Three-Month Average Lifespan

Lin Ming followed the cold-faced officer through the heavy iron gates of the barracks and entered an area completely unlike anything he had imagined.

Rather than a military camp, it looked more like a massive refugee camp—or perhaps a forgotten corner of the world.

Thousands of dingy, patched-up tents had been erected haphazardly across the muddy ground, with only a few narrow paths between them, barely wide enough for two people to pass side by side.

Everywhere between the tents lay casually discarded household trash and broken weapon parts. The air reeked of sweat, blood, cheap tobacco, and moldy food, a stench so pungent it turned the stomach.

Groups of soldiers could be seen everywhere. Some leaned against tents and dozed, snoring like thunder. Others sat in circles with bloodshot eyes, gambling as their shouts rose and fell.

Others mechanically wiped the rusty, even warped firearms in their hands with scraps of cloth.

Most of their eyes were numb and hollow, like stagnant pools of water, as though they had long since lost all hope and passion for life.

Occasionally, someone would look up at Lin Ming, this unfamiliar face, but they would only glance at him indifferently before lowering their heads again, as if looking any longer would waste their strength.

The officer led Lin Ming to a tent at the edge of the camp that looked ready to collapse at any moment. Pointing at it, he spoke as coldly as if assigning a piece of cargo.

"This is where you'll stay. Go to the quartermaster later to collect your equipment and uniform. You'll officially begin duty tomorrow and await orders from your superiors."

After saying that, he could not be bothered to utter another word and walked away without looking back, as though staying here one second longer