CR CH13

Chapter 13: Lighting the Fuse Twice

Jiang Tianji felt the surrounding area plunge into a sudden, brief vacuum of absolute silence.

It was as if countless burning gazes had instantly converged upon the back of his head, making his skin crawl with heat.

“No…” Jiang Tianji instinctively tried to explain, yet the moment the word left his mouth, he realized any explanation would sound entirely wrong. “I didn’t mean…”

Ling Kongmiao cut him off smoothly: “Who taught you to answer a commanding officer’s question like that?”

Jiang Tianji: “…Report, I—”

Ling Kongmiao: “Reporting to whom?”

Jiang Tianji: “Reporting to the Captain, I—”

Ling Kongmiao: “Did I give you permission to explain yourself?”

“…”

The surrounding training ground remained deathly quiet. Jiang Tianji found himself entirely choked for words.

In all honesty, staring at Officer Tang Min hadn’t carried any untoward intentions; he simply found it incredibly jarring that a girl who looked so petite and young could possess such staggering combat prowess. Because it was difficult to reconcile her delicate appearance with the decisive, cold-blooded killer from the battle footage, he had merely sneaked a couple of extra glances.

Granted, because he hadn’t fully adapted to the raw environment of the basic forces, he had failed to curb his bad habit of letting his attention drift the moment a distraction occurred—a leftover trait from his school days. Coupled with his prior tardiness and childish conduct, he had undeniably left a horrific impression on his commanding officer. It was only logical that he was being aggressively suppressed now.

Listening to the captain’s frosty, indifferent cadence, Jiang Tianji ground his teeth in frustration, yet he forced himself into a stoic, resentful silence.

Forget it, I am the one in the wrong here anyway. My eyes shouldn’t have been wandering. I wasn’t focused. He is the commanding officer, and this is the Z01 Basic Force.

Obey. Obey. Obey.

Do not draw this demonic captain’s attention ever again.

Jiang Tianji closed his eyes, chanting the mantra like a prayer within his mind.

Submission. Submission. Submission.

“Answer the question.” Ling Kongmiao clearly possessed zero intention of letting him off the hook easily. He took a few steps closer, his tone perfectly flat—it lacked any overt malice or aggressive shouting, yet it carried an underlying weight that was maddeningly provocative. “Have you looked your absolute fill?”

Noticing the brewing confrontation, the other nearby elite instructors drifted their gazes over as well.

Seeing the recruit collapse into silence, Ling Kongmiao gave a satisfied nod. Taking advantage of the moment to pat Jiang Tianji on the shoulder, he lowered his voice to a bare murmur.

“Excellent. You’re finally learning to be obedient. This place has absolutely no room for individuals with overinflated egos. Since you completely lack both natural talent and raw capability, you need to learn the art of endurance above all else. Your mother is deeply worried about you, but from what I can see, you are adapting quite well. Coasting through your two-year enlistment cycle shouldn’t pose much of an issue for you.”

“…”

The captain’s tone didn’t actually carry a heavy dose of mockery; he was merely stating an undeniable, practical fact.

Yet, for some inexplicable reason, the tiny spark of defiance that had successfully been extinguished within Jiang Tianji’s chest suddenly roared back to life like a wildfire doused in fuel.

The collective breathing of the massive assembly sounded exceptionally loud in the profound silence. A volatile surge of raw emotion completely devoured his rationality, and Jiang Tianji felt a sudden, snapping sensation trigger deep within his brain.

“…Reporting to the Captain.”

Jiang Tianji’s heart began to hammer violently against his ribs, his chest feeling as though it were being roasted over an open flame. When a man operates entirely on a rush of pure adrenaline, he tends to discard any semblance of self-preservation or consequence.

He snapped his head up, locking his eyes onto Ling Kongmiao. Upon closer inspection, a fierce, burning defiance flickered deep within his dark green pupils.

Jiang Tianji ground his back molars together, projecting his voice at a precise, controlled volume that was just loud enough to resonate clearly across the immediate radius.

“If I haven’t looked my absolute fill… am I allowed to keep staring at you instead?”

Standing just a short distance away, Huang Qi instinctively traded a horrified glance with Feng Huo. The sheer, unadulterated shock echoing between their eyes could practically be translated into a physical, screaming “Holy shit!”

“…”

Dead silence. An absolute, suffocating void of sound.

Jiang Tianji could distinctly perceive a sharp catch in the breathing of the man standing directly before him. Ling Kongmiao had evidently not anticipated encountering a recruit who was so entirely suicidal.

