Glory of Special Forces · Chat

【Prologue · Border Rainforest — A Rainy Night Before Battle, Opening in Flashback】 The sky is dark as ink, heavy clouds pressing down over the endless tropical rainforest. Moisture hangs thick in the forest, stifling and sticky; the rank smell of rotting plants mingles with the chill of the river and seeps in every direction. Mountain wind whips fine threads of rain. The woods are eerily quiet, with only low insect chirps and the gurgle of flowing water—undercurrents stirring, death lurking on every side. Beside a deep, winding river, the bank is choked with dense, sky-blocking foliage. Several dark figures hug the waterline, almost melting into the environment. Yan Poyue wears a jungle special-operations ghillie suit over tactical gear. He is tall and lean, broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted, clean-cut yet explosive with power. His face is streaked with biomimetic camouflage paint in dark green, black, and brown, hiding most of his features and leaving only a pair of narrow, pitch-black eyes that gleam with sharpness. His gaze is calm, piercing, and steady, like a leopard crouched in the dark, locked hard onto the drug lord's stronghold ahead. He breathes as slowly as he can, every muscle taut, every movement so light it makes no sound. Following the squad, he silently crosses under the water, using the current for cover, drawing closer and closer to the enemy outpost. In the distance, the wooden stronghold glows dimly. Several armed drug traffickers pace back and forth, rifles in hand, extremely vigilant. An extremely low tactical command comes through his earpiece—a short, crisp code. The next second, the operation erupts. A sniper in the dark locks onto targets with deadly precision and silently eliminates the outer sentry posts. Yan Poyue is the first out of the water, surging forward like a ghost. His tactical movements flow like water: low-profile advances, hugging the wall to stay hidden, fast entry, close-quarters takedowns. Then gunfire blasts open. Bullets scream through the air; muzzle flashes flicker endlessly in the dark rainforest. Smoke fills the air, and a chaotic firefight erupts in an instant. Yan Poyue moves fearlessly through the storm of bullets, drawing and firing with savage speed, reacting in an instant. Every move is clean and ruthless, carrying the boldness and ferocity of a born elite. As the fight reaches its peak, Yan Poyue takes a bullet in the chest and abdomen while covering his teammates' retreat. Searing pain engulfs him. His body tilts backward beyond his control and plunges into the rushing, freezing river. The surging current seizes him and sweeps him away. His consciousness gradually fades; gunfire, water, and wind blur together in his ears. In the daze and chaos, Yan Poyue's inner monologue slowly rings out, low and magnetic, carrying an unyielding, burning faith: “There is a fire in my heart. It warms my faith and scorches my soul. A soldier is born to fight. I am a leopard—I fear nothing.” The scene flows away with the river, and the light abruptly shifts. 【Transition · Five Years Earlier — Scorching Army Camp, New Recruits Enlist】 The blazing sun hangs high, harsh and blinding. Hot sunlight spills across the wide, clean parade ground, and the ground is scorching to the touch. A green bus packed with new recruits rolls slowly into the camp, covered in dust, and comes to a stop. Inside, it is loud and messy. The boys are green and naive, chattering away, carrying the nervousness, curiosity, and unease of their first enlistment. Only the last row is unusually clean and tidy. Yan Poyue sits there, short hair neat, features sharp and striking, his face bearing a heroic air. He sits straight and tall, exuding a cold, proud, solitary aura that clashes with the noise around him. His expression is indifferent, and his gaze calmly rests on the barracks outside the window, while a defiant ambition and full-hearted passion hide deep inside. Beside him sits his childhood friend Xiao Yunjie, outgoing and bright, relaxed and easy, stepping into the army with Yan Poyue. On the floor of the bus are scattered, casually thrown-away steamed buns and crushed eggs—a mess. The door opens. Company commander Li Xiang, sturdy and stern-faced, strides onto the bus. His eyes sweep over the wasted food, and rage flares between his brows. His voice is harsh and deep, ringing with force as he tears into them: “On the battlefield, food is life! What you throw away so casually is the most basic bottom line of a soldier! We leave no grain to the enemy, and we must not waste our own rations!” His words fall, and the new recruits go silent as mice, no one daring to look up. Small and timid, Lü Xiaotian stands in the crowd, staring at the egg he crushed on the floor, panic and unease written all over his face as he fidgets helplessly. Li Xiang asks each new recruit why they enlisted. The other recruits answer earnestly, full of grand words. When it is Yan Poyue's turn, he lifts his eyes—cold, clear, and firm—and in a calm voice that hits with the weight of every word, he says only two words: “Get stronger.” Those two short words lay his pride bare, ambition plain and unconcealed. Seeing this, the company commander recognizes that the young man is exceptionally gifted but also unyielding and wild, and immediately orders all the new recruits to run ten laps as punishment. Under the blazing sun, the run begins. Before long, most of the new recruits are panting, stumbling, complaining, and losing steam. Only Yan Poyue and Xiao Yunjie move easily, agile and strong, steadily leading the pack. Yan Poyue's stride is even, his breathing steady, his expression unchanged—his stamina far beyond ordinary people. Young and defiant, he lets his edge show, even taking it upon himself to marshal the ranks and appoint himself the leader. Sunlight falls on his upright figure, a young man full of sharp, unyielding pride. And so the story officially begins.