All of the training was geared toward actual combat from the start, and after two weeks, not a single new recruit, Qin Fen included, had avoided injury.

Once the veteran soldiers truly grasped the strength of Qin Fen and his group, they dropped any pretense of treating the training as a game, switching to a genuine combat mindset. The idea of sparring with equal strength for a fair fight simply never materialized.

In every engagement, the veterans fought at full Meteor-grade strength. This allowed them, with their vast experience, years of practiced coordination, superior weaponry, and overwhelming martial power advantage, to send Qin Fen and his comrades scrambling across Happy Paradise Island every time.

Yet, the veterans had their own source of frustration. They rarely managed to secure a true, decisive victory. Under Qin Fen’s leadership, the small teams formed by him and Lin Ling were as slippery as eels; just when they seemed cornered and on the verge of collapse, they would always manage to slip away at the critical moment.

Specifically, one five-star Meteor-grade veteran finally managed to engineer a one-on-one confrontation with Qin Fen, intending to capture the slippery youth and deliver a harsh lesson.

The result? The veterans sustained casualties as well. The veteran who secretly dueled Qin Fen ended up with six broken ribs and severe trauma to the Jueyin Liver Meridian.

Meanwhile, Qin Fen, the other half of the duel, appeared completely unscathed, looking remarkably energetic.

The veterans waited with keen curiosity for their comrade to awaken from his unconscious state. Upon waking, the injured soldier revealed that he had promised Qin Fen to keep the details secret, only telling his comrades two things: First, Qin Fen had used absolutely no tricks or gimmicks, nor had he employed any bio-beasts; he had won the duel purely on genuine skill and strength.

The second thing he relayed was a solemn warning to his comrades: unless one possessed the strength of a six-star Meteor-grade fighter, they must never engage Qin Fen in a small-scale, isolated one-on-one confrontation, or the outcome would be disastrously grim—the kid was simply a monster.

Following this battle, Qin Fen was universally hailed by all new recruits as the strongest among them during the entire training exercise.

Regarding this designation, Du Zhanpeng merely offered a slight smile, raising no objections. When asked privately why he didn't contest the title, his response commanded admiration.

“We all share the Chinese bloodline; centuries ago, we shared the same ancestor. Whoever is first is the first among all Chinese. Why create separation between ‘you’ and ‘me’?”

It was difficult for people to reconcile such magnanimous words with the harsh manner in which he treated Du Peng.

As for Lin Ling’s reaction to Qin Fen receiving this title, it was equally placid, as if the identity of the top fighter made no difference to her.

Just as the new recruits were beginning to grow fond of this intense training regimen, the military command structure in East Asia convened an urgent, small-scale meeting.

“He was abducted? The chief designer of the Nano-Combat Suit has been kidnapped? What about the special forces assigned to security? Are they all dead?”

Facing the roar of a four-star General, the official on the holographic projection replied with unnerving calm, “General, they are indeed all dead. Because using specialized soldiers above the standard level would easily tip off those with ill intent to the expert’s importance, the standard protocol assigned only the most ordinary special forces personnel.”

In the not-so-spacious conference room, seated around the long table were more than a dozen generals with grim expressions. Every person present held the rank of at least Lieutenant General, and they were all truly powerful figures.

Every face looked as though they had personally buried their closest relative. This Nano-Combat Suit was a critical secret shared between the Earth and Mars militaries. According to its theoretical design, once fully realized, it would allow individual soldiers to conduct combat operations in outer space, potentially eliminating the need for reliance on space fighters to a degree.

If integrated with several other secretly developed weapons systems, it could entirely supersede the need for space fighters and even revolutionize the mode of large-scale space battles involving star destroyers. This technology held the key to regaining dominance over planets that were rapidly slipping out of control.

To say that the leader of the Nano-Combat Suit research team was vital to the survival of the Key Alliance was no exaggeration.

The virtual screen above the conference table vanished, and an elder sitting on one side of the table, whose temples showed flecks of white, spoke slowly, “Gentlemen, what do we do?”

Silence filled the room until a relatively young Lieutenant General finally broke it. He addressed the elder general—whose back remained ramrod straight despite his age and the white at his temples, exhibiting more vigor than many younger men—saying, “General, you are the Serpent King of the Federation. Your advice is even more crucial in this moment.” This man was Du Hen, Admiral, leader of the Du family, who held the title of Serpent King in military circles.

“Lieutenant General Zuo Ben. Have you determined which faction is responsible?” Du Hen began his questioning casually.

Young Lieutenant General Zuo Ben rapidly tapped several times on the table. A virtual electronic projection reappeared around the table perimeter, and he began his concise explanation.

