The livestream chat was blowing up—everyone said the production team must have powerful connections to dare shoot in a place like this.
Before the eight members could even process the news, they saw the instructor go out to greet guests, and soon eight Aethel faces appeared in front of them.
The other team was four men and four women, but these eight new members were all men, anywhere from eighteen to thirty years old. Their eyes were sharp—not at all like ordinary people.
Instructor: "They all want to compete in the base tournament and win big prize money. They’ve never had any systematic training, so they’ve signed up for our program. I’ll divide you into two teams to train together, and in the end, you’ll have a match. Both teams get prizes, and whoever scores highest, the production team will customize a champion’s reward for you based on your personal needs."
Everyone understood—or didn’t quite get it.
Zara Chapman heard "customized reward" and thought of the big shots behind the show, so she asked, all excited: "So if I want to be S+ level lead actress in a movie, you can make that happen too?"
The instructor didn’t understand, so he looked to the director, who looked like he had it all under control.
The director smiled and said, "If you lose, you’ll just get a friendship prize. If you win and get the highest score... well, anything’s possible!"
He said it in awkward Cantonese, making people laugh and cover their faces.
Everyone got it now—don’t expect much if you lose, but win and become champion... that’s basically a ticket to the big leagues, lead role in a movie or club contract, no problem at all.
Zara Chapman was about to celebrate, but suddenly heard Gael Prescott’s voice: "Excuse me, instructor, may I ask what their professions are?"
The instructor didn’t expect anyone to be so alert: "They claim to be ordinary civilians, but even though they have Aethel faces, if they’re brave enough to go after the prize money in the base tournament, they’re very likely to be mercenaries."
Not the instructor trying to scare them—mercenaries are common in Merrick, and they’ll risk their lives if the price is right.
Renee Morgan suddenly got it: maybe that’s why the show suddenly switched up the training site. Maybe there are new rules, and at the Merrick base, this win-or-lose, winner takes all system is super common. The two combining is pretty much perfect for shooting the show here.
As for why such a twist happened, Renee Morgan had no clue.
Gael Prescott and the others suddenly looked very grave.
Zara Chapman was so scared she couldn’t speak.
Competing against mercenaries? How could they possibly win?
The production team saw their shocked expressions, and stepped up to explain. Mercenaries are a common job here—professional skills, fighting for money, risk-takers—not the all-powerful assassin type people imagine.
Besides, no one would dare kill here—even if they tried, they couldn’t get away. Once caught, it could mean lifelong imprisonment. They’re not that dumb.
Even so, Renee Morgan and the others kinda got the idea. These new team members aren’t super dangerous, but if they want to win, they’d have to train a hundred times harder. Otherwise... well, sigh.
The instructor didn’t give them much time to process all this, and started handing out uniforms.
The uniform was kind of official, with the Zhonglia emblem. Wearing it meant the base staff knew which faction you belonged to, so wouldn’t mess with you.
The eight new members changed into the uniform, then stepped up and shook hands with Renee Morgan’s team for introductions.
Renee Morgan quietly memorized their names. The last handshake was with the youngest kid—they said he was eighteen, but honestly he looked fifteen or sixteen.
He gave Renee Morgan a deep look and said, meaningfully: "Even though you’re a girl, I won’t go easy on you."
Renee Morgan just glanced back, didn’t even bother replying, turned and walked away.
The kid: "..."
[Wow, Morgan’s look totally killed—so badass!]
[Morgan: Is that supposed to be tough talk? You think I’m scared, huh? (I’m a direct heir to a Martial Arts Clan, FYI)]
[Finally got it—Wendy Aldridge is going for the delicate flower route, Morgan’s on the big heroine path. Looks like the show’s definitely pushing Morgan. Obvious favoritism!]
[...]
Renee Morgan honestly didn’t care about the kid’s tough talk.
She’s only twenty-one, but that dream keeps reminding her—she’s lived a life full of thorns, every step she took left blood behind, and she still managed to fight her way into international cinema as a female lead.
So now, why would she let one tough sentence get to her?
After the sixteen members got acquainted, everyone thought they’d finally get a break—after all, they’d just gotten off the plane.
But the instructor had them fall in and led them to the exercise yard.
They jogged over, barely caught their breath, when the instructor announced: "Sit-ups, get ready. This is a fitness test. See how many you can do in two minutes."
Renee Morgan’s team stared for a moment, then realized he meant sit-ups. Quickly, everyone lay down and got into position.
They were lying directly on sand and dirt, with the sun beating down overhead. The feeling was—
Glancing at the eight new team members nearby, their breathing was steady and they were already ready, hands crossed behind their heads. With the instructor’s timer, they started banging out sit-ups, counting each rep aloud.
Renee Morgan’s team hadn’t even started yet, stunned for a moment watching them.
Two minutes flew by. Each of the eight new guys reported their numbers—
Highest: 86. Lowest: 76.
Renee Morgan’s team sucked in a breath, all at once.
Even Lynn Miller and Gael Prescott, who are the sporty types, their faces changed.
"Class 2, get ready. Two minutes of sit-ups, begin," said the instructor, stepping up and hitting the stopwatch.
Renee Morgan took a deep breath, slowly exhaled, and started—
She’s great at horse stance, thanks to her dad’s strict training. She’s never dropped those habits, even when later her training moved indoors.
Thinking of her dad’s cane, Renee Morgan’s nerves stretched taut. Unlike the others counting loudly, she was totally silent, her breathing soft. If not for her perfect form, you’d think she was faking it.
Because she stood out so much, the PD moved in for a big close-up.
It was the first time the livestream audience had seen someone do sit-ups so smoothly, "like a fish swimming in water," super relaxed—everyone started freaking out:
[No wonder she’s a Martial Arts Clan heir—those sit-ups are insane.]
[Seriously, how is anyone doing sit-ups this gracefully? The visuals are gorgeous.]
[Morgan is epic, making these Aethel foreign guys see the power of Zhonglia martial arts!]
[Foreign contestant: What kind of magic is that? Is she cheating? Morgan raises arms: Zhonglia kung fu, thanks for letting me show off.]