Training

For a moment, Shawn's mind was a whirlwind of emotions, his expression shifting from shock and annoyance to disdain in a very short span of time.

Shawn then remembered the corridor where he first encountered Hesta. He actually preferred Hesta as she was back then—terrified but forcing herself to hold still, not daring to make any rash moves. That small yet stubborn demeanor had genuinely amused him.

He couldn't comprehend how this newcomer, who had barely arrived, could be so arrogant in such a short period.

Was it the thundering cheers of the Tanyi citizens outside that gave her courage? Or did she rely on Liz Fletcher's backing, and the fact that he hadn't made any moves this week gave her the illusion that she could walk all over him?

Shawn lost all interest in looking up other people's information. After erasing his login traces, he left Mrs. Lavette's room early and returned to his own dormitory.

Jane Hesta.

Along the way, Shawn repeated the name in his mind. The few search records felt like a declaration of war from Hesta, reigniting his long-dormant competitive spirit.

How should I teach you a lesson?

On the sports field at this moment, Hesta, who was running laps, suddenly lost her balance and fell to the ground. Her hands and knees were simultaneously scraped, and she immediately felt a burning pain.

A whistle sounded from afar almost immediately. It was the instructor at the starting point, urging her to get up quickly and continue running.

Hesta didn't check her wounds and kept moving forward.

The 120 hours of basic living training had ended. She had thought her physical training courses would change as well, but she hadn't expected them to remain the same, with only endless long-distance running.

Hesta had learned from Liz that other members in the base had an average of three 5-kilometer weighted cross-country runs per week, with one 20-kilometer forced march in full gear per month. The remaining time was allocated to combat, shooting, and tactical guidance.

However, judging by her current assessment results, Hesta's height of 1.31 meters and weight of 24kg were far from sufficient to start participating in intensive training.

Due to prolonged vegetarianism and ascetic practices, her physique was very slender. The training officer often joked that her frame was the type to "break a bone with a heavy punch." When they first met, Hesta was told to put aside any thoughts of joining the intensive training. Her most important tasks now were to grow taller, gain weight, and improve her cardiopulmonary function.

"Cardiopulmonary function is equivalent to a boiler," the training officer had said. "It's like firing a furnace; you need a strong fire, at least to supply oxygen first."

As Hesta ran, she felt her lungs burning, but for some reason, Shawn's malicious face intruded into her mind, suddenly giving her renewed strength.

The whistle sounded again from afar. "Maintain a steady pace! Who told you to do interval training! Running fast and then slow will only make you more tired!"

She struggled to adjust her speed.

Although back at the convent, Hesta also had to work and hike with others, they did so at a leisurely pace with breaks, and she hadn't felt it was painful.

When she finally crossed the finish line, Training Officer Arnold caught up with her. "What were you thinking? Why was your pace so poor today?"

Hesta couldn't speak. She shook her head, feeling lightheaded all over. Even after stopping, she didn't feel her breathing becoming smoother. She felt as if Arnold was ready to grab her arm at any moment, lest she collapse after finishing like she had on the first day.

Arnold was a sixty-five-year-old man, but when Hesta first saw him, she thought he was just a prematurely aged middle-aged man in his early forties, as his hair was almost entirely white.

Arnold's build was similar to Calvin's, but he was slightly shorter. When he stood still, he always kept his arms crossed, a defensive posture that made him look very robust. The upper arms, as thick as his head, always strained the sleeves of his short-sleeve shirt.

Hesta had once asked him if she could achieve such muscle definition through long-term training, and if so, how long it would take.

Upon hearing this, Arnold first burst into laughter, then asked her what she ate every day.

That was an easy question to answer. After starting physical training, some of her meals had changed from the staff cafeteria to specific provisions.

Every morning, her fixed breakfast consisted of 15g of whey protein powder with 35g of oatmeal, accompanied by 5 eggs and one yolk. In the first few days, she couldn't always finish everything, but now she could.

The first physical training session of the day usually began within half an hour to an hour after breakfast. After it ended, she would consume a large amount of carbohydrates. The base did not strictly control portions, and Hesta usually chose mashed potatoes, buckwheat noodles, or black bread, served with pan-fried minced beef patties or chicken breast.

Dinner was relatively more flexible. She could still choose from the buffet as before, but for the past two weeks, Hesta had been eyeing a salad called "Northern Salad," which contained chicken gizzards, potatoes, shredded chicken breast, large leaf lettuce, and chicory. It tasted surprisingly good.

Arnold nodded frequently, saying that as long as Hesta persisted with this diet and trained at the established pace, she would eventually surpass him. However, for some reason, Hesta always felt his tone wasn't entirely convincing when he said this, as if he were speaking in jest.

At this moment, Hesta was walking slowly along the outermost lane of the sports field, with the training officer following closely behind her on her right.

Arnold looked at her. "Are you encountering any trouble, Hesta?"

Hesta glanced sideways. "Why do you ask, Instructor?"

"Lately, you've been distracted during training. That's not a good sign," Arnold replied. "If you're really having problems, feel free to talk to me."

Hesta shook her head. "I'm not having trouble adjusting. Life here is better than I could have ever imagined, Instructor."

"Then what were you thinking about during your run today?" Arnold asked.

Someone who's been bothering me lately. Hesta thought to herself.

But before she spoke, she asked, "Are you a Quicksilver Needle, Instructor?"

Arnold raised an eyebrow. "I am not."

"Then I cannot answer you, as the matter might... be classified?" Hesta replied. "I was indeed distracted and didn't perform well. I will pay attention tomorrow. Please forgive me."

Arnold let out a slight, contemptuous laugh.

"I am not some Quicksilver Needle, Hesta, but I am a retired soldier of the United Government."

Arnold spoke with a resounding voice, his tone steady and powerful.

"I participated in dozens of hunts against Chelated Beings and had very pleasant collaborations with many brave Quicksilver Needles who fought valiantly. And these are merely insignificant footnotes in my military career."