Reborn, I Became a Male God - Chapter 15

Hey everyone, I haven’t been uploading for a few days due to an exam and I will be uploading less often because I only have one month left until my other Matura exams that I must prepare for. However, extra ko-fi chapters will still be uploaded if I receive donations. Thank you for your understanding.

“No need to ask why. You just need to obey!” the instructor said expressionlessly.

“Are you sure?” Jing Ling slightly raised his head to look at him.

The instructor stood at 185 cm tall, his posture straight as a pine, towering over Jing Ling as he looked down coldly. “Enough nonsense! Stand straight. Take your hands out of your pockets. What kind of attitude is this, slouching around like that!”

“Oh.” Jing Ling lazily responded, but his movements were sharp and precise. He lifted his chest and pulled in his abdomen, brought his heels together, legs straight, shoulders level, arms naturally hanging down, fingers together and slightly bent, thumbs touching the second joint of the index fingers, and middle fingers aligned with the seams of his camouflage pants. His eyes looked straight ahead, his voice loud and clear, “Awaiting your instruction, Instructor!”

It was a textbook-perfect military stance. Even with the most critical eye, the instructor couldn’t find a single flaw. He snorted with displeasure, raised a hand, and pointed toward the training field. “Twenty laps. You rest when you’re done. If you don’t finish before mealtime, forget about dinner this afternoon! And don’t even think about slacking off or running just half a lap. I’ll be right here watching you the whole time! Now, scram!”

“Sorry, I know how to walk, run, and jump, but I don’t know how to ‘scram’. Why don’t you demonstrate it for me, Instructor?” Jing Ling couldn’t help throwing in a jab as he turned to leave. Seeing the instructor’s thick brows knit together instantly and his muscular arms raise, the camouflage short sleeves unable to hide the bulging muscles, Jing Ling took off running at once. As he ran, he waved mockingly behind him, deliberately provoking. Sure enough, moments later, the instructor’s furious roar came from behind, “You little bastard!”

The military training field had a standard 400-meter track—20 laps meant 8 kilometers. These days, most students would be panting like dogs just from running 800 meters, so increasing the distance tenfold was basically murder. But for Jing Ling, this was no problem at all. After all, his body had been enhanced by the system and was abnormally strong. Plus, one of the heroines he once guided had aimed to become a track and field queen, and as her coach, he had mastered every kind of training method. He could even run a marathon, let alone a mere 8 kilometers.

Normally, you should do proper warm-ups before long-distance running, but the instructor had already been provoked into irritation, so Jing Ling skipped that step. He maintained a steady jogging pace along the track, arms swinging forward, breathing evenly—three steps inhaling, three steps exhaling.

Mobile phones weren’t allowed in the military, and he didn’t have the habit of wearing a watch. But earlier, after dropping off a girl at the infirmary, he had glanced at the wall clock on his way back—it was 3:50 PM. After chatting with the instructor for a bit, it could be counted as starting the run at 4 PM. Dinner time in the military was at 6 PM. That meant he had two full hours, or 120 minutes—plenty of time.

Jing Ling wasn’t in a hurry at all. One lap of slow jogging took 5 minutes. When he passed the instructor, the man sneered, “You’re so slow, are you a turtle or what?”

Jing Ling didn’t take it lying down and shot back, “Sorry, I didn’t study much, didn’t know ‘turtle’ was a Chinese zodiac. Also, are you stupid? I’m running 8 kilometers, not 800 meters. Running too fast is just a waste of energy.”

As expected, the instructor’s face twisted in fury again, eyebrows jumping and eyes glaring in rage.

Lap 2—still 5 minutes. This time when Jing Ling passed by the instructor, the man didn’t speak, just let out a cold snort to express his stance.

Lap 3, lap 4, lap 5… all the way to lap 12, Jing Ling maintained a perfect 5-minute pace per lap. His expression stayed calm, breathing smooth. Only a few strands of sweat-dampened hair on his forehead proved he was indeed exercising.

Finally, the instructor started taking him seriously. This time, as Jing Ling passed him, he asked, “Do you usually train? How long have you been keeping it up?”

The original host didn’t have the habit of training, but Jing Ling did. No matter how busy he was, he would find time to run a few days a week. “It’s been a few years,” he replied offhandedly, continuing to run laps around the field.

