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**"This is fucking tear gas!"**
And not just any tear gas—this was the special kind, enhanced and weaponized. It didn't contain any substances that would cause permanent damage to the human body, but it had been packed with an overwhelming amount of irritants.
Its potency far exceeded that of standard-issue tear gas. It was harsher, more punishing, and more excruciating.
What made it even more diabolical was the fact that this had clearly been meticulously calculated—precise ratios of tear gas to air had been measured out, fine-tuned to a degree that ensured the recruits would suffer to the brink of collapse, but not actually suffocate.
To take human torment and execute it with such scientific precision—only a team as well-funded and ruthless as **Green Team** could pull this off.
Long Zhan was no stranger to tear gas. Back during his time in SEAL Team 3's special operations training, he had gone through a program of "adaptive endurance training."
That training included—but wasn't limited to—taking flashbangs and stun grenades in enclosed rooms, enduring tear gas without a mask, and entering smoke-filled, airtight spaces completely unprotected.
The goal was to subject the body to these attacks repeatedly until it built up resistance, to improve survivability on the battlefield.
Thanks to his exceptional recovery ability, Long Zhan had excelled during those tolerance-training sessions.
Back then, he had grown so accustomed to tear gas that he could complete five minutes of live combat drills without any breathing apparatus, while immersed in gas—and even take down ten hostiles in the process. It was extreme-level training.
But now, sealed inside this airtight detention cell and exposed to Green Team's custom-formulated tear gas…
**Even Long Zhan couldn't take it.**
This enhanced tear gas was *insanely* brutal. Absolutely, batshit, mind-breakingly cruel.
**"Cough—cough—cough—cough—cough…"**
Coughing. Uncontrollable coughing. Not just Long Zhan—every single recruit was hacking violently.
Their eyes and nasal passages, mercilessly attacked by the irritants, joined the spectacle in full force. Mucus, snot, and tears all poured out like soldiers rushing onto a battlefield.
What was it like, having phlegm, mucus, and tears mixing together into a single revolting mess?
Long Zhan could offer a vivid answer: it was at least **ten times** more unbearable than slamming your toe full force into a steel doorframe.
The average person wouldn't last two minutes in this gas before bawling and screaming for mercy.
Five minutes, max, before they'd collapse in unconscious agony.
Fortunately, Long Zhan and the eleven other recruits—elite operators from the Navy SEALs—all had undergone comprehensive endurance training.
Though Green Team's custom tear gas was "perverse," it wasn't enough to knock them out cold. Not quite.
After half an hour, the gas finally stopped. The remaining fumes were sucked out through overhead ventilation ducts, and the room gradually returned to normal air conditions.
The recruits, their facial features twisted into grimaces from the sheer discomfort, finally had a moment to catch their breath.
They thought the worst was over.
They were wrong.
They were too naive.
Green Team was nothing like the comparatively "kind" lower SEAL units. What they had just endured was only **Phase One.**
**Thirty minutes later…**
That all-too-familiar smell returned. The same formula, the same damn smoke. It filled the room again like a plague.
The suffering began anew.
And so it went: thirty minutes on, thirty minutes off, in endless, merciless cycles.
This torment continued for a full **six hours**.
What kind of state the other recruits were in by the end of it, Long Zhan didn't know.
All he knew was—**he was completely drained.**
During the earlier noise and cold endurance phases, he had still managed to rely on his formidable body and recovery to mount some resistance—even retain some offensive capability afterward.
But this time…
**His body had been completely hollowed out.**
When the next round of interrogations began, Long Zhan, like the others, was dazed and half-conscious—totally at the mercy of his captors.
He didn't even remember **when** it began, or **when** it ended.
Thankfully, Long Zhan was the third one to be interrogated. After being returned to his cell, there were still eight recruits left to be processed. No additional tear gas was used during this stretch.
His extraordinary recovery ability kicked in again, pulling him back from the brink.
This allowed him to **quietly resume his plan.** He began closely analyzing each training officer's identity—checking if they were the same ones as yesterday's—and watching the tall instructor to see if he remained stationed there awaiting information. It would serve as a key data point for calculating Green Team's duty hours.
The tall instructor was the most important piece.
Other coaches and guards might rotate, but **he** was the constant. **He couldn't be swapped out.**
And if he wanted to keep up his stamina for daily interrogations, he'd need sufficient rest—meaning, he had to keep a **normal work schedule**.
By tracking his appearances and cross-referencing the shifts of the other coaches, Long Zhan could begin to estimate the information he needed.
With precise time data, he would finally have the foundation for his operation. The moment a proper opportunity arose—**he would strike.**
On the third day of SERE training, Long Zhan and the others had enjoyed their "wonderful" experience with tear gas—a day they'd never forget for the rest of their lives.
When the interrogation phase ended and the fourth day began, all the recruits were **finally** brought out together for the first time.
And for Long Zhan—**his window of action had arrived.**
The eleven recruits, now staggering and barely able to stand—except for Long Zhan, who was faking it—were at their absolute limit.
After enduring days of nonstop torment, they were surviving on sheer willpower and the stubborn refusal to give in.
They were led from their cage-like cell into a neighboring room—larger, with a dozen or so **cylindrical iron barrels**.
These barrels had a unique design.
Each stood about 1.5 meters tall, not much different from industrial fuel drums—and they very likely had **been** repurposed fuel drums.
Each barrel had already been filled with water, and a lid made of rebar had been welded on top.
Every rebar bar was as thick as a thumb—**unquestionably sturdy.**
Each recruit was assigned a barrel. Once crammed inside, the lid was locked in place—initiating the next round of torment: **the Water Cell.**
It didn't sound all that bad. In fact, compared to the previous three tortures, this almost seemed easy.
**But the truth was the exact opposite.**
Cramped inside that water barrel, Long Zhan could feel it—the overwhelming, malicious intent of Green Team's design.
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