Courtyard House: Starting with handing over the keys, the state helps me abuse birds.

A middle-aged man with a square face walked to the front and his gaze swept over the twelve people. His gaze was steady, moving from the front to the back of the line, pausing for a moment on each person's face before looking away.

"Everyone's here." He spoke, his voice not loud, but clear and forceful, each word clearly reaching everyone's ears. "My surname is Duan, you can call me Director Duan. From today onwards, I will be responsible for ensuring your training and daily life."

No one spoke. All twelve pairs of eyes were fixed on him.

"You were all selected from the entire army, and each one of you is an outstanding individual," Director Duan continued. "I have reviewed the files of those who have made meritorious contributions, received awards, won prizes, and broken records, and you are all truly excellent."

He paused, then changed the subject.

"but."

He emphasized his words.

"Here, no one has the right to be arrogant. Your past means nothing here. From this moment on, you have only one identity: trainees. You have only one mission: to obey orders and complete the training."

The playground was so quiet you could hear the wind blowing through the grass.

The twelve people still stood ramrod straight.

"Next, let me introduce your instructors."

Director Duan turned to the side and looked at the young man next to him.

"Comrade Xie Weihong will be in charge of all your training from today onwards."

The young man's name reached Zhao Weize's ears.

Xie Weihong.

He silently repeated the name to himself, but couldn't place it. He'd never seen this name in the army-wide skills competition, nor on the list of those awarded for meritorious service. A completely unfamiliar name.

But those eyes...

The young man took a step forward and stood at the very front of the line.

He didn't speak.

Just watching them.

Look at them one by one from left to right.

Zhao Weize and he made eye contact for a moment.

There was no scrutiny, no consideration, not even curiosity in that glance; it was just a quick look to confirm that someone was standing there, then the gaze moved on to the next person.

Like a general looking after his soldiers.

Like an old soldier looking at a greenhorn.

picture……

Zhao Weize couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. But in that instant, he suddenly had a strange feeling that this young man was a completely different kind of person from them.

It's not a difference in age, nor a difference in rank, but something deeper.

But he didn't have time to think it through.

Because after the young man looked around, he spoke up.

"I've reviewed your files, and your combat abilities are indeed quite impressive."

The voice wasn't loud, it could even be described as flat. But every word was clearly delivered to everyone's ears, as if the speaker were standing right in front of you.

"So, today's first subject is very simple."

He paused.

"All of you, attack together!"

Zhao Weize was stunned for a moment.

Attack together?

He thought he had misheard or misunderstood. But after the young man finished speaking, he didn't say anything more, he just looked at them.

Director Duan added from the side, as if afraid they wouldn't understand: "Go all at once. Instructor Xie means that all twelve of you should go together and fight him alone."

Now Zhao Weize was sure he hadn't misheard.

Twelve people, all at once, will take him down.

His first reaction was, "Are you kidding me?"

Who are these twelve people? They are the cream of the crop in the entire army, the top soldiers selected from various units. Reconnaissance soldiers, snipers, combat instructors, physical fitness experts... any one of them could be an instructor in an ordinary unit.

Twelve people like that, fighting against a young man in his early twenties?

If this gets out, people will laugh their heads off.

But the young man's face showed no sign of joking.

He just stood there, watching them, waiting for them to make their move.

Zhao Weize glanced around out of the corner of his eye.

The square-faced veteran on the left raised an eyebrow but remained silent. The lean, athletic runner on the right swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as if he were about to swallow something. The dark-skinned scout in the back row sharpened his gaze, as if he were re-evaluating the young man.

No one spoke. No one moved.

But Zhao Weize could sense that everyone's attention was focused on that young man.

"What's wrong? Is there a problem?" Director Duan's voice rang out.

No one answered.

Is there a problem? Of course there is. If this were said in a different place or on a different occasion, they would have burst out laughing. One against twelve? Do they think this is a movie? A martial arts novel?

But this is a military camp. This is a secret training base. Standing before them are instructors appointed by their superiors.

Even if there are doubts, you must still proceed.

Zhao Weize took a deep breath and swallowed back the words that were about to come out of his throat.

Obey orders.

"Very good." Director Duan nodded. "Then let's begin."

He looked at Xie Weihong.

Xie Weihong stood still, without making any move. He didn't even adopt any fighting stance; he just stood there casually, his hands hanging naturally at his sides, as if waiting for someone.

"It's too time-consuming to do it one by one," he said, his tone as casual as if he were commenting on the nice weather. "Come on, all of you at once."

Let's do it together.

It's not "go together", it's "come together".

These three words, when they reached Zhao Weize's ears, were like a stone thrown into a calm lake.

He suddenly remembered those eyes.

Those eyes were unbelievably calm.

There was a source of confidence within him. A source of confidence that he didn't know about, that was completely beyond his comprehension.

Director Duan raised his hand and made a gesture.

"start."

The twelve people began to move.

No one hesitated, no one shirked responsibility, and no one cried out, "This is unfair." The order was given, and it was carried out. No matter how absurd or unbelievable the order seemed, they had to go.

This is discipline.

This is what soldiers are like.

Zhao Weize took a step forward.

Instead of rushing towards the young man, he coordinated with those around him to flank him from different directions.

The old soldier on the left with a square face lowered his center of gravity and clenched his fists halfway, a standard fighting stance.

The lean, athletic runner on the right slowed his pace, moving as silently as a cheetah.

The dark-faced scout in the back row circled around to the side, blocking the young man's escape route.

Twelve people, twelve different positions, no communication, yet their coordination was as if they had rehearsed countless times.

These are elite soldiers.

The military boots made a neat and dull sound as they stepped on the cement ground.

Ten meters. Eight meters. Five meters.

Xie Weihong remained standing in the same spot, motionless.

Sunlight shone on him, casting a short shadow behind him. His eyes remained calm as he looked ahead at the twelve people who were gathering around him.

There was no tension, no excitement, and no extraneous emotions.

I just watched.

It's like watching a performance that has nothing to do with me.

As Zhao Weize drew closer, the strange feeling in his heart grew stronger.

Not right.

Something's off about this person.

But he no longer had time to think about it.

The encirclement is getting tighter and tighter.

three meters.

Two meters.

The people in the front row have entered attack range.

Xie Weihong remained motionless.

The playground was extremely quiet.

Only the wind.

There were also the footsteps of twelve people.