Chapter 33: Precision Marksman

Just as Su Yang rushed past the entrance of a village, a Private First Class familiar to him overtook him from beside a tall tree. It was Zhong Huatao from their squad; the guy had started to pick up his pace.

"Su Yang, let's see who gets there first!" Zhong Huatao left that remark behind and quickly vanished around the bend ahead.

Seeing this, Su Yang gritted his teeth and gave chase. Charge it was, then—at this point, he didn't care about pacing anymore. He had been running for so long that, as far as he could recall, there weren't many people left in front of him.

The two surged back and forth, chasing each other, neither willing to fall behind—not even by a fraction. Su Yang didn't know how others felt about this competition or what they made of it, but he felt as though he had been injected with adrenaline. His blood was hot, and his competitive spirit was ignited.

Just like that, Su Yang and Zhong Huatao became each other's pacers.

Gradually... Su Yang’s stamina began to hit its limit; his vision blurred, and his mouth tasted of bile. The Private First Class was panting like an ox, his steps heavy. But fortunately, they caught sight of figures ahead.

They had reached the destination.

"You two are in the lead! Hurry, see who's first!" Vulture, standing on a vehicle, roared as he spotted the two silhouettes.

Su Yang scrambled forward, using both hands and feet, while Zhong Huatao fared no better, his athletic frame crawling across the ground like a creature fleeing for its life.

The two reached the finish line almost simultaneously. The moment he crossed it, Su Yang couldn't hold on any longer; his knees buckled, and he collapsed to the ground, retching bile.

"Not bad, Private!" Vulture jumped off the vehicle, walked over to Su Yang, and extended a hand, looking at him with a hint of surprise.

After finishing his dry heaves, Su Yang grabbed Vulture’s hand and stood up. "Thank you!"

After a brief rest, the others began to catch up. Most of the Ninth Squad had made it.

"Su Yang, you’re incredible." Once Xiao Fei learned that Su Yang had finished first, the way he looked at him changed entirely.

"It’s alright. Everyone in our company is a strong runner; sometimes I’m not even sure if I’m better than them." Su Yang cast a smiling glance at Cheng Peng, with whom he had previously argued, and then pointed the Ninth Squad members toward Sun Weihao and the others.

As for Cheng Peng, seeing Su Yang look his way, he turned his head aside, feeling somewhat awkward.

...

Back at the camp, those who had been unable to finish and had boarded the transport vehicle were called out separately.

"You have five minutes to get all your gear and bring it down here." Vulture stood before them, expressionless.

On Su Yang’s side, Xiao Fei sighed. "They’re finished. They shouldn't have gotten on that truck."

Zhong Huatao was puzzled. "Why?"

Su Yang looked at Xiao Fei as well, equally curious.

"Actually, the training camp has its own assessment list. If you don't meet the requirements, even if your own company claims you're the best, they’ll filter you out within these first three days."

"The last three days haven't had any official tests on paper, but in reality, it *was* an assessment. The goal was to weed out those who got in through connections rather than merit," Xiao Fei whispered.

"Aren't they afraid of complaints?" Zhong Huatao asked.

"Complaints? If they dare to pull this, they clearly have the support of the military command. Why would they fear complaints?" Xiao Fei seemed well-versed in these matters.

"That's fine by me. If they got in through nepotism, it's good to get rid of them. We can't have them polluting the unit," Su Yang remarked.

"True that!" Everyone nodded in agreement. Most had come through their own hard work; if someone with connections but no skill were to train alongside them, it would be an insult to them all.

Over by Vulture, when he ordered them to pack their bags and get lost, the men began to clamor. "Why? We were recommended by our company! Besides, we only got on the truck because we passed out!"

"Then tell me why you passed out. Isn't it a failure of your own capability? Or is your company so poor that you, performing like this, are considered their elite?"

Vulture’s words pierced the hearts of the soldiers. Even those who had used connections dared not challenge that statement; after all, they weren't the only ones from their companies at the training camp.

"Go! Pack your things and leave this place!" Vulture said coldly once more.

"Company Commander, can't you let us stay? How can I face the others if I go back? I will work hard!" A Private First Class began to cry, begging Vulture desperately.

Vulture remained silent, unmoved.

For the next three days, they focused primarily on baseline assessments. These assessments were indeed effective, rooting out seven or eight individuals with poor standards who were clearly there through connections.

...

Beside the main podium of the drill ground, Su Yang knelt on the ground, his calf muscles trembling uncontrollably. Beads of sweat dripped down into the soil, soaking in.

Su Yang felt a level of exhaustion here he had never experienced before.

More than half of the first month had passed. The training camp held sessions almost every single day, from dawn until dusk and dusk until dawn, with only four or five hours of sleep.

During this month, the training subjects from his company were not only intensified but supplemented with many specialized tasks. For instance, shuttle runs—back in his company, they were just for warming up. But here, they would practice them for an entire morning, combined with other events, making life feel like an endless ordeal.

If it weren't for the fact that the food at the training camp was better than at the reconnaissance company, allowing everyone to recover faster, Su Yang would have worried about not being able to hold on.

Most of the first month was physical conditioning, followed by targeted training. If your tactical skills were lacking, you were sent for specialized tactical training. If your grenade throwing was poor, you went for that. And Su Yang, compared to others, was quite average at throwing, so he was naturally sent to practice it.

"Su Yang, have you heard? The physical training ends in a few days. We're about to move into specialized training." While Su Yang sat resting, Zhong Huatao walked over, dragging his weary body.

"I know. What about it?" Su Yang didn't look up, still rubbing his aching calves.

"Do you want to be a sniper? I heard that during specialized training, they’re going to teach everyone sniper skills, and then pick those with talent to form sniper teams," Zhong Huatao explained.

"What, are you interested?" Su Yang glanced at him.

"Of course I am! I just don't know if Vulture will think I’m good enough. What about you?" Zhong Huatao asked excitedly.

"Me? I’m not interested in being a sniper! And the guy in our company—I don't think he counts as a sniper. I’d call him a designated marksman. He’s still far from being a true sniper." Su Yang shook his head. He had some talent, but he didn't want to be a sniper.

Snipers operate independently, which is comfortable enough—long-range engagement, eliminating enemies before they even enter your line of sight. But what Su Yang wanted was to get close to the enemy, to charge forward, and to eliminate them. Of course, if it were a squad-level designated marksman role, he could do that.

"What do you mean by a 'designated marksman'?"

Just as Su Yang finished speaking, Vulture walked over, curious, and asked the question.