Chapter 1115 - 1004: Trouble Finally Comes Knocking

If formation training is a torment for the undisciplined soldiers of Haftar's forces, then the military training by Jiang Feng and others makes these soldiers of the armed organization, who only have battlefield experience but no systematic military training, feel like they have entered hell.

On the shooting range, Jiang Feng held an AK-47 that he had just confiscated from a new recruit.

The barrel was filled with sand, the gun parts were rusted, and there was a strange smell of mixed oil and sweat.

"Is this the tool you rely on to live?" Jiang Feng's voice was cold as ice, "The gun is your life! If you can't even maintain your gun, going to the battlefield is just delivering equipment to the enemy!"

He demonstrated personally: disassemble, clean, oil, assemble—the movements were quick as lightning, smooth and flawless.

Then, he ordered everyone to dismantle their weapons on the spot.

"Start the timer now. You must completely disassemble and reassemble your weapons within one minute! Don't think this requirement is harsh; in the place I used to serve, this was merely a passing grade for rookies!"

The scene was chaotic for a while, with parts scattered everywhere, and someone was so anxious that they were sweating profusely because they couldn't reassemble them.

Jiang Feng and the veterans moved among them, shouting harshly, teaching hand-in-hand, demanding that everyone must be able to dismantle and assemble blindfolded and that firearm maintenance must become an instinct etched into their bones.

Shooting training was even more rigorous, abandoning the "belief shooting" commonly seen in the African armed forces.

They focused on details from the most basic gun-holding posture, breathing control, and alignment.

Under the scorching sun, they held the gun and posed for half an hour, without moving even as sweat seeped into their eyes.

Live-fire shooting required first-shot hit, pursuing precision rather than spraying bullets.

Ammunition consumption was huge, but every bullet had to yield results. Failed to meet the standards? Extra practice!

Until their hands shook unable to hold the gun, and their eyes were stung red by sweat.

The field was paved with sharp gravel and thorny camel grass.

"Low crawl! Move forward!"

On command, the recruits fell to the ground.

Their movements were diverse, some writhing like worms, some with raised hips, others howling from the pain of the stones.

Jiang Feng and the veterans patrolled the ranks with teaching rods in their hands.

"Lower your hips! Get close to the ground! Imagine bullets flying overhead! Move quickly! Stay concealed!"

The teaching rods lashed mercilessly on raised hips or protruding backs, accompanied by harsh shouts.

Low crawl, side crawl, rush forward, roll forward...

Each move had to be practiced in decomposition thousands of times until muscle memory was formed.

The hardest part was not the training of basic tactical movements.

After all, these things could be forced out.

But tactical coordination, squad cooperation, and platoon, company collaboration, etc., were the most chaotic and deadly parts.

A simulated ruin and trench area.

A simple "squad attack" exercise—machine gun squad suppressing fire, rifle squad alternating cover rush, finally launching an assault.

After issuing orders, the scene was unbearable to watch.

The machine gunner just cared about firing happily without considering the position of his teammates; the rifle squad either rushed out in a swarm or hesitated.

Alternating cover?

No one remembered who to cover.

The result was that the 'enemy's' simulated rounds 'killed' a large section of the attacking squad.

Jiang Feng stopped the exercise with a cold expression and gathered everyone for another round of reprimanding.

"Look at yourselves! Like a bunch of headless flies! On the battlefield, charging like this is just handing the enemy free kills!"

He pulled out the squad leader, deputy squad leader, machine gunner, and riflemen to explain the roles one by one, emphasizing observations, communication, fire coordination, and mutual cover.

Once not enough, then ten times!

Ten times not enough, then a hundred times!

In the merciless 'death' judgments and deafening roars from Jiang Feng and the veterans, soldiers began to vaguely understand the meaning of the word "coordination".

The groups that failed in the exercise all had to face punishment.

The punishment was cruel—fully armed, carrying a log and running under the scorching sun until someone vomited and passed out.

The training plan was drawn up by Jiang Feng according to the intensity of a new recruit platoon in the PLA; even at night, it didn't mean they would have a good sleep.

The temperature difference between day and night in the Gobi was large, with nights being bone-chillingly cold.

The emergency assembly whistle was like a death sentence that abruptly pierced the night sky at two in the morning.

Groggy soldiers rushed out of their tents like startled rabbits, clumsily dressing, grabbing equipment, and assembling in the dark.

Those who were slow or made mistakes were pinned to the ground by razor-backed veterans, with cold sand shoved into their collars. Then there was a forced march carrying twenty kilograms for twenty kilometers, with no lights, guided only by the faint moonlight and a compass.

With uneven steps, people kept falling and dropping out. Jiang Feng and the veterans, like nocturnal wolves, shuttled back and forth in the ranks, urging harshly, roughly dragging those who lagged behind back up.

Upon reaching the destination, there was no rest; immediate night live-fire shooting and tactical infiltration training awaited.

The use of low-light night vision goggles, target identification in the dark, fire control, silent movement—each was an extreme test of willpower and nerves.

Physical training was a day-to-day torment: armed cross-country, log sprints, mud combat, obstacle crossing...

The training ground resounding with labored breaths, painful groans, and the instructors' never-tiring roars.

High-intensity training was like a massive millstone, grinding down everyone's body and spirit.

Complaints, resistance, even small conflicts occurred from time to time.