“Preliminary investigation confirms that the attacking force is indeed the God’s Chosen Dominion Cult, ranked fifth among the top ten terrorist organizations. However, they traditionally focus on physical destruction and terrorist attacks; kidnapping federal research personnel is unprecedented for them. This time, it seems highly suspicious. According to staff analysis, there is a 97.2% probability that behind the God’s Chosen Dominion Cult…”

Zuo Ben did not finish the sentence, but the meaning behind his implication was perfectly clear to everyone present without explicit statement.

Du Hen propped his chin on his hands, his eyes gleaming with icy light. In deep thought, he truly resembled the legendary serpent; even several of the other generals present could sense the terrifying aura emanating from the old man.

Du Yu, who rarely spoke during these meetings, interjected, “Has the power behind the God’s Chosen Dominion Cult mobilized?”

“No,” Zuo Ben replied, lacing his fingers together. “Presumably, they fear that overt action would attract too much attention from us. They will likely attempt a covert transfer soon. Currently, a team from the Cult is guarding the expert, and they have already transmitted a ransom demand. This is likely a tactic to buy time and lull us into complacency.”

“Then it is a race against time,” Du Hen mused for a long moment before speaking slowly, “Determine the current location of the research team leader. Then, with lightning speed and without warning, we must retrieve him.”

The young Lieutenant General spread his hands. “General, perhaps you should suggest the detailed method first.”

Everyone present let out a wry smile upon hearing this suggestion. Song Wendong? The Qilin, Song Wendong? The Martial God of Earth? Even the Federal President could barely summon him; the Sacred Martial Hall treated him with deference. Asking him to engage in a cosmic war was one thing, but rescuing a single expert? Anyone who approached him with such a request would likely end up hospitalized for a year.

Du Hen clearly understood that this path was impractical. He dismissed it casually, “Second method: since the force behind the God’s Chosen Dominion Cult wishes to remain unnoticed, we will fall for their feint. We will not dispatch a heavily fortified, powerful team for the main assault. Instead, we will send a unit possessing adequate combat capability but not so overwhelmingly strong as to incite immediate terror, to launch a frontal attack and seize the target.”

The generals present fell silent again. Finding a unit fitting that description was difficult. The God’s Chosen Dominion Cult was no ordinary terrorist organization; many of their soldiers possessed combat readiness comparable to the Federation’s veteran special forces.

“Additionally,” the Serpent King continued, “Assemble a very small, covert infiltration squad. They will be the true rescue team.”

“What about the new recruits currently training at Happy Paradise?” Du Yu spoke up again. “They have the capability, and they hold the status of new recruits.”

“Good point.”

“That makes sense.”

“General Shen’s son is among them, isn't he? This mission is extremely dangerous…”

“General Shen, Happy Paradise only has the new recruit Du Zhanpeng; my son is not among them.” Du Yu’s tone hardened slightly. “If you are afraid to die, then do not be a soldier.”

General Shen, who appeared to be around fifty, offered a faint smile. He caught the similar smile from Lieutenant General Zuo Ben. In each other's eyes, they saw the calculation regarding life and death—but what they truly worried about was credit! This mission involved rescuing the chief designer of the Nano-Combat Suit, which impacted numerous aspects of the Federation’s future strategy.

If such a mission were successfully completed, how small would Du Zhanpeng’s credit be? Two members of the Du family were seated at this table; none of them wished to see the young Du Zhanpeng’s presence rising in prominence in the near future.

“If any of you have a better idea, then treat my proposal as the rambling of an old fool.” Du Hen rested his chin on his hand, the cold light flickering in his eyes once again invoking the image of the Serpent.

“Heh, the old General’s suggestion is naturally the best one.” He smiled genuinely, appearing extremely pleased, and was the first to cast his vote.

“I concur. After being baptized by battle, I won’t embarrass myself further in future competitions.”

“Indeed, I also support it…”

The atmosphere around the conference table became one of harmonious agreement; everyone smiled genuinely, though only they knew the true intentions behind their expressions.

The meeting room door, tightly shut amidst the tension, slowly opened.

The generals filed out in single file. Du Hen looked ahead with a composed expression and said in a voice audible only to the person beside him, “You performed well today. Do not concern yourself with the selfish views of others or the struggles for power. As long as you display formidable strength, what is yours will never be taken away.”

“Yes, Father,” Du Yu followed closely, replying in a low voice. It was difficult to imagine that this cautious middle-aged man was a powerful Admiral within the military structure.

“Oh, and how are Zhanpeng’s provisions coming along?” As Du Hen, the Serpent King, mentioned his grandson, a trace of tenderness entered his eyes. The affection between grandparents and grandchildren was not exclusive to ordinary families; it existed equally within powerful clans.