I enlisted four times! My former unit blacklisted me.

At the starting line, all the students from the four squadrons were already in place.

About a hundred people crowded behind the starting line. Some were squatting, some were standing, some were repeatedly adjusting the shoulder straps of their backpacks, and some were constantly stomping their feet. A tense atmosphere spread through the line.

Qin Gang was holding a megaphone.

"beep--"

A sharp assembly whistle rang out.

More than a hundred people rushed out at the same time.

Hao Qiang was the first to rush out.

He sprang out almost the instant the whistle blew, his steps were long and fast, so fast that the students next to him were stunned.

In less than twenty seconds, he carved a path through the crowd and headed straight for the front of the first group.

"Holy crap! Who is this? Charging off so fast right from the start?"

"He seems to be a soldier from the Third Regiment. I saw him when I got off the vehicle earlier."

"Are you crazy? Running at sprint speed right at the start of a 5km run? How will you even be able to keep up later?"

"They have the confidence, look at their cadence, it's like they have a motor installed, they're obviously professionals."

Hao Qiang completely ignored what the people behind him were saying; his eyes were only on the track ahead, and his mind was filled with only one thought:

Run away!

Run away!

Run away!

The farther away from Wu Hanfeng, the better!

He sprinted to the front of the group and joined several other top athletes to form the first team, maintaining a pace of less than three and a half minutes per kilometer.

At this pace, a 5km run would take between 17 and 18 minutes, almost two minutes faster than the passing mark of 19 minutes.

The members of the first group exchanged glances, each reading a competitive spirit in the other's eyes.

Those who run at the front are the best in their respective regiments, and no one wants to fall behind.

"Brother, which regiment are you from?" a dark-skinned, skinny second-year soldier asked as he ran by.

"Hao Qiang from the Third Regiment. And you?"

"Reconnaissance Battalion, Zhang Hai." Zhang Hai grinned, revealing a set of white teeth. "You ran pretty well, your pace was quite steady."

"You're not bad either." Hao Qiang said politely, but his pace didn't slow down at all.

He didn't want to talk to anyone; he just wanted to run faster and faster until Wu Hanfeng completely disappeared from his sight.

Meanwhile, in the middle and rear of the group, Wu Hanfeng was leisurely running with Zhao Yihang and three others.

Their pace wasn't slow, around four minutes per kilometer, steadily keeping them at the twenty-minute finish time.

But compared to the other trainees around them, they ran too easily.

Ma Teng: "This track is pretty good. It's paved with cinders, so it won't hurt your knees when you run on it."

Sun Dawei: "It's just a bit dusty, I'll have to wash my shoes later."

Several trainees nearby, who were panting like bellows, almost choked on their own breath when they heard this.

They were desperately trying to regulate their breathing; their legs were starting to ache, and the twenty kilograms on their backs were getting heavier and heavier, making each step feel like pulling themselves out of a quagmire.

But these five people, instead of running, started chatting away!

"What's the situation with these soldiers from the Third Regiment? Aren't they tired?"

"I think they're still... chatting?"

"Chatting? I can barely breathe, and they're supposed to be chatting?!"

"That's not the point. The point is, look at their faces—not a single drop of sweat!"

Several students nearby all turned to look at Wu Hanfeng and his group of five.

Indeed, their faces were all clean, without a single bead of sweat on their foreheads.

On the other hand, they had only run a little over a kilometer when their faces were already drenched in sweat, and the collar of their training uniforms was soaked.

"Am I hallucinating? Are they really carrying twenty kilograms?"

"Impossible, absolutely impossible! I just saw Squad Leader Song inspect it with my own eyes; he even weighed the sandbags."

"How did they run away so easily? Did they cheat?"

"I think we're just too bad..."

On the viewing platform beside the playground, four squad leaders stood in a row, their eyes scanning the track back and forth.

Liu Zhen's gaze fell on the first group of people, and he nodded slightly: "That Hao Qiang is not bad. He has big strides, fast frequency, and a very stable pace. He is a good prospect."

