Starting to Gain Experience from Push-Ups Chapter 1245 - 604:

West Mountain's early summer atmosphere clung with a stifling humidity. The sun, a slanting disc on the western ridgeline, was descending. The fiery orb dipped behind the mountains, its sunlight catching the barbed wire's outer loops, casting distorted, elongated shadows. Despite the sun's westward shift, the day's accumulated heat remained locked onto the B3 Defense Zone's uneven concrete drill ground. Several dark green military trucks were parked near the field's edge.

Fang Cheng settled onto a concrete bollard by a truck, his legs bent. Leaning his back against a twenty-kilogram, army-green tactical rucksack, his hands rested on his knees. His gaze drifted past the throng ahead, settling on the distant, iron-curtained mountains. The canopy of tall, ancient trees merged beneath the dimming sky, forming a deep, dark green sea. It appeared like a colossal beast in the twilight, silently opening its jaws, awaiting its next meal.

From the nearby thick woods, the incessant chirping of cicadas created a deafening, maddening chorus. “Tch! Are they going to start this blasted exam or not?” a loud grumble erupted from beside him. Ma Donghe unzipped his field Combat Suit collar and fanned himself vigorously twice. Sweat streamed down his large head, his face flushed crimson from the oppressive early summer heat and humidity. He reached down, grabbed the military canteen on the ground, twisted off the cap, and audibly guzzled half of it in large gulps. Lifting his thick arm, he roughly wiped his chin, muttering curses: “They herded us onto this awful drill ground like ducks at two in the afternoon, and just the gear checks, ID verification, and waiver signings took a full three hours. It’s five o’clock now, and the examiners haven’t even shown up. Are they just leaving us here for the mosquitoes to feast on?” He lowered his head, scratching irritably at several swollen, red welts on his legs, a souvenir from the venomous mosquitoes at the mountain’s base.

“What’s the rush,” Fang Cheng replied, pulling his gaze back from the distance and turning to face Ma Donghe. “The fact they issued tactical flashlights and two cold flares in our kits suggests the Special Search Team planned for the exam to be conducted at night from the outset.”

“Brother Fang, that’s some serious insight!” A slender figure emerged from the blind spot behind Ma Donghe, dropping into a squat between them. It was Hou Peng, the man with protruding ears they had met during yesterday’s interview. Ever since they’d met, this individual had become attached to Fang Cheng and Ma Donghe. With his affable nature, it had taken him less than two hours to start addressing both of them as “brother.”

Hou Peng rubbed his sweaty hands together and scanned his surroundings. Spotting that the armed guards were sufficiently distant, he lowered his voice and leaned in conspiratorially. “Brothers, while I was ‘answering nature’s call’ at the temporary latrines just now, I slipped the examiner in charge of the headcount a fancy cigarette and managed to extract some insider information.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Guess where the route these examiners have set for us concludes? Black Wind Gully, deep within West Mountain. The total distance is just over five kilometers.”

“Five kilometers?” Ma Donghe stammered, then let out a disbelieving laugh. His palm, broad as a fan, slammed down hard on his thigh with a dull thud. “I thought we were heading into some deadly lair. Five kilometers of cross-country, even with a twenty-kilo pack and mountainous terrain – I could finish that in an hour with my eyes closed. The Special Search Team went through all this trouble to drag us into a military restricted zone, only to present us with this child’s play?”

“Brother Ma, don’t be so hasty with your judgment,” Hou Peng pleaded, waving his hands, his prominent ears bobbing with the movement. Holding up two fingers, he made a small gesture in the air, deliberately lowering his voice for emphasis. “The distance isn’t the issue, but do you know the cutoff time the examiners have given us? It’s six o’clock tomorrow morning! As long as you reach the finish line before dawn, you pass!”

The moment Hou Peng uttered these words, the dismissive look on Ma Donghe’s face vanished. Despite his often rough exterior, Ma Donghe hailed from the underworld and had years of combat experience; his intuition for physical measurements was exceptionally keen.

The clock now read five in the evening; from this moment until six the next morning, a full thirteen hours would pass.

Thirteen hours to traverse a mere five kilometers?

At such a leisurely pace, even an elderly gentleman with a walking stick could manage the distance by crawling.

For individuals of their caliber—possessing robust physiques, specialized abilities, a background in combat, and including former soldiers and police academy recruits—

this extended time frame felt suspiciously excessive.

"This allotted time window..."

Ma Donghe's brow furrowed deeply, the visible impatience on his features dissolving.

A look of profound seriousness settled upon his face as he turned to address Fang Cheng:

"Ah Cheng, what are your thoughts on this?"

Fang Cheng remained silent for a moment.

His calm gaze swept across the assembled candidates, each exhibiting similar expressions of bewilderment and engaging in hushed discussions.

He then reached for his rucksack, drawing it closer. With practiced ease, he unfastened the nylon clasps and lifted the waterproof cover.

Within the pack lay high-energy compressed biscuits, water purification tablets, a tactical flashlight, and a comprehensive medical kit. Alongside these essentials was a standard-issue short blade, its edge meticulously sharpened.

Fang Cheng withdrew the knife, his thumb tracing the duller side of the blade, registering the biting, metallic cold.

"The true objective isn't the 'cross-country run' itself. It's about 'wilderness survival.'"

He raised his head again, his gaze drifting back towards the imposing mountain forest in the distance. A faint, ethereal mist was beginning to ascend, mingling with the fading sunlight.

"Thirteen hours designated for a five-kilometer course."

"The examiners are essentially informing us directly: once darkness descends, there is undoubtedly something along that five-kilometer path designed to impede our progress."