Du Yu’s face registered a touch of pride. “Zhanpeng has done very well. For years, he’s been verbally provoking his ‘food.’ As the recipient, the food has also trained relentlessly, and its strength has improved considerably.”

“Excellent.” Du Hen’s eyes were filled with gratified smiles. “Zhanpeng is clever, even as a child. He has never stopped provoking his food to promote its rapid growth so it can provide him with nourishment. In this respect, Zhanpeng is much smarter than you.”

“Indeed.” Du Yu nodded repeatedly, his expression showing complete agreement. “Yes, that boy Zhanpeng is certainly smart.”

“When there’s time, let Zhanpeng provoke that food a little more,” Du Hen said as he turned the corner of the corridor. “After all, the food carries some of the excellent bloodline of our Du family. Its potential shouldn't be limited to this; it can provide more nourishment then.”

Du Yu said nothing more, watching his father’s receding back, once again recalling the nickname the military world had bestowed upon him: King of Vipers!

That’s right! King of Vipers!

Many people assumed the Seven Star Immortal Thunder Art and the Formless Waterbird Art were two unparalleled secret techniques that money couldn't buy. However, very few knew that these two secret techniques were originally one complete discipline, whose original name was the Formless Seven Star Immortal Thunder Art.

But this secret technique was truly too profound. Even if you were a martial arts prodigy, if you practiced the entire technique from the start, you would almost certainly suffer total meridian rupture and death upon reaching the second level!

To truly master this complete secret method! One must first divide the technique and have two people practice it. But the one who ultimately practices the whole thing will become the 'food,' providing all the nourishment for the other.

The matter decided in the meeting set the massive, highly efficient machine of the military in motion to search for intelligence. Departments providing weapons and transportation were all working intensely.

The moon still hung bright in the sky above Blissful Paradise, and all the newly assembled recruits were still immersed in rest to recover from fatigue. The report of a P308 shot ripped through the night sky, jolting every sleeping soldier awake.

“Assemble! Immediately!”

After two weeks of training, the recruits no longer experienced the confusion of the first night’s awakening. Everyone gathered in the shortest possible time.

“Listen up, boys, I have some good news for you,” Satan’s raspy voice boomed, several decibels louder than his usual noise pollution. “Today, you won’t have to be tormented and abused by this old man anymore.”

The whirring of several X2 propellers sounded like muffled thunder as they appeared above the training ground. The powerful winds generated by the high-speed rotating blades made countless trees sway violently. \///\

Satan pointed to the sky. “These aircraft will take you into live combat! Listen up, you bastards! The classification of this mission is an A-level operation! Technically, even soldiers who have only been in special forces for a year aren’t qualified for this one. I don't know if the brass in the military command headquarters have had their brains fried to send you out on this mission, and worse, not even letting me, your instructor, go with you. So…”

Satan took a deep breath and roared with unprecedented volume: “Listen to me carefully, you maggots! This is not an exercise, not training! This is a real combat mission! Your adversaries are cunning, ferocious, and brutal terrorists! So, be sharp on the battlefield! And get back here safely! I haven't had enough fun torturing you yet, so none of you are allowed to die! Do you understand me?”

The new recruits rubbed their slightly sore noses. Their instructor, Satan, was truly concerned about saving face. At this point, he still wouldn’t frankly admit his worry.

“Are you deaf? Or just scared stiff?” Satan instantly emptied the entire clip of his P308 into the sky. “Why aren't you answering?”

“Report, Officer! We hear you!”

Nearly a hundred new recruits roared, veins bulging in their necks. Their voices, strained to the point of breaking, seemed to make the very earth tremble. \

“Very good!” Satan waved his hand. “Now, you can scram!”

“Report, Officer! We’re scram—”

Nearly a hundred new recruits snapped into the most perfect military salute simultaneously.

“Good!” For the first time, Satan returned a salute to the recruits. “Remember, all of you roll back here safely! Especially Mute! You brat, don't let your brain overheat the moment you hear the word 'terrorist' and forget what the word 'death' means!”

Mute gave a faint, gentle smile, as if the whole world owed him that expression. But to others, this fleeting smile carried an ominous premonition.

“Snakehead, keep an eye on your comrade!”

Satan bellowed his final warning to those already climbing the ropes dropped from the aircraft.

“Damn instructor, don't worry about it!”

