Chapter 10: Does That Make You Happy?
The wind on the shooting range blew the protests right out of Gu Ye's head.
Qian Qiang hadn't given him the slightest chance to refuse.
A company order went up on the bulletin board, black on white.
Gu Ye was forced into the job.
For the next whole month, the sky over the recruit company turned black.
The early autumn sun baked the yellow earth until it was hot to the touch.
A sour stench of sweat hung over the company parade ground.
Over a hundred recruits lay in the mud pits, hands braced against the ground, gasping for air.
Sweat dripped from their chins onto the dry soil, punching out little dark mud spots.
Gu Ye dragged over a green folding campstool.
Sat down in the shade of a tree.
In his hand, that stainless steel thermos printed with "Serve the People."
He blew at the steam rising from the rim.
Lowered his head and took a small sip.
The water was too hot—his tongue tip went numb.
He hissed in a breath of cool air and rested the cup on his knee.
Looking at the recruits on the parade ground, worn out like dead dogs, Gu Ye had felt a bit guilty at first.
He was a doctor—saving people, that he could do.
Training soldiers? What did he know about tactical manuals?
But on his first day on the job, Chen Dabai pulled his latissimus dorsi doing push-ups.
Gu Ye went over and gave it a casual rubdown, and it was fixed.
A "ding" immediately sounded in his head.
The system rewarded him with [Intermediate Infantry Reconnaissance Essentials].
Gu Ye froze on the spot.
The thermos in his hand nearly hit the ground.
This system—as long as there was "battle damage," healing it earned rewards.
And in a recruit company, what was the easiest way to manufacture battle damage?
High-intensity physical exertion, of course.
This was practically a perfect experience-farming ground.
Gu Ye was enlightened.
From that day on, he threw away the lesson plans.
Dug out the Exercise Physiology and Human Anatomy from his memory.
"Chen Dabai! What are you sagging your waist for? Your erector spinae isn't engaging!"
Gu Ye stood up and kicked the edge of a tree pit.
"Pectoral fiber tear level is still insufficient! Fifty more!"
Chen Dabai's arms shook like two overloaded springs.
His face was the color of pork liver.
"Ye-ge... Instructor Gu... I really can't."
The moment he opened his mouth, yellow dirt rushed straight down his throat.
"Lungs—lungs are about to explode."
Gu Ye walked over and looked down at Chen Dabai.
He reached out and pressed two fingers to Chen Dabai's carotid artery for two seconds.
"Pulse one sixty-five, blood oxygen still within the safe line."
Gu Ye withdrew his hand, his tone flat.
"Still far from the lactate threshold limit. Hasn't reached shock criteria. Continue."
The recruits were going insane.
Other people trained soldiers—they trained spirit and vigor.
Gu Ye trained soldiers—he was straight-up pushing the physiological death line of the human body.
He precisely calculated the fatigue threshold of every muscle.
Weighted frog jumps drained the quadriceps.
Duck walks exhausted the stabilizing muscle groups around the meniscus.
Every training session hovered right at the hair's breadth between about to break down and absolutely not damaging the foundation.
"Blergh—"
At the back of the formation, that skinny tall recruit couldn't hold on anymore.
He turned his head and dry-heaved into the bushes.
Everything that came up was stomach acid.
This was already the third one to puke that morning.
Gu Ye was completely unruffled.
He set down the thermos.
Turned and fished a box of silver needles and a bottle of safflower oil from that thirty-jin iron trunk.
"Come over here when you're done puking."
Gu Ye twisted open the safflower oil cap.
The sharp, spicy medicinal smell instantly overpowered the stench of sweat.
The skinny tall recruit clutched his stomach and staggered over.
Dropped onto a moisture-proof mat like a loach with its spine pulled out.
Gu Ye poured a palmful of safflower oil.
Rubbed his hands together to warm them.
Pressed them onto the skinny recruit's lumbar points.
Applied force, kneaded hard.
"Awooo—!"
The skinny recruit let out a pig-slaughtering scream.
The pain nearly bounced him off the mat.
"Don't move." Gu Ye pressed down with his left hand.
His right hand produced a silver needle, found the Zusanli acupoint, and inserted it.
His fingertip gripped the needle tail and twirled it gently.
Three minutes later.
The skinny recruit's screaming stopped.
He gasped for breath and climbed up from the mat.
Rolled his shoulders and lumbar spine.
His bones let out a few crisp pops.
That aching soreness that had made him dry-heave—gone, as if by magic.
Not only was there no pain—a warm strength welled up from inside the muscle.
"Holy shit..." The skinny recruit was stunned.
He clenched his fist and felt like he could run three kilometers in one go right now.
"Amazing. Seriously amazing!"
And in Gu Ye's mind, the mechanical voice sounded right on cue.
[Ding! Severe muscle strain eliminated, microscopic muscle fiber tears repaired.]
[System assessment: Good.]
[Reward issued: Intermediate Night Infiltration Specialty.]
Gu Ye wiped the medicinal oil off his hands on his white coat.
He was blooming with joy inside.
He looked over at Chen Dabai, still doing push-ups.
"Chen Dabai, is that latissimus of yours stiff again?"
Gu Ye beckoned, like an old TCM doctor inviting a customer.
"Come here, I'll stick a couple needles in you, guarantee you'll feel completely opened up."
Chen Dabai shuddered.
