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

Under the pale glow of the moon, a rhythmic thudding sound echoed through the silent training grounds. Zhuang Yan, who had been sitting idly nearby, turned his head toward the source of the noise. In the distance, a lone figure stood beneath the moonlight, relentlessly pounding a sandbag.
“What the hell?” Zhuang Yan muttered, narrowing his eyes. “Who’s still training at this hour?”
Seated next to him, Chen Xiwa chuckled. “That’s Platoon Leader Chen. He’s always like this.”
Zhuang Yan raised an eyebrow. “Damn. That’s dedication.”
The Night Tiger Reconnaissance Company had the toughest training regimen in the entire division—second only to the special forces. After an exhausting day of drills, most soldiers could barely keep their eyes open, let alone train voluntarily at night. Yet here was Chen Guotao, pushing himself even further.
Chen Xiwa leaned in slightly and lowered his voice.
“I heard from my squad leader that he’s been doing this since he first joined the unit.”
“At first, everyone thought he’d give up after a few days. But he’s been at it for over a year now.”
Zhuang Yan’s eyes widened.
“A year? Damn, that’s insane.”
Chen Xiwa nodded. “It gets crazier. Did you know he’s a top graduate from the Army Command Academy’s Reconnaissance Program?”
Zhuang Yan blinked in surprise.
“No way.”
“Yep,” Chen Xiwa confirmed. “He’s one of the best in our company. Even Commander Miao tried to convince him to slow down. Told him he needed to rest, take care of himself. But he wouldn’t listen.”
Zhuang Yan exhaled sharply. “Man… some people are just built different.”
As they spoke, Chen Guotao’s stance suddenly faltered. He staggered backward, nearly losing his balance. Without hesitation, Zhuang Yan shot up from his seat and sprinted over.
“Platoon Leader Chen!” Zhuang Yan called out. “Are you okay?”
Chen Guotao gritted his teeth and steadied himself against a wooden training post.
“I’m fine,” he muttered. “Just twisted my ankle a little.”
Zhuang Yan frowned. “Come on, let me help you to the medical station.”
“No need.” Chen Guotao waved him off, his expression unreadable. “It’s nothing.”
Zhuang Yan wasn’t convinced.
“Sir, you’re sweating bullets,” he pointed out. “And you’re literally shaking.”
“It’s just exhaustion,” Chen Guotao insisted, taking deep breaths.
“You’ve been training all day, and now this? It’s not ‘just exhaustion,’ sir.”
For a moment, Chen Guotao didn’t respond. Then, as if to change the subject, he asked:
“What are you doing up so late?”
Zhuang Yan hesitated. “My ears won’t stop ringing.”
Chen Guotao let out a short laugh. “From the shooting drills?”
“Yeah.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
Zhuang Yan scoffed. “That seems to be your answer for everything.”
He reached for Chen Guotao’s jacket and draped it over his shoulders. “At least put this on before you catch a cold.”
Chen Guotao didn’t move. Instead, he took the jacket and used it to wipe the sweat off his face.
“Seriously,” Zhuang Yan pressed. “Why do you do this every night? You’re already the best platoon leader in the company. Why keep pushing yourself like this?”
Chen Guotao finally sat down on a nearby bench.
“Let me ask you something,” he said, looking directly at Zhuang Yan.
“Do you know what special forces are?”
Zhuang Yan nodded enthusiastically.
“Of course! I watch tons of military movies. Delta Force, Green Berets, Navy SEALs…”
He grinned. “You know, the guys with the cool green berets?”
Chen Guotao shook his head, amused. “At least you know something.”
Zhuang Yan scratched the back of his head. “Yeah… I was a film student, but I couldn’t sit through artsy films. Action movies were more my thing.”
Chen Guotao leaned forward slightly.
“Well, I’ll tell you something real. My dream, since I was a kid, was to become a special forces soldier.”
Zhuang Yan blinked.
“That’s why you train like this?”
Chen Guotao nodded. “For a reconnaissance soldier, joining special forces is the ultimate honor.”
Zhuang Yan considered that for a moment. “I guess that makes sense…”
Then, a thought struck him. “Wait—if that’s true, why isn’t Commander Miao in special forces? He’s fought in actual combat, and his military skills are top-tier.”
Chen Guotao’s expression darkened slightly.
“He applied,” he said slowly. “But he failed the first test.”
Zhuang Yan frowned. “What? Why?”
“The medical exam,” Chen Guotao said. “His glass eye disqualified him.”
Zhuang Yan’s heart sank.
“The doctors said that if he ever did a high-pressure dive, the blood vessels behind his fake eye could rupture.”
For a moment, there was silence.
Then, Chen Guotao turned to face him directly.
“Do you know why Commander Miao pays so much attention to you?”
Zhuang Yan was caught off guard. “Because I’m young?”
Chen Guotao sighed. “That’s part of it.”
“But the main reason is that he sees potential in you.”
Zhuang Yan shifted uncomfortably. “Potential…?”
“Yes,” Chen Guotao confirmed. “You have the natural instincts of a great recon soldier. But beyond that, you could become an exceptional special forces operator.”
“That’s his dream. He knows he’ll never achieve it, so he wants you to.”
Zhuang Yan stiffened. “Me?”
Chen Guotao nodded.
For a moment, Zhuang Yan just stared at the ground, processing everything.
Then, he sprang to his feet.
“Hell no.”
Chen Guotao raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“I’m barely managing as a recon soldier,” Zhuang Yan declared. “No way am I going into special forces.”
His tone was firm, but something about his expression betrayed uncertainty.
Chen Guotao’s eyes narrowed. “Why not?”
“Because I’m already struggling enough,” Zhuang Yan shot back. “Why would I make it even harder for myself?”
His words ignited something in Chen Guotao.
“You don’t get it,” the platoon leader said, his voice filled with frustration.
“Special forces isn’t just about being the best. It’s about pushing beyond your limits—for your country, for your team, and for yourself.”
Zhuang Yan crossed his arms defiantly.
“I didn’t sign up for that,” he said. “I just don’t want to embarrass Commander Miao—or you. That’s why I train.”
“But honors, ranks, titles? They mean nothing to me.”
Chen Guotao’s jaw tightened.
“You really don’t get it…” he muttered.
He waved a hand. “Fine. Forget it. Go back to bed.”
Zhuang Yan hesitated, then sighed. “Alright, alright. Goodnight, Chen Platoon Leader.”
As he walked away, he couldn’t help but glance back.
For the first time since enlisting, he wondered—