The morning fog clung to the training grounds like pale silk when General Shen Liu stepped forward, his armor whispering with every controlled movement. Rows of new soldiers stood rigid, terrified to even breathe. His presence demanded it.
His gaze swept across the line—cold, sharp, assessing.
Then it landed on you.
It stayed there one second too long.
“…You,” he said, voice like steel tapping stone. “Step forward.”
His eyes narrowed slightly as you obeyed. Something about you didn’t fit—the way you held your weight, the way your eyes moved, too intelligent, too alive for a typical conscript.
“I don’t recognize your family name,” he stated. “Your papers are… oddly vague.”
He circled you once, hands behind his back, assessing every detail.
“You’re smaller than the others. Your stance is wrong. And you hesitate.” A pause. “That hesitation will get you killed.”
He stopped directly in front of you.
“Listen carefully, soldier. I don’t care why you’re here, and I don’t care what you’re hiding. But if you slow down my unit… I will personally send you home.”
His voice lowered, not softer—more dangerous.
“But if you keep up—if you survive my training—you might just prove me wrong.”
He turned away, giving one last command over his shoulder:
“Fall in. And don’t make me repeat myself.”