Chapter 543 - Discipline and Training

Wu Mu prowled the perimeter of the girls' squad, his expression wooden. That little chick He Chun had clearly been trained by Zhou Dongtian—her strikes were ruthless! Wu Mu felt that even he couldn't bring himself to be quite so heavy-handed. And Zhou Dongtian still complained she was too thin-skinned? If that were true, one shuddered to imagine the glorious brutality of Zhou Dongtian himself. Wu Mu involuntarily shrank his neck. He glanced at the teetering Lu Cheng in the formation, recalling her naked body again—figure wasn't bad, a pity the feet were a buzzkill. Wu Mu sighed with regret and shook his head.

His subtle movement was misinterpreted by He Chun, who thought the Chief was dissatisfied with her performance. Terrified, she disciplined the girls' squad even harder.

By the time the squad was dismissed, everyone was too exhausted to even wash up, collapsing onto their beds with collective groans. But He Chun, this freshly minted devil, wouldn't let them rest. Waving her rattan cane, she drove everyone out of bed.

"It's not lights out yet, no sleeping! Everyone get up and shower!" She shrieked, herding them toward the bathhouse.

In the bathhouse, the girls examined the bruises on each other's bodies and rubbed them with medicinal liquor. Several who hadn't suffered much hardship before began to weep. Yao Yulan cried especially miserably, wailing that she regretted it to death—if she had known, she would have listened to her parents and entered the food factory as a worker in the bean products workshop. With her family-inherited tofu-making skills, she would have started at least as a Grade 3 worker. Why did she insist on becoming a cadre only to endure this? But to most, this hardship was nothing. Lu Cheng, hardened by her journey as a refugee, found it bearable.

Dinner quality was excellent. Everyone received vegetables, fish, shrimp, and eggs, with unlimited rice. To most, the food was shockingly luxurious. Lu Cheng, exhausted from the day, wolfed down her meal, leaving her bowl spotless.

Training lasted three months. Wake up at 06:00, physical and drill training from 07:00 to 12:00. One hour for lunch and rest. Professional studies began at 13:00, with dinner and rest at 18:00 for one hour. Studies continued at 19:00, reviewing the day's content. Rest at 22:00. A test was held every week; those who failed had to take remedial classes to prepare for a re-test. Remedial time ran from 22:00 to 00:00. There was no private space or rest time. Corporals could barge in anytime. Sometimes, the squad leader would announce an emergency assembly in the middle of the night for a run or a mass test. Those who didn't pass had to review until dawn.

Zhao Manxiong-ski slowly tightened the screws, subjecting every cadet to increasing mental and physical pressure. This pressure was greater than their past struggle for simple survival, enough to cause a mental breakdown in those with weak wills. By the end of the third week, some couldn't take it and were eliminated.

Zhao Manxiong believed: those who couldn't withstand pressure were unfit for political security work. The weak must be weeded out before formal studies began. The deliberately fabricated atmosphere of tension and the overloaded physical training were designed for this specific purpose. A political security cadre had to be not only cold and ruthless but also possessed of an iron will. Merciless torture of will and body was a form of quenching; those who withstood the test would emerge as the toughest security operatives.

The content of the training class was varied, but the first month focused on foundational culture. Although every cadet held a Type-C Diploma, it was far from sufficient. Their education was merely literacy-level, inadequate for their future roles. In Zhao Manxiong's view, they should at least be able to draft reports, read materials, and formulate plans with ease—Type-C Diploma holders couldn't do any of that. Zhao Manxiong specifically required them to master Mandarin fluently to avoid mission errors caused by language misunderstandings. The cadets' Mandarin was truly a mess. After one inspection, Zhao Manxiong found he simply couldn't communicate with them directly.

"Your task is to completely eliminate dialects in the study class." He issued an order to Wu Mu, who was specifically in charge of this.

"That's very difficult..." The cadets had grown up speaking dialects, and they were almost exclusively Southerners; the linguistic gap between their dialects and the Northern-dialect-based Mandarin was immense.

"There is no word 'difficult' in our work, Comrade," Zhao Manxiong-ski said flatly.

"Yes, I will get it done." Wu Mu felt a chill, clicked his heels, and went to Hu Qingbai to request teachers. Then he issued a death order: from this day on, anyone who could not correctly express their meaning in Mandarin was forbidden to eat.

