Chapter Thirty-Three: A Different World

Chen Cao’s eyelids fluttered weakly. After a night of psychological torment and physical exhaustion at the hands of Linghu Ruomu, he was too weary to open his eyes. Besides, every vital point on his body was still pierced with silver needles, rendering him completely immobile.

In the dimness, a pair of bloodstained, enormous hands approached him slowly, closing in from afar. Chen Cao wanted to resist, but his entire body was drained of strength. He could only watch helplessly as the hands drew near. Not until they were right before his eyes did he see clearly—these were hands stripped of all flesh, the bones and joints starkly visible beneath the shriveled skin.

Suddenly, just as those hands were about to press down on his head, Chen Cao snapped his eyes open.

He awoke to see Linghu Ruomu, still graceful and poised, wiping her hands with a white handkerchief. As Chen Cao parted his lips to speak, the handkerchief in her hands had already turned a dark red.

Chen Cao instantly recognized the color of blood. He hurriedly lifted his head and looked over himself, checking for wounds, but found nothing amiss.

“How was it? Did the dream feel real?” Linghu Ruomu placed the now bloodstained handkerchief on the table before her. As Chen Cao followed her motion, he involuntarily gasped.

The cave was no longer as brightly lit as the day before. Judging by the hour, it should still be early morning, yet little light penetrated the cavern, and visibility was low.

Chen Cao’s eyesight surpassed that of ordinary people. In the faint light, under the alluring curves of Linghu Ruomu, he could make out the outline of a human figure lying on the table.

A single glance was enough—he was certain it was a person. Even in the dim light, he saw a limp hand hanging off the side, utterly devoid of flesh, the joints clearly discernible beneath the skin. On the table, like a butchered pig, the organs were neatly arranged, and among them, one heart still faintly pulsed.

“That…that’s a heart. A human heart!” Chen Cao felt a wave of nausea, his stomach convulsing.

Linghu Ruomu seemed to perceive his reaction and smiled faintly. “Well? Wasn’t it just like your dream?”

“You… you’re a monster!” Chen Cao tried to leap from the chair, only to find his acupoints still pinned with silver needles, keeping him completely immobilized.

“Let me go! You’re all lunatics!” In his shouts, Chen Cao bit down on his lip until it nearly bled.

He had braced himself for hardship and brutal training, but he had never imagined he would be forced to witness such a dissection—especially a vivisection.

Linghu Ruomu sighed softly, her lovely lips parting as she murmured, “As you wish.”

She glided to his side, gently lifted his head, and withdrew the silver needle from the base of his skull.

As soon as the needle was removed, a surge of power coursed through Chen Cao’s body. With a violent shove, he pushed Linghu Ruomu away without the slightest gentleness, sending her crashing heavily against the cave wall.

Yet Linghu Ruomu showed no intention of retaliating. She dusted herself off and said, “This is a process every elite warrior must endure. Otherwise, how will you face future enemies? How will you face death?”

Chen Cao couldn’t help but glance at the corpse on the table. He gagged dryly, struggling with revulsion. “I can face death. But I cannot accept experiments done on the living. I saw it—his heart was still beating. Look at his uniform; he’s one of us, a comrade. You’re insane! He was alive!”

His voice became hoarse and frantic.

“Yes, he was one of our soldiers. But he was not killed by us—he was killed by the enemy!” At the brink of Chen Cao’s hysteria, Duan Tianya’s voice echoed from the cave entrance.

Beside him, the school’s beautiful medical officer, Feng Wuyang, supported him, and behind them stood a line of instructors.

“Killed by the enemy? You’re lying! I saw with my own eyes—Instructor Linghu—” Chen Cao’s voice was thick with skepticism.

Duan Tianya did not argue. He gestured to Zhou Anshi, who, face solemn, approached Chen Cao with a video camera.

In the murky light, the camera’s display was crystal clear.

In a cramped space, three special forces soldiers of the Great Chen Republic, clad in uniform, were tied to pillars as thick as a grown man’s embrace. The camera gave each a close-up: their eyes were dull, lips cracked, faces gaunt and sallow. Clearly, they had not eaten for days; hunger had sapped all their strength.

The camera pulled back.

