The Way of Restraint

Chapter 114: The Enemy Camp: Poor Psychological Endurance

“Was it him who attacked us yesterday?” Zhang Manman’s expression darkened. “Why would Awasi’s son want to kill us? His relationship with my father has always been decent. Could he really be breaking their agreement?”

“He said he just returned from studying abroad, got deceived by others, and acted recklessly,” Su Jie explained after another rapid-fire exchange with the young man. “His name is Piman Kuiana. Yesterday was the very first time he ever picked up a gun in combat—he only wanted to gain some battle experience.”

“No wonder.” Zhang Jinchuan nodded. “He surrendered so quickly yesterday. If he had been more experienced, our victory would’ve been much harder.”

“Exactly. Other than the Grey Wolf, the rest of the fighters yesterday were rather ordinary. Compared with the elite special forces of other nations, their skills are miles apart,” Su Jie agreed. He also admitted to himself that charging out barehanded yesterday had been more impulse than calculation. His win came with a heavy dose of luck.

Had the attackers been real sharpshooters, men who could shoot straight through the dark and hit a hundred times out of a hundred, he would have been a corpse already.

Of course, in that moment, his charge had been fueled by two things: adrenaline and the rare chance to test himself in real danger. He had seized the opportunity to sharpen his spirit. And it worked—this morning, during his practice, he felt breakthroughs everywhere, a surge of progress.

And more than that—he had managed to influence, even slightly, the son of the enemy leader. If he had followed Zhang Jinchuan’s advice yesterday and executed all the attackers, the consequences could’ve been disastrous.

“This is clearly a scheme,” Zhang Jinchuan said at once, his eyes narrowing. “The Feng family’s scheme. They deliberately incited this fool into attacking us. If we had killed him, Awasi’s heir, things would have escalated out of control. Yesterday I blamed Su Jie for being too soft-hearted, but now I see—his approach was right.”

The young man was indeed Awasi’s son, freshly returned from overseas studies. It was obvious Awasi was grooming him as his successor.

Killing the successor would have meant Awasi going all-in for vengeance.

But now, the situation had shifted.

As Zhang Jinchuan watched Su Jie chatting comfortably with the youth, his eyes narrowed further, as though he were reweighing his entire strategy.

“So that’s how it is,” Zhang Manman finally understood. “Then let’s move. Uncle Xi, stay here and watch over the camp. Gather everyone, wait for my instructions, and report to my father immediately if anything happens. Also, continue with the planned arrangements.”

“No problem,” Zhang Xi nodded.

Su Jie listened quietly. It was clear the Zhang family had their own broader plans in motion.

“Stay close to this kid. Don’t leave his side. If anything goes wrong, you can grab him as a hostage.” Zhang Manman leaned close and whispered into Su Jie’s ear.

Su Jie only smiled, then turned and asked the youth in the local dialect, “Piman, you really can’t be so impulsive anymore.”

“I know, I know. My father already beat me badly for yesterday. This morning he sent me to apologize. He also wants to host a banquet for you, to thank you for your mercy,” the youth replied. “By the way, my name isn’t Piman—it’s Tatamiya Piman Kuiana. But I also have an English name: Gale.”

“Gale, you said you wanted to learn from me—are you talking about martial arts?” Su Jie climbed into the armored vehicle. Gale followed closely, practically glued to his side, eyes filled with admiration.

“Yes! I want to learn Chinese Martial Art… Wong Fei Hung!” Gale shouted in broken Chinese, imitating movie poses. Clearly, he had seen quite a few martial arts films.

“That’s just the movies. Real Martial Art isn’t like that. It may seem mysterious, but it never defies physics.” Su Jie explained patiently. Since Gale was a university student who knew English, his explanations were understood easily.

“Is it true,” Gale suddenly asked, “that you people come here to trade with us, buy our resources cheap, sell them high, and basically plunder us?”

“Not true,” Su Jie said firmly. “On the contrary, we came here to help you rebuild your homeland. We provide technology, help mediate your conflicts, and support the reestablishment of a united nation. That way both sides can do business better. Look—your father detained our ships and goods, but all those materials were brought from outside. Only when everyone prospers can trade thrive. If war rages everywhere, who would dare come here to do business?”

“I also wish for peace. I hate war,” Gale admitted. “But the way things are now, if you don’t fight others, they’ll come and devour you instead. If only I had your skills.”