Snakehead crisply slid his hand, which had been pointing to his head, forward about a foot. He finished with a remarkably nonchalant salute and farewell gesture.

“Damn?” Satan stroked his bald head, murmuring softly with satisfaction, “I like that title. You little bastards better all come back alive, hear me?” \\

“Captain, are the officers at headquarters insane? Sending these raw recruits on an A-level mission? People are definitely going to die, and certainly more than just one or two…”

“Nonsense! How dare you speak like that about the military command’s far-sighted planning?” Satan fiercely berated his subordinate. “Those fools are worse than pigs! You should praise them like this!”

“Yes! Captain is right to correct me! Those fools worse than pigs!”

The last of the nearly one hundred new recruits boarded the helicopter. The X2’s propellers roared with excitement for war, flying away from the island at speeds exceeding 400 kilometers per hour.

Satan leaned quietly against the trunk of a large tree, looking up at the departing X2s, muttering, “If only I had two more weeks, just to train them a little more on survival chances. Mute, you better stay calm, you hear me? You are going to be an excellent soldier, an excellent commander. Don't you dare die so rashly due to a burst of temper.”

Several X2s swung their massive rotors, the roar of their engines blasting away the clouds blocking their path.

The sudden mission had caught everyone somewhat off guard. \\

The new recruits exchanged glances, their brows showing a mix of faint apprehension and excitement.

Live combat! This was completely different from live-fire drills.

Of the nearly one hundred recruits, almost none had actually seen real battle or executed any missions; claiming not to be nervous was extremely difficult.

Lin Ling leaned back against the cabin wall, displaying the same demeanor he had during training—as quiet as if he were asleep, showing no pre-battle emotion whatsoever.

Du Zhanpeng, conversely, watched the scenery outside the window with keen interest. It was equally impossible to detect any sign of the coming battle radiating from him.

“Mute, did you forget what Instructor Satan told you?”

Snakehead looked at his comrade with palpable anxiety. This man, who had been somewhat normal before boarding, had completely transformed into someone else.

A heavy killing intent faintly enveloped his body. The eyes that always held a touch of sorrow had vanished without a trace.

In their place were eyes that seemed entirely inhuman—like those of a leopard, fused together.

Even a brief glance felt like an icy chill shooting through the marrow of the observer.

Mute remained silent, his two rows of teeth constantly clicking together, making a 'deng deng' sound. This was not trembling from fear; it was excitement mixed with rage.

Snakehead worriedly looked toward Qin Fen. While Mute’s strength wasn't the highest among the recruits, outside of Lin Ling, Du Zhanpeng, Du Peng, and Qin Fen, few could reliably defeat him in a one-on-one fight.

Snakehead did not want to ask Du Zhanpeng for help; he didn't want his brother’s future life to become that of Du Zhanpeng's lapdog.

As for Du Peng and Lin Ling, Snakehead didn't count on them either. It was Qin Fen’s composed dignity that Mute had respected during the recruit training.

“Just let him be,”

Qin Fen’s calm tone carried a trace of sadness as well.

Through two weeks of proximity, everyone had developed a basic understanding of each other. Qin Fen had coincidentally learned Mute’s story.

Five years ago, Mute had a happy, beautiful family and was an outgoing youth who dreamed of becoming a hero.

Then, the nightmare descended. Mute returned home from school to witness a scene that utterly shattered his temperament.

His father, mother, and the girl who played at his house and secretly loved him—all lay in pools of blood.

None of the three had intact clothing, and none of their corpses were whole. They had no eyes; all six eyeballs had been violently gouged from their sockets, the congealed blood leaving six vivid, red holes.

They had no tongues; the attackers had cut them out to prevent cries for help. Their clothes were disheveled; the assailants had not passed up the opportunity to vent their carnal urges.

Everything in the room seemed frozen, except for the camera behind an oil painting on the wall, which hadn't stopped recording. Mute had set it up then, hoping to secretly document his home life to enter it into the My Home video competition.

A thirteen-year-old child, trembling, opened the camera’s video feed and watched the endlessly cruel scenes, listening to the muffled cries his relatives made after their tongues were severed, and watching as fingers brutally yanked eyeballs from sockets.

From that moment on, the world gained one less cheerful boy and gained a silent young man known as “Mute.”

Mute had researched extensively and gradually learned that the attackers who broke into his home were called terrorists. Their objective was to seize the research data his father had stored on his computer.