By the third day, desertion had started appearing.

Jiang Feng's approach was simple and brutal: caught deserters were publicly expelled, stripped of all equipment, given only a bottle of water, and then 'escorted' out of the base boundary by veterans, leaving them to aimlessly fend for themselves.

In the vast Gobi, this was almost equivalent to a death sentence.

After several times, no one dared to mention the word 'escape' again.

But relying solely on high pressure can't forge a real army.

Song Heping and Jiang Feng understood this well.

Every day after training, Jiang Feng would give a brief debriefing during the evening roll call.

He was generous in praising the group and individuals who made the fastest progress, even if it was just the proper execution of a small movement. Those who made progress would receive extra rest time, better meals, including chocolate or a bottle of beer, or even a small badge with the word "Musician" engraved on it, a badge for training excellence.

These seemingly trivial rewards became beacons of light amid the brutal training.

The exemplary role of those battle-hardened mercenaries from "Musician" Defense was even more significant.

They ate, lived, and trained with the rookies, even with greater training volumes.

Their silent resilience, precise actions, and seamless cooperation became the goals that all the new recruits strived to reach.

"Become like the instructors of 'Musician' Defense" became an internal goal for many.

During this training camp, even General Haftar, who had publicly stated he would not review the training, would periodically appear at the edge of the training ground.

He said nothing, just watched silently.

But the soldiers knew, the General was watching them.

Song Heping would also appear at critical moments, his words were few, but they carried immense weight: "Every drop of sweat you shed, every layer of skin that peels away, is to settle debts for brothers who died in Desert City! It's paving the way for you to return to Libya! Three months! Only three months! Do you want to go back in three months and continue to be chased around like stray dogs by Sayif's henchmen? Or do you want to train until your body is as hard as iron and steel, go back with the General, reclaim your home, and make those traitors and invaders pay the price in blood?!"

The flames of revenge and desire for their homeland were the greatest motivators to endure this hellish ordeal.

The discipline of the entire unit was elevated to the highest supremacy.

Orders must be executed unconditionally, with no excuses.

Late by a second for assembly, penalty!

Disorder in quarters, penalty!

Slacking off during training, penalty!

Defying the instructors, severe punishment!

Jiang Feng implemented a collective punishment system of "one person's mistake, the entire class punished."

This method, though harsh, was extremely effective.

It could quickly turn dispersed individuals into a unified whole sharing honor and disgrace.

On the training ground, shouts, and sounds of corporal punishment were constant, but it was under this high pressure that a new iron framework called "discipline" began to take shape within these African soldiers.

The formations went from crooked to orderly, eyes from distracted to focused, actions from sluggish to swift.

They began to learn obedience, endurance, and to grit their teeth through pain.

Time passed amid sweat and agony. Change quietly occurred.

The soldiers who once couldn't even clean their guns properly could, after fifteen days, disassemble, clean, and reassemble their weapons blindfolded with speed.

Rookies once tangled up like pretzels during crawling exercises could now pass quickly like snakes under barbed wire with low postures.

Once-chaotic squads during team drills could now smoothly perform fire suppression, alternate advancements, and flanking maneuvers based on the squad leader's gestures and commands.

The time for assembling for night emergencies reduced from a chaotic ten minutes to under five minutes.

The performance in armed cross-country steadily improved.

The soldiers' eyes changed.

Gone was the initial bewilderment, impatience, and ferocity, replaced by a serene sharpness honed through hardship.

Under the dark skin, muscle lines began to bulge.

During marches, footfalls became orderly and powerful, carrying a kind of oppressive presence.

They began to look like soldiers.

The tranquil days of over two months of training quietly passed by.

That day, as Song Heping stood on the training ground observing the troops' training, an unexpected situation arose.

"Boss!"

Collins hurried to Song Heping's side, whispered a few words, his expression grave.

Song Heping squinted slightly, looking towards the misty area where the Gobi and the horizon met.

Jiang Feng also noticed something amiss and came over.

"Sayif's men?"

Song Heping asked Collins.

"More than that."

Collins' voice was low: "Our spies positioned at the border detected signs of activity possibly from Western Special Forces, very covert. There are also unidentified armed individuals roaming around the base perimeter, like scouts."

Song Heping nodded, showing no surprise.

The three-month training period hadn't finished, and trouble had already arrived.

The enemy wouldn't sit idly by and watch Hafter's forces be reborn.

He looked at the soldiers in the training field whose shouts shook the skies, sweating profusely, and then at Jiang Feng beside him.

"It's about time."

Song Heping's voice was calm: "Even if we don't go after them, they will come for us. I think after more than two months of training, it's time for our opponents to see what this hellish training for over two months has forged."

He turned to Jiang Feng, his orders clear and cold:

"Last week, increase the intensity! Increase the difficulty! Simulate battlefield environment combat! Tell everyone, this is not a drill! It's a live-fire rehearsal! I want to see their valor! See if they can turn what they've learned into skills to kill the enemy!"

"Yes!" Jiang Feng's response was firm and resolute.

On the Darfur Gobi Desert, the final and most brutal tempering began.

Five thousand blades, initially showing their edge, were about to face the final honing before they were fully sharpened. And the winds of the Sahara had already brought the smell of slaughter from the approaching distant enemy.

The countdown to the bloody battle for the return to Libya ticked on.