Instructor Hack had already halted the squad, standing at attention in a corner of the training field. He turned his head to look at Henry Brooks and barked loudly, “Fall in!”

“Yes, sir!” Henry Brooks didn’t dare slack off, hurriedly pretending to be full of energy as he joined the ranks. Just a moment ago, he’d been distracted in the formation and was punished with ten laps; if his movements were sloppy now in front of everyone, who knew what kind of punishment he’d get. These rules had been taught before entering the training ground—now was definitely not the time to be careless.

Instructor Hack bellowed a few words of critique before finally announcing a break. It was hard to understand—why, in the same army, were the instructors who taught theory so amiable, while this Instructor Hack in charge of basic military training was so rough? And, now that it was the interstellar era, why were these outdated drills and standing-at-attention exercises still necessary?

Only now did Henry Brooks dare to truly relax. He took a few steps back, slipped into a patch of shade, and with a thud, flopped onto the ground, stretching out comfortably—finally able to get some real rest.

A flood of thoughts suddenly flashed through his mind, and only now did he have time to really reflect. Henry Brooks went over the thoughts that had flitted by while running, again and again, pondering them repeatedly. But the more he did so, the more confused he felt inside.

He seemed like an ordinary rookie soldier who had just joined the army—could it be that all that theoretical military education was some kind of subconscious hypnosis? Otherwise, why would he have such inexplicable ideas?

Plants, trees, wild beasts, lambs—it felt as if he had been all of them. The sense of familiarity that sprang from his mind was as if he had lived through life after life; it hardly seemed like the result of hypnosis.

Although more and more evidence lately suggested that hypnosis, this ancient method, did have a material basis, it was simply impossible to cram so much information into his mind in such a short time. Besides, since joining the army, he had always remained conscious—there had been no absurd experience of suddenly losing awareness for days on end. How could it be possible?

So where did all those things in his mind come from? Could they really be his own memories? Memories from a past life? Good grief, how could that be possible? In this day and age, who would still believe in such vague and illusory things?

So what on earth was wrong with me? Who am I, really?

Chapter Two: Basic Training (Part One)

At night, lying in the tidy new recruits’ dormitory, Henry Brooks tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Although the day’s heavy exercise had left his body utterly exhausted, the strange images that often flashed through his mind were endlessly bothersome, leaving him in no mood to sleep.

Like watching a movie, he replayed the things in his mind over and over, until he finally drifted off in the second half of the night.

“Beep!” A sharp bugle call rudely yanked Henry Brooks, who had just entered dreamland, back to wakefulness. He opened his bleary panda eyes, reluctantly and sluggishly getting dressed. His usual civilian habits hadn’t yet let Henry Brooks develop the army’s brisk style; if it weren’t for everyone else getting up, Henry Brooks would have liked to stay in bed a bit longer.

Still, at least he wasn’t the last one out. Over there, the formation was already being assembled—he hurried over, not wanting that ferocious Instructor Hack to catch him slacking and hand out some unknown punishment.

Henry Brooks was relatively tall and always stood at the edge of the formation. Only two people to his left looked a bit taller than Henry Brooks. But in terms of build, no one in the squad could match Henry Brooks.

Standing tall in the ranks, Instructor Hack swept his frosty gaze from the left to the right of the squad, his face dark and the atmosphere oppressive. Judging by Instructor Hack’s expression, the squad must have made some mistake again.

Sure enough, Instructor Hack’s face grew uglier and finally he exploded: “Is this a morning assembly or are you planning a leisure outing? Why isn’t your belt fastened?”

He took a few steps and started scolding again: “Where’s your hat? Did you forget your head in the dorm too?”

“Don’t you know how to tie your shoelaces? Or are you waiting for me to do it for you?”

……

Standing in front of Henry Brooks, Instructor Hack scrutinized his conspicuous panda eyes, a hint of a smile flickering in his gaze before vanishing: “What’s wrong with your eyes?”

“Reporting, instructor! Couldn’t sleep in a new environment!” Henry Brooks straightened up and reported automatically.

“Do you think the training isn’t tough enough? Hm!” Instructor Hack’s eyes bulged even wider than a cow’s. Henry Brooks didn’t dare meet his gaze, closed his eyes, but still answered loudly, “No, instructor!”

“Doesn’t your uniform have a front and back?” Instructor Hack’s voice shifted away, and Henry Brooks opened his eyes. Instructor Hack had already moved on to trouble someone else. Letting out a long sigh, only then did the sweat on his forehead become apparent.

“Looks like not a single thing I’ve told you has been done right. To help you remember, before breakfast today, run three laps around the field—if you don’t finish, you don’t eat!” The first assembly of the morning ended with Instructor Hack’s furious summary.

Cursing the wretched Instructor Hack in their hearts, not a single person dared utter a word. Everyone had heard that new recruit training was tough, and that instructors would find fault and hand out all sorts of physical punishments, so they were mentally prepared. The squad, more than forty people in all, began running laps around the field.