Du Hong: "Zhang Hai from the reconnaissance battalion is not bad either. Look at his breathing, he controls his rhythm very well. He should be able to maintain his speed in the second half of the race."

Han Song's focus was different. He kept looking at the middle section of the team, his brows slightly furrowed: "Those people in the middle are running too erratically. Their breathing is all messed up, and their strides are sometimes long and sometimes short. If they keep running like this, they will definitely slow down in the second half of the race."

"It's normal. It's only the first day, so we haven't gotten used to it yet." Cao Meng shrugged. "After running for a month, the formation will be neat."

Liu Zhen's gaze was suddenly drawn to a few people at the back of the group.

To be precise, I was drawn to the running postures of the five people.

These five people were running in the middle to late stages of the race. Their speed wasn't fast, but their running posture was very uniform—their stride length was the same, their stride frequency was the same, and even the amplitude of their arm swing was about the same.

The strangest thing is that they run very steadily, and everyone is on the same rhythm.

"Old Han, can you take another look? Isn't that the one leading the group in the middle Wu Hanfeng, the veteran from the second term?"

Han Song raised the binoculars hanging around his neck. "It's him. The four behind him are all from Class One; the roster says they came from the Third Regiment."

Liu Zhen frowned slightly and said, "I've been in the army for so many years, and I've seen plenty of people who can run steadily. But these four lads—look at their strides, they're almost identical!"

"The arm swing amplitude, the body tilt angle, and the landing rhythm are all synchronized. This isn't just individuals running separately; it's a well-trained, unified formation!"

"The most outrageous thing is, look closely at their faces."

"Which of the other trainees around wasn't covered in sweat, their faces flushed and necks red?"

"Look at these five again. They've run almost two kilometers, and there's not a drop of sweat on their foreheads. Their expressions are like they've just finished eating and are taking a stroll."

The group stared at the five clean-cut faces and fell silent.

Having served as instructors for so many years, they've seen people with good physical fitness, people who can run fast, and people who can control their breathing well.

But honestly, it's rare to see someone run two kilometers without a single drop of sweat on their face and still be able to chat while running.

"This physical foundation is a bit off," Liu Zhen said slowly, his tone full of confusion. "Even if their pace isn't fast now, maybe four minutes per kilometer, it's still too easy for them."

"Look at those soldiers running at the same four-minute pace over there, aren't they all panting like they're about to die?"

"Unless—" Han Song paused, then uttered the guess that even they found hard to believe, "four minutes per kilometer is not enough for them to exert any effort. Their true level is far more than that pace."

These words were followed by another moment of silence from the viewing platform.

A cross-country pace of four minutes per kilometer is considered above average in the training team.

If that pace is just casual for those five people, then what is their true potential?

"That's not right," Du Hong said疑惑地, "Wu Hanfeng is a second-term sergeant who has enlisted four times, so I can barely understand his good physical fitness. But the four following behind him are all first-year soldiers, how come they're so steady too?"

"Did you notice?" Han Song asked. "The breathing rhythms of the five of them are synchronized."

"Synchronized?"

"Yes. Three steps inhale, three steps exhale. Wu Hanfeng leads the way, and the four people behind him follow his rhythm. This isn't something that was done on the spot; it's a habit developed from long-term training together and being led by the same person."

Liu Zhen suddenly turned to look at him: "You mean, these four first-year soldiers were trained by Wu Hanfeng?"

"It's not on the roster, but judging from his running habits, it's highly likely." Han Song's tone became more and more certain. "Everyone's running habits are different. Stride length, stride frequency, breathing rhythm, arm swing, these are all things that the squad leader taught us by hand in basic training. Once they're set, they're hard to change."

"The fact that five people can run so in such perfect unison can only mean one thing—either they were trained by the same squad leader, or they were trained by Wu Hanfeng himself."

The air on the viewing platform froze once again.

A veteran of the second term led four first-year privates. The five of them ran in unison, as if they were copied and pasted. Their physical fitness was so solid that it was hard to fathom what it meant.

Either Wu Hanfeng was a top-tier soldier in his original unit with extensive experience in leading troops.

Either he is far more capable than his rank suggests.