A Journey Through the Flames of War in the Republican Era

Song Hongfei, Zhang Yi, and Wang Zhi were locked in a fierce battle with Musk and his group for more than two years.

Until that "classroom incident," the two sides clashed violently like never before, causing a sensation throughout West Point.

Filled with grief and indignation, the three of them began to study and train relentlessly.

During class that day, Feng Liana, the school affairs advisor, keenly noticed Song Hongfei's unusual behavior. She thought that Song Hongfei was under too much mental pressure and was overworked, and from then on, she couldn't help but feel more concerned about him.

Feng Liana's gentle care was like the sunshine and breeze of spring, warming Song Hongfei's troubled heart.

Feng Liana—Song Hongfei felt the name sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.

Until one day, he suddenly remembered a movie from later years called "Malèna". The charming, alluring, and captivating heroine played by Monica Bellucci was named von Lena.

At first, it wasn't a big deal, but the more he thought about it, the more it seemed to make sense. Although the woman in front of him, Feng Liana, seemed a few years older, she still retained her charm and allure. But once his thoughts wandered, things went wrong. In a daze, he felt even more strongly that he was truly in a fantastical dream that he couldn't understand.

At this moment, Song Hongfei was still unable to adapt to this situation. Two separate consciousnesses and complete life memories resided within his body, and both of them shared the same name—Song Hongfei. Sometimes, these two different consciousnesses and two different ways of thinking would conflict and vie for control of his single body. He felt as if he were suffering from either schizophrenia or personality disorder. He couldn't find the words to describe that bizarre, peculiar, and mysterious feeling.

Moreover, it's really impossible to talk to anyone about something so absurd. If you did, people would think you're crazy and send you to a center for research on abnormal people!

He secretly researched various sources—medical, psychological, even religious and metaphysical—but found no solution. The only scientific explanation that came close was either schizophrenia or personality disorder, or delusional disorder.

But all of this is so real, it's almost too real, isn't it? Only time travel could explain it, and the person even transmigrated into the same body with two consciousnesses and two memories.

However, there was one thing that Song Hongfei was well aware of: too many unexpected and incomprehensible things had happened in the past few days, almost exceeding his psychological capacity. Often, when a thousand chaotic thoughts erupted and surged up all at once, his head throbbed with pain, and he felt so miserable that he just wanted to bang his head against the wall.

Every time this happened, Song Hongfei cursed inwardly: "Damn it! I've read so many transmigration web novels before, and every single one of them is a domineering CEO, a young master, a king or general, or even a crown prince or emperor. Which one of them doesn't make a grand entrance and return in a blazing inferno? Which one isn't incredibly powerful and influential? Which one doesn't have a harem of beauties at their fingertips, with three wives and four concubines throwing themselves at them, living a life of unbridled pleasure? And the whole world revolves around them no matter what they do, allowing them to do whatever they want and achieve whatever they desire. Which one of them isn't living a life of cheat codes, crushing all those who dare to challenge them, claiming to be the strongest in all realms, the most awesome at showing off?!"

"Two different mindsets, two different memories, two different souls—aren't they suffering? How come they're all acting like nothing's wrong? How come I'm suffering so much, almost going crazy, my head feels like it's going to explode, like I'm going to die, all from the same time travel? How come there's such a huge difference between us?!"

Song Hongfei was extremely frustrated: "Damn it, am I the most miserable transmigrator in the world?"

Gradually, Zhang Yi and Wang Zhi also felt that Song Hongfei was acting strangely, but they couldn't quite put their finger on it. Especially since that incident, they sometimes felt that Song Hongfei had become a completely different person.

For several years, the three of them studied, trained, fought, and struggled together at West Point, battling against Musk and his white supremacist zealots. Seeing their good brother Song Hongfei's distress, Zhang Yi and Wang Zhi felt distressed as well.

"Could he have gone mad from his cultivation?" Zhang Yi and Wang Zhi were very worried, but Song Hongfei refused to say anything, no matter how they pressed him. Song Hongfei knew he couldn't say anything, and he shouldn't say anything; who would believe him if he did? He'd scare everyone to death.

Fortunately, Song Hongfei finally found a solution himself. He recalled that when he was studying at G Military Academy in what was probably his previous life or his next life, the damned, perverted training maniac, known as the devil instructor, had a way of dealing with Song Hongfei and his group of energetic military academy students: it was very simple, they hadn't trained enough, they were just bored and making trouble!

If you've practiced enough, where will you find the energy to climb on the roof and cause trouble? Where will you find the energy to think about all sorts of things? If you haven't practiced enough, then practice hard! It's not enough until your legs are weak and trembling, your hands are shaking so much you can't even pick up food with chopsticks, until you go back to your dorm at night and all you want to do is drag a dog's tail to bed!

From then on, every morning at the crack of dawn, Song Hongfei would quietly get up and begin training.

First, he practiced internal breathing, following the breathing and meridian circulation methods taught to him by the mysterious old man, circulating the energy 36 times on the bed.

Then, he would tie sand leg wraps to his calves, put on a sand vest, and carry two heavy machine gun ammunition boxes filled with gravel on his back. He would then begin his first five-kilometer weighted run of the day, running to a secluded grove of trees. He would practice traditional kung fu techniques that combined footwork and body movements with striking techniques, and then practice breathing exercises and power generation.

He then trained his muscles and skin externally, doing 100 pull-ups, 100 barbell dips, and 500 basic fighting techniques: hook punches, straight punches, uppercuts, hook kicks, spring kicks, and side kicks. He tied a thick stack of newspapers to a tree trunk and practiced hitting the paper to reduce the sensitivity of his fists to pain, until he could hit a paper target half a foot thick, then he would replace it with a new one and continue hitting.

When he returned to the dormitory building after his morning exercise, covered in sweat, everyone else had just gotten up.

After dinner, I run a 5-kilometer race, followed by a 400-meter obstacle course. Every night, I have to fall 200 times and do 300 push-ups until the sweat dripping from my body is enough to reflect my image on the ground.

He poured all his energy into training, pushing himself to the limit to cool down his inflated ego and prevent any further outbursts. Otherwise, when those two conflicting thoughts and ideas erupted in a chaotic frenzy, it felt like needles pricking his brain, making him feel like his head was about to explode—far more unbearable than the exhausting training!

When he felt he couldn't take it anymore, he would run to a secluded grove of trees and wail and howl to vent his frustrations, then wipe away his tears and continue training like crazy.