Chapter Seventy-Six: A Solemn Warning

After the second round of warm-ups, many trainees had felt the sting of the whip on their backs and hips. Even some of the outstanding trainees began to worry at this point; in such intense and grueling training, survival depended not only on strength but, even more so, on willpower.

Some trainees, though strong, had only gained their advantage from early family instruction before they ever set foot in the junior martial academy. They had simply started ahead of their peers; yet their resolve might be as fragile as flowers grown in a greenhouse.

This was precisely the purpose of military training: if the trainees did not experience fear and face challenges, they would never develop true strength of will or determination.

By now, the sun had broken through the clouds, casting its rays across the training field. The Butcher let out a sinister laugh. "Ha! The damned sun’s come out just in time. Now for the real training. Listen up, all of you—hold the Iron Bridge position for an hour!"

The Iron Bridge was a common drill: the practitioner faced upward, supporting their body with hands and feet, arching themselves into a bridge. It was a severe test of strength for one's limbs and lower back.

An hour? That was no short span. The trainees groaned inwardly, but none dared defy the instructor. They lay down at once, flipped over, and raised themselves into the arch.

To hold such a posture for so long was more agonizing than performing hundreds of push-ups. The glaring sun bore down mercilessly on their faces, adding psychological torment to the physical strain, wearing down their resolve bit by bit. After about half an hour, some began to feel their limbs weaken; their hips sagged lower.

The Butcher's single eye was razor-sharp. He immediately spotted one such trainee and lashed out with his whip, striking the trainee’s abdomen. "What the hell is that? Is that an Iron Bridge or a city square?"

The trainee collapsed from the blow, wincing in pain but secretly relieved, hoping to milk a few seconds of rest by groaning louder. But the Butcher was relentless, swinging his whip again. "Playing dead, are you? Fine! For every extra second you lie there, I'll give you another lash!"

The trainee sprang up like a startled rabbit and hurried to resume the bridge posture.

The Butcher sneered. "That’s more like it! Aren’t you all full of life?" He bellowed, "Listen up, you little bastards! If any of you feels tired, go ahead and lie down—a lash for every second of rest. If you think that's a fair trade, be my guest. I’m a generous man!"

Of course, none thought a lash per second was a bargain worth making. No one dared relax. Another ten minutes passed before a trainee finally gave in, collapsing with trembling limbs. Before the Butcher could strike, he cried out, "Instructor Butcher, I request permission to rest!"

"Rest?" The Butcher laughed heartily, his voice booming. "Very well! Step out of line and get off the field. Congratulations! You’re done for the day, you clever piece of trash. No more suffering for you—for now!"

The trainee left the field with a bitter face, only to feel hundreds of scornful and disdainful eyes on him from all sides, overwhelming him with shame.

Yes, he had earned a day's rest, but at the cost of his pride and dignity. In that moment, he nearly wept. Why couldn’t he grit his teeth and endure like the others?

The Butcher had not the slightest sympathy for him. Soldiers admired only those with iron will, not those who could not endure hardship.

The Butcher was in high spirits. "Well? Anyone else want to step out like that clever loser? Think about it—leave the line, and you’re free from all this torment. You can return to your dorm, take a shower, change into clean clothes, and lie on a soft bed. How comfortable would that be?"

His words were tempting, and for a moment, many hearts wavered. But they quickly banished the thought. Since they had come to Blue Emperor Academy, they had to be prepared for such trials. If they couldn’t endure even this, how could they ever hope to thrive and stand out in the cruel competition ahead?

The Butcher was not joking. He truly tormented his trainees, alternating between physical punishment and verbal abuse, battering away at their mental defenses in every way, intent on breaking them completely beneath his tyranny.

Though every student who had made it to Blue Emperor Academy had worked diligently in the junior martial academies, they had always had the freedom to rest when exhausted. Now, however, training was forced, and the Butcher allowed not a moment’s respite. As soon as one task ended, another began. Any delay was met with a savage lash.

The male trainees of Class Three, Year One, endured a hellish morning. Only when the sun hung high and noon arrived did the Butcher, still unsatisfied, lick his lips and declare, "Damn it! I’m not done with you yet. Consider yourselves lucky, you little brats. Dismissed!"

Relief swept the group—they had made it through without quitting. There was a two-hour midday break for food and rest. Time was precious, and naturally Luo Chen couldn’t return to his dorm to cook; he grabbed a quick meal in the cafeteria instead.

As Luo Chen found a table with his tray, Shi Feng spotted him and came over, holding his own meal. "Damn, Beast, I hear your class's instructor is a real maniac—worse than Joanna, and she loves tormenting people. You’ve got terrible luck, getting him as your instructor!"

"Stallion, what did you just say?" As Shi Feng finished, an angry shriek came from behind. Joanna stood there, accompanied as always by Elijie.

Joanna glared furiously, as if she might upend her tray over Shi Feng’s head. Shi Feng, knowing he was in the wrong, stammered, "I meant, your class advisor is even more responsible than theirs, that’s all… heh…"

Given the crowded cafeteria and the difficulty of getting food, Joanna suppressed her urge to throw her lunch, shot Shi Feng a murderous glare, and sat down.

Luo Chen, already familiar with the two girls’ voices, didn’t bother to look up as he focused on a piece of fatty meat. "Well, if it isn’t the two Queen Bees. What a coincidence!"

Elijie smiled. "It’s no coincidence—we came looking for you."

"For me?" Luo Chen licked his lips in puzzlement. "What for? Is something wrong?"

"Luo Chen, stop licking your lips in front of me, damn it!" Joanna snapped. "We’re here to warn you. I heard from our instructor that your Butcher is especially harsh on undisciplined trainees."

[Three chapters updated today. Here’s the second one—licking my lips and eagerly begging for your lovely recommendations.]