Special forces soldier demobilization: Starting from the county government compound, a meteoric rise

Train G106 sped across the vast North China Plain like a silver lightning bolt. Inside the carriages, the central air conditioning blew out cool air, completely shutting out the chill from outside the windows in late autumn.

The first-class carriage maintained an almost oppressive silence, typical of the elite. Most passengers were looking down at their tablets or taking a nap with eye masks on. The only sounds were the occasional rustling of newspapers and the soft clinking of glasses.

Liu Ming sat in seat 05A with her eyes slightly closed.

The three months of fighting in Jiangnan Province had taken a toll on his otherwise iron-willed body, leaving him feeling mentally exhausted. He was mentally reviewing the situations he might encounter after arriving in Beijing. It was a far more treacherous and unpredictable territory than Jiangnan Province, where every move had to be made with extreme caution.

However, this rare tranquility was soon shattered by a piercing noise.

"Old man, how many times have I told you? This seat is comfortable for me, so I'm sitting here."

A rough, arrogant voice, carrying a strong sense of social savvy, stood out starkly in the quiet carriage.

Liu Ming opened her eyes, her brows furrowing slightly.

In seat 06A diagonally in front of him sat a burly man. The man had a shiny shaved head and a face full of menacing features. Even in the constant temperature of the carriage, he casually left his black leather jacket open, revealing an arm covered with dark blue tiger tattoos.

The rightful place belonged to an elderly man wearing a faded Zhongshan suit and thick glasses.

The old man clutched a train ticket in his hand, his fingers trembling slightly from the effort. Judging from his undeniable scholarly air, he must be a retired professor from some university.

"Comrade, there's always a proper order to things."

The old professor's voice trembled but was not humble. "This seat is my ticket. My back is bad, so I can't sit in any other seat. Please do me a favor and go back to your own seat."

"Convenient? I'll make things convenient for you, but who'll make things convenient for me?"

The tattooed man sneered, leaning back with his massive frame, taking up the entire seat. He even gave the old professor a disdainful shove, his tone growing increasingly arrogant: "Look how empty this carriage is, why don't you just find somewhere to nap? Why do you have to argue with me here? Looking at your skinny frame, do you want me to loosen your skin for you?"

The passengers around him turned to look, but quickly lowered their heads after meeting the tattooed man's fierce gaze.

The less trouble, the better.

This is the subconscious self-preservation choice that most people make when faced with such "bad people".

"Sir, please cooperate."

A petite flight attendant hurried over. She wore a professional smile, but her slightly trembling eyelashes betrayed her inner fear.

"Please show your ticket. If you did not purchase a first-class ticket, please return to your carriage as required, or pay the fare difference."

"Make up the difference? I've never even heard of those three words in my life!"

The tattooed man slammed his hand on the armrest, the force so great that a nearby teacup jumped. He pointed at the flight attendant and yelled, "You little brat, do you know who I am?"

When I was hanging out with Young Master Zhao in the provincial capital, you were probably still playing in the mud somewhere! Get lost, don't spoil my fun, or I'll give you one phone call and you'll be back home selling sweet potatoes tomorrow!

The flight attendant's eyes instantly welled up with tears after being scolded. She looked around pleadingly, only to find everyone pretending to be asleep or staring intently at their phones.

The old professor, his face flushed with anger, pointed at the tattooed man, his voice trembling even more violently: "You...you're utterly disgraceful! This is public morality, this is the law!"

"Law? My word is law in this little corner of the world!"

The tattooed man suddenly stood up, his tall, imposing figure like a black wall of flesh, casting the old professor into shadow. He brandished his large hand, covered in tiger tattoos, as if he were about to slap the old professor's weathered face at any moment.

"You old bastard, if you keep pushing your luck, I'll throw you out of this car window right now!"

The air inside the carriage seemed to freeze at that moment.

Just as that giant hand was about to fall.

"Smack."

A very faint sound, yet carrying a certain irresistible force, rang in the tattooed man's ear.

It was a slender, fair hand with a thin layer of calluses on the knuckles.

Without warning, it reached out and gripped the tattooed man's thick wrist, which was about to strike.

The tattooed man's body stiffened abruptly. He felt as if his wrist was tightly bound by a chain made of fine steel; not only could he not move, but even his blood circulation seemed to stop for a moment.

Liu Ming stood up.

He was still wearing that understated black collared jacket, and even had a pair of non-prescription glasses perched on his nose, making him look like a refined government official or a recent PhD graduate.

but.

His eyes, hidden behind his glasses, were now as cold as two bottomless pools of ice.

The palpable sense of oppression, born from the battles on the battlefield, instantly locked the tattooed man in place.

"Let...let go!"

The tattooed man tried to struggle. But to his surprise, he found that the other man's arm, which didn't look particularly strong, was like a towering mountain, as steady as a rock no matter how hard he tried.

Liu Ming ignored his shouting.

He merely glanced at the elderly professor, who was stunned by the shock, and then at the flight attendant with red and swollen eyes, his voice so calm that it betrayed no emotion whatsoever.

"Apologize."

"What? You want me to apologize? You fucking know..."

"Click."

Liu Ming tightened her fingers slightly, and a crisp sound of knuckles dislocating echoed dramatically in the deathly silent carriage.

"Ouch—! It hurts! Let go! Let go now!"

The once arrogant and burly man now screamed like a dead pig whose tail had been stepped on. His entire body was curled up in excruciating pain, and his previously ferocious face was now twisted beyond recognition.

"I'll say it again, I apologize."

Liu Ming's voice was still very soft, but it carried a chilling aura that sent shivers down everyone's spine.

"I...I'm sorry! Old man...no, sir! I was wrong! I'm so sorry!"

The tattooed man was no longer the arrogant man he had been moments before. He nodded frantically in excruciating pain, his face covered in cold sweat and pleading.

Liu Ming released her grip, as if throwing away a stinking pile of garbage.

He took the ticket from the old professor, glanced at it, and confirmed the location. Then, he turned to look at the burly man who was slumped on the ground, rubbing his wrist and glaring at him with resentment.

Liu Ming took off her glasses, revealing eyes that truly belonged to "Shura".

In that instant, the tattooed man felt as if he were seeing a blood-red hell.

The harsh words he was about to utter were swallowed back by fear.

Liu Ming pointed in the direction of the connecting area between the carriages, a cruel and cold smile curving her lips.

He said, slowly and deliberately:

"Go back to your seat, or I'll help you get out."