In the following period, people gradually left the team.
Some lacked the ability and were persuaded to leave after individual talks with Shan Qiuyu, while others could not withstand the pressure and chose to withdraw voluntarily.
No one ridiculed those who withdrew, because tomorrow, or the day after, they themselves might be the ones leaving.
Still others envied their companions who had quit, but when it came to themselves, they gritted their teeth and persisted, refusing to back down.
As soldiers, they were supposed to march forward bravely and never admit defeat. The problem was, persistence did not always guarantee success or victory.
The expedition was not a matter for one or a few individuals, but a goal for the collective effort of a team. Each person was merely a screw, a component in the machine that was the team, requiring careful, patient, and continuous refinement until the forty-odd individuals became a cohesive whole.
In the military, the emphasis was always on strict adherence to orders. Regardless of the methods employed, the ultimate aim was to hone the soldiers into integral parts of the military collective.
Ou Zhanpeng and Ling Xiao also had moments of wavering, but they encouraged each other and ultimately persevered through sheer grit.
Strangely enough, every time they thought they would be eliminated, the outcome was always an unfounded worry.
Later, they realized that the top performers, those eager to impress, and those who lagged behind due to complacency, were all primary targets for Shan Qiuyu's observation. Those in the middle tier with good self-regulation were, conversely, favored by Shan Qiuyu.
It was peculiar, but in his eyes, consistent performance was more important than being outstanding, and a calm mindset was superior to eager eagerness.
"Old Shan, is this really the right way?" Zhan Wenyu quietly asked when they were alone.
He was on the same level as Shan Qiuyu and was responsible for ideological work at the base. Due to the special nature of the training team, all work was fully managed by Shan Qiuyu, so he rarely interfered with the training team's affairs.
However, with so many people leaving recently, many were mentally distraught and unable to cope. Shan Qiuyu was not particularly adept at counseling or persuasion, so he had to bring in his old partner to help.
Indeed, the professional approach made a significant difference, greatly assisting Shan Qiuyu.
Director Shan sighed in response, "I don't want to do it this way, but people in space naturally undergo a series of physiological and psychological changes. During long-term voyages away from Earth, no one knows exactly what will happen. If they can't withstand the pressure... it's better to identify the problems on the ground. Once we're in space, we won't be able to control it."
"This is like raising蠱 (gu)!" Zhan Wenyu said, half-jokingly, half-seriously.
Shan Qiuyu was silent for a moment, then said with a sigh, "If possible, I would like to conduct closed-door training, simulating the confinement of a spaceship, for at least a year to naturally select the most suitable candidates. But the aliens aren't giving us time!"
Zhan Wenyu also sighed, "It's difficult for those above as well. I heard that the gigantification phenomenon has spread from the sea to the land, which is not good news."
"Yes, it's a turbulent and eventful time," Shan Qiuyu remarked, a rare moment of sentimentality. "How is the battleship's situation?"
While he was responsible for the expedition team, Zhan Wenyu followed the battleship's progress. They each had their own divisions and clear responsibilities.
"They started launching these past few days, and the progress is quite good. If all goes as expected, it should be completed a few days ahead of schedule," Zhan Wenyu replied.
Shan Qiuyu let out a long sigh of relief, "Finally, some good news. I'm very much looking forward to their expressions when they see the battleship."
"Me too," Zhan Wenyu said.
After a month of training, the Alpha, Beta, and Gamma groups were formally formed, their members largely stabilized. The training team's size had also shrunk from nearly four hundred people to only one hundred seventy to eighty.
In addition to the planned 144 members for the three groups, there were about thirty to forty reserve personnel.
After all, there was still over a month left, and during this time, everyone was still at risk of elimination.
Ou Zhanpeng no longer overthought things. He ate when he was hungry, slept when he was tired, and whenever he had nothing to do, he cleared his mind, refusing to dwell on anxieties.
Ling Xiao, on the other hand, thought more than anyone else, but his naturally cheerful disposition meant he didn't let things weigh him down. Throughout the entire training team, no one was more relaxed than him.
To everyone's surprise, they had expected only simulation training, but suddenly a large batch of incubation tanks was transported in. Subsequently, Shan Qiuyu announced a new training subject: cryogenic sleep!
The crowd was immediately abuzz. Human cryogenics had always been a popular topic in science fiction. When did humanity conquer this technology?
Sleeping one's way to Mars didn't seem so bad!
However, upon closer examination, they realized it was nothing like that at all.
Human hibernation referred to lowering the temperature to over minus 190 degrees Celsius, causing the ultra-low temperature to freeze all bodily functions, thereby achieving the goal of "freezing" time.
Cryogenic sleep, on the other hand, referred to using drugs and equipment to safely lower body temperature to fifteen degrees Celsius after a person had fallen asleep. This reduction in temperature slowed heart rate and blood pressure, slowing down metabolism, and ultimately aiming to delay aging.
The former was pure fantasy, with no glimmer of hope in sight to date.
The latter was the result of research into animal hibernation and was far more mature than human hibernation.
"The most crucial aspect of cryogenic sleep is temperature control," said the technical instructor, whose origins were mysterious, pushing up his glasses. "Fifteen degrees Celsius is a critical point. As long as the temperature remains above fifteen degrees, it is generally harmless to the human body. Below fifteen degrees, there is a 6% chance of organ damage, 14% below fourteen degrees, 32% below thirteen degrees, and 71% below twelve degrees. Anything below twelve degrees is fatal."
"Therefore, temperature control is paramount. Fifteen degrees is too dangerous. I suggest fixing the training temperature at eighteen degrees for a period of adaptation, then gradually lowering it to seventeen or sixteen degrees."
Ling Xiao suddenly felt a bit apprehensive, "Aren't they treating us like lab rats?"
Ou Zhanpeng was also somewhat worried, "They shouldn't be, right?"
Regardless of what everyone thought, the training proceeded as scheduled. From then on, all members of the expedition team bid farewell to their warm beds. Every day during rest, they had to change into special full-body suits before lying down in the incubation tanks... well, to be more accurate, these were called cryogenic sleep pods.
After donning a mask and injecting the drug, they would enter a deep sleep within a short period due to the medication.
About half an hour later, the temperature inside the cabin dropped to seventeen degrees Celsius, their heart rate slowed to over twenty beats per minute, blood pressure also decreased, and their brainwaves became smooth, approaching the waveform of anesthesia.
Judging by the physiological indicators alone, they appeared to be critically ill and on the verge of death, so much so that even immediate emergency treatment might not save them.
However, cryogenic sleep could be controlled by medication. For short durations of a few hours or longer periods of tens of hours, a single injection of the corresponding drug could immediately terminate the sleep, waking them within half an hour with good spirits and active minds, appearing as if they had slept soundly.