“Human strength has its limits. Even the best Martial Art cannot stop bullets,” Su Jie said calmly. “But martial arts can strengthen the body, cultivate the mind, and serve as a lifelong passion. That much is invaluable.” He reached for Gale’s hand. With a sudden squeeze and twist, he pressed into several spots.

Instantly Gale felt tingling numbness spread across his body, freezing him in place.

“These are acupoints—concentrations of nerves.” Su Jie was essentially using massage techniques, based partly on traditional medicine. From the hand alone, he could sense issues with the internal organs.

Gale was stunned. “This is incredible! Once we reach the camp, you must teach me properly. My father’s men include several top instructors. Maybe you can spar with them?”

“Of course.” Su Jie knew that here, to win trust, one had to prove strength first. Without it, words carried no weight.

Two hours later, their convoy reached the outskirts of a massive camp. Prefabricated barracks dotted the grounds, alongside concrete buildings. Soldiers with loaded weapons patrolled everywhere. The sound of gunfire echoed occasionally. Su Jie even spotted tanks, and in the distance, an airfield with fighter jets waiting.

At the camp’s center stood a fortified manor. Behind it loomed a mountain, at its foot a river that flowed straight through the camp. It was a prime location: secure water, solid defenses.

Awasi was no amateur. His choice of terrain alone marked him as a formidable commander among the factions. The manor itself was plain but strong, without unnecessary luxury. That alone showed Awasi’s pragmatism and ambition. A man like him would not be easily handled.

“Even if Gale trusts me, convincing his father to release our seized goods won’t be easy,” Su Jie thought grimly. “We’ll have to play this one move by move.”

The convoy halted inside the camp. The visitors were led not into the manor, but into a nearby prefab hut to wait.

“My father is in a meeting,” Gale explained. “He’ll see you once it’s finished. I’ll inform him now and be right back.” With that, he rushed off.

Zhang Manman’s face tightened. If the other side turned hostile now, the three of them could be shredded in seconds.

Looking at the dense ranks of soldiers outside, Su Jie also knew: even if his strength multiplied tenfold, he would be dead the moment fighting started. In real life, Martial Art masters do not waltz in and out of enemy camps unscathed, no matter what the movies say.

Suddenly, a wave of dread hit him. He forced his face calm, but his chest tightened with unease. He had analyzed the situation, considered worst-case outcomes, and found… nothing. No solution. Only death.

‘My mental toughness isn’t there yet,’ he realized, laughing at himself bitterly. All his years of meditation and self-hypnosis had been illusions. Confronted with true peril, he still wavered inside. His so-called training was a paper tiger, fragile and false.

How could such weakness ever break through to the realm of the ‘Living Dead’?

‘This trip was worth it after all,’ Su Jie thought. ‘Only facing real danger shows you what you lack. Illusions can never replace reality.’

“Not even a glass of water. They’re being rude—something’s off,” Zhang Jinchuan muttered, suddenly rising to his feet.

Indeed, no one had come to receive them. Soldiers even stood guard outside, making it feel less like a reception and more like imprisonment.

Then— clatter, clatter, clatter!

Hurried footsteps approached. With a thunderous kick, the door burst open. Several soldiers stormed in, weapons raised, black muzzles pointed straight at the three.

Su Jie’s hair stood on end instantly.

For the first time in his life, he stared into gun barrels, realizing one twitch of a finger could end him forever.

The soldiers fanned out. Then, from behind them, a woman in combat fatigues stepped forward. Gun in hand, she raised it—and suddenly fired, rounds striking the dirt right at their feet.

The bullets buried deep, harmless.

But at that split second, Su Jie exploded into motion. His body dipped low, lunging forward like a hunting cat. In a flash, he reached the woman, slapped her arm at the nerve point, and made her fingers spasm open. The gun dropped into his hand. He yanked her neck into a chokehold, jamming the barrel against her temple.

A counterattack, swift and ruthless.

Su Jie had gambled everything. When the bullets hit his feet, something inside him snapped—no more fear. If death was certain, then better to fight for even a sliver of chance.

“Su Jie, wait—it’s one of us!” Zhang Jinchuan shouted quickly. “Fuya, is that you?”

“Trump, your comrade is brave indeed,” the female soldier replied calmly, not the least bit afraid of the gun at her head. Instead, she greeted him in English.

“My name is Jinchuan, not ‘Trump,’” Zhang Jinchuan sighed, clearly having been called that more than once. “Su Jie, release her. Fuya’s a friend. She was just testing our nerve.”