Super Soldier

Chapter Six: The Dream Challenge

When Lin Fei opened his eyes once more, he was greeted by the sharp, stinging scent of antiseptic. A pale ceiling stretched above him, and an IV was affixed to his arm. Bandages wrapped around his body, layered thickly over multiple injuries.

A woman with a delicate, doll-like face and flowing red hair stood before him. She wore a pristine white lab coat that outlined her youthful, graceful figure, and she was busy changing his IV bag. Her expression was bright and spirited, with a lively charm that made her resemble a porcelain doll.

“Where am I? Was everything just a dream? I wasn’t in prison... I was wounded and taken to a hospital?” Lin Fei asked the doll-faced young woman before him, trying to mask his curiosity with casualness. At the very least, he noted, she had a stunning figure.

“This is the infirmary inside the prison. You weren’t dreaming. You’re still in jail,” she replied with a cheerful tone.

Lin Fei blinked. “So even Karl Prison has beautiful female doctors. I’m Lin Fei, by the way. What’s your name? How did someone like you end up working in such a cheap prison? Did you offend the hospital director? Or did he make inappropriate advances that you refused, and you got exiled here as punishment?”

Sprawled on the bed, Lin Fei raised his sore arm and playfully addressed the lovely, youthful doctor.

Once too shy to chat with women, Lin Fei had long since shed his reservations. After all, with a life sentence handed down and that damned war-god system in his head to blame, he figured he might as well enjoy what pleasures he could find. And now, fate had delivered a beautiful doctor right to his bedside—perhaps it was even the beginning of a prison romance. Of course, deep down, he knew such fantasies were likely just that.

“My name’s Ouyang Feng. I’m not an official doctor yet—still a fifth-year med student. Our college requires final-year students to intern in hospitals, and my placement was decided by lottery. I was unlucky enough to draw Karl Prison,” she said with a shrug.

“I actually thought there wouldn’t be many patients here and I’d have an easy time. I’ve been idle for nearly a month. But this morning, an old guard told me there was a massive brawl in the cafeteria.”

“Apparently, it was started by a violent and dangerous inmate—but I’ve got to thank him, really. Now I suddenly have over a hundred injured patients to treat and practice on!”

“All right, Lin Fei, I still have more than ten broken arms and legs to reset, so I’ll have to leave you for now.”

The doll-faced intern, Ouyang Feng, was in unusually high spirits. With so many trauma cases all at once, she finally had a chance to apply her skills—something that would have been impossible in a more prestigious hospital where a junior intern like her would never be allowed near serious injuries.

Of course, she had no idea that the man lying in the bed across from her was the very culprit who’d incited the cafeteria riot.

As her long hair disappeared past the doorframe, Lin Fei finally turned his attention inward. Thanks to his defensive instincts, most of his injuries were superficial—bruises and swelling, but nothing serious. He estimated a recovery time of just a few days.

He looked around the small infirmary. He had been so focused on the new intern that he hadn’t noticed he wasn’t alone.

The room was cramped, with ten beds squeezed inside—four of them clearly added in haste, no doubt due to the sudden influx of wounded inmates.

Each patient, Lin Fei included, was strapped to their beds from the waist down. Without a key, there was no hope of getting up.

Scanning the room, Lin Fei saw nine other injured men. Three appeared unconscious, likely from head trauma or anesthesia. The other six avoided his gaze entirely, keeping their eyes fixed firmly on their own feet—none dared meet his stare.

They must still be haunted by what happened in the cafeteria. First impressions count, after all—and to them, he was clearly a brute.

Just as Lin Fei was contemplating how one might relieve oneself while strapped to a bed, the door swung open again.

Ten fully armed prison guards marched in and unshackled him.

“All this just for a bathroom trip?” Lin Fei asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Bathroom? No. You’re being taken to solitary,” the lead guard replied flatly. “Warden’s orders. Your actions in the cafeteria disrupted prison order and stability. You’re to be confined in the black cell for three days as punishment.”

They handcuffed and shackled him, energy weapons aimed squarely at his chest, and led him out of the sterile, silver-toned infirmary.

“Goodbye, doll-faced doctor,” Lin Fei muttered, waving weakly as he followed the guards into the cold, black-metal corridors of the prison.

After several sharp turns, he was escorted into a small, steel-walled cell—barely six square meters, containing only a squat toilet, a tiny sink, and a narrow iron bed no more than two meters long and one wide.

The guards deposited him there, then left. The lights went out the moment the door slammed shut.

Silence fell, deep and impenetrable. The room was sealed tight—no sound escaped, no light seeped in.

Lin Fei groped for the bed and lay down.

A fifty-pound iron ball was chained near the bedside. His body still weary, he intended to rest, perhaps even sleep in this eerie darkness.

But the cursed war-god system reappeared in his mind.

“Given your performance in this morning’s battle, I will now analyze your combat sequence and provide martial arts training. I believe, after engaging in a brawl, you are in an optimal state to absorb new combat techniques,” it declared in his head.

“What? Come on, Boss—can’t I sleep first and train later?” Lin Fei protested.

“This training will take place in your dreams. Time flows differently there. All instruction will occur within your consciousness. It is my hope that through this dream training, your fighting skills will significantly improve.”

As the war-god system spoke, Lin Fei’s eyelids grew heavy.

When he opened his eyes again, he found himself standing atop a vast mountain arena paved in gleaming marble, stretching hundreds of square meters in every direction. It radiated majesty.

Across from him stood a perfect replica of himself, clad in a white martial arts uniform—his expression cold, aloof, and, perhaps, just showing off.

“Your task is simple: learn his techniques, and defeat him,” the war-god system's voice echoed across the empty arena.

Then came the real blow: “Only those who can defeat themselves are truly strong. This training will continue in an infinite loop until you do—unless your body's cellular energy is completely depleted first.”