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

In the afternoon, when Lu Xiao and Li Mo left, the special forces soldiers were warming up on the training ground.

Before leaving, Lu Xiao handed the training record board to Shen Zhuo and instructed, "Cross-country running, same old routine, 15 kilometers with weights, the last three will do extra training." Then he patted Shen Zhuo on the shoulder, glanced in Bai Ye's direction, and added in a low voice, "Keep an eye on them, call me on the communicator if anything happens."

Li Mo didn't say much, but stopped briefly as he passed Bai Ye and reached out to touch his forehead. Bai Ye was startled by the sudden movement and leaned back slightly, but didn't flinch.

"Your temperature is normal." Li Mo withdrew his hand, stared at Bai Ye for two seconds, and then said in a voice only the two of them could hear, "Don't push yourself. Call Shen Zhuo immediately if you feel unwell."

Bai Ye nodded.

After the two instructors disappeared from the entrance of the administration building, Shen Zhuo tucked the record board under his arm and turned to face the twelve special forces soldiers who had already put on their weighted packs on the training ground.

His posture remained relaxed and languid, his toes tapping lightly on the ground as if he were waiting for a bus. But everyone knew how ruthless this red-haired instructor was—in the past two weeks of infiltration training, he had made these people lie prone in the snow until they were almost frostbitten, and if they were caught, they would be punished with an extra two hours of extra time.

"You all heard that, right? Same old routine, 15 kilometers of cross-country with weights, the route around the back mountain." Shen Zhuo waved the recorder in his hand. "The trail markers are still there, don't get lost. The last three will have extra training tonight—don't look at me like that, the extra training will definitely be more interesting than during the day. Let's go now."

Twelve people, carrying heavy packs, ran out of the playground. Their footsteps beat out a rapid drumbeat on the frozen ground, gradually fading into the distance.

Time ticked by. Shen Zhuo occasionally glanced down at the timer on his wrist, or wrote a few words on the whiteboard. Bai Ye stood quietly in place, his gaze fixed on the off-road route at the foot of the distant mountain.

Five minutes passed. Bai Ye's brow furrowed very slightly.

Shen Zhuo noticed it. He had learned a lesson from spending time with Bai Ye—this boy rarely showed any expression on his face, but any slight change meant that he had discovered something.

Shen Zhuo turned her head to look at Bai Ye: "What's wrong, Xiao Bai? Something's not right?"

Bai Ye didn't speak. He turned and walked towards the equipment rack next to him—there were several sniper rifles on it, which Lu Xiao had used when he led his team in shooting practice that morning, and hadn't had time to put them back into the armory yet.

He picked up one of them, checked the magazine, cocked it, then knelt down on one knee, rested the butt on his shoulder, and put his right eye on the scope.

Shen Zhuo stared wide-eyed at the scene before him—Bai Ye was holding a sniper rifle, the muzzle pointed at the off-road route at the foot of the mountain in the distance.

A series of questions exploded in his mind: What was he doing? Why was he holding a gun? Who was he going to shoot? Wait, why didn't anyone tell me that supervising a cross-country run required a sniper rifle? Did Lu Xiao mean this when he said "keep an eye on them" before he left?

"Xiao-Xiaobai?" Shen Zhuo's voice cracked. "What are you doing? They were just a little slow—it's not a reason to shoot them, is it? We're instructors, not an execution squad—"

Xuan Xiao was also startled by Bai Ye's sudden movement, but he didn't say anything.

He had witnessed Bai Ye's performance at the shooting range and knew that Bai Ye always had his reasons for taking action. So he didn't stop him, but his hand holding the thermos cup unconsciously tightened.

Bai Ye did not answer Shen Zhuo. His eyes were pressed against the scope, the crosshairs slowly moving along the crosshair path.

At the foot of the mountain, several figures carrying heavy loads were slowing down at the bend—that bend was the steepest uphill section of the entire route, and also the easiest place to slack off.

He could clearly see through the scope that the three people at the back of the pack simply stopped and walked away at the corner. The others weren't much better off; although they were still running, their pace was so slow it was practically like taking a stroll, and the group stretched out into a sparse line.

Bai Ye pulled the trigger.

The gunshot rang out across the empty training ground, startling several crows perched in the trees beside the shooting range. A spent cartridge ejected from the ejection port, clattering onto the concrete and rolling twice around Shen Zhuo's feet before coming to a stop. Shen Zhuo stared at Bai Ye, mouth agape, only one thought in his mind—he really fired. He really shot a cadet who was running.

At the foot of the mountain, a bullet struck the ground less than a centimeter behind the heel of the last runner, sending up a spray of gravel and frozen soil.

The team member was bending over, panting, when he suddenly heard a loud bang behind him. His heel was hit painfully by the flying stones, which startled him so much that he jumped up and let out a scream that echoed through the foot of the mountain. He almost fell headfirst into the bushes by the roadside.

The one sitting on the rock tumbled off, grabbed his pack, and slung it over his shoulder. The one who had taken off his pack hugged it tightly and started running, not even having time to fasten the straps.

"He shot us! He really shot us!" someone shouted, the sound echoing through the valley for several seconds.

"I told you the short, silent one was the most ruthless! You didn't believe me—see? I said it on day one! He's the scariest one!"

"Run! Run! His scope is still pointed at us! Is that red dot on my back still waving around? Can you check it for me?"

"Stop looking and run! If you're too slow, you won't know where the next shot will hit!"

The pace of the twelve runners instantly soared to its highest level since the start of the race after that shot.

No one dared to walk anymore, no one dared to stop and catch their breath, no one dared to unload their packs. Everyone was gritting their teeth and running desperately, their training boots making a dense, muffled sound on the frozen mountain road, and their packs rattling loudly on their backs.

The team member who had been sitting on the rock panting just moments before was now running faster than anyone else, rushing straight to the front of the group. His expression was a mixture of fear, resentment, and a survival instinct that had erupted from being driven to the brink of despair.

Shen Zhuo stood on the playground, silent for a long while, then he raised his head and looked at Bai Ye.

Bai Ye had already put down his sniper rifle and was pulling back the bolt to eject the remaining bullets from the chamber. His movements were still at that unhurried pace, as if he had just done a warm-up exercise.

He put the gun back on the equipment rack, checked the chamber to make sure it was empty, then turned and walked back to Shen Zhuo's side. His expression was as calm as if he had just set off a string of firecrackers, but what he said made Shen Zhuo's lips twitch violently.

"This is more efficient."