Strongest Soldier King

Three months later, the Northwest Military District Special Brigade Base.

"Peep, peep!" The shrill whistle tore through the valley as a dozen soldiers clad in combat uniforms rushed from the barracks towards the training field, quickly forming ranks in under a minute. Everyone's eyes were fixed straight ahead, their expressions resolute, bodies erect. Luo Zheng was among them. Over the past three months, Luo Zheng hadn't encountered any more assassination attempts but had gone through various rigorous trainings. A sharpness had enveloped him, and his eyes, constricted with a contained brilliance, became even calmer and more steady.

Today was the tri-monthly assessment day. Those who passed the assessment would be promoted from rookies to ordinary special soldiers, subject to more systematic, comprehensive, and strict training. No one at the Special Forces base wanted to be mediocre or left behind, and this day was taken very seriously—Luo Zheng was no exception. Three months ago, Luo Zheng had been assigned to the rookie training team. From thirty people, only twelve remained, the rest having been decisively sent back to their original units by the brigade commander— the level of stringency was astonishing.

Luo Zheng wanted to become stronger and was prepared for this day. He watched calmly as the brigade commander and instructors approached, without letting his gaze waver and with a mind as still as water. The past three months of high-intensity training had taught Luo Zheng to control his emotions. The instructors came over to speak, encouraging everyone, and the brigade commander looked at Luo Zheng with a pleased smile.

As the team leader, the brigade commander was of course aware of Luo Zheng's training performance and admired his cousin's judgment. In just three months, Luo Zheng had transformed from an ordinary border guard who had spent half a month in the training team to a standout within the Special Forces rookie team: first in fighting skill, first in shooting, and first in physical fitness. The brigade commander was comforted by such achievements and held high expectations for Luo Zheng.

"I won't say more; win or lose, it's all clear. Whether you continue being rookies and go back or stay as honorable Special Forces is up to your performance today." The instructor shouted loudly, signaling the beginning of the test, and everyone became alert.

"First item, fighting skill," said the instructor coldly, glancing at the brigade commander, who with a wave of his large hand, motioned another team of soldiers to jog forward and line up, their demeanor much more imposing as they faced the rookie team, who started to look uneasy. The instructor didn't heed their reaction and pointing to the newcomers said, "Assessment task, pick anyone and lasting two minutes without falling will be considered a pass."

The subject and manner of the contest were already known to everyone; the team responsible for the examination comprised Elite Level Special Forces, a notch above ordinary special soldiers. To hold out for two minutes against an Elite Special Soldier was a matter of pride, sufficient for becoming an ordinary special soldier, but no one was certain they could last. They scrutinized their opponents carefully, hoping to choose someone with weaker fighting skills to challenge.

Meanwhile, Luo Zheng closed his eyes slightly, conserving his energy without a care in the world. If he couldn't defeat these men, how could he fulfill the two-year pledge? Three months of training had filled Luo Zheng with confidence—a confidence that did not escape the brigade commander, always watching from the shadows, who smiled, filled with anticipation.

Several team members at the front each chose their opponents; some held out while others were defeated. Simply enduring did not guarantee becoming an ordinary special soldier—those who didn't qualify in shooting were also eliminated, and those who were defeated weren't immediately dismissed, as exceptional shooting skills could earn special consideration.

Soon it was Luo Zheng's turn. Hearing the instructor's command, he stepped forward with forceful strides that kicked up dust. Facing forward, when instructed to pick an opponent, he simply said indifferently, "Anyone."

This casual attitude, perceived by the evaluating Elite Special Soldier as a stark provocation and disdain, infuriated everyone. Had the brigade commander not been there, they would have jumped up to fight—military honor was paramount.

Yet the brigade commander laughed and said, "Shan Hu, you go."

Everyone looked at the brigade commander in amazement, disbelief etched on their faces. Shan Hu was known as the best in the Special Brigade at fighting skill, rumored to have practiced Inner Boxing, and even the tough brigade commander was no match for him. Against a mere rookie, was it necessary for Shan Hu to take action? However, no one dared to question the brigade commander's command. Only the instructor smirked knowingly; as Luo Zheng's instructor, no one knew Luo Zheng's strength better.

Shan Hu, his face stoic as he stepped forward, stopped five meters away from Luo Zheng and calmly observed him, his eyes betraying no emotion. The brigade commander glanced at Shan Hu and, without warning him against underestimating the enemy, coldly declared, "If you last two minutes without falling, you'll move directly to the Elite Team."

"Eh?" Everyone was surprised again. Even if Luo Zheng lasted two minutes, that would only prove his fighting skills—what about his shooting? Was that no longer being assessed? Everyone's questioning glances became scrutinous. The brigade commander was not one for baseless statements; he surely had his reasons.

Shan Hu, well aware of the brigade commander's character—that he would never mix personal feelings with official duties—changed his expression and sized up Luo Zheng carefully, finding nothing extraordinary. He made a gesture for Luo Zheng to make the first move, braced himself, and prepared for combat.

"Then I'll take the liberty," replied Luo Zheng, not one to pass up an advantage. He took a sliding step forward, pushed off the ground forcefully, and lunged like a cannonball shot from the cannon, with a terrifying momentum, his huge fists coiled and ready—one hand forward, the other hidden under his armpit.

"Child's play." Shan Hu, skilled in fighting, could see through Luo Zheng's move. It seemed like a ferocious Muay Thai knee strike but incorporated a tricky counter-strike. Unmoved by Luo Zheng's approach, Shan Hu felt slight contempt. If that was all Luo Zheng had, there was no need to continue. He abruptly lifted his leg for a front kick aimed at Luo Zheng's knee, intent on a swift resolution. This powerful move was a battle of strength—if he landed his kick, with Luo Zheng airborne and unable to leverage any counterforce, defeat was inevitable.

It appeared to everyone that Luo Zheng's impatient approach was a double-edged sword—effective only against those of weaker or similar strength. Against a formidable opponent, defeat was certain. Everyone sighed, waiting for the inevitable end; even the brigade commander felt Luo Zheng was too reckless and too hasty. Against a strong foe, why meet force with force when grappling was the wiser tactic?

Just when everyone's sighs were still hanging in the air, they were startled by a blur before their eyes. Luo Zheng suddenly caught Shan Hu's incoming leg with both hands, landed eerily on the ground, raising a cloud of dust, and let out a high-pitched battle cry. Leveraging the momentum, he pulled Shan Hu forcefully backwards.