King of Soldiers: The Hunter

Breaking Free from Decadence

That night, Zhang Ziwen lay restlessly in bed, unable to fall asleep. Ever since being discharged from the military and sent home, he had sunk into a deep depression, drifting through life in a haze of disillusionment.

He could still recall the sorrowful gaze of his former commanding officer, and those parting words that echoed in his ears as if spoken just yesterday: "Remember, young man, patience is key. Don’t repeat your mistakes. Go back and do well. You’re one of the elite, forged by the army. I believe you'll shine just as brightly in civilian life."

Perhaps it was the accumulation of recent emotional blows that had shaken him—first, the female officer stirred up memories of his military days; then the stinging slap from the lingerie shop beauty; and earlier that day, a careless answer to Tang Shu's question. All these reminded him that since returning from the army, he’d been nothing but a failure. What use was all his training if he couldn't apply it? If he continued like this, he would truly become a discarded scrap of society.

"Was I ever truly an elite soldier?" Zhang Ziwen cursed under his breath. After all this time, he had yet to amount to anything. What a waste those years in the army were. No more. This ends now. Zhang Ziwen, get it together. It’s not too late to wake up—you need to rise again.

The morning mist was gently torn apart by a sliver of sunlight, dissolving the coolness that had lingered through the night. Early risers, fresh from their morning exercises, were returning home with breakfast in hand. The quiet city morning was slowly giving way to its usual clamor.

Zhang Ziwen had risen unusually early. Now he sat at a street-side breakfast stall, sipping soy milk and munching on fried dough sticks. A newspaper lay open in his hands as he scanned the job listings. It seemed that after a long night of inner struggle, the once-proud soldier was finally ready to rejoin the world.

Resolving to change is easy, but turning resolve into action is often the hardest part. A tinge of disappointment crept over Zhang Ziwen as he flipped through the classifieds. There were countless openings, but most required master's or doctoral degrees. A few accepted bachelor’s degrees, and even the least demanding jobs preferred associate-level diplomas. His own qualifications? Merely a high school graduate. Though some security jobs didn't list strict requirements, most still gave preference to veterans—real ones. He had been a soldier, yes, but a dishonorably discharged one. That stain made him nearly unemployable. Who would hire a man even the army had rejected—unless he concealed that chapter of his life?

Turning to the back page, Zhang Ziwen's eyes lit up. Perhaps fate hadn’t forsaken him after all. A large advertisement by Xinao Group, a major conglomerate, dominated the page. They were hiring for everything—from executives to clerks, sales reps, drivers, security guards, and even janitors. He scanned the listing closely: for positions below the managerial level, educational requirements were lenient. Apart from the cleaning roles, most were within reach. The notice was valid for three days, and today was the first.

Zhang Ziwen could hardly contain his joy. With so many openings, surely he could land at least one. Glancing at the time, he decided to head home and change into something more presentable.

Just as he stood and paid the bill, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen—d*mn, he thought, this guy’s up early.

The caller was Hai Dafu, his childhood buddy—a plump, jovial man nicknamed “Fat Dahai.” A classic night owl, Hai was always lethargic during the day and buzzing with energy at night. He wouldn't even need to adjust if he moved to the U.S.

"Well, well, the sun must be rising in the west! Up early to catch the sunrise?" Zhang Ziwen teased over the phone.

"No way—you’re already up? I can hear cars in the background!"

"Spit it out. What’s got you calling so early?"

"Heh heh,” Fat Dahai chuckled mischievously, “I didn’t sleep at all. Just felt like messing with you. Didn’t expect you to already be up—so much for my prank."

"You never change. This isn’t the first time either," Zhang Ziwen laughed, shaking his head. "Forget it. You won’t get the chance again. I’ve turned over a new leaf—about to go job hunting."

"No way," came the exaggerated voice on the other end. "What’s gotten into you? Isn’t your gorgeous sister still sending you thousands every month? Why look for a job?"

"You don’t know sh*t. Anyway, gotta go change and get moving. Talk later."

"Wait—are you serious?"

"You think I’ve got nothing better to do than lie to you?"

"Fine, then. Let’s grab drinks tonight. Haven’t seen you in days—ever since you cleaned me out at cards and vanished. That wasn’t cool, bro."

"Alright, I’ll call you later," Zhang Ziwen said, hanging up. The mention of gambling soured his mood. The bathhouse incident that led to his arrest had happened at a spot Dahai had recommended. Tonight, he’d be settling that score.

Back home, he took a shower, shaved clean, and dressed in a white, pinstriped short-sleeve shirt and light gray slacks. After grooming, he glanced in the mirror—his reflection looked sharp and confident. Not bad, he thought. With this look and my features, I should at least qualify for something.

Haidong Development Zone was one of Zhonghai City’s most renowned areas, and even held national prestige. A hub for finance, trade, manufacturing, and high-tech industries, it had seen explosive growth since the early '90s. Now, headquarters of multinational giants—Deutsche Nordbank, Siemens, Alcatel, Citigroup Asia-Pacific, Ping An Insurance—were all rooted here. Haidong had become a dazzling gem on the dragon’s head of the Yangtze River.

Zhang Ziwen now stood before Yinmao Tower in Haidong, where Xinao Group's headquarters were located. It was his first time job hunting, and anxiety clung to him. He lit a cigarette, both to calm his nerves and satisfy his craving. Glancing at his watch, he exhaled deeply and walked inside.

The lobby was spacious and bright. Office workers clustered near the elevators, sneaking glances at their watches, anxious not to be late.

In the packed elevator, Zhang Ziwen asked the person by the door to press the button for the 22nd floor—where, according to the ad, Xinao’s HR department was located.

Stepping out, he paused in surprise. The hallway was already filled with people sitting or standing, and more spilled out from the elevator behind him. So much for arriving early. Clearly, the competition was fierce.

Due to the crowd, HR had divided applicants into separate rooms, each with a list of positions posted outside. Everyone received an application form. Zhang Ziwen did too, and joined the others at the long tables in the hallway to fill it out. The form reminded him of the enlistment paperwork from his army days.

In the “Special Skills” section, he only wrote: “Proficient in operating various vehicles.” As for piloting aircraft, boats, handling firearms, bomb defusal, or hand-to-hand combat—those were too intense for this setting. Better not scare anyone.

Choosing a position was a real dilemma. He wasn’t qualified for management roles, assistants required college degrees, and the security jobs favored ex-soldiers—which he technically wasn’t anymore. Even his military history was a liability now. Cleaning and maintenance roles felt beneath him. After much thought, he wrote down “administrative clerk.” The job required only a high school diploma and basic computer skills—both of which he had thanks to army training. While not a tech wizard, he could handle office software effortlessly. This might be his only real shot.

When he finally handed in the form, it felt like a weight lifted from his chest. Just moments ago, he'd reflected bitterly: So this is what a so-called elite soldier amounts to in the real world—no better than a nobody. If I don’t wake up now, my whole life is finished.

He clenched his jaw in quiet determination. He would ace that interview. He had to get this job.

The form was collected by a soft-spoken, delicate-looking receptionist. Her badge read: 0215 – Xu Ying.