“Huff… cough…”

Across the vast playground, Tong Zhanyan struggled forward with each step, his body already pushed to its absolute limit. Every inch forward brought a searing pain to his chest, as if it might burst open.

“…Huff…”

Tong Zhanyan fought to keep moving, though his current pace was barely distinguishable from a complete stop.

“You okay?” Tian Xinqing slowed to run alongside him.

Tong Zhanyan desperately wanted to say he wasn’t, but he lacked even the strength to speak.

“How many laps left?” Su Yanran approached from the other side.

The name Su Yanran carried an ethereal aura, yet its owner was a burly man over six feet tall, every inch a muscle, his voice itself carrying a hint of roughness.

“Ten…” Tong Zhanyan managed to utter with great effort.

“That’s not far now. Keep going.” Tian Xinqing encouraged him.

“…Eight.” Tong Zhanyan glanced at him.

Tian Xinqing’s mouth twitched. Despite his name suggesting smoothness, he couldn’t think of any comforting words to offer.

Su Yanran looked at Tong Zhanyan with outright sympathy.

“Why don’t you just say you finished the run?” Tian Xinqing suggested.

“If the Devil King catches you, you’re dead,” Su Yanran reminded him.

Tian Xinqing glanced back at the Devil King standing not far away—bald-headed, arms crossed, looking thoroughly displeased—and fell silent.

“By the way, did you hear about what happened at the Qing Family last night?” “ Tian Xinqing suddenly remembered.

”Last night?“ Su Yanran clearly hadn’t heard.

”I heard the South City was breached for over two hours. Fortunately, the Qing Family Head intervened in time to plug the gap, preventing further casualties.“

”Over two hours?” Surprise washed over Su Yanran’s face. Two hours was more than enough time for an entire city to fall.

“Yeah, but thankfully, fewer than a thousand died.”

Fewer than a thousand died. Listening to their conversation, Tong Zhanyan felt darkness wash over him again and again.

A thousand people—in his understanding, that was a figure only reached in full-scale warfare, far beyond ordinary disasters. Yet here, it was something that could actually bring relief.

Su Yanran genuinely exhaled in relief.

Just as Su Yanran was about to speak again, the Devil King’s roar echoed from behind them. “…You can’t even cover ten kilometers in half an hour? I’ve never seen such useless trash! If you plan to coast through life like this, then stop wasting my time!”

Hearing the commotion, Tian Xinqing and Su Yanran both glanced back before hurrying forward.

“We’re off.”

“Do your best.”

One had only three laps left, the other just two—both already among the top performers in the class. Yet even that wasn’t enough to satisfy the Devil King.

As for Tong Zhanyan, who trailed dead last with only two laps completed, he was nothing short of a thorn in their side.

Sure enough, the moment Tian Xinqing and Su Yanran moved away, Tong Zhanyan’s name echoed across the field. “Tong Zhanyan! If you don’t want to do this, then get the hell out!”

Hearing this furious shout, many students from other classes in the field turned to look. Their own classmates, however, were mostly used to it. Taking advantage of Tong Zhanyan drawing the attention, each of them kept their eyes straight ahead and charged forward.

Tong Zhanyan pushed forward, but after just two steps, pain contorted his face—he was already at his limit.

His current body was malnourished to begin with. The original owner had pushed himself to the brink during the entrance exam a month prior, essentially self-destructing. He’d then burned out completely for over ten days, leaving him utterly drained now.

Forget running ten kilometers—he couldn’t even walk that distance in one go.

“Go process your withdrawal right now. Don’t let me see you here tomorrow…” The devil king’s words dripped venom.

Tong Zhanyan ignored him, gritting his teeth and forcing himself to keep running.

There was an assessment at the start of the semester, and another at the end of the first term. Only those who passed could truly remain; the rest would be forcibly expelled.

He couldn’t leave this place. Because, unfortunately, his original body had been born in the Outer City—a place where even death elicited only a muttered sigh of relief: “Thankfully, less than a thousand died.”

Residents of the Outer City were forbidden from entering the Inner City without permission.

Given his current physical condition, being expelled back there would mean certain death.

Tong Zhanyan ultimately failed to complete twenty laps, earning him an even more vicious barrage of scorn from the Devil King.

The running session ended, but the training was far from over—in fact, it was only just beginning.

When the noon break bell rang, Tong Zhanyan was already drenched in sweat, his hands and feet trembling under the crushing strain.

Tian Xinqing and Su Yanran fared slightly better, though their faces were equally drained.

“Going to lunch?”

“Are we really not going to die training like this?”

As they spoke, the two approached Tong Zhanyan and expertly dragged him toward the cafeteria.

Ever since they’d stumbled upon Tong Zhanyan passing out on his way to lunch during the first few days of school, the two had voluntarily taken on the duty of hauling him along.

Through these back-and-forth interactions, the three had grown considerably closer.

It was lunchtime, and the nutrient solution vending machine against the cafeteria wall was swamped with people.

Seeing this scene, Tong Zhanyan immediately flashed a look of agony—not because of the crowd and the queue, but because of those nutrient drinks.

