Ling Huai'an · Chat

Dark Night Headquarters, Training Ground No. 1. Shen Zhuo had just sat down, his fingers not yet removed from the tips of his hair, and the expressions of the forty-seven recruits below the stage could no longer be described as merely "dazed". One of the three trainees in the front row who had raised their hands was still staring at his own palm, as if doubting whether the "fearlessness" from the past fifteen minutes had fully metabolized yet. Ling Huai'an glanced at Shen Zhuo. Shen Zhuo returned an innocent smile. Ling Huai'an stood up. He didn't have Shen Zhuo's silent, cat-like gait, nor did he walk with the steady, heavy steps of Gu Changming. He strode to the front of the stage, his boots hitting the floorboards, one step after another, crisp and powerful, like a young man eager to share good news with others. He stopped. He first glanced down at the crowd, then smiled. It wasn't Shen Zhuo's spine-chilling smile, nor was it Ling Huaizhi's knee-weakening excuse of a smile. His smile was bright, revealing a hint of canine teeth, his eyes curving into two arcs, as if he had absorbed all the morning light of the training ground onto his face. "Alright," he spoke, his voice half a tone higher than the previous three. "My brother has finished the serious part. Old Gu has finished the heavy part. Brother Shen has finished—" He paused, turning his head to glance at Shen Zhuo, "—the part that gives people nightmares at night." Someone in the crowd couldn't help but twitch the corner of their mouth. "So when it comes to me, let's keep it light." Ling Huai'an clapped his hands. "My name is Ling Huai'an. Calamity Fire. You might have already heard of me—and if you haven't, it doesn't matter. You only need to know one thing: I am the only one among the four commanders of Dark Night who won't scare you at the graduation ceremony." He held up a finger. "I will only tell you a story." The recruits below were slightly taken aback. Gu Changming subtly shifted his posture in his seat. Shen Zhuo raised an eyebrow. Ling Huaizhi stood behind them without making a move, but Ling Huai'an could feel that gaze landing on the back of his head—not heavy, like a flake of snow. He took a deep breath. "In the ninth year of Apocalypse, I was nineteen. I had just promoted to S-class, and I thought I was invincible. After a series of consecutive battles, I lost control. I wasn't defeated by enemies—I lost control. The flames inside me burned out of control, turning everything within a three-hundred-meter radius into a sea of fire. I almost burned down a military warehouse. If that warehouse had burned, the ammunition inside would have been enough to level half of the headquarters." He paused for a beat. "It was my brother who dragged me out." The gazes from below began to quietly shift from Ling Huai'an to behind him. Ling Huaizhi remained expressionless. "He used Absolute Zero to force my body temperature down. The price was severe frostbite on his own hands." Ling Huai'an's voice was steady, but he was no longer smiling. "His dark matter gauntlets shattered. He sat outside the medical pod for seven days. When I woke up, I saw his hands wrapped in bandages, and he was sitting in the chair, just fallen asleep like that." He lowered his eyes. "He said one thing to me. He didn't scold me, nor did he discipline me. He said: 'You are not a weapon. Learn to control it.'" Silence. The entire training ground was so quiet that one could hear the humming of the energy shield on the distant dome. Ling Huai'an raised his head. "I stand here today not to teach you how to fight. Instructors will teach you combat skills, and your squadron leaders will teach you tactical cooperation. I only have one thing to say." He raised his right hand, and a cluster of golden flames ignited at his fingertips. It was tiny, dancing obediently at his fingertip like a newly blossomed flower. "Every one of you has a fire of your own." The flame spun and elongated on his fingertip, turning into a tiny fire dragon that coiled around his finger once before vanishing. "Not fire in the sense of an ability. It's the thing that drives you to stand here. It's someone you lost in the ruins, it's the words you tell yourself every time you crawl out of a nightmare, it's the reason why you chose to stay in Dark Night when you could have applied for a transfer." He withdrew his hand. "Find it. Place it where you can see it. On the battlefield, when the enemy's shackles glow, when your senses overload, when your mental strength bottoms out—when everything seems impossible, that spark of fire will tell you: Keep going." He looked down at the crowd. "This is my advice. It's not 'survive'—you all know you have to survive. It's to find a reason worth burning for."