When Gu Ye did acupuncture and massage, it really hurt.
Hurt so much your soul left your body.
But after the needles, it really felt good—more refreshing than soaking in a hot bathhouse.
The recruits' feelings toward Gu Ye were a complex mix of pain and pleasure.
Every day they were trained to death.
Then they lined up and howled like ghosts under Gu Ye's silver needles and medicinal oil.
Day by day, time passed.
One month flew by amid the screams of the recruit company.
During that month, Company Commander Qian Qiang came to inspect twice.
The first time, he happened to catch Gu Ye running anti-vertigo training for the whole company.
Gu Ye had the recruits strapped to fixed wheels and spun.
If they puked, they got a bowl of his homemade licorice-ginger soup.
Then they went back to spinning.
Qian Qiang watched the recruits puking stomach acid all over the ground and his scalp went numb.
He thought Gu Ye was a pervert.
He wanted to call it off, but discovered that after the spinning, the recruits' fitness test scores the next day shot up across the board.
Qian Qiang shut his mouth and left with his hands behind his back.
That month, Gu Ye sheared the sheep bald.
Treating dozens of people every day.
System notifications rang in his head like a fully automatic submachine gun.
[Ding! Ligament strain healed, reward: Basic Demolition Principles.]
[Ding! Lactic acid buildup cleared, reward: Stamina attribute +1.]
[Ding! Heatstroke symptoms healed, reward: All-weather terrain mapping ability.]
Gradually, no one in the company came to him for colds anymore.
Behind his back, the recruits called him Yan Wang—King of Hell.
When the King of Hell wants you to hurt at the third watch, you won't last till the fifth.
But if the King of Hell wants to save you, you absolutely won't die.
The late autumn wind finally carried a hint of coolness.
Morning exercise ended.
The recruits stood in neat formation at the mess hall entrance.
Over a hundred of them.
Standing like rows of steel nails driven into the yellow earth.
Chen Dabai stood in the front row.
He'd lost a full twenty jin.
The originally round belly was gone, replaced by hard abdominal contours.
The camouflage uniform on him no longer looked like a burlap sack—it stretched over full muscle lines.
Not just him—the entire company of recruits had been reborn.
Their eyes had changed.
One part less of the confusion and delicacy of new enlistment.
One part more of a wolf-nature that had been forcibly beaten out of them.
Gu Ye stood in front of the formation.
In his hand, he carried that metal medical kit he never let out of his sight.
He looked at this pack of howling little wolf cubs.
Sighed.
"Honestly, your physiques are improving too fast."
Gu Ye shook his head, a little worried.
These past two days, the recruits' muscular endurance had shot up dramatically.
A normal five-kilometer cross-country run could barely produce the kind of severe strain that triggered system rewards anymore.
Yesterday he'd handed out ten bowls of licorice soup in a row, and the system had only grudgingly given him two scattered rewards for individual hand signals.
The experience bar was crawling.
Gu Ye rubbed his chin.
Wondering if next week he should bump the load to thirty kilograms and throw in some mud-pit combat.
If he didn't squeeze out some internal injuries, there was no way to farm this system.
Chen Dabai saw Gu Ye rub his chin, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up.
He knew—the moment Instructor Gu wore that thoughtful expression, nothing good ever followed.
"Dismissed. Go eat."
Gu Ye waved his hand.
The recruits felt released from a heavy burden and rushed noisily into the mess hall.
Gu Ye didn't go to the mess hall.
He turned and headed for the infirmary.
Planning to go back and brew his first cup of goji berry water for the day.
The autumn air was dry—he needed to moisten his throat.
He'd just reached the infirmary door.
His fingers hadn't yet touched the handle on the newly replaced door panel.
Out of nowhere, a shrill scream tore through the air.
"Woo—woo—woo—"
Air-raid siren.
Not the usual company wake-up bugle.
It was that kind of first-level combat alarm with a metallic tremor that pierced the eardrum.
The sound blasted out from the camp broadcast loudspeakers, drowning out the wind over the parade ground.
Gu Ye's hand stopped in midair.
His fingertip was one centimeter from the metal door handle.
The sound of bowls and chopsticks shattering came from the mess hall.
The recruits abandoned their food and ran outside like madmen.
A chaotic, heavy stomping of footsteps came from behind.
Leather boots on concrete, loud as thunder.
Company Commander Qian Qiang charged over at a dead run, hat not even on straight.
His face was black as the bottom of a pot.
Two rows of bean-sized sweat beads hung on his forehead, streaming down past his eyebrows.
Qian Qiang shoved the infirmary door open, nearly colliding with Gu Ye's shoulder.
In his hand he clutched a freshly printed fax telegram.
The paper was crumpled from his grip.
"Don't go in!"
Qian Qiang grabbed Gu Ye's sleeve, his voice hoarse.
"Emergency assembly!"
Gu Ye looked at the veins bulging on Qian Qiang's neck.
"What happened?"
"Military region annual grand exercise has begun!"
Qian Qiang let go, gasping for breath, his chest heaving violently.
"Orders from above—the entire company moves to battle positions immediately!"
Gu Ye was stunned.
Before he could react.
Deep in his mind, that mechanical synthesized voice that had been silent for two days.
Suddenly exploded like an overloaded current, piercing and sharp.
On his retina, a blinding golden light burst forth without warning.