The Rise of a Special Forces Soldier Abandoned by a Wealthy Family

One day later, at the base's medical area.

The morning sunlight streamed through the clean glass windows and fell on the neatly arranged hospital beds.

Here, there is none of the deathly stillness of a hospital with its usual disinfectant, but rather a vibrant, almost boiling, clamor of life that is suppressed yet then erupts!

"Grizzly Bear?! Holy crap! Weren't you fucking blown up?!"

"A leopard?! I personally watched your 'corpse' being carried away!"

"Old Wolf?! You...you weren't 'throat-slit'?! I saw it with my own eyes on the hillside!"

"Brother?! You're still alive?!"

Shocked, trembling, and incredulous screams echoed throughout the ward!

Those team members who had exhausted their last bit of willpower on the march and fallen into a deep coma or into a deep sleep gradually opened their eyes.

What came into view was neither cold medical equipment nor the instructor's cold face.

Instead, they were familiar faces, with mischievous smiles, filled with emotion and unwavering loyalty!

Those comrades they witnessed being "blown up to death," "bitten by poisonous snakes," or "had their throats slit with daggers"...

Those brothers for whom they wept, for whom they were angry, for whom their last belief burned—the brothers they wanted to "send off"...

At this moment, they are all alive and well, standing beside their beds!

Some had bandages on their arms, and some still had faint traces of artificial dye on their faces, but their eyes were bright and their breathing was steady, clearly indicating that they had recovered.

Senseless.

Completely bewildered.

The team members, who had just woken up, had blank minds, wide-eyed, and mouths involuntarily agape, as if they were witnessing the most incredible hallucination in the world.

"What the hell is going on?!"

The awakened mountain eagle suddenly sat up in bed, the movement pulling on his sore muscles, making him wince in pain!

But his eyes were fixed on "Volcano," who was standing in front of his bed, grinning foolishly—the sniper he had witnessed being blown up by a "landmine."

Volcano chuckled and scratched his head:

"Brother Eagle, it's all fake."

"The landmines are specially made so that their explosive power is controlled to a minimum, mainly releasing potent hypnotic gas and colored smoke."

"A few of us who stepped on it were immediately drugged and knocked unconscious."

"The 'burnt black' on my body... is a special dye that washes off with water."

"We brought him back... He slept for two hours and is perfectly fine!"

On the other bed next to him, Lone Wolf was also awake. He was clinging tightly to a team member codenamed "Lynx"—the comrade who had been "slit in the throat" with a military knife by the "enemy" in the dark, his "blood" splattering as he fell to the ground.

The lynx, feeling dizzy from being shaken, quickly explained:

"Brother Wolf! Be gentle! My neck is still sore!"

"It was the drill instructor... He crept up behind me like a ghost and covered my mouth and nose with a cloth soaked in a potent anesthetic..."

"I don't know anything about it."

"When I woke up, I was in the medical tent. There was a red mark on my neck. The instructor was careful with his strength."

The other awakened team members also heard various "truths about the deaths" from their "resurrected" comrades who surrounded them:

The one "bitten by a venomous snake" was injected with a small amount of harmless but dizzying medicine by the electronic sprite.

Those "shaken down by artillery fire" were already protected by high-strength protective netting below them...

All "deaths" are meticulously designed and highly realistic "illusions".

All the bloodshed and carnage were merely a "stage" set up to achieve a deeper purpose.

Explanations echoed throughout the ward.

The expressions on the faces of the newly awakened team members, still clinging to the last vestiges of their marching journey—from initial shock and bewilderment—changed...

It gradually turned into disbelief and confusion, and finally into a deep, soul-stirring tremor.

They sat blankly on the bed or stood still.

His eyes were fixed, and his body trembled slightly.

A complex emotion, a mixture of coldness and scalding heat, a mixture of absurdity, lingering fear, realization, and some indescribable shock, swept over their minds and bodies like a tsunami.

numb.

My whole body is numb.

My scalp tingled, my back felt cold, and my fingertips trembled.

They seemed to... understand the true intention hidden behind the head instructor's extremely brutal training.

But it also seems... I didn't fully grasp anything; I just felt that something inside me shattered in the shock of that "feigned death"—

And something stronger and brighter is being painstakingly and resolutely reshaped from the shattered dust.

The mountain eagle slowly lowered its head, looking at its hands, which had crawled through the mud, worn raw and bloody, but were now properly bandaged, tingling with a tingling, itchy sensation.

He clenched his fist tightly.

The sense of power is clearer than ever before.

It's not brute force, but a solid, steady feeling that emanates from deep within the body, from the gaps in the bones—a lightness and strength as if freed from some invisible shackle.

He raised his head and looked at his comrades around him.

Subtle yet profound changes are taking place in everyone's eyes.

Those once arrogant, impetuous, and easily angered flames seemed to have been extinguished by a torrential rain and subsided.

Instead, there is a more restrained, yet more resilient depth.

A kind of calm and steadfastness that comes from experiencing true despair and disillusionment, and then being reborn from disillusionment.

Deep within his eyes, a light, ignited and refined, burns silently.

Even those team members who were injured felt that although their bodies were in pain, their minds were as if they had been thoroughly cleansed and strengthened, light and resilient.

It's unclear who was the first to turn their gaze to the window of the medical area, to the combat command center building that stood in the center of the base like a steel behemoth.

It was as if we had a telepathic connection.

One, two, ten... All the awakened team members, whether they were among the top 500 "survivors" or had "quit" or been "eliminated" along the way, all slowly and unanimously turned their gaze in that direction.

Their eyes were extremely complex.

There was a sense of disorientation, as if one had survived a catastrophe.

There was a brief period of annoyance after being "deceived".

But more than anything, there was a gradually clear, profound sense of gratitude and awe.

They began to truly understand what their head instructor, Zeng Linglong, had said:

"What is real war...?"

"What is the ruthlessness and cruelty of war...?"

"What is camaraderie in arms...?"

"What is... the reshaping of mind and body?"

They finally came to understand firsthand what it means to "explore the limits of human physiology and psychology" and what it means to "destroy and forge the will".

That's not a theory from textbooks.

That was a journey through hell, personally undertaken with blood, tears, extreme exhaustion, and a spirit on the verge of collapse.

No one organized it.

No one gave the order.

The awakened team members silently removed the IV needles from the backs of their hands.

I lifted the thin blanket off my body.

Despite the muscle soreness and joint stiffness, I slowly got up and got out of bed.

The movements were somewhat slow, but exceptionally determined.

They looked at each other and nodded.

Then, she quietly straightened her slightly oversized hospital gown, and walked out of the medical area door step by step, either in slippers or barefoot.

The sunlight was a bit too bright.

But they squinted, adjusting their breathing as they went.

One, two, ten, a hundred, a thousand...

More and more people are emerging from various medical tents and wards.

Some of them had bandages wrapped around their necks, some walked with a limp, and some had signs of exhaustion on their faces.

But everyone's backs were straight.

Their eyes were all looking in the same direction—the central playground.

They silently merged into the crowd, like rivers flowing into the sea.

There was no conversation, only the heavy, unified sound of footsteps echoing on the base's concrete pavement, creating a deep and resonant sound.

All three thousand team members, whether they "survived" or "withdrew," are now present.

On the huge playground, they found their original positions and automatically lined up.

stand at attention.

Stand still.

The three thousand figures were like three thousand pine trees that had survived lightning strikes and fire, yet remained rooted in the earth and pointed towards the sky.

The sunlight shone on them, casting long, resolute shadows.

A solemn, dignified, and even slightly sacred atmosphere silently gathered and permeated the air above the playground.