A figure in black approached, carrying a bowl. The camera zoomed in—the bowl contained something alive and writhing, looking like earthworms. The black-clad figure pried open each soldier’s mouth and stuffed the things in, then used needle and thread to sew their lips shut, finally taping their mouths closed to ensure they could not open them.

The shot widened again. The black-clad figure disappeared, leaving only the three soldiers with bloodied lips.

Chen Cao’s hands trembled uncontrollably. A chill crept over him, raising every hair on his body, yet he could not tear his gaze from the screen.

Duan Tianya said, “Now for the real horror.”

The video’s timestamp jumped forward three days. The black-clad figure returned, swiftly peeling the tape from the soldiers’ mouths. The special forces soldiers, already in a stupor from starvation, were jolted awake by the sudden pain. Their eyes were now nearly all white, the irises barely visible.

Another black-clad man entered, holding a tray with three roast chickens.

The soldiers gazed at the chickens, eyes blazing with desperate hunger.

The black-clad man, almost considerately, untied their restraints and tossed the chickens onto the floor, then let them scramble for food.

Through the camera, Chen Cao could almost hear the sound of sewn lips being torn open as the soldiers, driven by the primal urge to survive, gaped their bloody mouths and tore into the food on the ground, looking like demons loosed from hell.

Chen Cao’s eyes grew wet; his hands shook. He could no longer bear to watch.

Duan Tianya lit a cigarette and said, “What you saw on the operating table was one of those living people. The enemy is cruel beyond reason. They keep them alive and send them back, intact, for us to dissect…”

“Enough! I’m going to kill those monsters!” Chen Cao hurled the camera violently to the ground.

“Chen Cao, you need to understand the enemy. It’s still too soon to talk like this. Everything you’re being taught here is for a reason.” Duan Tianya slowly walked out of the cave. Feng Wuyang gave Chen Cao a sympathetic glance, then helped Duan Tianya away.

Linghu Ruomu looked at Chen Cao, who was crouched on the ground, gasping for breath, and said, “This is part of your training, too. Lie down.”

Chen Cao, without resistance, sat back in the chair.

“You were prepared for the beginning, but not for the outcome, is that it?” Linghu Ruomu said gently.

Chen Cao replied, “Yes. I wasn’t ready. But I’ve made my decision—I won’t change.”

He was beginning to realize that in this world, there are things one must do. Since he had accepted this responsibility, he would see it through. As a soldier, he could not let his comrades die in humiliation. That was why he had joined this training. The images he had just witnessed had shaken him deeply. Though only a few minutes long, they had shown him a world unlike any he had known.

“That’s why you must endure this process. Are you ready?” Linghu Ruomu’s voice was soft as ever, a silver needle already in her hand.

Eyes shut, Chen Cao suddenly asked, “If I enter this world, will I ever be able to go back?”

“From the moment you began this training, there was no going back. You belong to the nation, and to yourself. If you want to protect yourself fully, you must master every skill and do your utmost to understand the enemy.” Linghu Ruomu raised the needle.

“Is it because I’m a psychic, that you began cultivating me from birth?” Chen Cao repeated the question. Duan Tianya had already told him as much, yet he asked once more—perhaps for the last time.

“Not only that, but also because of your inner qualities. For this training, Operation 0611 waited nearly twenty years. We created obstacles and environments for you from childhood. You could skip school, neglect your studies, but you could not lack kindness. Evil is the root of all sin,” Linghu Ruomu answered every question.

“Am I kind?” Chen Cao suddenly smiled.

Linghu Ruomu smiled too. “According to the data, you are.”

Chen Cao asked nothing more, as if he were recalling his nineteen years of life—his father, the uncles around him, how he had fled at first, then gradually come to understand duty and dreams. Everything had happened naturally, without the slightest artifice. He kept smiling.

“Let’s begin.” As his smile faded, he spoke calmly, his face composed.

Linghu Ruomu glanced at the instructors standing at the cave entrance. They all nodded silently.

With a sigh, she inserted the silver needle into the acupoint at the base of Chen Cao’s skull and pressed a switch. A display slowly slid into view.

“Today, we’ll start with theory. Let him see another world,” Linghu Ruomu said, walking out of the cave toward the instructors.

The ever-cheerful Zhou Anshi let out a rare sigh. “He’s still just a child. His innocent smile just now moved me. Perhaps after today, he’ll never smile so freely again.”