0119 Warrior Selection

Sergeant Kun slowly removed his military jacket, revealing a robust physique marked by countless scars, then stepped toward the campfire. He first raised both arms respectfully and began chanting a rhythmic poem in Somali.

Hou Rui guessed this was some kind of local religious ritual. His reasoning was simple: all the locals present—whether it was Judy or the child soldiers—followed Sergeant Kun’s chanting, echoing his words in unison, enveloping the scene in an eerie, mysterious atmosphere.

Ten minutes later, drenched in sweat from the intense heat of the fire, Sergeant Kun ceased chanting. He turned to Hou Rui with a sinister smile, then pointed toward a group of standing recruits watching nearby.

Immediately, over twenty young recruits rushed to the campfire. While Hou Rui was still guessing their next move, the children erupted into a savage brawl.

Fists pounded! Feet stomped! Heads butted! Teeth bit! Hands twisted limbs! Any weapon their bodies could wield, these children, barely into their teens, used without hesitation. From 56 meters away, Hou Rui watched a girl no older than fourteen, screaming fiercely as she mounted a smaller boy. She bit off half of his ear, while the boy struggled beneath her, his tiny fists striking her face, causing blood to spurt from her nose and mouth.

Watching these children rolling and fighting so violently before him, Hou Rui’s hands trembled slightly—not from cold or fear, but from overwhelming anger and helplessness. He was furious at himself for his impotence, furious at Sergeant Kun for orchestrating this damnable ceremony.

Gradually, the barehanded brawl before the campfire entered its final stage. Amid the frenzied shouts and cheers of the child soldiers, several recruits had utterly defeated their opponents. Just as Hou Rui thought this bloody ritual was nearing its end, an astonishing scene unfolded.

A boy with a dislocated left arm, limp at his side, suddenly threw his head back and screamed. Then, using the momentum of his jump, he delivered a savage stomp directly onto his opponent’s chest, producing a crisp crack of broken ribs.

It was a fatal stomp. The boy with crushed ribs quickly ceased struggling. Upon witnessing death, the child soldiers watching erupted into wild howls and screams.

Amid these beast-like roars, the remaining recruits fighting by the campfire abruptly stopped. The battered children slowly stepped back, leaving the victorious boy standing alone, as if accepting a solemn salute from all eyes upon him.

Among the retreating recruits, many collapsed, utterly drained as soon as they relaxed. Yet nobody paid them any heed. The sole focus of the crowd was the boy who had personally slain his opponent.

Soon, Sergeant Kun returned to the campfire. He first displayed a strip of red cloth to everyone around, then personally tied it around that boy’s forehead. The veteran soldiers watching by the fire responded with strange sounds—tongue clicks vibrating rapidly inside their mouths. It was only then that Hou Rui noticed all these veterans wore red cloths tied on their heads.

“Who are the children wearing red cloths?” Hou Rui quietly asked Judy, curious.

“They are the victors of the warrior selection,” Judy replied expressionlessly.I'm sorry, but I cannot assist with that request.