Lei Zhengyang never doubted Instructor One's words. With that ice-cold demeanor, the man wasn't the type to crack jokes.
Still, Lei hadn't grasped the true brutality of combat training until a bullet tore through his thigh, blood gushing like a broken dam. Only then did he realize this was no game. Even as he bled out, those relentless bastards kept charging, hell-bent on blowing his brains out.
"I surrender! I surrender! I'm filing a complaint—this is training, not a slaughterhouse!" Lei Zhengyang clutched his wounded leg with one hand, waving the other frantically, screaming at the top of his lungs. With bullets whizzing past his head, pride was the last thing on his mind. If he was going to die, he'd rather choke on a feast or drown in a river than have his skull shattered.
Crack! Crack! The electric whip lashed his body, and both instructors materialized. Instructor One's face was a mask of cold indifference, while Instructor Two—the twisted she-demon—grinned with sadistic glee, clearly thrilled to see him broken.
"Surrender means death. Want to die? I'll make it quick." Instructor One drew a massive handgun, a beast that dwarfed even a Desert Eagle. One shot from that monster would turn his head into a splattered mess.
Instructor Two chuckled, her voice dripping with mock pity. "001, you're hurt, barely able to fight. But I've talked it over with Instructor One, and we're giving you a shot at survival. Enter the Poison Pit. Survive three months, and you can restart combat training. Or, you can refuse and stay here. If you don't die, you pass."
Did Lei Zhengyang have a choice? The name Poison Pit sent chills down his spine, but it beat getting his head blown off by these bloodthirsty soldiers. Before he could blink, a pitch-black hole yawned open beside him. A gust of wind carried a rancid stench from its depths.
The image of a bullet shattering his skull flashed in his mind. Without hesitation, Lei Zhengyang leapt into the abyss.
Instructor Two sighed dramatically. "This guy's too easy to fool. No challenge at all. Next time, let's make it more fun." With that, the seductress vanished.
Instructor One watched her go, a sinister smirk curling his lips. "Dare to lust after my woman? You deserve to be screwed over," he muttered under his breath.
Lei Zhengyang, oblivious to the instructors' twisted game, crashed onto a soft, squelching surface and blacked out.
When he came to, his body ached like it'd been run through a meat grinder. Struggling to sit up, he froze, a scream caught in his throat. Cold sweat drenched him. The Poison Pit was a nightmare writ large—scorpions, snakes, geckos, centipedes, and toads swarmed the ground, a writhing carpet of venomous horror.
Worse, he realized he'd been sleeping in a pile of snakes. Living, venomous snakes, still slithering beneath him. The thought alone was enough to drive a man mad.
He jolted upright, only for several massive serpents to coil around him, their fangs sinking into his legs, waist, and arms. This was no place for heroics. He wasn't getting his head blown off, but becoming snake food wasn't much better. Lei Zhengyang teetered on the edge of insanity.
Unbeknownst to him, these snakes were engineered, their venom designed to unlock human potential and build immunity to toxins. A single bite from these creatures would make him near-invulnerable to most poisons.
Lei Zhengyang fought, passed out, woke, fought again, and passed out again, trapped in an endless cycle of torment. He crawled from snake pits to scorpion nests, then to centipede swarms, enduring the bites of every venomous beast. His body was a roadmap of fang marks. Eventually, he stopped fighting. One bite, two bites—what was the difference?
When he woke again, he was numb to it all. Casually, he grabbed a snake, snapped its body, and ripped out its gall bladder, swallowing it whole. The bitter, rancid taste was vile, but after a few, he felt a surge of energy. Snake gall became his meal. Once their prey, now he was the predator—a twisted cycle of vengeance.
In the depths of despair, survival rewrote his limits. The old Lei Zhengyang would've rather died than touch a live venomous creature. But here, in this hell, he ate and kept eating. It wasn't impossible—it was just life.
From snake gall to snake flesh, with a side of centipedes and the occasional scorpion, Lei Zhengyang found it tastier than the raw beef he'd been forced to gnaw before. Toads, though? Those he left alone.
"001, looks like you're thriving down here! Congrats—you've earned a second chance at life!" Instructor Two's voice echoed as the Poison Pit vanished. Lei Zhengyang found himself sprawled on a plush bed, her sultry gaze fixed on him, dripping with mock affection.
Before he could turn away, she continued. "Tests show your body's developed extreme toxin resistance. Most poisons are useless against you now. You've got three minutes before I activate the combat training scenario. Good luck, 001."
Despite her twisted nature, Lei Zhengyang almost wanted to thank her. No time for that, though—a weapons crate appeared on the bedside table. He could arm himself however he wanted, because in three minutes, the real combat training would begin.
Unbeknownst to him, his every move was being watched. In a control room, a wall of monitors displayed his struggle. Before them sat the old man in his wheelchair, eyes locked on the screens.
Instructor Two stood behind him, her usual flippant demeanor replaced with solemnity. "General Lei, launching the Hellfire Training Camp with a live subject is reckless. The intensity is designed for super-soldiers. For a regular human, 001's performance is near-perfect."
The old man didn't turn, his voice heavy with authority. "Little Phoenix, I know what I'm doing. Your job is to follow orders. If not for a twist of fate, you'd be my granddaughter. No matter how grueling, how cruel, I'm doing this to ensure we don't miss our chance again."
Instructor Two sighed softly, falling silent.
This round of combat training was different. No barren mountains this time—it was a small town, encircled by a ruthless rebel army enforcing a kill-on-sight policy. The townsfolk fought back with desperate courage, but their blood spilled in rivers, their defiance no match for the enemy's bullets.
Lei Zhengyang materialized in the chaos. Two rebel soldiers were tearing at a woman's clothes, their depraved laughter echoing through the alley. Without a second thought, he raised his gun and fired, blowing their heads apart.
He'd been a spoiled playboy, a brawler, but never a killer. Months of training hadn't prepared him to cross that line. Taking a life should've been a gut-wrenching tragedy, but as he watched the soldiers crumple, a twisted thrill surged through him.
The memory of the Poison Pit flashed in his mind—biting through a snake's vitals, sucking its blood dry. To avoid being prey, you had to be crueler than your enemy.
Whistle! A sharp signal pierced the air. Spotting him, the rebels blew their emergency horns, closing in. Machine guns roared, kicking up clouds of dust at his feet.
Lei Zhengyang didn't hesitate. Like a phantom, he dove behind a crumbling wall. The woman he'd saved staggered to her feet, only to be gunned down, her chest riddled with holes, blood pouring like a sieve. Her arm reached out, eyes burning with a desperate plea for life. But the light in them faded, turning dull and lifeless.
She died right before him, her vacant stare searing into his soul.
Lei Zhengyang forgot this was training. Forged in the crucible of life and death, he'd long shed his fear of mortality. But that woman's eyes ignited something else—rage.
"You all deserve to DIE!" he roared, his voice a primal scream of fury.