The surrounding squad members didn’t even dare to draw a breath, fixing their eyes intensely onto the dirt below to masquerade as inanimate rocks. The instructors exchanged bewildered glances before collectively training their eyes onto Ling Kongmiao. Zhao Hengyi, completely unable to contain his bursting excitement, instinctively leaned over to gossip, only to be forcefully pinned back down by Ye’s iron grip, leaving him to begrudgingly abandon the attempt.

Ling Kongmiao continued to lock eyes with Jiang Tianji. Yet, to everyone’s absolute astonishment, he displayed no signs of exploding into fury. Instead, he tilted his head downward and let out a soft chuckle.

“You may.” He turned his head to address Irene, speaking with immense, chilling generosity. “Irene, boot up the holographic hover-screens flanking the perimeter of the Main Training Zone.”

With that, Ling Kongmiao shifted his gaze back to the visibly stunned Jiang Tianji, inquiring smoothly, “Do you have any specific aesthetic requirements for the photographs?”

The very instant the words left his mouth, Jiang Tianji was assaulted by an immediate wave of profound regret. As the blinding rage receded from his system, a wave of deep apprehension settled in, leaving him to respond stiffly, “No.”

Ling Kongmiao turned back to issue his commands: “Understood. Just cycle through a few of my most striking portraits.”

A series of muffled, desperately suppressed snickers rippled through the immediate vicinity. Irene cleared her throat loudly, attempting to subtly signal her captain to rein it in.

Ling Kongmiao ignored her entirely, tossing a casual inquiry toward the rear of the instructors: “I believe I noticed a promotional poster of myself hanging around the administrative division earlier today…”

“Yes! Yes, we have one! It’s right here with me!”

Zhao Hengyi eagerly cut in, reaching into his uniform jacket to pull out a slightly creased, glossy poster. Ye hadn’t been fast enough to intercept him, leaving the stoic officer to let out a sharp, frigid click of his tongue as he completely gave up on controlling his boisterous comrade.

Ling Kongmiao accepted the rolled poster and jammed it firmly against Jiang Tianji’s chest. The strike appeared entirely effortless, yet the concentrated kinetic force sent a massive shockwave through Jiang Tianji’s frame, leaving him doubled over and coughing violently on the spot for a long moment.

“The entire assembly: twenty laps with full weighted gear.” Ling Kongmiao trained his cold gaze back onto Jiang Tianji, who was finally catching his breath. “As for you—weighted gear, hoisting that poster high above your head: thirty laps.”

Jiang Tianji stared down at the poster depicting a man who was admittedly a fraction more handsome than himself, feeling a violent urge to rip the glossy paper to shreds.

“If you tear it, I will tack on another ten laps.”

Ling Kongmiao spoke with such eerie precision it was as if he were reading the exact thoughts flashing across the recruit’s mind.

Jiang Tianji raised his chin to meet his captain’s gaze. This time, there wasn’t a single trace of amusement lingering within those sapphire eyes—only a piercing, glacial aura that seeped straight into the deepest recesses of his soul.

“If your legs give out, you are welcome to crawl. If a man possesses absolutely zero competence and remains utterly blind to the vast scale of the world, yet still insists on clinging to his pathetic sense of pride… it truly is the most hilarious comedy imaginable.”

“Ultimately, only two classifications of individuals survive within this theater: submissive conformists who know how to endure, and high-capability reserves.”

The rustling whispers scattered across the courtyard instantly died out. The crisp night wind seemed to carry a sudden, biting chill.

Ling Kongmiao took a few steps backward and executed a sharp hand gesture, prompting the elite instructors to begin organizing the recruits into their designated running formations.

The members of his squad glanced subtly toward Jiang Tianji, who stood with his chin tucked low, maintaining an absolute silence. Given the tense atmosphere of the assembly, it was hardly the time or place for open conversation. As they fell into line, Ji Yandong reached over to gently squeeze Jiang Tianji’s forearm, silently pleading with him to stop bucking against the system.

To his absolute surprise, the moment Jiang Tianji raised his head, he stealthily flashed his captain a ridiculous, mocking grimace—looking entirely unbothered by the severe disciplinary action he had just pulled down upon himself.

Huang Qi instantly burst into a silent grin, winking and flashing wild expressions at him until a nearby instructor let out a sharp, warning cough, forcing him to instantly snap back into a rigid, forward-facing discipline.

