Dragon Zhan's approach was so unconventional that the scene froze momentarily, falling into a heavy silence.
Only the mission target, pinned under the grenade, was left groaning in discomfort as the spherical grenade pressed into his chest.
At some point, the face covering on his face had fallen off, revealing a familiar black face.
Just as Dragon Zhan got up to resume the mission, intending to subdue the high-value target and lead his squad out of the room to the extraction point...
"Stop! It's over!"
Instructor Adam suddenly appeared, halting the assessment and issuing orders to everyone: "All role players, exit the scene. Cooper, do you need assistance from a medic?"
"No... cough, cough... no, sir."
Old unlucky Cooper struggled to push himself off the ground, clutching his chest in pain and coughing a few times before casting a speechless look at Dragon Zhan.
If it weren't for Cooper's robust physique—standing nearly six feet tall and packed with muscle—he might not have endured Dragon Zhan's "antics."
"Holy shit, I've been your sparring dummy a few times, but why is it every single time I get beaten up by you? Seriously, man, you've got the worst luck magnet for me."
Seeing this familiar face, Dragon Zhan almost couldn't hold back a laugh.
Cooper, equally frustrated, wanted badly to complain.
"Fine, it's one thing to get beaten when I was playing a thug, but now I'm the high-value target—the one who's supposed to be protected—and I still get hit? Isn't this ridiculous?"
But he lacked the strength to voice his grievances.
After being hit with a combo attack by Dragon Zhan and having a grenade press into his chest, poor Cooper was left in such pain and breathlessness that even speaking was a challenge.
Finally, he managed to squeeze out a few words: "You... you owe me a drink to apologize. Otherwise, we're not done here."
The literal meaning of his words sounded like he was furious and displeased with Dragon Zhan's violent actions, but the reality was quite the opposite.
It seemed to confirm the old saying: "Fights forge friendships."
Having been beaten by Dragon Zhan multiple times, Cooper actually developed a certain fondness for him and even considered befriending him.
That was why he seized this moment to make his "demand," "threatening" Dragon Zhan to buy him a drink and settle things peacefully.
Dragon Zhan wasn't the kind of clueless fool with negative emotional intelligence; he immediately understood Cooper's intentions and gave a decisive "OK" gesture.
He replied, "I think tonight sounds perfect. 8 o'clock at the base entrance. Deal?"
At this moment, someone else was clearly displeased.
"Hey, sorry to interrupt, but should I leave first and clear the room so you two can chat in private?"
Instructor Adam frowned in obvious disapproval, his words laced with high-level sarcasm.
"Sorry, sir, I'll leave right away."
Cooper winked at Dragon Zhan, signaling his agreement to the arranged time. Then, with help from the "corpse thug" and one of Dragon Zhan's squadmates, he hobbled out of the room.
As the role-playing sparring partners exited, the once lively room grew notably quieter.
Dragon Zhan knew that his cautious, life-preserving methods would once again lead to a debate with the instructor, but he wasn't worried at all.
He believed there was absolutely nothing wrong with what he had done. He had more than enough reasons to justify his actions.
Thus...
Dragon Zhan stood at a 45-degree angle, his back ramrod straight as he looked up at Adam.
"Mr. Long Gibran, do you even know what your assessment mission was this time?" Adam's expressionless face looked down at Dragon Zhan, making it impossible to discern his judgment on the matter.
"Perfectly clear, sir. Capture the high-value target and bring him back," Dragon Zhan replied firmly, without a hint of hesitation.
"Then answer me—did you accomplish that?"
Adam's question was not only sharp but also subtly laid a trap, a very well-hidden one that most people wouldn't notice.
If one stepped into it, they'd find themselves at a severe disadvantage.
Unfortunately for Adam, Dragon Zhan's mind was anything but ordinary. His memory, intelligence, and reaction speed far surpassed the average person. Adam was still a little out of his depth trying to play such games with him.
"I believe that no terrorist, no matter how valuable, outweighs the worth of a soldier trained for nearly a decade at the cost of millions of dollars.
I must take responsibility for my own life and the lives of every member of my squad. I don't see any problem with what I did."
Dragon Zhan's response was brilliant.
Not only did he sidestep Adam's trap, but he also reframed the issue from a subjective perspective, using national interests to justify his actions.
"No, I don't think so," Adam retorted, refusing to be persuaded so easily. He pressed on: "I think you're just a crazy egotist.
You place your own life above everything else, willing to abandon anything for it. You're nothing more than a complete lunatic."
Adam's words were harsh, an attempt to apply even more pressure.
However, instead of intimidating Dragon Zhan, this line of questioning backfired.
Dragon Zhan didn't sense anger or dissatisfaction in Adam's eyes.
After a brief moment of rapid thought, Dragon Zhan quickly understood Adam's intentions—it was likely another test of his resilience.
If he buckled under pressure and admitted fault, the outcome would be disastrous.
DG (Dragon Guards) required Tier 1 operatives with independent thinking and unwavering determination, not individuals easily swayed by others.
Dragon Zhan understood this well.
Once he grasped Adam's intentions, he instantly felt at ease.
With a confident smirk, he flipped the situation on its head, turning defense into offense: "A fragmentation grenade exploding in a confined space sends hundreds of steel fragments ricocheting off walls, creating countless stray projectiles.
Sir, let me ask you: If we'd followed the standard procedures outlined in the training manual, could you guarantee everyone's survival?
You couldn't, could you?
If shrapnel were to hit an unprotected carotid artery or a critical point like the brachial artery, under the extreme conditions Tier 1 operatives face, effective treatment would be impossible.
The fatality rate would exceed 90%—and that's a conservative estimate.
But now? My entire squad and I are alive and unharmed. The only one dead is a heinous criminal. Isn't that the case?"
After Dragon Zhan's lengthy explanation, the instructors began whispering among themselves, clearly influenced by his argument.
Meanwhile, Adam, the ultimate arbiter, refrained from asking further questions.
But...
The previously stoic expression on his face now bore an unmistakable smile of approval.