I enlisted four times! My former unit blacklisted me.

At the edge of the starting line, Zhao Yihang and his three companions were leisurely stretching their joints, their expressions completely out of place with their surroundings.

The surrounding trainees were all on high alert, some taking deep breaths, some stomping their feet, and some even closing their eyes and silently reciting tactical mantras.

The four of them, on the other hand, acted as if they were out for a stroll, their movements leisurely and their faces showing no sign of tension.

Hao Qiang squatted at the other end of the starting line and glanced in the direction of Wu Hanfeng. He found that the old man was standing at the very edge of the line, doing stretching half-heartedly, his movements as perfunctory as if he were doing calisthenics.

He breathed a slight sigh of relief.

At least Wu Hanfeng looks alright now; his legs aren't shaking and his face isn't pale. It's unlikely that he would faint while running, right?

But then he thought again and realized he was being too naive.

When he was being chased last time, Wu Hanfeng seemed normal at first, but as the chase progressed, he suddenly fainted without any warning.

No, we still need to keep our distance.

Hao Qiang made up his mind: as soon as the race starts, he will sprint forward at full speed, getting as far away from Wu Hanfeng as possible, ideally creating a one-kilometer gap to completely eliminate the possibility of being framed.

Song Yizhou looked at the group of students with his ever-present smile on his face, holding a stopwatch in his hand, his gaze sweeping over each student's face in turn.

He was very familiar with the expressions on most people's faces—nervous, anxious, and guilty, exactly the same as every batch of trainees who had just arrived in previous years; there was nothing new about it.

But when his gaze fell on Wu Hanfeng's face, his brows furrowed almost imperceptibly.

This guy's expression... how should I put it, it's too relaxed.

It wasn't feigned indifference, nor was it the perfunctory attitude of a seasoned veteran; rather, it was a sense of casualness.

The four soldiers next to him had similar expressions, standing there casually moving their ankles as if waiting for a bus, showing no sense of urgency about taking the assessment.

Song Yizhou began to have doubts.

Are these two veterans truly confident, or do they genuinely not take the nineteen minutes seriously?

If he really had the ability to do it—running 5 kilometers in 19 minutes while armed is considered top-notch in the entire division—how could a seasoned veteran who has been in and out of the military four times have such a skill?

To say he didn't take it seriously—he's either an idiot or he's hiding something.

Song Yizhou had been a squad leader in the training team for eight years. He had seen people who hid their talents and people who showed off, but there were very few like Wu Hanfeng who he couldn't figure out at all.

"Listen up, all of you." Song Yizhou's smile vanished, replaced by a stern expression. "A five-kilometer cross-country run in full gear, nineteen minutes is the passing mark."

"This is just the entry standard; it will only get higher from here on out. Some of you may think that you've done well in your previous jobs and will easily pass this test—I advise you to give up that idea as soon as possible."

"The training team's track is longer than the track in your original unit."

Several trainees nearby nervously swallowed.

Zhao Yihang and Qian Kun exchanged a glance, their lips twitching slightly.

Is the training team's running track longer than the original unit's running track?

Can a running track have different lengths?

This is clearly psychological warfare; the squad leader is too good at scaring people.

However, back in the special operations squad, Wu Hanfeng didn't lead them on a standard track; it was a gravel road and mountain path outside the camp, with ups and downs, which was much more tiring than a synthetic track.

If the training team were to run on a standard track, it would be considered a demotion for them.

Just then, Zhao Yihang felt someone gently tug at his tactical vest from behind.

He turned around and saw Qian Kun.

Qian Kun winked at him and then gestured towards Wu Hanfeng with his lip.

Zhao Yihang understood immediately and exchanged a glance with Ma Teng and Sun Dawei.

The four of them subtly moved closer to Wu Hanfeng, pretending to warm up as well, but actually surrounding him.

"Brother Feng," Zhao Yihang asked in a low voice, "How are we going to run later?"

Wu Hanfeng was doing lunges and stretches when he heard this, he raised his eyelids slightly and asked, "What? How do you run?"

"So...should I run at full speed, or hold back a bit?"

Qian Kun said, "Yeah, Brother Feng, back in the special forces unit, we could easily run 5 kilometers in 17 or 18 minutes with 20 kilograms of fuel. If we were to go all out, that 19-minute standard is just too..."

Before he could finish speaking, Ma Teng nudged him from behind, signaling him to keep his voice down.

There were students from other classes all around; it wouldn't be good if they heard us.

Wu Hanfeng stopped stretching his legs, straightened up, glanced at Qin Gang who was talking to four squad leaders on the high platform, and then looked at Song Yizhou who was watching them intently from not far away. A slight smile appeared on his lips.

"Don't be too flashy on your first day."

"Let's just run around as they ask for now, and not discourage them too much at once."

Zhao Yihang blinked: "How casual is 'just running around'?"

"Just run for about twenty minutes, not too fast, not too slow." Wu

"You guys, tone it down. Don't come out acting like you're the best in the whole division. We're here for training, not to challenge us."

All four nodded in unison.

Running for twenty minutes is enough—if other trainees heard this, they would probably vomit blood on the spot.

Other people might not be able to run under 20 minutes even if they run their hardest, but these guys are still discussing whether they should slow down.

Zhao Yihang said, "Understood, Brother Feng. Twenty minutes, no problem."

Qian Kun: "Okay, consider this a warm-up. We'll definitely have to train this afternoon anyway, so let's save our energy."

Ma Teng: "I don't care, twenty kilograms isn't heavy anyway."

Sun Dawei: "It's probably to whet our appetites for dinner later."

After the four finished speaking, they quietly dispersed and returned to their respective positions to continue warming up, their expressions even more relaxed than before.

Several students from Class One nearby were nervously taking deep breaths and reciting breathing rhythm mantras. Seeing the four of them looking so calm and collected, they felt even more resentful.

"What's wrong with these soldiers from the Third Regiment? Aren't they nervous at all?" a cadet from the Second Regiment whispered to the person next to him.

"Who knows? Maybe they've given up on treatment."

"Give up treatment? Nineteen minutes! Just thinking about it makes my legs go weak."

"Forget nineteen minutes, I'd be grateful if I could run under twenty minutes."

Hao Qiang squatted at the back of the line, tying his shoelaces while glancing in Wu Hanfeng's direction out of the corner of his eye.

He saw Zhao Yihang and the other three huddle together and whisper for a while before dispersing, and alarm bells immediately went off in his mind.

There is a conspiracy!

There's definitely a conspiracy!

Based on his understanding of Wu Hanfeng, he knew that whenever this ancestor whispered to someone, it was never anything good.

No, I absolutely must not get close to him.

They rushed out right from the start.

As long as he can't see Wu Hanfeng, Wu Hanfeng can't get away with extorting money from him.

He was known as the fastest runner in the group, able to run five kilometers in under seventeen and a half minutes.

Of course, none of these are the key points!

The key is—speed! Speed! Speed!