Super Soldier

Chapter Five: The Canteen Riot

It had only been a week since the War God System—infamous and with a criminal record of its own—merged with his body. Upon arrival, it had ruthlessly slaughtered an entire squad without a shred of mercy, dragging Lin Fei into exile within the confines of Carl Prison. He no longer dared to wager his life against such a bloodthirsty companion.

Lin Fei was certain that if he refused to follow the system’s brutal training regimen, it would unleash a m******e in the canteen without hesitation.

Fine, let’s just call it a brawl—only this time, it’s a brawl where I’m the one being beaten.

Resolved, Lin Fei set down his tray and rose to his feet.

With a sudden crash, he flipped the table, sending six or seven inmates seated across from him sprawling to the ground, caught completely off guard.

“I’m taking over this prison!” Lin Fei roared. “You worthless bastards better come greet your new boss—what, are you all deaf?” He spat every insult his mind could conjure, verbally assaulting not just the inmates present, but also their mothers, daughters, and ancestors, kicking aside a nearby stool in the process. Deep down, he muttered to himself: I’m saving your lives, you idiots—and most importantly, I’m saving my own.

The once-rowdy canteen fell into an eerie, deathly silence. A calm before the inevitable storm.

The prisoners who had just been knocked down by the overturned table rolled up their sleeves in fury. “You snot-nosed newbie think you can come here and act tough? Let’s teach you some manners.”

After all, this was Carl Prison, home only to death row inmates and lifers—men marinated in violence. With Lin Fei’s provocations, the air thickened with hostility, and the canteen erupted into chaos.

Fists and feet came at Lin Fei in waves, as if in slow motion. Guided by the holographic projections of the War God System, he dodged where he could, occasionally striking back with precise, measured blows.

Meanwhile, the chubby inmate who shared his cell had already scrambled to the edge of the cafeteria, hoping to avoid the fallout.

He watched, wide-eyed, as Lin Fei laid waste to the attacking prisoners—each punch devastating, each kick final. Whoever was struck didn’t rise again; they lay convulsing on the ground, foaming at the mouth or slipping into unconsciousness. Bones cracked. Teeth gnashed in agony.

A cold sweat trickled down the fat man’s spine. What kind of monster is this guy? No wonder he’s shackled with a massive iron ball and marked Extremely Dangerous on his prison uniform. Thank God he didn’t go berserk in the cell—ten of me wouldn’t be enough to slow this monster down.

The battle escalated, spreading like wildfire across the entire canteen. It had started as Lin Fei against a mob, but as chaos reigned, inmates turned on each other amid the disorder.

Lin Fei, however, remained the central target. His opening tirade had drawn too much hatred—more than enough to attract an endless stream of enemies.

Even with the three-to-one time distortion function of the War God System, and the real-time combat diagrams in his eyes, Lin Fei’s body struggled to keep pace. His movements were misaligned, his strikes lacked explosive force. This was his first time activating the system at full speed, and his body was failing to catch up with his intentions.

Before long, surrounded on all sides and hindered by the iron ball shackled to his ankle, he could no longer reposition to a corner or avoid incoming attacks.

A crushing blow struck his lower back. Though he narrowly avoided critical damage, pain flared. Another fist—he couldn’t even see who threw it—slammed into his head.

And yet, he remained conscious. The War God System’s override kept his mind clear, even in the face of what should’ve been a knockout blow.

To hell with it. Lin Fei gritted his teeth and kept dodging, retaliating wherever he could. If this went on for even five more minutes, the moment he fell, the pack of inmates—whose families he had just insulted—would tear him apart without hesitation.

The system in his head was utterly infuriating. No wonder its stored data had been incomplete. It must’ve been some defective prototype that got wiped clean before being dumped into him.

As he cursed the creators of the damned War God System, he pressed on, fists flying. There was no way to stop now—the fight had spun far beyond his initial plans.

The system, no matter how he pleaded, refused to assume control. It offered only one reply: “If you want to become strong, you must fight for it yourself.”

Screw you. Where was this philosophy when you wiped out my entire squad?

A kick struck him hard—but he recovered, twisting to the side with trained precision, and countered with a right-leg roundhouse that caught his attacker square in the head, sending him sprawling.

The bone-shattering impact he envisioned didn’t materialize. Despite recent improvements in flexibility and endurance, Lin Fei hadn’t yet developed the raw, brutal force needed for lethal strikes.

Time passed. Around him, the fallen inmates now numbered more than a dozen—most unconscious, some severely injured, none dead. His attacks still lacked that final edge.

Yet more inmates closed in. What began as a scuffle with six or seven now grew to nearly twenty. From a distance, others hurled dinner plates at him like projectiles.

What the hell—they think I’m a goddamn target in a shooting range?

Lin Fei fought on, gritting his teeth.

Suddenly—BOOM, BOOM, BOOM! The canteen’s steel doors burst open. Smoke-spewing canisters rolled in like grenades, trailing clouds behind them. Heavily armed, gas-masked guards flooded into the room in synchronized waves. Smoke curled through the air, shrouding everything in gray.

Thank God, Lin Fei thought, throwing one last punch that dropped another ambusher. Then the acrid smoke blinded him, and he collapsed unconscious to the floor.

The prison guards moved in like a well-oiled machine, dragging unconscious inmates one by one, snapping electronic cuffs on their wrists, and tossing them like carcasses into the waiting transport carts.

In this remote prison, built to contain the most dangerous criminals—murderers and monsters alike—mass brawls were a routine occurrence. No one batted an eye. In fact, a lack of violence would’ve been more concerning.

The warden’s attitude was simple: let them fight, as long as the guards remain unharmed. Better to let these beasts vent in a controlled environment than risk a deadlier explosion later.

As the ringleader of this latest riot, Lin Fei—labeled Extremely Dangerous—was punished, albeit lightly. The warden ordered that once his injuries were healed, he was to spend three days in solitary confinement.