That stuff tasted like watered-down saccharin, and not even good saccharin—it was the cheap kind with a distinct plastic aftertaste.

Fearing Tong Zhanyan might faint while waiting, Tian Xinqing and the others expertly settled him at a table before joining the queue themselves.

Over ten minutes later, Tong Zhanyan received a bag of clear nutrient solution glowing with an eerie pink sheen.

“Strawberry flavor,” Tian Xinqing sipped carefully. “New flavor. Not bad.”

Tong Zhanyan unscrewed the cap and took a sip. Profuse sweating had left his throat parched.

The first mouthful delivered an even more intense hit of that plastic-tinged saccharin than other flavors, a shock that nearly sent him skyward.

He shouldn’t have held out hope.

“So? Pretty good, huh?” Tian Xinqing was still pushing it hard.

Tong Zhanyan was at a loss for words.

The taste was unbearable, yet his current body clearly adapted to it. Soon, his trembling limbs regained some strength.

“Going straight back?” Tong Zhanyan asked.

Tian Xinqing glanced at the time. There was still enough for a nap. “Let’s go.”

The three headed toward the dormitory buildings behind the school.

Sidi Military Academy was vast, with seventy or eighty dorm buildings alone. First-year freshmen were especially numerous, occupying thirty or forty buildings.

All three were assigned to the sixth floor of Building 12. Tian Xinqing and Su Yanran shared a room, while Tong Zhanyan had another room on the same floor.

Under such intense training, any chance to rest was precious. The entire dormitory area was quiet, especially the first-year section.

After climbing the stairs, Tong Zhanyan bid farewell to Tian Xinqing and Su Yanran and headed to his own room.

The school’s dorm conditions were decent—two people per room. Tong Zhanyan’s roommate seemed to have been delayed by something and hadn’t checked in yet.

After entering, Tong Zhanyan took a quick shower before collapsing onto his bed.

His eyelids were already drooping, but he didn’t let himself drift off. Instead, he forced himself to open a saved webpage on his terminal—a secondhand goods trading site.

The photos on the shelf showed six tomato seedlings, as malnourished and sickly as his own body.

He had bookmarked this item a week ago. A week had passed, and the item’s views and bookmarks kept rising, but the item itself remained.

Tong Zhanyan had made an offer before, but it ended in failure. The seller refused to budge, and the asking price was beyond his means, even if he sold everything he owned.

Just as Tong Zhanyan hesitated over whether to inquire again, he noticed an unread message.

The sender was none other than the seller of those little tomatoes, offering to lower the price.

Tong Zhanyan jolted awake, sitting up abruptly to reply, “Everything agreed upon is still included, right?”

Almost instantly, he received a response: “Only five seedlings left. Everything else remains as previously discussed.”

Tong Zhanyan instantly understood why the seller was online.

As more people plunged into this frenzy, gardening had become a massive trend. The seller, like most online enthusiasts, had likely jumped in hoping to make a fortune.

Unfortunately, reality fell short of expectations. The seeds had less than a 50% germination rate, and the twenty seedlings that managed to survive kept dying off…

Now, he was left with nothing but a pile of potting soil and five sickly seedlings. If he didn’t sell them soon, his losses would only grow.

“Let’s be clear: no returns once sold,” the other party stated.

Hearing this, Tong Zhanyan hesitated. He only had a little over thirty-five thousand yuan left, and their agreed-upon price was exactly thirty thousand.

That thirty thousand was the entire sum he’d scraped together by selling his old, dilapidated house before enrolling in Sidi Military Academy.

The remaining five thousand or so could barely cover his expenses until the semester ended if he scrimped and saved. But given his current physical condition, even training day and night wouldn’t be enough to pass the final assessments.

In other words, failure meant not only being expelled back to the outer city, but being expelled with absolutely nothing.

Seeing Tong Zhanyan take so long to reply, the other party grew impatient. “This really is my absolute lowest price. Plus, I’m throwing in all these pots, soil, and fertilizer solution. You won’t lose out.”

This much was true—otherwise, Tong Zhanyan wouldn’t have considered his offer in the first place.

Gardening was all the rage, but uncontaminated seeds and soil were shockingly expensive. Seeds, especially five thousand yuan per seed, were considered cheap. For thirty thousand yuan, Tong Zhanyan could never have bought this much on his own.

Tong Zhanyan’s finger swiped across the screen, typing something before deleting it.

A wave of numbness washed over his wrist as he moved.

Though his limbs no longer trembled, the exhaustion remained, a constant reminder that one semester of effort was nowhere near enough to pass the assessment.

He had to take a chance.

Gritting his teeth, Tong Zhanyan typed “I’ll take it” and hit send before regret could set in.

“Place your order now, and I’ll ship it this afternoon. Since we’re in the same city, you should receive it by tomorrow noon,” the seller replied eagerly.

Tong Zhanyan was already beginning to regret it, but he steeled himself and paid.

Upon receiving the payment notification, the seller visibly relaxed. “Good luck.”

Tong Zhanyan didn’t reply. Instead, he collapsed onto his bed, his body aching, forcing himself to suppress the urge to back out.