By lap 19, as he passed the class lineup on the other side of the field, he slowed his pace and greeted the female instructor there. Although the girls in the military weren’t as soft and cute as those outside—many people even equated them with men—in Jing Ling’s eyes, whether they were 3 or 80 years old, no matter where they were, they were all “girls.”

The female instructor was a strict one—rarely smiled more than twice a day. But when it came to someone like Jing Ling, with nearly perfect features, red lips and white teeth, and the ability to make those shapeless oversized camouflage uniforms look cool and stylish, even she was almost powerless. Seeing Jing Ling greet her, she tried to soften her expression and gave him a slight nod.

“Instructor, may I ask you something?” Jing Ling asked.

The female instructor nodded.

The final lap finished at 5:30 PM, just as everyone was dismissed for a break. The once strictly disciplined training ground suddenly became lively, with students gathering in small groups, chatting about all sorts of topics. Jing Ling walked through the crowd and came up to the instructor. “Instructor, there’s something I want to say to you.”

The instructor looked at him coldly. “Say it!”

Jing Ling smiled faintly. “Are you sure you want me to say it in front of all these people?”

Because of their earlier clashes, the instructor had already experienced how sharp Jing Ling’s tongue could be. Hearing this, he hesitated for a moment, then bent down and tilted his ear closer. “Go ahead.”

Jing Ling leaned in close to his ear and said, word by word in a low voice, “You, damn, sis-con!” Then, without waiting for a response, he immediately turned and walked away. By the time the instructor came to his senses, Jing Ling had already blended into the crowd, where everyone was wearing camouflage uniforms—it was impossible to tell who was who.

“Goddammit, I knew it, that little bastard was up to no good!” the instructor fumed, absolutely livid, his expression darkening. He was a large and burly man, with bulging muscles on his chest and arms. When he scowled and glared, he looked rather intimidating, enough that even passing girls instinctively gave him a wide berth.

Meanwhile, the culprit Jing Ling was already on his way to the cafeteria.

Without access to high-calorie foods, eating more rice was the best way to replenish physical energy. To maintain his stamina, his regular food intake was already astonishing. When he first arrived, he scared Jing Qiu with how much he ate. Later, during filming, the whole crew teased him for being a rice bucket, saying he must have been eating fake rice. And just now, running 8 kilometers had consumed a large amount of energy—he could already foresee the horrified looks people would give him shortly.

But it didn’t matter—he had thick skin.

In the military, food was self-served—you took as much as you could eat, and wasting food was forbidden. The dishes, however, were served by someone, and if they ran out, you could go back for more. While Jing Ling queued for food, he gave the auntie on the other side a brilliant smile, and just like that, the ladle in her hand seemed to grow eyes—everything she scooped into his tray was the good stuff, piling his tray high.

“Thank you, sis!” Jing Ling said sweetly, then, under the gaze of others—whether filled with contempt, indignation, or envy—he carried his tray away with pride.

He chose a seat in a corner, using both chopsticks and spoon, eating like a refugee from Africa. Describing his eating speed as a whirlwind sweeping away the clouds wouldn’t be an exaggeration. When he had finished about half the food on his tray, someone sat down across from him. Looking up, he saw it was their instructor.

The instructor also glanced at him, then lowered his head and started eating. After a long moment, he finally said, “How did you know my identity?”

He had, of course, asked—specifically, the female instructor from the other class on the training field. But Jing Ling wasn’t about to sell out a girl, so he started making things up. “I guessed. You were targeting me the moment training started—there had to be a reason. I was sure we had no prior contact, so I looked to recent people and events. Your surname is Jiang, and there’s a ‘Si’ character in your name—it wasn’t hard to connect you to Jiang Sijin. I don’t need to say the rest, do I?”

The instructor gave a cold snort. “Stay away from Xiaojin! Don’t even think about making a move on her!”

Jing Ling rolled his eyes. “This is the second time I’ve heard that. I admit Miss Jiang is very pretty, and I get that you all treasure your little sister, but isn’t it overkill to treat everyone like a thief? Take a good look at this face of mine—don’t you think, normally, it’s others who would want to make a move on me?”

Hearing that, the instructor accidentally bent the spoon in his hand.

For this novel one Kofi is two extra chapters.     Ko-fi link: ko-fi.com/mitake55760