Morning arrived without mercy.
A heavy knock shattered the silence.
"LIN HAO! GET OUT!"
The door swung open before he could respond. A tall, muscular middle-aged man stood there. Cold eyes. Military posture. Scar across his cheek.
His father.
Former frontline soldier.
Now village militia captain.
"You have one hour," the man said flatly. "After that, you're no longer my son. You're a recruit."
No warmth. No hesitation.
The door slammed shut.
Lin Hao stood there quietly.
Memories of the previous owner surfaced again.
Fights. Gambling. Harassing villagers. Running from responsibility.
No wonder they despised him.
Outside, whispers followed him as he stepped into the street.
"There he is."
"The parasite."
"Finally going to the army? He'll die in a week."
A group of young men laughed.
He felt anger rise—
But it wasn't his anger.
It was the former Lin Hao's shame.
His fists tightened.
In his previous life, he was just a gamer.
Ignored.
Ordinary.
Invisible.
Now?
He had a chance to reset everything. Even if it meant surviving hell. The village truck arrived to transport new recruits to the training base.
Other boys looked nervous.
Some excited, Some pale.
He climbed into the back silently.
One recruit sat beside him — short hair, sharp eyes.
"You're Lin Hao, right?"
He didn't answer.
The boy smirked.
"I heard you're trash."
Lin Hao turned slowly.
Their eyes met.
In that moment—
The blue interface flickered again.
Passive Skill Activated: Enhanced Reflex
Reaction Speed Increased
The world felt slower. Sharper .Clearer.
He realized something important. These weren't flashy magical powers. They were enhancements.
Subtle.
Deadly.
"I was," Lin Hao replied calmly.
The recruit blinked.
"Huh?"
"I was trash."
The truck engine roared to life.
"But I'm not anymore."
As the vehicle drove away from the village, Lin Hao didn't look back.
Smoke rose in the far distance — where the national battlefield waited.
For the first time—
He felt something different.
Not fear.
Not confusion.
Purpose.
If this world gave him war—
He would become its strongest soldier. Not because of game skills. Not because of fate, but because this was his second life and he refused to waste it.
The troubled era had gained a new recruit.
The scumbag had put on a uniform.
And somewhere far away—
The battlefield was waiting for its future War God.