As for professional studies, Zhao Manxiong didn't prioritize depth initially. He was already compiling a work manual; for now, they just needed to memorize the manual by rote.

Those who showed particular talent in the training class would be noted for specialized training later. The class also placed great emphasis on cultivating iron discipline. Zhao Manxiong personally drafted the disciplinary code for security cadres.

The code emphasized loyalty and discipline—especially discipline. Zhao Manxiong wasn't worried about loyalty; if someone wasn't loyal enough, there were many ways to remind them how to be loyal or simply make their loyalty irrelevant. But for a cadre who was loyal enough but lacked a concept of discipline, the situation would become messy.

Cadres of the General Political Security Bureau occupied the most advantageous position among the transmigrated collective's violent organs. Work requirements meant they would inevitably possess significant power and access core secrets. While the scope was still small, they could monitor everyone's behavior closely and punish indiscipline promptly. Once the scope expanded, control would be harder to maintain without ingrained habits.

After the first month ended, the first thing cadets did every morning was to recite the Five Disciplines of Security Personnel.

"Obey orders and heed command; subordinate everything to organizational decisions; be ready to sacrifice everything personal at any time."

"Strictly observe security work discipline and regulations; guard all organizational and work secrets."

"Work actively, earnestly, and responsibly; guarantee timely completion of missions."

"Resolutely draw a line with non-nationals; no contact without permission. No interaction with relatives or friends in enemy-occupied areas."

"No law-breaking or indiscipline; maintain a serious lifestyle and upright behavior; keep financial matters clear."

This was formulated by Zhao Manxiong after consultation with several Senators. The formal regulations for Political Security personnel contained dozens of disciplinary clauses, but Zhao Manxiong believed a few basic ones were enough—easier to remember and leaving a deeper psychological imprint.

Lu Cheng and the others chanted these five disciplines every day until they knew them by heart, but they didn't really understand specific terms like "non-nationals" and "enemy-occupied areas." However, as studies deepened and they began to access textbooks, the true meaning behind these phrases became clear.

After the first month, studies shifted to professional training. Rules and regulations became even stricter. Lu Cheng felt the class was a hundred times stricter than the quarantine camp. Regulations were as numerous as ox hairs, the strictest being secrecy. The Fangcaodi Education Park had a post office specifically for cadets; mail was free for the military-political school system. But Political Security short-term cadets had no right to write home. They could only send a postcard once a month saying "Everything is fine, do not worry." Cadets in the same dorm were not allowed to ask about each other's study content. Reviewing books could only be done in the classroom; not a scrap of paper could be taken out.

The political security textbooks blatantly referred to the transmigrated collective as a state and explicitly treated the Great Ming as the "enemy." In Lingao, which was still under the Great Ming sky, this was treason and heresy.

The deeds of the Australians in Lingao had spread throughout Guangdong, but these were largely treated as "rumors"; officials preferred to avoid trouble and feigned ignorance. But once written materials leaked, the nature would change completely—becoming "iron proof" of the transmigrated collective's separatist rebellion in Lingao. The Executive Committee did not want to invite that trouble yet.

However, the impact of these materials on the cadets was immense. Many made a living under the Australians and were grateful, but few had thought deeply about what the Australians actually intended to do—only a few intelligent or restless ones had realized: the ambition of this group of Australians who arrived on a giant iron ship was rebellion.

"Isn't this rebellion?" One night after lights out, Yao Yulan quietly climbed onto Lu Cheng's upper bunk, buried herself under the quilt, and whispered almost directly into her ear.

Over the past month or so, a subtle friendship had formed between the two. This friendship was built on their shared petty-bourgeois background. Although their current economic levels differed, similar origins gave the two girls a common language. Lu Cheng felt that although Yao Yulan was a bit frivolous and showy, she was a good person at heart, someone worth befriending.

Lu Cheng nodded without speaking. She had been worried sick these days. In the past, she hadn't thought much about what "Commune," "Cadre," and "Resident Police" meant. But in the last few days, she suddenly understood—wasn't this the structure of an Australian government?

She was attending the Political Security training class; wouldn't she be an agent of the Australian government when she graduated? And her father and brother, working for the Commune—weren't they acting as the baozheng and lijia for the Australian regime?

Rebellion was a terrifying word for commoners. It meant "beheading," "extermination of nine generations," and other horrifying outcomes. Thinking that she and her whole family were implicated with "rebels," Lu Cheng had been frightened awake from her sleep several times.