Dawn broke not with warmth, but with a cold, misty silence. The hills surrounding the Eternal Flame Academy were blanketed in a thick sea of white fog, transforming the familiar contours into an alien landscape full of shadows and mysteries. Within this fog, the Trial of Fire began.
The forest itself came alive, but not with the song of birds, but with the rustle of cautious footsteps, the muffled whispers of commands, and occasionally, the sharp, dry hollow sound of gunfire, muffled and unreal by the blanket of fog. This was a new battlefield, where the greatest enemy was not the visible enemy, but the paranoia that crept into the minds of every cadet.
In the makeshift command center—a large tent filled with topographic maps, busy radio operators, and the strong aroma of coffee—Lee Junshan sat like a god playing chess with living pieces. He was the Director. His face was illuminated by the dim light of an oil lamp, his eyes moving incessantly from the map to the radio report, then back to the map. He was the center of this controlled chaos, injecting the poison of doubt into the veins of the game.
"Operator, send this message to the Blue Squad Commander," he ordered in a calm voice. "Intelligence indicates a Red reconnaissance unit has been spotted moving toward the northern river crossing. Prioritize defense there." Yet he knew the Red unit was five kilometers away in the opposite direction. He had just planted the seeds of a bad decision.
"And to the Red Squad Commander," he continued a moment later. "Reliable sources report that one of your logistics officers is a double agent working for the Blues. Be on the lookout for all supply requests." He smiled faintly. There was no double agent. But now, the Red Squad Commander would suspect everyone in his own supply chain.
Meanwhile, in the jungle, the field commanders were feeling the direct impact of Lee Junshan's mind games.
He Xiang, leading the Red Squad, immediately adopted the tactic best suited to his conditions and nature: guerrilla warfare. He knew that in this thick fog, frontal combat would be suicidal. His smaller, more agile squad moved like ghosts, using the terrain as their greatest weapon. He taught them to listen to the forest, to read the tracks left by the mist, and to attack from unexpected directions before disappearing back into the white.
"Don't think like soldiers," he whispered to his unit as they rested behind a moss-covered rock outcrop. "Think like wolves. We are a pack. We isolate the weak, we attack together, and we never fight a battle we cannot win."
Across the valley, Hu Yanzhen, as Commander of the larger Blue Army, practiced an entirely different philosophy. He was a sledgehammer. He believed in overwhelming force, in frontal assaults that shattered the enemy's morale. The mist was a distraction, not a deterrent.
"The Reds hide like cowards because they are weak!" he roared to his officers. "We will advance like a tidal wave. We will sweep through this forest, sector by sector, until there is no place for them to hide. I want observation posts on every hilltop! I want constant patrols! Don't give them a moment to breathe!"
Two philosophies clash, two friends who are now enemies, unaware that a third hand from central command is manipulating them both.
It is in the midst of this great battle that the small dramas that are the heart of the Trial of Fire begin to unfold. Jin Wuyou, who has claimed command of the Blue Army's main assault unit, is frustrated to the limit. Every time he plans a brilliant attack, his plan fails miserably. A rope bridge he was about to use suddenly "breaks." The blank ammunition he requested never arrives. He is convinced there is a traitor in his unit, unaware that the "traitors" are two separate cadets who have received secret orders directly from Lee Junshan to sabotage their arrogant leader. For the first time in his life, Jin Wuyou is forced to realize that individual intelligence is meaningless without trust and teamwork.
Lin Fengqing, on the other hand, thrives in chaos. Tasked by He Xiang on a risky solo infiltration mission, he uses his small stature and quick movements to his advantage.
He managed to slip past two layers of Blue Squad patrols, creep into their makeshift command tent, and steal their strategic map. When he returned safely to Red Lines, his breath ragged but his eyes gleaming with triumph, He Xiang, who was watching him from a hidden post, smiled proudly. It was the smile of a mentor who saw his pupil exceed expectations.
