"Excellent!"
Hearing Charlie's response, Whiteman nodded in satisfaction, his eyes growing increasingly appreciative of the young man. He shared Charlie's deep hatred for pirates, as his own parents had been killed by them.
Colonel Whiteman's approval was exactly what Charlie had anticipated, so he felt no inner excitement, though he made sure to appear enthusiastic on the surface.
Even before joining the 15th Branch, Charlie had thoroughly researched all relevant information, especially regarding the base commander, Colonel Whiteman.
After learning about Whiteman's background, Charlie had deliberately crafted this tragic backstory and his "pirate-hating" persona.
Outstanding talent, similar experiences, a sense of justice, and hatred for pirates - what a perfect persona! When the Navy Elite Training Camp was established, who else would Colonel Whiteman recommend but him?
After all, Colonel Whiteman and Zephyr were close friends from their training days. With his recommendation, getting into the Navy Elite Training Camp would be a sure thing!
And indeed, the results were outstanding!
Then, Colonel Whiteman looked around and announced:
"While we still have time, everyone drop and give me one hundred push-ups! No stopping until you're finished! Begin!"
He then turned to Charlie and said, "As for you, Charlie - one thousand push-ups, one thousand sit-ups, and one thousand frog jumps. Three thousand total, to be completed before sunset. Can you do it?"
"Yes, sir!"
Charlie answered without hesitation. This amount would barely be enough for a warm-up - he'd have to add more training himself tonight.
What?!
The other recruits, who had been complaining bitterly, suddenly fell silent. Compared to Charlie's three thousand exercises, their hundred push-ups didn't seem so bad after all...
And so, while others were just finishing their hundred push-ups, Charlie had already completed his thousand. When others finished their sit-ups, Charlie finished his at the same time.
Then came the frog jumps...
Although Charlie's workload was ten times that of the others, his speed was equally ten times faster.
By the time everyone had finished, the sun had set. Whiteman immediately dismissed them, and the recruits cheered loudly before swarming toward the mess hall like starving ghosts.
Charlie smiled slightly. One advantage of joining the Navy was that food was free - he could eat to his heart's content.
...
Dusk.
Navy Mess Hall.
Under the astonished gazes of everyone present, Charlie transformed into a ravenous ghost, voraciously devouring the food on the tables.
Like a whirlwind sweeping away clouds, Charlie's hands became blurs as he ate with both hands simultaneously.
The mountain-like pile of food was disappearing at a visible rate.
In previous days, Charlie had been more restrained and low-key, eating only about ten portions per meal. While not exactly small, it was still within normal limits.
But today was different. Since he'd already shown his capabilities, there was no need to hold back while eating. He went straight into feast mode.
After consuming about twenty portions, Charlie was full. The rest he converted into nutrients and stored away.
Navy resources were there for the taking - why not make the most of them? In one word: go for it!
Since securing the Navy as his long-term meal ticket, Charlie planned to gradually increase his food intake along with his training intensity.
How could anyone call themselves a monster with just a hundred portions of food? I'll eat five hundred... no, a thousand portions!
Eat, eat, eat! I'll eat the Navy into poverty! The more I eat, the stronger I become!
"What a monster!"
"No wonder he's so freakish—he really can eat!"
"We can't match his stamina, and now we can't even out-eat him."
"So that's how it is. It's not that we're too weak, but that we eat too little... Hmm, I feel like I could eat ten more bowls right now!"
"Stop talking and hurry up! As long as it doesn't kill you, eat like your life depends on it."
"Hey, slow down! The cafeteria ladies have already collapsed from exhaustion!"
"Medic!"
Amid the chaos, Charlie looked up at the tumultuous cafeteria and scratched his head. "Probably not my fault, right?"
"Whatever, keep eating. After this, I'll head to the back mountain for extra training!"
With that, Charlie resumed devouring his food with gusto.
…
The next day.
At 8 a.m., the recruits threw themselves into training once again. According to regulations, basic training for new recruits would last three months.
During this period, those who slacked off or lacked determination would be weeded out.
After training concluded, the remaining recruits would be classified into first-class, second-class, or third-class soldiers based on their performance, with the lowest rank being logistics soldiers.
Additionally, outstanding performers could be granted non-commissioned officer ranks at discretion.
On the training ground.
Colonel Whiteman, standing 2.5 meters tall with a bear-like physique, stood with his hands behind his back, his authoritative gaze sweeping over the recruits.
"Good. No one is late today. Keep it up!"
Colonel Whiteman nodded in satisfaction and continued,
"Charlie, step forward."
"The rest of you, same as usual—start with twenty laps to warm up."
As soon as he finished speaking, the recruits set off running into the chilly wind.
The February morning was still cold, their breaths forming puffs of white mist.
"Instructor."
"Here, put this on. I had someone retrieve it from the warehouse overnight. It's not heavy—just around a hundred pounds." Colonel Whiteman said with a chuckle.
"Yes!"
Calmly, Charlie put on the set of weighted equipment Colonel Whiteman had prepared for him: a weighted vest, wrist weights, a weighted belt, and leg weights—four pieces totaling about 120 pounds.
Colonel Whiteman gave a slight nod. "Your goal today is the same as yesterday, with one addition: you are not to remove this equipment until training ends."
"Understood!"
"Good, you may go."
Charlie suddenly spoke up, "Instructor, I have a favor to ask."
Colonel Whiteman raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"
"I'd like a weapon—well, to be precise, a Spiked Club."
Charlie grinned widely. Since he'd already snatched the Azure Dragon Fruit, wasn't it only natural to borrow Teacher Kay's weapon and techniques too?
Basic move, no need to applaud.
Besides, Teacher Kay had always been eager to teach—surely he wouldn't mind.
Right, Teacher Kay!
"You want to learn club techniques?" Colonel Whiteman asked, puzzled. "I can't teach you that. I only specialize in physical combat."
"No problem. I can teach myself. As long as it can smash into people, that's enough."
"Fine, I'll get it for you tomorrow." Colonel Whiteman paused, then changed the subject, adding,
"But I must remind you, physical combat skills are the most important. Just practice the staff techniques casually—don't waste too much time on them. One can't bite off more than they can chew."
"Mm, I understand."
"Good that you understand. Don't waste your talent. Go train now." Whiteman waved his hand.
In the blink of an eye, another three months passed.
After completing his training, Charlie was awarded the rank of sergeant due to his outstanding performance.
Truth be told, Charlie's demonstrated abilities were more than sufficient for a lieutenant's rank. However, Colonel Whiteman's authority was limited. Officers above the lieutenant level had to be reported to headquarters, and their appointment required headquarters' approval.
After all, above lieutenant came the field officer ranks, and a branch colonel didn't have the authority to appoint lieutenant-level officers.