Chapter Sixteen: Truly Broken Leg

Chen Cao burst out, but at that moment, a figure blocked his path—a towering presence, exuding an aura as imposing as a mountain. It was Zhou Anshi, the chief instructor for free combat, whom Chen Cao had always considered an older brother.

Zhou Anshi merely pressed lightly on his shoulder, and Chen Cao was instantly overwhelmed by a sense of powerlessness.

“Old Zhou, let me go!” Chen Cao’s eyes were sharp with a helpless rage toward the world.

“Want to run? You don’t have the chance now. And call me Instructor Zhou Anshi!” Zhou Anshi spoke with a sneer, his gaze filled with contempt, nothing like the approachable “Old Zhou” of everyday life.

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you? You’re targeting me!” Chen Cao clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles cracked.

“That’s right. So what? Want to fight me? Just now, the instructors and I had a thorough discussion—we’ve decided you’re going to raise pigs!”

Though furious, Chen Cao did not act. He knew Zhou Anshi was provoking him. If he struck a superior, especially an instructor, everything would be over. His comrades would suffer the consequences tonight.

Zhou Anshi seemed oblivious to Chen Cao’s seething, repressed anger. Instead, he slapped the back of his own head. “Oh, I almost forgot. Our 0611 unit doesn’t have a pigsty. You’ll have to build one yourself!”

“You!” Chen Cao stared at Zhou Anshi’s twisted face, his once-sacred uniform now seeming only fit for a brute. His ears roared, blood surged to his head, and his vision darkened.

“Aren’t you proud of yourself? I’ve trained in Bajiquan as well. Let’s see what you’ve got!” Zhou Anshi continued to taunt him. “If you can get past three of my moves, tonight’s incident will be forgotten!”

“You said it.” Chen Cao said nothing more, charging at Zhou Anshi with a punch.

“Hmph!” Zhou Anshi, facing Chen Cao’s direct attack, merely parried lightly, grabbed his wrist, and with an over-the-shoulder throw, sent Chen Cao crashing heavily to the ground.

“Did you think this is the true caliber of 0611? You’re wrong, Chen Cao. You live in your own world, self-centered. This is your warning: the military is not a place for freeloaders. In this elite among elites, you either leave with glory and honor, or in a box. There is no third path. 0611 will never let a coward tarnish its name. Do you understand?”

With that, Zhou Anshi yanked Chen Cao up like a ragdoll, his grip like iron clamps, and slammed him down again. Stars exploded in Chen Cao’s vision, and he nearly lost consciousness, but forced himself to stay awake.

Zhou Anshi then pressed his combat boot hard against Chen Cao’s chest, looking down at him. “Don’t you love raising pigs? Then spend your life doing it here. 0611 can afford it!”

He hauled Chen Cao up again, repeated the same throw, and then, aiming at Chen Cao’s bandaged leg, kicked it viciously.

There was a sickening crack. Though already drifting into unconsciousness, Chen Cao somehow managed not to make a sound.

That sound, however, made some of the trainees running and crawling on the track cover their mouths in horror at the scene.

A world-class military combat champion, a veteran of no-holds-barred competitions—he showed no mercy, not even to a defenseless opponent.

It was over in moments. Everything was over.

...

Chen Cao now lay on his bed, having neither eaten nor drunk for three days. He stared up at the wooden ceiling, so low he would hit his head if he stood. This was the so-called “pigsty.” There was no bugle, no shouts of drill, not even the sound of wind.

Beside his bed lay a document stamped by the Military and Political Department, untouched since it was placed there.

But the order was clear: Chen Cao, this disobedient recruit, would never be allowed to leave the 0611 unit until he passed the three-year minimum standard.

What filled him with despair was that his leg was truly crippled, broken by Instructor Zhou Anshi—the very man he might never defeat in his life.

That meant he would never pass the assessment.

No one had come to see him; his relationships were utterly abysmal.

In this stifling wooden hut, he saw no hope beyond waiting for death.

...

“Old Duan, it’s your turn. I’ve driven him to rock bottom. Only you can help him now.” Not far outside the hut, Cao Yefu stood with arms crossed, his eyes glinting.

