He remembered something and straightened up. “I suggest this little punk train with the adult soldiers.”
“Hm?” Horne was a bit surprised. “Adult soldiers? The 18-year-olds? Skipping 8 years? Isn’t that too fast?”
Han Ya shoved the drawers around with clattering noises, pushing and pulling for a good while before he found what he was looking for. He immediately headed back to the training field. “No, this little punk is so stubborn I want to beat him to death sometimes, but he learns fast and can really keep up with the 18-year-olds’ physical training. I’m truly impressed. Why couldn’t I have that kind of talent?” He muttered as he walked out the door.
Bang! The door slammed shut, and the muttering environment quieted down again. All that remained was Hels sucking in cold air while Horne pressed on his swollen area.
Horne chuckled, picked up the ointment from the sofa, and dangled it in front of Hels.
“You see, this guy has a sharp tongue but a soft heart.” Horne commented on Han Ya, then patted Hels to make him turn around so he could continue applying the medicine.
“You’re not good to me.” Hels said. He twisted his head to look at Horne, at his slightly lowered eyelashes, his expression extremely serious.
Horne’s hand paused for a moment, then he suddenly burst out laughing without lifting his head. “Where’d you get that conclusion?”
Hels was a bit stubborn. He felt Horne wasn’t as gentle as he’d been at first. “You’re ignoring me.”
“I’m not ignoring you.” Horne saw that Hels’s leg had swollen a little less. He checked everywhere and felt it was about done, so he stood up. “I’m in charge of so many people. I have to pay attention to everyone. I can’t just keep staring at you. Just train well on your own.”
He paused, then continued. “Besides, I told you, on the training field, I won’t treat you specially. I’m the same to everyone, treating you equally. Helping you with medicine now is me making an exception, just this once.”
Hels slowly stood up too but stayed in place, his gaze never leaving Horne. “You’ve been practicing shooting these past few days.”
Horne looked out the window at the training field. It was a vast area, with cheers constantly ringing out. Some couldn’t hold on and would roar “For all humanity!” One person shouting got the others behind to join in, as if that gave them the belief to keep going. Shouts filled the training field.
Horne watched intently. After a while, he answered. “Yeah, I want to break Wen Yu’s record.”
“Are you paying a lot of attention to her?” Hels asked.
Horne found it strange. His gaze swept to Han Ya’s side and saw Han Ya repairing someone again. He sighed and said, “I don’t pay special attention to anyone. She’s just stronger than me, so I keep thinking about her, about doing better than someone stronger than me.”
“Oh.” Hels gave a curt reply, then tilted his head up and asked directly, “So when exactly are you going to teach me to shoot?”
Horne turned back, sized up Hels, and felt the kid was speaking aggressively now. He chuckled. “Are you ordering me?”
Hels froze for a moment, realized his tone, and immediately apologized. “No, sorry.”
“Han Ya said you can start shooting training?”
“Yeah.”
It really was fast.
Horne hadn’t taken over Hels’s training yet, but he’d heard some rumors about it. A 10-year-old new recruit had arrived in the Military District with terrifying explosive power and endurance. He learned anything super fast—things others took ten days to master fully, he handled in one day. So he’d jumped from the 10-year-olds to the 15-year-olds, and now Han Ya thought he could jump to the 18-year-olds. Though he lagged behind at first for a few days, he quickly caught up and surpassed them.
In just a few short months, he’d achieved results that took others years.
As they spoke, the door was pushed open again, and a whiff of floral fragrance wafted in.
Ben Yian walked in, holding a bouquet. He nodded at Horne, went straight to the desk, and placed the flowers on the surface.
“What’s this?” Horne asked.
Ben Yian adjusted the flowers’ arrangement and sat down nearby. “I customized it a few months ago at the plant cultivation base, combining genes from plum blossoms, lotuses, and cacti into a new variety. It just bloomed these past few days, so I brought it over for you. I think it suits your temperament perfectly. It doesn’t need special care, won’t waste your time, and can live a long time on its own.”
Horne looked at the bouquet and found it somewhat wondrous. He’d never seen a plant with thorny roots and stems but lotus flowers on the branches. A light plum blossom scent lingered when he sniffed closely.
“An amazing variety.” Horne said.
“Actually, I have another piece of news for you today.” Ben Yian smiled, stood up, leaned close to Horne, and whispered, “Little Horne, I can head to the outer city district next week. But I still have to train with the outer city soldiers for three months before I can officially go on duty.”
“Really? Congratulations.” Horne let out a long breath, a bit happy. It was fulfilling Ben Yian’s long-held wish, the only good news amid his recent nonstop busyness taking care of his sister.
Ben Yian was in a great mood too. “But there are still some handovers, so I’ll have to run between places for a bit.” He flashed a smile. “Though Han Ya and Wen Yu are heading north—who knows how long they’ll be gone—now that I’m here, we still have the full combo of brains, close combat, ranged, and logistics.”
Horne laughed, but before he could speak, a mocking snort came from nearby.
“How pitiful.”
Ben Yian turned to look at Hels, puzzled. “What?”
Hels leaned against the wall, staring straight at Ben Yian. “I said you’re pitiful.”
Ben Yian’s smile froze on his face.
Horne was a bit baffled. He frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Hels shrugged as if nothing happened. “Nothing.”
Horne didn’t reprimand him, just gave him a cold glance. Hels opened the door and left directly.
Besides daily training, Horne hadn’t gone north again lately. He also had to prepare for Han Ya and Wen Yu’s departure.
