Chapter 366 The Special Forces Soldier Knitting a Sweater

Time passed quickly.

On the other side, the team for the Three-Border Slope Decapitation Operation had also completed all three days of high-intensity, targeted training.

Tomorrow morning, this Sword's Edge, which represented the highest combat power of the Eastern Country, would disperse into separate units.

They would completely shed the murderous aura of soldiers and disguise themselves as various ordinary tourists or multinational businessmen, quietly boarding civil aviation flights to foreign countries and eventually landing at an international airport in a country neighboring the Sanbianpo.

Then, like drops of water merging into the ocean, they would vanish into the vast crowd, only to reunite later to execute their mission.

In fact, as early as this morning, the third day, all scheduled simulated raids and tactical drills had been declared over.

This meant that from now until their departure tomorrow morning, they had a full half-day of completely free time at their disposal.

On this final afternoon before departure, the superiors had not arranged any extra tasks or meetings.

This half-day was specially set aside for them to truly and thoroughly relax.

The superiors knew very well that the upcoming mission would be a test with survival against all odds.

These team members had to adjust their mental state and physical functions to their absolute peak to handle any emergencies that might occur in that chaotic, lawless land.

Alternating tension with relaxation is the way of both the civil and military.

A moment of tranquility before a great battle is often more important than any impassioned mobilization.

...

Thus, in a safe room lounge within this training base—a place normally used for nothing but tactical deductions and equipment maintenance—scenes filled with the essence of life, even bordering on the bizarre, began to appear.

During the remaining half-day, these elite agents, who had just been practicing how to slit an enemy's throat as quickly as possible in a simulated environment, all found their favorite ways to unwind.

In the eastern corner, there was a high-performance gaming computer specially approved by the unit.

A young team member codenamed "Lynx" was currently buried in a gaming chair.

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Wearing professional noise-canceling headphones, his hands operated the keyboard and mouse frantically, moving so fast they almost left afterimages.

The computer screen displayed one of the most popular multiplayer online tactical games of the moment.

The intense sounds of gunfire and explosions were blocked out by the headphones, but the sound of him cursing at his teammates was exceptionally clear in the quiet lounge.

"Go! What are you afraid of?! There's only one left on the other side with low health!"

"I told you to provide cover, why are you just standing there looking at the scenery?!"

"It's over, it's over, I've run into pig-like teammates again. My rank is going to drop after this match..."

As he spewed trash talk, he controlled his game character to maneuver through the virtual battlefield, his expression even more focused than during the day's training.

...

Meanwhile, at the other end of the lounge.

A burly team member with arms covered in hideous scars was wearing a pair of small Bluetooth earphones, staring expressionlessly at a tablet screen.

Playing on the screen was a melodramatic urban romance drama.

The heroine in the drama was crying to the hero with tearful eyes: "Why did you lie to me? Do you know how much I love you!"

The hero responded with a look of deep affection: "I did all this for your own good!"

Such cheesy lines, combined with the actor's slightly exaggerated performance, were enough to make any normal man's toes curl in cringe.

However, this special operations elite, who just hours ago on the training ground could snap an adult's neck with his bare hands, was watching with great interest.

His face, which was usually as cold as ice, still had no expression, but the occasional slight twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed the inner turmoil he was feeling.

...

If playing games and watching dramas were considered normal forms of entertainment,

Then the scene occurring in the most inconspicuous corner of the lounge was enough to overturn anyone's worldview.

A large man over 1.9 meters tall, with muscles as knotted as granite, was sitting quietly on a small folding stool.

His large hands, covered in thick calluses and capable of easily crushing bricks and stones, were now exceptionally nimble, holding two thin bamboo knitting needles.

A ball of brightly colored yarn moved back and forth between his fingers.

He was actually... knitting a sweater!

The skilled technique, the focused expression, and the smooth, fine stitches all showed that he had a very high level of mastery in this "talent."

Looking at the size and pattern of the sweater, it seemed he was preparing to knit it for a petite woman.

It was hard to imagine that these were the same hands that, just a few hours ago, had held a heavy sniper rifle capable of blasting through half-meter-thick steel plates.

...

Of course, some team members chose the most primitive and direct way to relax.

In their dormitory, the curtains were drawn tightly, letting in no light at all.

After three days of high-intensity physical and mental exertion, they fell into a deep sleep less than three seconds after their heads hit the pillows.

The thunder-like snoring could even be faintly heard in the hallway, filled with a sense of solid exhaustion.

...

However,

Amidst this atmosphere of relaxation—whether noisy, quiet, or warm—

The youngest member of the team, Yan Poyue, showed his usual unique bookworm nature.

As someone who loved reading, when faced with this hard-earned final half-day of relaxation before the battle,

He did not choose to play games, watch TV, or sleep soundly.

He still shut himself in his dormitory.

The desk lamp emitted a bright yet soft glow.

Under the light, Yan Poyue sat upright, devouring a weapon manual thicker than an Oxford dictionary, almost forgetting to eat or sleep.

That focus and obsession made it seem as if what he held in his hands was not a manual on how to use a killing weapon, but a sacred book leading to the truth.