Liao Yuan had arrived with majestic pomp, but at a single word—"Scram!"—from Qin Fan, he fled in disgrace like a pardoned convict, his uniform soaked in cold sweat.
On the vast field, only the seventeen soldiers remained, their minds reeling in pure shock. What on earth just happened? Just who was this larger-than-life figure who had been slapping their faces and whipping them monts ago? A casual half-move sent a Middle Stage Dark Energy master flying several ters. He made an elder bow in humble respect. A single word, "Scram," sent Liao Yuan scrambling away in utter panic. Who the hell was this monster? And he was supposed to be the instructor to help them escape last place?
For a mont, seventeen pairs of eyes were transfixed on Qin Fan, unblinking and completely still.
"Pour the powder from the bottle onto your wounds. There's not much, so use it sparingly! You have three minutes. After three minutes, get on your feet and stand up straight. Anyone still dawdling will be kicked out of the squad! The clock starts now!" Qin Fan said indifferently, ignoring the dozen or so stares locked on him. He then took out a tir and pressed it. BEEP.
Three minutes? Damn it!
Hearing Qin Fan's indifferent deadline, the seventeen soldiers panicked. It was a disgrace to be beaten by other military regions in the martial arts tournant, but being kicked out of the squad was even more humiliating! Uncertain of their new instructor's temperant, the soldiers dared not hesitate. They quickly grabbed the dicine bottles, poured out the powder, and began saring it on their whip-lacerated wounds.
"Huh?" "Whoa..." "Holy shit!"
The soldiers cried out in unison as the powder touched their injuries. It wasn't from pain—quite the opposite. The mont the powder was applied, the stinging agony vanished, replaced by a sensation of rapid healing.
What the hell is this Divine dicine? Is sothing this miraculous even possible?
"Two minutes left!" Qin Fan announced coolly, unmoved by their renewed astonishnt as he glanced at the tir.
His indifferent words jolted them from their stupor. The soldiers quickly shook their heads and hurriedly finished applying the dicine in the short ti they had left, as if ntally counting down every second.
In less than three minutes, all seventeen soldiers were on their feet. Though many hadn't finished treating all their wounds, the threat of expulsion kept them from delaying any longer.
"At ease! Attention! Right dress! Eyes front!"
Without any prompting from Qin Fan, a soldier who was clearly the team leader—his face still red and swollen—barked out the commands.
Once in neat formation, the seventeen elite soldiers snapped their eyes toward Qin Fan. Each man stood with his head high and chest out, exuding the air of a true elite soldier. Even if they were considered a joke by other military regions, within the Northwest Military Region, they were the best of the best.
"Greetings, Instructor!" they roared in unison, their powerful cry echoing through the night sky.
"Do you hate ?" Qin Fan asked with a faint smile, his hands clasped behind his back as he looked at them.
Silence instantly fell over the group.
Do they hate Qin Fan? Before Liao Yuanhang appeared, every single one of them did. They hated him enough to want to flay his skin, pull his tendons, and drain his blood. But now... that feeling was gone. The fading hatred was now tangled with gratitude and shock, plunging them all into a state of complex, internal struggle.
"It's fine. The people who hate in this world could form an army group, so a few more of you won't make a difference," Qin Fan said, unfazed by their silence. He shook his head with a light chuckle before shouting, "You know why I'm here. I'm here to help you cast off your sha! So tell , are you losers? Are you trash?"
"We are not losers!"
"We are not trash!"
"We are not losers!"
"We are not trash!"
A unified, hysterical roar erupted from the soldiers, righteous indignation written all over their faces.
"Good! I hope you can show the side of you that isn't trash! Alright, no more wasting ti! Let's begin training. Find an opponent and fight to the death! When you knock one down, you find the next! Keep going until every last one of you is on the ground! Rember, you fight to the death! If anyone dares hold back and treat this like a ga, don't bla my whip for being rciless! I'm here to make you shed your sha, to let you climb on top of your opponents and shit on their heads! Anyone who doesn't et my standards gets the hell out! Even if only one of you is left standing, I guarantee I can train him to single-handedly defeat an entire team from any other military region!" Qin Fan shouted, his face impassive as he scanned the seventeen soldiers.
The soldiers, however, were dumbfounded.
Fight to the death? Until everyone is down? Has he gone mad?
"What are you all standing around for! Either disappear from my sight this instant or start fighting!" Qin Fan roared fiercely.
The sudden outburst sent a shiver through them all. Looking at his expressionless face, they knew he wasn't joking.
Either leave or fight. Is there even a choice? No!
No one was willing to tuck their tail and run, not after they had just roared that they weren't losers or trash!
Gritting their teeth, the soldiers roared as one, "FIGHT!"
In the next instant, fists and feet flew across the clearing.
BANG! THUD! SMACK! Fists t flesh. Feet t bodies. The percussive impacts of their brawl, mixed with guttural, blood-fueled roars, beca the main lody of the night.
Not far away, Qin Fan watched the chaotic lee and couldn't help but shake his head.
"Full of openings. Weak punches, feeble kicks, slow turns, slow reactions. No wonder you get your asses handed to you year after year," he murmured softly. He pulled out his whip, flicked it open, and advanced toward the fiercely battling group in the clearing.
CRACK! The whip lashed across a soldier's back. "I told you to give it your all! Are you deaf? If you keep fighting like a damn woman, I'll whip you to the ground myself!"
As he spoke, he cracked the whip several more tis, lashing out at others. The soldiers struck by the Soft Whip howled in pain, breaking out in a cold sweat.
"FUCK YOU!" "SON OF A BITCH!" "I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!"
Fierce roars erupted from the soldiers who felt the sting of the whip. Although they scread at their sparring partners, their fury was clearly directed at Qin Fan.
The latter, however, was indifferent. As long as they didn't na him or shout it in his face, he couldn't be bothered to react.
Yet, those few lashes had thoroughly ignited the soldiers' truest, most primal ferocity. Everyone now knew that trying to coast by this monstrous instructor was impossible. The whip was proof enough.
And so, under this pressure, the soldiers held nothing back.
The thunder of impacts, the thud of falling bodies, agonized howls, and furious curses filled the air, echoing without end.
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