Special Forces: From the very beginning, I can upgrade the entry

The shooting range was silent. For a long moment, neither the recruits nor the seasoned soldiers could utter a word. When they finally found their voices, their eyes no longer held mere curiosity or admiration—they now looked at Lin Yi with the reverence reserved for legends.
Even Zhuang Yan, who had always prided himself on his skills, felt his self-confidence crumble under the weight of reality. No matter how much he improved, this man was always ahead, always untouchable. For the first time in his life, Zhuang Yan felt the sting of true defeat.
Then—
Footsteps. Steady. Powerful. Sergeant Zheng Sanpao stepped forward, brushing off his sleeves. Without a word, a veteran soldier behind him handed over two QBZ-95 automatic rifles.
“Set up the reconnaissance soldier’s 100-meter rapid-fire moving target drill,” he ordered.
“Yes, Sergeant!”
The veterans responded immediately, turning on their heels and sprinting toward the range.
Their boots pounded against the earth, disappearing into the distance.
The recruits glanced at one another, confusion flickering across their faces.
What was happening?
Zheng Sanpao turned back toward Zhuang Yan, extending one of the QBZ-95s toward him.
“Let’s have a little competition,” he said, his voice calm, but edged with an unspoken challenge.
Zhuang Yan hesitated.
“If you win, you can hold your head high and keep your arrogance. But if you lose, then you’d better learn how to be a proper recruit—one who knows his place.”
Chen Xiwa swallowed hard. He knew what was about to happen, and he knew the outcome before it even began. The man standing before them wasn’t just any veteran. He was Zheng Sanpao—the most terrifying sergeant in the entire training camp.
“Sergeant!” Chen Xiwa suddenly stepped forward, raising his hand.
“Sir, I think maybe we should—”
Before he could finish, Zhuang Yan snapped his head toward him, eyes burning with frustration.
“I’m doing this,” he muttered, yanking the rifle from Zheng Sanpao’s hands.
The sergeant smirked.
“You can still back out.”
Zhuang Yan gritted his teeth. “Not a chance.”
In the distance, the range had changed.
The veterans had set up an entire battlefield simulation. Moving targets, concealed pop-ups, and obstacles now littered the 100-meter stretch. This was no static shooting drill. This was combat training—the kind designed for elite reconnaissance soldiers.
“Foolish courage,” Zheng Sanpao muttered, shaking his head.
“Back in my hometown, we have a saying,” Zhuang Yan shot back.
“If you want to know if it’s a horse or a mule—take it out for a walk.”
The recruits snickered, while some of the veterans raised their brows in amusement. The sergeant, however, was unimpressed.
“Back in my hometown,” he countered, “we have another saying: ‘Some people are too stupid to know when they’re outmatched.'”
Zhuang Yan bristled.
“Fine. But if I win,” he challenged, “what do I get?”
Zheng Sanpao’s expression darkened.
“You won’t win.”
“But if I do?”
The sergeant’s jaw flexed.
A low chuckle escaped his lips.
“Then I’ll do two hundred push-ups.”
The recruits sucked in sharp breaths. Two hundred? From Zheng Sanpao? Even the veterans looked taken aback. For someone of his rank and reputation to make a bet like this— He was serious.
“Fine,” Zhuang Yan said, nodding.
The recruits watched in silence.
Chen Xiwa wanted to say something, to stop him, to warn him—but no words came out.
Just as Zhuang Yan was about to step forward, another figure moved past him.
Lin Yi.
Zhuang Yan blinked. “What are you—”
“I’ll go first,” Lin Yi said simply.
His eyes locked onto the range, analyzing every inch.
Then—
His voice rang out, steady and sure.
“Start.”
The moment the words left his mouth—
He launched forward like a hunting leopard.
A hush fell over the crowd.
No one breathed.
No one moved.
Because what they were witnessing wasn’t shooting.
It was combat.
The very art of battle, unfolding before their eyes.
Gunshots cracked through the air, blending seamlessly with his movements.
He ran. He pivoted. He slid. He rolled.
Not a single motion wasted. Not a single movement unnecessary.
Zheng Sanpao’s eyes narrowed. He knew these techniques. They weren’t just basic military drills. This was the kind of precision only elite operators used. A sniper? No. A ghost on the battlefield? Absolutely. One by one, every moving target fell. Not a single miss. Not a single wasted bullet.
Then—
Silence.
Lin Yi stood at the finish line, lowering his rifle.
A brief pause.
Then—
“Twenty-eight seconds! All targets hit!”
BOOM.
The camp exploded into chaos. Recruits screamed. Veterans cursed. Instructors froze in disbelief.
“Holy sh*t!”
“That was insane!”
“Did you see that?!”
For the first time, even the hardened veterans were shaken. Because what they had just witnessed was not the performance of a recruit. It was the performance of a one-man army. Even Zheng Sanpao—who had spent his entire career training the best soldiers—stood there, stunned.
“Impossible,” he muttered under his breath. if Lin Yi was already this good— He could walk into any special forces selection tomorrow and pass without breaking a sweat.
This was not just talent. This was terrifying.