Chapter 27: The Dragon Lurks in the Abyss, First Steps into the Military Camp

A week later, a black SUV bearing special license plates came to a silent halt in the back alley behind Anhe Hall.

After dropping Yi Yi off at school, I changed into a set of unremarkable athletic clothes and boarded the vehicle. The driver was the same young man who had followed behind Xiao Jingtian that day.

“Teacher,” he introduced himself respectfully as he drove, “my name is Long Zhan. I’m the captain of the Dragon Fang Special Operations Unit.”

I gave a slight nod in response.

The car sped along the road, heading toward a secret military base on the far outskirts of Haishi. The place was under heavy guard; everywhere, armed sentries stood watch.

Long Zhan drove directly to the entrance of a vast indoor training facility.

“Teacher, we’re here. The team is already waiting inside.”

I stepped out, pushed open the heavy doors of the training hall, and entered.

Inside, thirty soldiers stood in formation, each clad in black tactical gear. Every one of them resembled a drawn blade—sharp eyes, fierce aura, and a palpable intent to kill. This was the Dragon Fang, the most elite special forces unit in all of China.

At the sight of Long Zhan and me, every soldier snapped to attention in perfect unison, the force of their movement filling the room. Yet within their eyes, there was a shadow of skepticism and scrutiny.

They’d been informed that a special instructor would be coming today. But to them, I looked barely over twenty, slender and mild-mannered, more like a frail scholar than someone qualified to train these “kings of soldiers.”

Long Zhan stepped forward and shouted, “Listen up! This is the special instructor General Xiao has invited for us—codename ‘Teacher’! From now on, his orders are your highest command! Do you understand?”

“Understood!” Their voices thundered, though the undertone of defiance was far from hidden.

I paid them no mind. Standing before them, I calmly let my gaze sweep across each face.

“You are all strong,” I began, my voice not loud but clear enough for every ear. “In your fields, your fighting skills and physical condition are near their peak.”

“But,” I continued, “your strength is dead strength.”

A stir of barely contained agitation rippled through the ranks. One soldier, the tallest and most powerfully built, a scar slashing across his face, could not hold back.

“Permission to speak! I disagree!” he declared loudly. “Every member of Dragon Fang is an elite chosen from a million. We’ve undergone the harshest training and completed the most dangerous missions! You say our strength is dead—then tell us, what is living strength?”

I turned my gaze to him. “What’s your name?”

“Reporting, sir! Shi Lei!”

“Very well, Shi Lei.” I nodded. “Hit me with your strongest punch.”

Shi Lei hesitated, then a glint of determination flashed in his eyes. Long Zhan moved as if to intervene, but I stilled him with a look.

“Teacher, this—”

“It’s fine.”

Shi Lei drew a deep breath, let out a shout, and launched a textbook straight punch at my chest, the air whistling with force. That blow could easily smash through three layers of brick.

Everyone held their breath.

I stood unmoving. As his fist neared, I extended my right hand—not to block, but to gently pinch the front of his fist between my index and middle fingers, as lightly as one might pluck a flower.

Time seemed to freeze.

Shi Lei’s unstoppable punch was caught effortlessly between my two fingers, unable to advance an inch further. He poured all his strength into it, his face flushed red, but his power vanished like a stone sinking into the sea.

Watching him, I spoke evenly: “Your strength originates from your feet, passes through your waist and hips, travels along your spine, and ends in your fist. The path is clear and your explosive force impressive. But this is merely brute force—clumsy power.”

As I finished, I gave his captured fist a slight tremor.

A soft, irresistible force shot through his arm, instantly coursing through his entire body. Shi Lei felt as if a current of electricity surged through him; his whole body went numb and, uncontrollably, he staggered back seven or eight steps and landed squarely on the ground, wide-eyed with disbelief.

The entire training hall fell silent.

On the faces of every Dragon Fang operative, all doubt and defiance had been utterly replaced by astonishment and awe.

I withdrew my hand and stood with arms behind my back, surveying the group.

“Today, I will teach you how to transform your clumsy strength into inner power—how to make your strength come alive.”

“The first lesson: stance training. Everyone, follow my commands and imitate my posture.”

Slowly, I assumed the foundational stance of my discipline—the Primordial Stance—an ancient posture that seemed plain and unremarkable.

“Remember, stance training is not punishment. It’s to let your body connect with the earth beneath your feet.”

This time, no one dared take me lightly. All thirty “kings of soldiers” awkwardly but earnestly mimicked my posture, their resolve clear and unwavering.