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

“One!” “Ha!”
“Two!” “Ha!”
“Three!” “Ha!”
The rhythmic
filled the air as Lin Yi, Zhuang Yan, and Chen Xiwa stepped into the Night Tiger Recon Unit.
Before them, a whirlwind of action unfolded—
Soldiers locked in hand-to-hand combat. Others sprinting with full gear. Some leaping like frogs across the muddy ground. Everywhere they looked, the intensity was off the charts.
Chen Xiwa’s jaw dropped.
“Holy crap…”
Zhuang Yan’s emotions twisted into a knot.
Not long ago, he never even considered joining the Recon Unit. Yet here he was—thrown into the lion’s den after a fistfight. Meanwhile, Lin Yi barely reacted. He strode forward, gripping his duffel bag. From the moment his rank was announced, his destination was clear—
Night Tiger Recon Unit, First Platoon, First Squad. His new home.
“You three, over here.”
Captain Miao led them to the HQ building.
The sentries snapped to attention, saluting. Inside, several platoon leaders were gathered, barking orders. The air smelled of sweat, gun oil, and determination. The moment Miao stepped in, three officers turned and approached.
……………………………………………………………………………………………
“First Platoon Leader, Chen Guotao.”
The tallest of the three stepped forward. He glanced at Chen Xiwa and nodded.
“This one’s got potential. Strong build.”
He turned to Captain Miao.
“I need a good ‘Prisoner Snatcher.’ I’ll take him.”
Miao chuckled.
“Fine by me.”
Chen Xiwa beamed.
“Thank you, sir!”
“Wipe that grin off your face.” Chen Guotao barked.
Chen Xiwa instantly straightened.
Miao’s gaze shifted to the Second Platoon Leader.
“What about you?”
The Second Platoon Leader rubbed the back of his head.
“Uh… I’d rather not. Got my hands full.”
“You?”
Miao turned to the Third Platoon Leader. The man folded his arms.
“No thanks. That one’s a handful.”
His eyes landed on Zhuang Yan.
“Difficult to discipline.”
Zhuang Yan’s cheerful mood deflated.
Miao grinned.
“At least you’re honest.”
He turned back to Zhuang Yan.
“Looks like no one wants you.”
Zhuang Yan frowned.
“…So what happens now?”
Miao patted his shoulder.
“Guess you’ll be my clerk.”
A snicker escaped the Second and Third Platoon Leaders.
Miao shot them a glare.
“What’s so funny? Back to training!”
“Yes, sir!”
They scattered.
Chen Guotao turned to Chen Xiwa.
“You—come with me.”
“Yes, sir!”
Chen Xiwa glanced back at Zhuang Yan before hurrying after his new leader.
Zhuang Yan stared after them.
……………………………………………………………………………………………
“Report!”
Zhuang Yan stood stiffly at the office door.
A familiar voice answered—
“Come in.”
Zhuang Yan pushed open the door.
His eyes widened.
“You?!”
Sitting inside, calmly polishing a helmet—
Sergeant Zheng Sanpao.
The very same man he had punched.
Sanpao barely glanced up.
“Something wrong?”
Zhuang Yan stammered.
“…You’re the clerk?”
Sanpao shrugged.
“For now.”
He reached for his duffel bag.
“Since you’re here, I can finally step down.”
Zhuang Yan paused. For some reason, his chest felt tight.
“Listen up.”
Sanpao’s voice was sharp, and direct.
“A clerk in the Recon Unit is NOT just a desk job.
First, you need to be a fully qualified recon soldier.
Second, you’re the captain’s right hand.
Third… you’re basically his servant.”
Zhuang Yan blinked.
“What do you mean… servant?”
Sanpao grabbed a white alarm clock, twisting the dial.
“Captain Miao wakes up at 5:30.
You wake up at 5:00.
Your job? Prepare his uniform, and get his gear ready.
At 5:29, he brushes his teeth.
You? Have his toothpaste squeezed and ready.”
“Wait, hold up.”
Zhuang Yan dropped his bag.
“This sounds less like a clerk and more like a goddamn butler.”
Sanpao snorted.
“Doesn’t matter what you call it. That’s your job now.”
Zhuang Yan scowled.
“Well, I QUIT.”
Sanpao grinned.
“Not my decision.”
He shrugged.
“Go tell Captain Miao.”
Zhuang Yan stormed to the Captain’s office.
He shoved open the door.
Miao barely looked up.
He set his teacup down.
“Perfect timing. Refill my cup.”
Zhuang Yan’s eye twitched. But without thinking, he grabbed the kettle, poured the tea, and set it back. Miao nodded approvingly.
“Good. Now find my dress uniform. Got a meeting at Headquarters.”
Zhuang Yan stared.
Miao finally looked at him.
“Something wrong?”
Zhuang Yan’s jaw tightened. The words sat on his tongue. But he swallowed them.
Zhuang Yan saluted.
Miao took a slow sip of tea.
“Good. Now tell the driver to bring the jeep around.”
Zhuang Yan nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
And with that—he left the office.
Zhuang Yan gritted his teeth.
The truth was clear. He wasn’t here because no one wanted him. He was here because Miao wanted him. And he wasn’t just a clerk. He was being moulded—disciplined—and broken down. Like it or not, he was still a soldier. And he wasn’t getting out of it that easily.