Horne opened the terminal, ignoring Hels’s temper. He looked over the notification General Leon had sent him again and asked Ben Yian, “Do you know Woody?”
At the name, Ben Yian’s expression panicked for an instant before quickly calming. He sat up straight, his tone flat. “I’ve heard of him.”
Horne nodded, pulled a stack of documents from the desk drawer, spread them out, flipped through a couple pages casually, and said, “After Han Ya leaves, the general’s arranging for him to be my deputy. Did you know?”
Surprise flashed across Ben Yian’s face.
Woody was nearly forty, from the Langdao City Military District. After relocating to Loch City, he’d retired directly to government security due to injuries from an anti-Alien operation. In terms of seniority, he outranked Horne. If healthy, his abilities were a bit stronger than Horne’s. He’d planned not to rejoin military ops, but recent sudden events had led to emergency personnel shifts.
The documents spelled it all out. Horne wasn’t familiar with the man, but he had no choice—the general had assigned him directly.
It wasn’t a good sign. When Horne told Han Ya and Wen Yu about it, they both fell silent.
Wen Yu had only said four words to him then: “When the lips are gone, the teeth feel cold.”
Horne had originally wanted to ask Ben Yian about it, since he’d overheard their conversation before and figured they had a good relationship. But Ben Yian didn’t seem inclined to elaborate, so Horne didn’t press.
Besides the limited documents, all Horne knew was that this future deputy was quite dissatisfied with him.
From now on, he’d deal with whatever came—soldiers with generals, water with earth.
Bang! A gunshot rang out.
Horne calmly reloaded, raised his gun, half-squinted, and pulled the trigger.
Bang!
He sped up the training target’s movement, then fired again.
A row of soldiers stood behind him, taking advantage of the brief rest to crowd around and watch Horne.
“I heard the major broke the shooting record again a couple days ago. Now it’s 10 meters, 120 moving target, 9 bullseyes in 10 seconds.”
“No way!”
“Is he competing with Sister Yu to break records? Didn’t she just break his last month?”
“Not the same. Sister Yu’s is high-speed sniping.”
Horne ignored them all, completely undisturbed, and accelerated again.
Alien attacks were almost always aerial high-speed moving targets. Sometimes ground troops ran too. Training targets had to move faster than Alien flight speeds, with precise bullseyes—like headshots on Aliens.
But that wasn’t enough. He also needed to practice against environmental interference, like…
“That’s enough.” Han Ya’s voice came from behind. “What’re you crowding around for? Think you’ll learn just by watching the major? Have you practiced?”
Bang! Bullseye.
“I heard Sister Yu’s shot yesterday threw the major into a slump.”
“Hm? Who said? How’d it slump him?” Han Ya had been scolding the soldiers one second, blending in the next.
The soldiers behind explained. “Yesterday the major set the moving target to near-range 200 kph, 10 shots no time limit, and missed every one.”
“Oh.” Han Ya’s tone held no surprise. “Near-range 200? No one could hit that.”
The soldier continued. “Sister Yu, from the top of the Control Tower, scoped in and sniped the Military District’s moving target. One shot, bullseye.”
“Oh.” Han Ya found that normal too. Though it was several hundred meters away, that was Wen Yu’s specialty. A bullseye wasn’t surprising.
“But the bullseye Sister Yu hit was on the major’s empty 10-shot 200 kph target.”
“Oh… Ha?!” Han Ya suddenly shouted in shock, staring at Horne, then turning to look at the distant Control Tower.
Horne’s expression wasn’t good at all. He coldly fired, reloaded, fired, reloaded.
In marksmanship, he’d never beat Wen Yu. She was only four years older, and he refused to believe four years made such an uncrossable gap.
“So even though the major just refreshed the record a few days ago, Sister Yu might surpass it again soon.”
Han Ya pondered if he should practice shooting with weights too. He coughed twice, then abruptly yelled to the side. “Hels! What’re you eating?”
Horne directly cranked it to 200. As expected, consecutive misses, frustrating him.
Hels’s voice was muffled. “Cheese.”
Han Ya asked him oddly. “Cheese for dinner? Just dry cheese? Are you sick?”
A nearby soldier mocked. “He likes cheese. That stuff tastes like shit. Who would…”
Before he finished, the speaker let out a miserable yell.
Horne missed another shot. He sighed, ejected the magazine, and loaded a new one.
Shouts came from behind. Han Ya roared, and the argument instantly died down.
“I gave you rest, not to fight! Hels! How many times have you fought your teammates now?!”
Hels stood far off, his voice cold. “He’s not my teammate. I don’t need such a weak teammate.”
The guy nearby wanted to retort but flushed red, glanced at Han Ya, and stayed silent.
Hels added, “Loser.”
These 15-year-olds had trained so long, yet couldn’t match someone who’d been there a few months at age 10.
Han Ya was utterly shocked. “Who’re you calling weak?”
Hels raised his hand, pointing at everyone training with him one by one, expressionless as he spat out two words. “All of you.”
Bang! Another gunshot.
After the consecutive misses, Horne temporarily gave up and reset to 120, ensuring perfect accuracy at normal speed first.
Han Ya found Hels interesting. Arms crossed over his chest, he said with a roguish look. “Then tell me, who do you think is strong?”
Hels kept his arm up, his finger sliding across, bypassing half the training field and countless people, until it pointed at the guy seriously practicing a few meters away. “Horne.”
Bang! Bullseye.
![The Tower Will Fall [Apocalypse]](https://i2.wp.com/dobynovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/01/93.jpg?resize=151,215 "The Tower Will Fall [Apocalypse]")