Behind him stood a group of chief instructors, and beside him was a middle-aged man with a prosthetic arm and leg.

Old Duan brushed his graying hair and smiled. “Why me?”

“Honestly, Old Duan, I never understood why you chose him. Sure, he’s the subject of a Cao-Chen family wager, but he’s still my nephew. This seems too cruel. I just wanted him to toughen up here for five years,” said Cao Yefu, looking at the comrade-in-arms who had shared life and death with him.

Old Duan fingered the four stars on his shoulder. “Old Cao, do you think I’ll ever get the chance to add a gold star?”

Cao Yefu regarded Old Duan solemnly, taking in his missing ear, the hand lost to a shell, the leg hacked off by the enemy. He understood—this hero of the Republic did not have much time left.

Old Duan glanced back; Zhou Anshi and the chief instructors all straightened up.

He spoke slowly, “The honor of the Republic must be passed on. I’ll admit—I have my own motives. The boy is stubborn, but his potential is limitless. His assessment results were unparalleled. Most importantly, he has the ability and sense of responsibility to rise to any occasion. Remember those videos? He single-handedly rescued hostages and played it off as nothing. Remember how he lured away a leopard to protect his team?”

As Old Duan spoke, all fell silent. As chief instructors of 0611, they knew every detail of their elite unit. Chen Cao was indeed the best candidate for a seed recruit—he just needed a drastic remedy.

“I believe his achievements will surpass everyone here.” With those words, Old Duan limped away.

Cao Yefu and the instructors raised their right hands in a solemn salute to this hero of the Republic.

...

Woof woof woof... The little house came alive with the sudden barking of a dog.

The dog was unremarkable, pitch black, and quite old. When it saw Chen Cao, it licked his hand with its tongue.

Chen Cao, who had been silent, felt a warm, slick sensation in his palm. He slowly turned his heavy head and saw the old dog dart to a corner of the small room, then, unwilling to give up, shuffled back to his side, whining softly. It licked the hand he let hang from the cot, then quickly withdrew. When Chen Cao didn’t react, it repeated the action, tireless and devoted.

Seeing the dog’s clumsy antics, Chen Cao suddenly felt his eyes grow moist. Far from the gentle comforts of the world, with no soft words from past lovers, only this dog remained to accompany him on what felt like the final stretch of his life.

Tears slid down his cheeks. He fumbled in his pocket for a small plastic bag—children’s “Monster Beans”—his last possession.

He took one, placing it in his palm.

The black dog, at first wary, retreated, then slowly approached, rolled the bean into its mouth with its tongue, and crunched happily.

Chen Cao offered another. This time, the dog, having developed a taste for the treat, bounded over joyfully and gobbled it up.

For the first time in three days, Chen Cao laughed—a laughter not felt in months, tears streaming down his face, directed at a dog.

Just then, the dog suddenly barked in alarm. A figure approached the hut, and the dog ran over, fiercely tugging at the newcomer’s trouser leg, trying to drag him toward Chen Cao.

“Black King, are you sneaking food again? The older you get, the worse your manners!” The man’s tone was affectionate.

The dog immediately lay at his feet, nuzzling his pants.

Chen Cao looked over. The newcomer was dressed in black, with snow-white hair and a prosthetic on his right side.

He couldn’t help but ask, “Who are you?”

The man laughed. “You’ve lived in my house for three days and still ask who I am?”

“You live in the ‘pigsty’ too?” Chen Cao struggled to lift his head, realizing he had no strength left in his neck.

The man chuckled. “Kid, you’re probably the only one in 0611 who dares call this place a ‘pigsty.’”

“What else could it be? There’s only this one house in the whole mountain. Zhou Anshi told me to build a pigsty here. What else could it be?” Even speaking was exhausting for Chen Cao.

The man fished out a cigarette, lit it, and smiled at Chen Cao. “You’re Chen Cao, right? Your exploits are legendary in the 0611 unit.”

He leaned against the wall, gazing at the motionless boy on the bed. “You can call me Old Duan.”

“Fine, Old Duan. This is your place. Don’t worry, I won’t be here long.” The fleeting color the dog Black King had brought to Chen Cao’s face quickly faded, his eyes once again bleak.

“So, you want to die?” the man said, flicking his ash.