Jiang Tianji resigned himself to his fate. Hoisting the poster high above his head with both hands, he shouldered his heavy tactical pack. Looking around at the various portraits of Ling Kongmiao flickering across the hovering perimeter screens, he had to begrudgingly admit that Irene’s curatorial eye was exceptionally sharp; the action shots and portraits chosen were visually arresting enough to command immediate attention.

The rest of the recruits kept their heads tucked low, running in a silent, disciplined rhythm—terrified that a single stray glance from their own eyes might land them with a custom poster-hoisting penalty of their own.

Up on the elevated commanding platform, silver-white strands of hair fluttered gently against the sweeping night gales.

A personal communication device illuminated the darkness. Ling Kongmiao’s gaze hovered over the caller ID for a fraction of a second before he casually swiped to accept the encrypted line.

“Director Jiang,” he initiated the greeting smoothly.

Jiang Yan’s voice carried a distinct edge of exhaustion, indicating she had only just concluded a grueling operational shift.

“Captain Ling, did my call disrupt your rest cycle?”

Ling Kongmiao: “Not at all. We happen to have a live mobilization training session running tonight.”

“That is a relief. I apologize for initiating a secure patch at such an ungodly hour… because Officer Zhou Xiong’s direct line is currently unreachable and the matter is highly time-sensitive, please relay a directive to him: he is required to attend an emergency briefing at the Command Center tomorrow before twelve hundred hours.”

Ling Kongmiao: “Understood.”

With the official business successfully communicated, Jiang Yan didn’t immediately terminate the connection. Ling Kongmiao remained silent as well; knowing the high-ranking director had further matters to discuss, he waited with practiced, patient discipline.

“Tianji’s medical and evaluation metrics are quite anomalous. The comprehensive diagnostic reports should be finalized within the next forty-eight hours. How… is he holding up over there?”

“…”

Ling Kongmiao cast his gaze out over the training grounds, tracking the massive array of his own portraits flashing across the hover-screens, before his eyes locked onto the highly conspicuous figure running amidst the crowd—hoisting a glossy poster high into the air while burdened under a full tactical load. He fell silent for a brief moment before responding with an entirely straight face.

“He is doing exceptionally well. He seems remarkably cheerful.”

It was impossible to tell whether Jiang Yan had managed to decipher the true reality hidden beneath her contact’s brief silence, but a soft, knowing chuckle rippled through the comms.

“If Tianji proves defiant or refuses to submit to baseline discipline, Captain Ling need not show any deference to my position. He is currently in desperate need of a thorough breaking-in. Of course, I am fully aware of how taxing your operational schedule is… but if you happen to find yourself navigating a relatively quiet cycle, I would be profoundly grateful if you could personally take this boy to task and discipline him.”

Ling Kongmiao: “Rest assured, Director. It is a minor task, entirely within my capability.”

Hearing him agree to the request without a single shred of hesitation, Jiang Yan appeared somewhat caught off guard.

“Captain Ling’s operational style has always been fiercely independent; I was genuinely concerned that my request might invite your professional displeasure. But with your explicit assurance, my mind is entirely at ease.”

As she spoke, she suddenly pivoted to a seemingly unrelated inquiry.

“By the way… I recall hearing rumors that during your younger years, Captain Ling also attended the Imperial Hanyu Academy on the Capital Planet?”

The elegant finger Ling Kongmiao had been tapping against the steel railing froze mid-motion. “…Yes.”

“I see.” Jiang Yan offered no further elaboration, her vocal tone dropping slightly as if she had suddenly plunged into a deep, private calculation. “Very well, it is late. I will not intrude further upon your training session, Captain. Get some rest when you conclude.”

“Understood. You as well, Director.”

The secure communication line went dark.

Ling Kongmiao remained motionless for a long moment, his eyes staring blankly into a vacant point across the dark sky.

After a protracted silence, he pulled up his interface, accessed his secure messaging application, and tapped into Jiang Yan’s public profile page. His slender fingers executed a light, casual swipe across the screen.

In stark contrast to her characteristically cold, strictly professional demeanor, her profile interface featured a prominent photograph of a young boy, holding a glittering merit medal while flashing a radiant, unburdened smile toward the camera.

The sunlight capturing that specific day had been absolutely pristine. The young boy possessed bright eyes and clean features, one hand proudly presenting his academic medal while his other arm held a cat securely against his chest.

Directly behind his silhouette, a massive granite monument stood with several elegant characters deeply etched into its stone surface—

The Capital Planet Hanyu Academy.

Ling Kongmiao stared quietly at the photograph for a few moments. Then, with a sudden, playful flick of his finger against the digital glass, he tapped the young boy right on the forehead.