Rebirth of a Mercenary: The Ace Mercenary Forced to Be the Beloved of the Group

The helicopter landed on the helipad at the special forces base at 9:00 a.m.

The December sky was overcast, and snow shoveled to the sides of the track remained on the parade ground. The air was so cold that one could breathe out white mist. In the distance, several gray-white barracks stood in neat rows, and the faint sounds of commands being shouted could be heard from the training ground.

Before the hatch slid open, Lu Xiao took out five black masks from his pocket, put one on himself, handed one to Li Mo, one to Shen Zhuo, and the remaining two to Bai Ye and Xuan Xiao. The masks covered the area below the bridge of the nose, only revealing the eyes and forehead.

The hatch slid open.

A cold wind blew in, carrying the chill of the snow that had been shoveled to the sides of the playground.

Li Mo was the first to step off the gangway, his combat boots making a dull thud on the concrete. Then came Lu Xiao, then Shen Zhuo, then Bai Ye and Xuan Xiao.

-

The twelve members of the special operations team were already lined up in front of the helipad. They were wearing uniform winter training uniforms, their ranks were perfectly aligned, and their epaulets reflected a cold light in the winter sun.

Those selected for the special operations team were all elites chosen from various units, and each of them thought they were someone special—physically strong, with accurate marksmanship, and ruthless in hand-to-hand combat. The captain standing at the front was a captain in his early thirties, 1.85 meters tall, with a straight posture and an expression that said, "I'll see how capable you are."

Then the hatch opened, and five people wearing black masks got out.

The one at the very front walked with steady, silent steps. His eyes swept across the queue without any unnecessary movements, but those whose eyes were swept across him unconsciously tensed up.

The blond guy next to him—even though he was wearing a mask and his expression was obscured, his squinted eyes were clearly smiling, and that smile was even more unsettling than the expressionless guy next to him.

The redhead next to him—he wasn't even looking at the queue, but his hands, which were exposed outside his mask, had several old knife scars.

A sense of oppression. The oppressive feeling from the three people at the front was like an invisible wall pressing down on us.

This sense of oppression was completely different from the instructors they had encountered before—those instructors' aura was honed on the training field; it was strict, tough, and had the ruthless spirit of "I'm going to train you to your knees." But the oppression emanating from these three men was bloody, heavy, and an unmaskable truth of "I've crawled out of a pile of corpses."

A slight commotion arose in the ranks of the twelve team members. One of the team members in the second row whispered to the person next to him, "Damn, these guys have really killed people, haven't they?" His voice was so soft it could almost be blown away by the wind, but his teammate next to him still heard it, and his Adam's apple bobbed.

Lu Xiao took two steps forward and stood at the front of the line.

He put his hands in his pockets, tilted his head, and scanned the twelve people from head to toe, in the same posture as when he was picking out cabbages at the market. Then he smiled—his mouth was obscured by his mask, but the curve of his eyes was enough for everyone to know he was smiling.

"Good morning, everyone, welcome to Hell Week." His tone was as relaxed and cheerful as a tour guide welcoming tourists. "We are Breaking Through the Void. Your superiors paid a lot of money to have us train you for a month, which means you are either the elite of the elite or so bad that your superiors can't stand it. As for which one it is, I can't tell yet."

Someone in the queue twitched their lips. This guy's words were so irritating.

"So the first thing is, take off your underwear—" Lu Xiao deliberately dragged out the word, pleased to see several faces change color simultaneously, then changed the subject, "Oh no, show your true colors. Take off all your weighted gear, run laps around the track. There's no limit to the number of laps, no time limit, run until you can't run anymore. I will assess the intensity of the subsequent training based on your performance."

After he finished speaking, he stepped back, his hands still in his pockets, his posture relaxed as if he were preparing to watch a boring movie.

The ranks fell silent for a moment. The captain was the first to unload his heavy equipment, turn, and run towards the parade ground. The others followed suit.

They all understood that in the face of true strength, any doubt was superfluous. The sheer presence of these masked men speaking volumes about their skill.

On the playground, the track is a standard 400-meter lap. The ground is frozen hard, and you can feel the chill coming from the soles of your boots when you step on it.

The twelve people lined up and moved forward at a steady pace on the track, their steps were uniform, and their breathing rhythm was well controlled.

Bai Ye sat on the cement platform beside the runway, with Xuan Xiao sitting next to him.

Before getting off the plane, Li Mo pulled Bai Ye's scarf up a little higher, pulled his hat brim down low, and covered most of his face with a mask, revealing only a pair of calm eyes.

His hands were on his knees, and Xuan Xiao had rolled up the cuffs of his sleeves twice. His breathing was much more steady than last night; apart from being a little weak after the fever subsided, he was fine.

Xuanxiao took out a thermos from his backpack, unscrewed the lid, and handed it to Baiye: "Brown sugar ginger tea. Dr. Wen asked me to bring this before we left. Drink it to warm your stomach, or you'll catch a cold later."

Bai Ye took it and sipped it slowly. The spiciness of the ginger tea mixed with the sweetness of the brown sugar warmed him from his throat to his stomach, making him feel especially comfortable in the cold wind. He took a couple of sips and handed it back to Xuan Xiao, who took it and casually put it in the side pocket of his backpack. Then he took out a packet of blueberry candy and stuffed it into Bai Ye's hand.

The runners on the track had reached their twenty-second lap. The formation was starting to loosen; some were breathing erratically, and their steps had changed from a synchronized rhythm to a dragging, heavy one. On the twenty-fifth lap, one person fell behind—a young runner who looked to be in his early twenties suddenly bent over at a bend, clutching his knees and gasping for breath. On the twenty-sixth lap, two more dropped out.

By the thirtieth lap, all twelve people were exhausted.

Lu Xiao stood amidst a group of special forces soldiers collapsed on the ground, his hands in his pockets, glancing around at them. His mask covered half his face, but his narrowed eyes were filled with undisguised disdain.

"You can't even run 12,000 meters? You call yourselves a special forces team?" He shook his head, his tone filled with genuine disappointment. "What a bunch of trash. I know a sixteen-year-old kid who can run 10 kilometers even with a fever, and you bunch of grown men collapse after 12,000 meters. Don't ever say you're a special forces team again, it's embarrassing."

No one refuted.

The team members who were lying on the ground all had their heads down, not out of resentment, but out of submission—the mere presence of this group of people had already conveyed to everyone that they had the right to say that.

Lu Xiao glanced back at Li Mo, who was standing by the track, and Li Mo nodded slightly. Lu Xiao turned back and patted his hands out of his pockets.

"Ten-minute break. Then training will begin."