Chapter Seventy-Five: Hellish Training

The two trainees obediently stepped out of line and began running around the field, but the matter was far from over. The Butcher lashed his whip again, this time striking a cadet in the front row. The student looked utterly bewildered—he had been perfectly quiet and hadn’t uttered a single word.

“Instructor, why—” he began.

Crack! Before he could finish, another vicious lash landed. The Butcher grinned menacingly. “Second rule: I don’t like being questioned. But since it’s the first day, I’ll make an exception and explain this time. Look at your uniform, you little runt.”

The cadet looked down and saw that the topmost button of his shirt was undone.

“If you can’t even dress yourself, what are you doing at Blue Emperor Academy? You’d be better off going home to nurse at your mother’s breast! Step out of line immediately and run five laps around the field. Finish before I’m done speaking!”

Crack! Crack! Crack!

In a blink, three more lashes struck, each landing on the hands of students whose top button was undone. This wasn’t mere coincidence—the weather was hot, and leaving the button undone was more comfortable. Having seen their classmate punished, some of them tried to discreetly fix their uniforms before the Butcher noticed, but it was too late. Each of them now bore a bloody welt on their hands, stinging fiercely.

“Don’t think I can’t see just because I’ve only got one good eye! You little punks want to play tricks in front of me? Not a chance! Step out of line, all of you, and run five laps. Be back before I finish talking!”

In no time, five students had been called out for punishment. The rest were cowed, hearts pounding with dread. Damn, this military training really was brutal.

The Butcher continued, “Third, when I give you an order, your only response should be, ‘Yes, Instructor.’ Understood?”

Shaken by his earlier display, the trainees straightened up, not daring to relax in the slightest, and replied in unison, “Yes, Instructor!”

The Butcher frowned, cupping a hand to his ear. “What’s the matter, you all skipped breakfast? I can’t hear you! Louder! Don’t sound like a bunch of sissies!”

This time, their voices thundered, “Yes, Instructor!”

“That’s more like it!” the Butcher snorted. “Fourth, each of you will obey all arrangements during training. Every action follows my command. Absolute discipline—no exceptions…”

“Fifth, you must embody the spirit of endurance, unafraid of hardship or fatigue…”
“Sixth…”
The Butcher rattled off a litany of rules, and by the time he finished, those punished with running had returned and rejoined the ranks.

The Butcher concluded, “Damn, I can’t stand long-winded speeches. Everything after the third rule is just fluff, but orders from above say I have to explain. Doesn’t matter if you didn’t catch it all—just remember this: during training, my word is law. If I tell you to go east, you go east. If I tell you west, you go west. If I order you to die, you die! No one questions me. No one disobeys. Understood?”

What the hell, even if he tells us to die we have to do it? What kind of instructor is this! But still, the trainees responded with a resounding, “Yes, Instructor!”

“Good. If you behave, I might go easy on you. But honestly, I’d prefer if you disobeyed—then I get to use my whip! Now, everyone listen up: run ten laps around the field, warm up! But don’t say I didn’t warn you—whoever finishes last is in for the whip!”

The trainees scrambled onto the track, desperate not to be last, while the Butcher followed close behind, his whip snapping loudly. “Move it, you little bastards! This is just a warm-up and you’re slower than snails! If you ever face a real monster, you’ll end up as dung in its belly!”

The classes that hadn’t yet started training gaped at the Butcher’s ferocity. What kind of instructor was that—so savage!

Their own instructor remarked, “See that? You’re lucky I’m not the one training you. If the Butcher were in charge, you’d all be half-dead by the end! But don’t think I’m soft—if any of you step out of line, I can make sure you end up just as miserable. Understood?”

“Yes, Instructor!”

The new students of Blue Emperor Academy were all at least upper fourth-level trainees, so ten laps wasn’t much. Back in the junior martial academy, they’d run dozens of laps a day to build stamina and practice agility. But now, with a ferocious instructor wielding a terrifying whip at their backs, things were different.

Everyone pushed themselves to the limit, determined not to fall behind and get whipped. Each employed their agility techniques, which drained more energy, but they gritted their teeth—falling behind meant facing that mad-dog instructor’s merciless whip.

He continued to curse as he ran them, “Trash, a bunch of trash! Training you is a disgrace to me! I wish you’d all quit and become worthless—then my job would be easy!”

The Butcher’s whip, whatever technique he used, didn’t inflict much real harm but stung unbearably, the pain seeming to burrow deep into the nerves. Those struck cried out in agony, as if the Butcher was truly slaughtering a flock of lambs. Even students from the elite classes shuddered at the sight.

What a sadistic instructor—barely human!

Those with strength and skill in agility managed to stay ahead, quietly relieved they avoided the whip. But those at the rear suffered; after ten laps driven by fear and pressure, they were gasping, legs trembling.

“You’re all trash!” the Butcher bellowed. “Can’t even handle a warm-up!”

Yet, a few students still stood tall and straight after finishing, clearly the top of the class. Among them was Luo Chen, which puzzled the others—he was student number sixty-eight, a rank based on their latest exam or admission test. By rights, Luo Chen should have been weak.

What they didn’t know was that Luo Chen had spent years at Weston Academy contending with the Thunderfall, developing endurance far superior to his peers. And ever since his spirit core had formed—allowing him to breathe through his pores—his oxygen intake and stamina had skyrocketed, making fatigue a thing of the past. So he was still in good shape.

“All right, first warm-up’s done. Now for the second…” The Butcher’s words made everyone blanch. Another warm-up? This one might kill them!

“Little punks, drop and give me three hundred push-ups. Count for yourselves. Miss one and you get ten lashes; miss two, twenty. If you think I can’t see with just one eye, go ahead and try. Begin!”

At his command, none dared defy him; they dropped and started push-ups. Those who trained defense and blocking, with stronger arms, had the advantage.

The Butcher stalked among them, whip at the ready.

“Hey, you! What’s with your butt in the air—got an itch back there? Want me to scratch it with my whip?”

“Form up—body parallel to the ground at the bottom!”

“Faster! Even a woman wouldn’t bother with you lot, moving that slow. Pathetic!”

And so it went…