Lei Zhengyang had no time to dwell on his swirling thoughts. The moment the old man wheeled away, the floor beneath him cracked open with a deafening roar, swallowing him whole into the abyss below.
No screams escaped his lips this time. He was starting to piece together the old man's cryptic words. He wasn't going to die—not yet. He was the old man, just forty years younger, caught in a twisted reunion orchestrated by his future self. The old Lei Zhengyang wanted to rewrite his doomed fate, starting at the pivotal moment that shattered his life: the assault on Song Yingfei.
So here he was, plummeting into the unknown. Where was this place? He had no clue. But one thing was certain—the next year would be pure hell.
"Welcome to the Hellfire Training Camp! You're our inaugural recruit, designation 001. Hope you enjoy your stay!" A sultry, feminine voice echoed from nowhere, laced with a gleeful edge that sent shivers down his spine.
Lei Zhengyang's lips curled. That voice alone was enough to make a man's knees weak. Hell? If this was hell, it didn't sound half as bad as he'd imagined!
"001! 001!" A second voice, cold as steel, sliced through his reverie. Before he could react, a shadowy figure materialized, and a crackling whip of electric fury lashed across his body.
"Aaargh!" Lei Zhengyang's scream echoed as the blow hurled him several meters, crashing him against a stone wall. His bones felt like they'd been ground to dust. He turned, glaring, only to meet the emotionless stare of a stern officer. Before Lei could curse, the man spoke. "I'm Instructor One. Starting today, I, alongside Instructor Two, will oversee your training for the next year."
Lei Zhengyang raised a hand, thinking it polite enough to speak. Big mistake. Another whip cracked, carving a fresh, bloody gash across his skin. Damn it! He wasn't a freaking ox—nobody could take this kind of punishment!
"Recruits have no right to speak here. You answer 'yes' or 'no,' 'understood' or 'not understood.' Understood?"
Lei Zhengyang wanted to spit a string of curses, but the whip rose again. Swallowing his pride, he growled, "Understood!"
Instructor One vanished like a ghost. In his place stood another figure—a woman, clad in a tight military uniform. Her face was a vision of seductive beauty, her eyes sparking with a dangerous allure far deadlier than any whip. And her chest? A pair of weapons so lethal they strained against her uniform, threatening to burst free.
"Well, well, handsome," she purred, her voice dripping honey. "I'm Instructor Two, the gentlest soul in this base. Be a good boy, and I'll take real good care of you." Her words sent a thrill through Lei Zhengyang's veins. He was a master of charm, a playboy who'd tamed countless women. This bombshell? She'd be putty in his hands.
"Gorgeous Instructor, you're a goddess! The hottest, most electrifying woman I've ever laid eyes on. Even world-class beauties can't hold a candle to you. My admiration for you is like a raging river, endless and unstoppable—"
Lei Zhengyang unleashed his silver tongue, piling on the flattery. The beauty swayed her hips, circling him like a predator. Then, with a wicked grin, she grabbed his backside, squeezing hard. "Nice ass, but a bit soft. Train hard, and you'll be a real beast. Don't worry—I'll be keeping an eye on you."
She vanished, and Instructor One reappeared, his sour face looking like the world owed him a fortune. Crack! The whip snapped in the air, sparking ominously.
"Training starts now, 001! Ten kilometers around the field—RUN!"
The void transformed into a sprawling, enclosed grassland. Lei Zhengyang barely took a step before the whip lashed again, forcing him to bolt like a hunted animal.
"Damn this sadistic bastard!" he cursed under his breath. "I've never even run a kilometer, and now ten? Are they trying to kill me? If only it was the hot instructor—flirting with her would be paradise!"
Instructor One's lips twisted into a sinister smirk, as if reading his thoughts. "001, a little secret: this camp didn't have female instructors. But after an… accident, someone lost a few ounces between their legs. That's how we got your Instructor Two. Want to win her over? Better keep that backside spotless."
Lei Zhengyang gagged, spewing what little was in his stomach. What the hell?! That bombshell was a man? The memory of her groping him made his skin crawl. Suddenly, the brutal male instructor seemed like the lesser evil. Instructor Two wasn't just strict—she was a certified freak.
Now, Lei Zhengyang truly understood what hell meant.
The instructors split their time evenly, twelve hours each, in a place where day and night didn't exist. Every four hours, a meal appeared—ten minutes to eat, or the food vanished. Miss a second, and you starved.
The training was deceptively simple: running, jumping, climbing, obstacle courses, and a unique set of military combat techniques. Each cycle was quick but repeated endlessly, pushing Lei Zhengyang to the brink of collapse. It wasn't just exhausting—it was mind-numbingly dull, enough to make him want to end it all.
But rebellion wasn't an option. That cursed whip left bloody welts with every strike, and after days of torment, barely an inch of his skin was unscathed.
Yet, there was progress. The whip's sting, once unbearable, now felt like a mere pinch. Crack! Crack! Two lashes landed, and Lei Zhengyang stood firm, unflinching. Instructor Two's face darkened. "001, I'm trying to help you, and you disrespect me? Super obstacle course—now! One second late, and you lose today's rest!"
Lei Zhengyang spat, ignoring her—or his—fury. He might not be a hero, but he'd never stoop to pleasing a freak like her. His defiance turned her twisted affection into hate.
Sure, she was stunning—curves in all the right places—but the thought of what lay between her legs made him retch. It was a fate worse than death.
And yet, even without her, his life was a living nightmare.
The environment shifted constantly: grasslands gave way to forests, forests to deserts, deserts to oceans. Each change brought new, grueling training regimens, each more brutal than the last. The whip's scars healed only to be torn open again, forging his body into iron.
Food changed too. Cooked meals became raw meat—whole slabs of beef you had to gnaw or starve. In the desert, he thirsted for three days, on the verge of death, only to be dunked into the ocean for three more, soaked to the bone. Each time, he felt death's grip, only to wake again, tasting the agony of dying and reviving.
The training evolved. Lei Zhengyang, once a spoiled brat who'd played soldier for fun, had toyed with rifles and cannons. But this was different. Every weapon—guns, darts, even bows—had to be mastered, or he'd suffer another round of torment.
He wanted to scream: Am I training to be a caveman? But asking was pointless. Saving his strength was all that mattered.
"001, congratulations on surviving basic training," Instructor One's voice boomed. "Starting tomorrow, you enter combat training. Once you step into the live-fire arena, death is real. Let me repeat: this is not a simulation. You can be killed at any moment. You can be killed at any moment!"