Chapter 22: The Madman Who Trains to Death
After handing out the rewards, the Butcher barked his next order—training officially began.
His regimen made Hawk’s drills look merciful. Each trainee had to sprint laps around the one-kilometer track nonstop for an hour; complete six hundred deep squats with a fifty kilogram barbell within two hours; and smash sandbags or kick through tree stumps as thick as a man’s arm before they’d even be marked “qualified.”
Groans rippled through the ranks—everyone silently cursed the hellish workload.
Everyone except Chen Ning.
While the others paced themselves, conserving energy, Chen Ning charged into motion like a stallion loosened from its reins. From the very first second, he gave everything. He felt every muscle straining, every breath burning.
For the first half-hour, he kept a blistering pace. By the second, his strength was gone. His steps grew heavy, his breath ragged; sweat poured down like rain as he forced his trembling legs forward.
From up ahead, Xiao Zihao sneered under his breath. “Heh, some people are just too stupid. Sprint from the start, and now look—barely crawling.”
But Bai Yuhao, glancing back at the struggling figure at the rear, saw something entirely different. He understood: the Mighty Tigers Art drew power from one’s physical reserves. The harder one pushed their body, the more energy it stored—and the more potent the cultivation that followed. Chen Ning wasn’t reckless. He was pushing himself to the brink to store as much strength as possible for his nightly training.
Even Butcher, watching silently with folded arms, caught on.
A faint grin tugged at his lips. This kid… interesting. Only a level one soldier, yet he took down multiple zombies that night. And now, look at that grit…
He knew he’d been right to give the Dragon Fang to Chen Ning. The boy had potential.
Not far away, two other instructors stood observing—tall, poised Instructor Jian Qing, and a new arrival, Major Shi Yu.
Shi Yu had asked Jian Qing to show him around the base—an excuse thin as paper, meant only to be near her. She hadn’t the heart to refuse a fellow officer, so she agreed. Their walk happened to bring them right to the training field—where Chen Ning was dragging his battered body forward with every ounce of will.
Jian Qing’s eyes softened. She could see it clearly—the sheer determination burning beneath his exhaustion, the unwavering will to become stronger.
Shi Yu noticed that fleeting look of admiration in her eyes, and his chest filled with jealousy. He shot Chen Ning a cold glance and muttered with a sneer, “That idiot doesn’t even know proper pacing. Wasting all his energy early just to collapse later.”
Jian Qing’s voice was calm. “That’s not stupidity. That’s sincerity—giving your all from the first step to the very last.”
Shi Yu scoffed. “He’s behind everyone else now. Looks like your ‘sincerity’ isn’t very effective.” Then he turned to the Butcher. “Colonel, your rules said a one-hour run at proper speed. Chen Ning’s clearly falling behind—shouldn’t he be punished for that?”
hough Butcher was rugged and merciless, he was not foolish. His inner thoughts aligned with Jian Qing’s: Chen Ning was holding nothing back and pushing himself to the absolute limit. This kind of desperate training might seem foolish and misguided now, but if Chen Ning could persist, then while others were still jogging at a leisurely pace, he might soon be capable of maintaining a full hour of high-speed sprinting. Because true, significant progress only comes from relentlessly challenging one’s own limits.
Still, Shi Yu wasn’t wrong. Rules were rules.
When the run ended, the Butcher’s expression was stone-cold.
Therefore, after the one-hour running drill concluded, Butcher expressionlessly criticized Chen Ning’s performance in the latter half, pointing out his slowed pace. He then picked up the whip and delivered three fierce lashes across Chen Ning’s back.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
Chen Ning endured the punishment standing ramrod straight, accepting the punishment without a flinch and equally devoid of expression. The onlookers suddenly felt he resembled a younger version of Butcher.
The whip tore into his back, splitting the skin and flesh. Blood soaked through his clothes. The spectators watched with mixed expressions—Bai Yuhao and Jian Qing frowned, while Shi Yu, Xiao Zihao, and others watched with smug satisfaction.
“Ten minutes’ rest,” the Butcher growled. “Then move on to the next round.”
The pattern repeated—every drill, Chen Ning went all-out from the start, burning everything he had. Every time, he finished gasping, faltering, and every time, he took his punishment in silence.
When the final training ended, the Butcher strode toward him once more, whip dangling from his massive hand. All eyes turned.
Chen Ning seemed mentally prepared. Even before Instructor Butcher spoke, he had already turned his back to him, standing straight. However, though he stood erect, his legs trembled slightly, and his body quivered faintly—he was clearly at his absolute limit. A ruthless lash from Butcher would likely have sent him crashing to the ground, potentially crippling his already battered body.
Butcher’s whip swung up and, with a sharp crack, sent Chen Ning sprawling.
Yet, there was profound skill behind this strike. While it looked terrifying and the pain was still intense, the force transmitted by the whip seemed to disperse the stagnant blood within Chen Ning’s body.
Chen Ning, who had been on the verge of collapse, suddenly felt significantly relieved.
Butcher landed two more lashes on Chen Ning. They appeared frightening, but he was actually using the whip’s hidden force to treat the internal bruising in Chen Ning’s body.
When he finished, the Butcher barked, “That’s the price of failure. Dismissed!”
The recruits scattered. Bai Yuhao, Su Luo, and the Luo brothers hurried to Chen Ning’s side, hauling him upright.
“Chen Ning, are you out of your mind?” Bai Yuhao said with a weary smile. “You’re going to kill yourself at this rate.”
Chen Ning forced a faint grin. “I can still go on.”
Su Luo rolled his eyes. “Go on? I’m surprised you’re not dead already.”
At that moment, the sound of polished boots struck the ground—Jian Qing approached, cool and composed.
“Go to the infirmary,” she said. “Tell Doctor Fang Zheng I sent you.”
The friends straightened immediately. Without an officer’s order, no soldier could receive medical treatment for training injuries. They all thanked her in unison, then half-carried Chen Ning toward the medical wing.
As they went, Su Luo muttered under his breath, “No way! Instructor Jian Qing personally came to order you to the infirmary? She totally has a soft spot for you! Chen Ning, hey, who knows? You might really have a shot…”
Chen Ning winced. “Shut up, Su Luo—you trying to get me executed?”
Not far away, the Butcher caught sight of the scene. Seeing Jian Qing quietly watching over Chen Ning, he couldn’t help the faint, fatherly smile that crossed his scarred face.
Shi Yu, on the other hand, clenched his jaw, jealousy twisting through him like a knife. He knew—or at least hoped—that Jian Qing’s concern was nothing but professional admiration. But still, hatred coiled in his gut as his gaze followed Chen Ning’s retreating figure.
Old Doctor Fang Zheng, the grizzled old medic, brightened at the sight of Chen Ning. Despite his fearsome face, his eyes were unexpectedly gentle.
After the treatment, Chen Ning and Bai Yuhao grabbed a quick dinner before returning to their quarters.
As soon as Chen Ning sat cross-legged and began cultivating, his consciousness slipped once more into the realm of mental illusions.
This time, as he cultivated the Mighty Tigers Art, droplets of martial power were raining down into the lake. His cultivation speed was now more than double what it had been just that afternoon!
Wild joy surged through Chen Ning: “Haha! Pushing myself to the limit like this… the effect on my cultivation is incredible!”
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