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**The next morning.**
*Knock, knock, knock.*
The door was being knocked on so hard it seemed to shake the whole room.
Long Zhan, who had already gotten up early to run 5 kilometers around the airfield, followed by half an hour of endurance maintenance training, and was now lying on his bed reading a book after showering, was just about to get up and open the door.
But the door, made of simple composite board and old from years of wear and tear, was already unstable to begin with—and under such a macho pounding, it swung open on its own.
The door lock was effectively useless.
Sean, the one knocking, saw the door open by itself and just walked in. He shouted to Long Zhan, who was leaning against the bed: "Long, get up quickly, the team activity has started."
This was the charm of young rookies—always so excited and lively every day.
"Team activity this early in the morning? Is that a specialty of Bravo Team?" Long Zhan asked curiously.
Every SEAL team has its own traditions, mostly recreational in nature, meant to strengthen team bonds.
It was like how every new recruit in DEVGRU had to bring a case of beer as a welcome gift.
"Yes, on the first morning of every mission, there's a team event. The specific activities are randomly drawn by lot. This time it's a breath-holding competition. The winner gets a case of Budweiser."
Getting "domestic beer" on overseas missions was tough—no wonder Sean was so excited.
"Breath-holding? Sounds interesting. I'll join you guys."
Long Zhan was actually tempted. He got up, put on his cargo shorts and slippers, kept his short-sleeve undershirt on without changing, and followed Sean outside the dormitory.
Once outside, wow.
Including Commander Murphy, everyone in the squad was already in position.
Except for Commander Murphy, everyone had a stool placed in front of them, with a basin filled with water on it, arranged in a circle.
In the middle of the circle sat a case of beer—American-made Budweiser.
The faces of Murphy's squad were full of anticipation, confident that they had the competition in the bag.
Diving was the Navy's specialty; if they weren't confident about this, there'd be a big problem.
Two basins were left empty in the circle—obviously reserved for Long Zhan and Sean.
This internal team entertainment event of SEAL Team 10 was happy to invite an outsider like Long Zhan to join, which made him genuinely pleased.
"Alright, guys, you better give it your all. Don't lose to me, the outsider! Ha!"
Long Zhan laughed heartily, deliberately issuing a challenge to hype up the competitive atmosphere.
"You? We'll see if I agree to that."
"On the plane, you were the only winner. This time, I'm taking my pride back."
"I started swimming before I was even born—I can hold my breath till sunset. You're going to lose and have to go cry to your mom."
...
Long Zhan's provocation worked perfectly, instantly raising the excitement level. Everyone made their competitive declarations, unwilling to lose.
"Alright, get ready."
Everyone blew up their chests and boasted loudly—after all, there's no tax on bragging. Even Murphy, acting as the referee, couldn't stand it.
He raised his right hand holding a stopwatch high.
Immediately, Long Zhan and the others stopped talking and started deep breathing to store more oxygen in their bodies, preparing to hold their breath as long as possible.
After about ten seconds:
"Start!"
At Murphy's downward sweep of his hand,
Long Zhan and the other eight who were ready all submerged their faces into their basins.
All present were white SEALs accustomed to water. As Navy special operators, they had all undergone breath-holding training, starting at a baseline of over three minutes.
So the first three minutes of the competition passed smoothly, with everyone breezing through.
After three minutes, differences began to appear. Several basins started bubbling—an indication that those competitors were nearing their limits.
At three and a half minutes,
the heavier-set Frank raised his head, gasping wildly for fresh air, becoming the first to fail in the breath-holding contest.
Between three and a half and four minutes, Marcus, Dietz, Matt, and two others reached their limits and dropped out one after another.
In the end, only Sean, who was just 22 years old and full of youthful energy, freshly out of adolescence,
and Long Zhan, who squatted there like a mountain of flesh—his large frame making the basin look almost too small—remained, with not even a bubble escaping from Long Zhan's basin.
"Such a big guy, and he can hold his breath this long? That's strange."
Big guys usually consume more oxygen, but Long Zhan defied that rule, puzzling Marcus, Murphy, and the others.
At this moment, the others started shouting encouragements, cheering for Sean Barton.
"Come on, I'm rooting for you, Barton."
"Rookie, you gotta hold strong."
"Go, Sean, beat that big guy! You're the best-looking guy here."
...
Sean was the sole remaining member of SEAL Team 10. If he lost to Long Zhan...
Though it was just a lighthearted team game, it would still be embarrassing for Sean to lose.
To prevent Long Zhan from getting too full of himself, everyone pinned their hopes on Sean.
As the saying goes: youth is headstrong.
Sean, in his early twenties and a fresh recruit to the special forces, was neither experienced nor steady yet.
Hearing the cheers from the old veterans and realizing he was the only one left against Long Zhan in the finals,
Sean felt a rare honor and a surge of competitive spirit.
"I absolutely cannot lose!"
With that thought, Sean prepared himself to hold his breath even to the point of passing out, gripping the legs of the stool beneath him tightly.
His posture clearly said: I'm ready to battle Long Zhan to the death.
Having mentally calculated the time, Long Zhan thought everyone else had already given up after four minutes and was about to surface, expecting victory.
Hearing the cheers around him, his first reaction was surprise.
"Sean's still holding on? This guy must have been born with a natural affinity for water—that's why he joined the Navy to use his strength."
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