Wu Renjie remained an enigma. Assigned to the Red Squad's reconnaissance unit, he would often disappear for hours at a time. He Xiang gave him free rein, curious to see what he would do. Wu Renjie did not disappoint. He would return not only with information on enemy positions but also with curious details—patterns of guard patrols around a major arsenal outside the game zone, or the locations of blind spots in the academy's radio network. He was not simply playing the game he was given; he was mapping out the academy's entire security infrastructure. His loyalties were a mystery, but his prodigious abilities were undeniable.
Amid all this drama, however, there was only one pawn that truly mattered to Hu Yanzhen.
Gao Ming, aka Kojima.
According to Lee Junshan's plan, Kojima had been assigned to a seemingly insignificant position in the Blue Army's logistics unit. His job was to manage the supply of food, water, and empty ammunition in a rear camp far from the front lines. It was a boring position, one that would catch any soldier off guard. But Hu Yanzhen knew that it gave him two things: a legitimate excuse to move around the rear, and access to equipment.
For the first day and most of the second, Kojima played his part to perfection. He was an efficient but low-key cadet, complaining about the drudgery like everyone else. Hu Yanzhen, who had placed two of his most trusted cadets to watch him in secret, was on the verge of becoming frustrated. Maybe they were wrong. Maybe the glint in the cadet's eyes was just his imagination.
Then, on the second night, as fatigue had crept into the cadets' bones and their vigilance had begun to wane, the prey moved.
The report came from one of Hu Yanzhen's spies over a coded handheld radio: "Target moving. Leaving camp. Heading northwest."
Hu Yanzhen's heart was pounding. Northwest. That direction was not toward the battle zone. It was away from the game. It was toward the heart of the academy itself.
"Follow him. Keep your distance. Don't be seen," Hu Yanzhen replied in a low, urgent voice. He quickly left his command post, handing temporary control to his second-in-command. "I have urgent business," he told them. "Continue the attack as planned."
He motioned for three members of his special squad—tough soldiers who had fought alongside him before and whom he had brought to the academy as assistants—to follow him. They melted into the darkness without a sound.
The war simulation was over for Hu Yanzhen. The real hunt had begun.
He moved through the forest with the silence and speed of a predator. He did not follow Kojima directly; that would have been too risky. Instead, he moved in parallel, using his knowledge of the terrain to cut paths and stay ahead, while his spies kept him updated on his position by radio.
The chase was tense. Kojima moved with terrifying skill. He did not follow a path. He moved through the trees, using the shadows and contours of the ground to conceal himself. He stopped periodically, not to rest, but to listen, his senses alert to the sound of pursuers. He moved like someone who had done this many times before. He was no ordinary cadet. He was a trained agent in his environment.
Finally, the final report came: "Target has stopped. He is near the back wall of the main armory. Repeat, main armory."
Hu Yanzhen stopped behind a thick undergrowth, his heart pounding not from fatigue, but from adrenaline. The armory. The place where hundreds of rifles, thousands of rounds of live ammunition, and explosives were stored. Kojima's mission was not to win a war game. It was something far deadlier.
With a careful hand gesture, he signaled his men to spread out, forming a semicircle around Kojima's position. He drew his pistol, the sound of its cocking particularly loud in the stillness of the night.
Slowly, carefully, he crept forward until he could see him. There, in the shadow of the concrete wall of the armory, Kojima crouched. The moonlight that filtered through the clouds momentarily illuminated what was in his hand. It was not a lat rifle.
They were tools—a small hand drill and a set of sleek lockpicking tools.
This was no longer a simulation. This was no longer a game. This was real.
Hu Yanzhen's breath caught in her throat. She stared at the crouching figure, methodically working on the lock of the steel door at the back of the warehouse. Every movement was efficient, every action purposeful. He was a saboteur in his workplace.
Hu Yanzhen could wait no longer. To wait would be to risk letting him in, where the damage he could do was unimaginable. She raised her hand, ready to give the signal to attack.
In the dark forest, far from the screams and empty gunfire of the fake war, the real war was about to begin. And as Hu Yanzhen prepared to leap out of the shadows, one thought burned into her mind: the mask would soon come off, and she would see the face of the demon that had haunted their academy.
The game round was over. The hunt was about to reach its bloody climax.
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*****to be continued