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

A lone plume of smoke rises from the desert; a top-secret shooting training base in the Northwest Military Region.

A biting wind whipped up fine sand, scraping across every inch of the Gobi Desert like a knife. In this desolate wasteland where even birds had vanished, only the occasional muffled gunshots from afar proved that life still teemed here.

Lone Wolf, dressed in faded camouflage, lay prone in a sniper position that blended almost seamlessly into the environment.

The high-precision sniper rifle that had been with him for many years was now quietly resting in front of him. His body remained motionless, as if he had become a stubborn rock on the ground, and even his breathing was extremely faint. In this temperature that could freeze bones, the hot air he exhaled did not condense into white mist in the air—that was because he forcibly locked in his body temperature with his internal energy.

"Too impetuous."

The lone wolf stared at the sniper scope, a dry blade of grass clenched between his teeth, his voice so low that only he could hear it.

At the edge of his line of sight, 1,200 meters away.

Fifty young, elite snipers lay prone on the exposed Gobi Desert. They had been lying there for a full forty-eight hours, without water, without supplies, and not even allowed to move a finger.

"Instructor... I... I really... can't take it anymore..."

A broken voice came through the walkie-talkie, tinged with obvious sobs. It was the most talented prospect among the trainees, whose mental defenses were now on the verge of collapse.

"If you can't hold on, then get out."

Lone Wolf's voice was cold and devoid of any warmth. "The Dragon Kingdom doesn't need snipers who only know how to cry. Go back to your original unit and be your king of soldiers. Don't waste my bullets here."

There was a deathly silence on the other end of the walkie-talkie.

After a long pause, the young voice rang out again, still trembling, but now with a newfound fierceness. "...Report! I'm alright!"

The lone wolf's lips curled up slightly, a fleeting smile that, if seen by Tank, would surely elicit a dramatic exclamation: "The sun has risen in the west!"

……

Since Liu Ming "stepped down" to become the prestigious lifelong consultant, the brothers of the Dragon Fang Squad have indeed enjoyed a comfortable period of time.

But Lone Wolf was never one to sit back and relax; his blood ran with the smell of gunpowder.

After less than three months in the big city, he was suffocating from the comfortable atmosphere. Just then, the military region commander personally came to his door, carrying two bottles of specially supplied old wine, and shamelessly insisted on inviting this "God of Snipers" to come out of retirement and lead those rookies who hadn't seen blood for many years.

So, Lone Wolf packed up his bedding, said goodbye to Liu Ming, and plunged into the endless yellow sands of the Northwest.

He took the "devil training method" that Liu Ming had taught them years ago, which he had summarized in the Golden Triangle, the Valley of Death, and countless other hellish places, modified it, and applied it exactly as it was to these greenhorns.

"What do you think a sniper is?"

In the first lesson, Lone Wolf didn't carry a gun; instead, he gave everyone a sewing needle as thin as a cow's hair.

"Is it the marksmanship of hitting a target from a hundred paces away? Or the mystery of killing without a trace?"

He pointed to the steel wires that dazzled people under the blazing sun.

"No, those are assassins. The real snipers are the shadows of this land, gods that can grow from the earth."

"Today, you only have one task: thread this needle through that strand of hair that's swaying in the wind. If you can't, dinner is canceled."

That night, these geniuses, who had been hailed as geniuses in their original units, all went hungry in the cold wind all night.

They hated him, hated this old man who was like an ice cube. They hated his unreasonable training methods.

But soon, this hatred transformed into the most extreme fear and worship.

……

"Boss, I've practically ruined these kids."

Late at night, Lone Wolf, wrapped in a military overcoat, sat in front of that incredibly powerful quantum communication device and dialed that familiar number.

"If it's ruined, just replace it with a new batch."

On the other end of the phone, Liu Ming's voice was languid, and the faint sound of a baby crying could be heard in the background.

"Lone Wolf, go easy on him. Don't forget you're an instructor, not an assassin. Leave some seeds for our military region."

"Hehe, boss, you've become a father, haven't you? Your heart has softened."

The lone wolf lit a cigarette and looked out at the dark wilderness.

"It's not that I'm soft-hearted."

Liu Ming's voice turned serious. "Times have changed. Modern warfare is a systemic confrontation. Your mission is to train a group of elite soldiers capable of independent combat, not a bunch of blockheads who can only pull triggers."

"clear."

Lone Wolf took a deep drag on his cigarette. "By the way, boss, I tried out that 'wind drift correction' algorithm model you gave me with these guys. The results were amazing."

"That's good. I've recently optimized another version; I'll have Ghost Hand send it to you later. Bye, that brat Liu Nian peed his pants again..."

Hearing the busy tone on the phone, Lone Wolf shook his head helplessly. Who would have thought that the demon who once ravaged the Golden Triangle would now be changing diapers at home?

However, he also knew that if Liu Ming hadn't been there to support him and directly veto those cumbersome administrative and financial approvals, his money-burning training method would have been impossible to implement.

Liu Ming was using his power to quietly lay a solid foundation for the country's defense capabilities.

……

Three months later. The special training camp graduation competition.

Top snipers from all major war zones across the country have gathered here for a head-to-head competition.

"Target: 1,500 meters, wind speed: level 6. Obstacles: moving target, with three layers of bulletproof glass."

The announcer's voice was trembling; such difficulty would have been unthinkable in previous exercises.

But... amidst the continuous gunfire...

"Ten rings!" "Ten rings!" "Ten rings!"

All the trainees led by Lone Wolf hit their targets! Each bullet, as if guided by a navigator, precisely pierced through the tiny gaps in the three layers of glass, shattering the bullseye 1,500 meters away!

The entire army was shaken! The old generals on the reviewing stand stood up from their chairs, their eyes practically popping out of their sockets!

"This...this is a fucking achievement, is it even possible for a human to produce?"

"What exactly did Lone Wolf teach them?"

Faced with these exclamations, Lone Wolf simply dusted himself off. He didn't even glance at the stunned big shots, and walked straight to the young student whose face was covered in mud.

That was the same boy who used to cry. Now, his eyes are as cold as ice, and the hand holding the gun is so steady that it doesn't even tremble.

"Instructor! I did it!"

The trainees stood up straight, their eyes filled with fervor.

"Hmm, so-so," Lone Wolf replied casually, handing over a brand-new armband.

It was a jet-black armband embroidered with a ferocious and aloof golden wolf's head.

"Put it on."

"Don't say I taught you that when you go out in the future. It's embarrassing."

The cadet accepted the armband with both hands; it was an honor more precious than life itself. He gave the lone wolf's retreating figure, gradually disappearing into the dust, the most perfect military salute he had ever given in his life.

He knew that the man had been the vice-captain of "Dragon Fang" and the most trusted shadow of the man codenamed "Shura".

In this vast desert, in this forbidden area known as the "Lone Wolf Training Camp," a legend about a "sharpshooter" is spreading explosively throughout the military.

Years later, when these trainees went to various borders, when their bullets pierced the enemy's skulls time and time again, every sniper known as "Death" would point to the golden wolf head patch on his chest when asked about his beliefs.

The man's name, Liu Zifeng, is no longer mentioned, but the words "Lone Wolf" have become an eternal, guiding monument in the hearts of all special forces soldiers across the land... a supreme divine monument.