorated terribly. That’s why after his first battle, it took days and countless applications of herbal oil to recover from muscle soreness. Yet since the first day of this hellish training, his body no longer felt like his own. After each session, he felt utterly drained, but upon waking the next day, every cell in his body seemed in perfect condition, as if the previous day had been a dream.

“From today, I’ll teach you hand-to-hand combat, firearms, and driving,” Wei Tao said coldly, his tone unchanged. “You have four days left. If you don’t meet my standards, I’ll still kill you myself.”

“I knew it wouldn’t be that easy,” Zhao Qiang muttered.

“One hundred push-ups!” Wei Tao snapped, hearing Zhao Qiang’s complaint.

“What? I—” Zhao Qiang tried to protest, but he forgot the consequence for not immediately obeying the instructor’s orders these last three days.

So before Zhao Qiang could finish, Wei Tao’s cold voice came again: “Two hundred.”

...

“This afternoon, your task is these,” Wei Tao said, pointing at a row of various firearms laid out on the workbench. “Your assignment is to familiarize yourself with every one of them.”

Zhao Qiang picked up a gun, glanced at one then another, grinning carelessly: “Heh, that’s no problem.”

Ignoring Zhao Qiang’s smugness, Wei Tao swiftly disassembled every gun on the table, sweeping the parts into a pile. Glancing at the stunned Zhao Qiang, Wei Tao said coldly, “When I return, I want every gun reassembled exactly as it was.”

“That’s impossible!” Zhao Qiang roared. “I’m not a god! Wei Tao, you damn maniac, I’ve only handled guns for a few days and you’re pulling this on me. If you brought me a Type 81, maybe I could manage, but you’ve got so many models here, some I can’t even name, and you expect me to assemble them! The physical training didn’t kill me, now you’re switching tactics. If you want to finish me off, just say so!”

Wei Tao ignored Zhao Qiang’s rant, turned back, and in the blink of an eye restored the pile of parts into fully assembled firearms. He glanced again at Zhao Qiang, who was once more dumbstruck, and said coldly, “You have the whole afternoon. I only care about the result.” Then, he disassembled the guns again, mixed the parts into a heap, and left.

Staring helplessly at the mountain of parts, Zhao Qiang felt his head would explode. Return spring, barrel, bolt—what the hell is this thing...

Wei Tao stood in the surveillance room, watching Zhao Qiang flounder on the monitors. He had to admit, this was his most gifted pupil. That freakish body aside, even with zombies—creatures that shouldn’t exist in the world—Zhao Qiang’s strange physicality seemed almost logical.

“Wei, do you think Zhao will succeed?” Li Zihan stood behind Wei Tao, silently observing Zhao Qiang as he tried each gun part, curiosity unable to be restrained.

...

Seeing Zhao Qiang begin assembling the last firearm, Wei Tao checked his watch and murmured, “Two hours—faster than I expected.”

Back in the storeroom, Zhao Qiang sat dazed, staring at the array of guns. Oil and sweat mixed and trickled down his slightly pudgy face, making him look somewhat comical. When Wei Tao entered, Zhao Qiang didn’t bother to glance twice. Reassembling that mountain of parts had been even more exhausting than the armed run.

“Find me in the training room in ten minutes,” Wei Tao said, still coldly. He wanted to see just where Zhao Qiang’s limits lay.

This time, Zhao Qiang wisely made no protest. In truth, he no longer had the strength to argue.

Zhao Qiang looked at Wei Tao standing in the ring, a bit nervous. “What now?”

“Knock me down and today’s training ends,” Wei Tao replied, his tone still icy.

“Any restrictions?” Zhao Qiang felt a surge of excitement. Finally, he could fight back.

“Except no weapons, you have no restrictions,” came the unchanged cold reply.

Wearing a mischievous grin, Zhao Qiang leapt onto the ring and asked his final question: “Really no restrictions?”

“Here I come!” Zhao Qiang declared, throwing a straight punch at Wei Tao’s nose.

Wei Tao didn’t dodge. His left foot stepped forward, trapping Zhao Qiang’s extended right leg. His left hand shot out like lightning, grabbing Zhao Qiang’s fist, while his right hand, shaped like a blade, chopped toward Zhao Qiang’s chest. His left hand then pulled back, and in an instant, Zhao Qiang was knocked to the ground, his right hand twisted behind him.

Wei Tao didn’t pause. His knee pressed against Zhao Qiang’s spine, and his strong right hand gripped Zhao Qiang’s jaw, the whole sequence executed seamlessly. Zhao Qiang had no time to react.

“Too much talking!” Wei Tao released Zhao Qiang, who lay sprawled on the floor. “Again!”

Zhao Qiang was stunned. That series of moves had turned him into a sandbag. If Wei Tao’s hand chop had landed on his throat instead of his chest, if his right hand had yanked hard on Zhao Qiang’s jaw... Zhao Qiang knew all too well that Wei Tao had held back.

“If your opponent were someone else, you’d already be dead twice,” Wei Tao’s tone remained icy.