Chapter 5: The Little Boy and the Fat Man

Chapter 5: The Little Boy and the Fat Man

Zhou Zhihan gritted his teeth and got up, carrying a five-kilogram military backpack as he ran forward. For the first time, he deeply felt that this five-kilogram pack pressed down on him like a weight of 150 kilograms.

It turned out the fairy tales were lies; not all golden opportunities are charming.

In fact, it was a trap.

A huge trap!

As soon as the starter pistol fired, the two instructors assigned to time Zhou Zhihan immediately started their stopwatches. When Zhou had barely taken his first step and dropped to the ground for burpees, the timers in the instructors’ hands kept ticking relentlessly. Ryunosuke Sakamoto, completely unaware of what was happening behind him, was pushing himself forward.

The event was a 500-meter shuttle run, back and forth twice, totaling two kilometers.

By the time Zhou finished his burpees and got up to run another few dozen meters, Ryunosuke was already nearing the 500-meter mark. He stretched out his hand from a distance, leaned forward, touched the marker pole at the end with his fingertips, twisted his body, bent his right leg, and pushed off to run back.

Ryunosuke applied every technique and piece of knowledge he had learned about shuttle runs; even shaving off half a second was worth it. This method also conserved energy, avoiding sudden stops and sharp turns.

Only when he turned to run back did Ryunosuke realize just how far behind this “deadbeat” was. Despite his satisfaction, he didn’t ponder why the other had fallen so far behind. As long as the instructor didn’t call the run off after the start signal, his time was valid.

Perhaps the other runner had tripped over an untied shoelace after a few dozen meters, or maybe the weighted pack was improperly secured and fell off. Instructors never halted the test for such mishaps.

Cadets from military academies are mostly destined for the battlefield.

On the battlefield, a single mistake can cost one’s life.

Making mistakes during training, competitions, or simulations is not necessarily bad—it’s a way to gain experience and learn how to minimize errors.

Thus, instructors permit mistakes during training but do not tolerate repeating the same failures.

Watching the “deadbeat” struggle heavily as he ran toward him, Ryunosuke relaxed further and slowed his pace to regulate his breathing. Victory was certain.

Zhou Zhihan barely managed to run a few dozen meters after standing up, feeling as if his legs were filled with lead, making each step agonizing and nearly causing him to fall. His muscles ached as if they no longer belonged to him, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth as if coated with superglue, and his lungs felt like smoldering embers, desperate for more oxygen to avoid suffocation.

To onlookers, his steps were heavy and labored, resembling those of a frail old man, on the verge of collapse at any moment.

Gritting his teeth, Zhou forced himself to run another few dozen meters, sweat pouring from him like a fountain. A fog clouded his vision—a sign of imminent exhaustion.

“Ding! System detects host unable to complete task unaided. Activating ‘Slight Edge of the Air Combat King’ combat skill!”

The moment a mechanical voice echoed in Zhou’s ear, it was as if an electric current ran through all his muscles, slightly repairing the pain. Life returned to his legs, his heart rate slowed somewhat, and especially his breathing cleared instantly, as if his small throat had become a powerful bellows.

It felt exhilarating.

Zhou increased both stride and pace, gradually accelerating.

Everyone watching was puzzled once again. This Chinese “deadbeat” was clearly not a washed-up fish but a lively one swimming deep beneath the surface.

Zhou pressed on for another few dozen meters. The pain and numbness faded as though an invisible comb was untangling his muscles and meridians, transforming discomfort into a steady stream of energy.

He could distinctly feel each drop of sweat washing away impurities, instantly replaced by drops of vibrant vitality flowing like a stream through his body, fueling his strength.

His mouth began to produce saliva again; the tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth returned to normal, and the thick saliva thinned.

However, his recent exertion had been too great, and he remained exhausted. To observers, his steps were still heavy but firm, dispelling the previous image of a faltering elder on the brink of collapse.

Everyone understood that after the frog jumps had drained so much energy, Zhou had passed the most grueling phase, transitioned smoothly through fatigue, and was now entering his zone of optimal performance.

High-intensity training aims to condition the body to endure and adapt to extreme exertion, enabling rapid recovery after the massive toll of battle.

This is the strongest adaptive ability of a soldier on the battlefield. Such soldiers possess formidable survival and operational capabilities.

All eyes silently shifted their opinion of Zhou—from disdain to respectful surprise, then to puzzlement—

Why would this so-called “deadbeat” do this?

Why waste so much energy on that strange and extremely difficult burpee jumping at the start?

If it were to show off, he must have known the consequences—failing to complete this two-kilometer weighted shuttle run within eight minutes.

Failing the first test meant an immediate return home.

Why do it then?

Although his running speed gradually increased, everyone believed that Zhou, having nearly exhausted himself, couldn’t possibly pass the first test.

Yet regardless of whether he passed, he had already transformed from a dried-up dead fish into a vigorous, hidden big fish beneath the deep waters!

Zhou hung the weighted pack around his neck and took off his shirt, drenched in sweat and clinging tightly to his body, making running uncomfortable.

His muscles were not large but highly elastic, embodying explosive power and excellent coordination—embodying the ideal of looking slim in clothes but muscular when bare.

There were no female cadets at the West Point Army Academy; wearing military shorts and bare-chested was common.

At this point, Zhou’s body had stopped sweating heavily.

His muscle pain had eased, fatigue lessened. The two minutes of sixty burpees had nearly killed him, but now he felt reborn.

Reaching the 300-meter mark, Zhou met Ryunosuke running back.

Ryunosuke, seeing Zhou soaked as if washed by water, knew victory was assured. The Chinese “deadbeat” lagged at least 400 meters behind; catching up was as impossible as scaling the sky. Judging by the sweat droplets shattering on the ground with every step, it was doubtful he could finish the two-kilometer weighted shuttle run, let alone the 50 push-ups waiting like the gates of hell afterward, ready to torment him further.

Ryunosuke slowed again. He only wanted to beat Zhou—not to make a name for himself at West Point just yet. This was a school full of experts; now was not his time to stand out.

“Keep it up!” Ryunosuke shouted, raising both hands as he ran, making it appear he was cheering Zhou on. In truth, he was saying, “Chinese! The sick man of East Asia! Get out of West Point! From tonight, that bed is mine.”

Turning his back to the crowd, Zhou raised both middle fingers toward Ryunosuke and said, “One day, you invaders will be stabbed to death by the little boy and the fat man!”

Ryunosuke was stunned.

Little boy?

Fat man?

What did this dead fish mean?

Is he crazy?

Does he have a screw loose? Where are the little boy and the fat man here?

(End of chapter)