Top Warzone Analyst Chapter 1

It is still early morning, yet a brilliant streak of crimson already hangs on the horizon. Piercing rays of light break through the transparent protective canopy above the city, casting a cold, gloomy glow upon everything they touch – devoid of the fiery warmth their color suggests.

This remote planet lies near the borders of the Alliance. Years of relentless conflict only came to an end a few years ago, and now, with the Alliance’s support, it is undergoing a prolonged process of urban reconstruction.

Yet the shadows of war – collapsed order, abandoned lands, ravaged industrial lines -remain painfully vivid. These lingering scars are slow to fade, hovering persistently over everyone’s heads. With the slightest stir, they unleash gloomy, torrential downpours.

Four tall young men, carrying heavy equipment on their backs, walked out from the shadows of the street. Though dressed in ordinary autumn clothing, their sharp demeanor, spirited expressions, and steady strides set them slightly apart from their surroundings.

Jiang Linxia, in the back row, pulled out a tablet from his pocket to check the list and casually asked, “How many passed the test yesterday?”

“Not a single one.” Xin Kuang beside him gestured with a hand. “Many students here haven’t received formal education. A few barely meet the physical standards, but they fail the academic and reaction tests.”

Jiang Linxia smirked. “Looks like the UFU’s (United Federation University) recruitment isn’t going well this year. That big guy from the military academy next door texted me yesterday, bragging that the students they specially recruited this year are pretty solid.”

Xin Kuang, always even-tempered, also smiled and said, “Considering the policy support, they’ll definitely recruit a few in the end. Anyway, we’re only responsible for data collection and feedback. The rest is up to the admissions team.”

Yan Shen, who had been silent all along, slowly chimed in, “I hope the instructor doesn’t get so worked up that he ends up giving us low marks on our social practice reports.”

Jiang Linxia tucked his tablet back into his pocket and declared loudly, “That’s not our problem! The instructor is the one who delayed the admissions process, and now we have to clean up the mess. If we’re slower than others and can’t get good students, it’s clearly his fault, right, Captain?”

Xiang Yunjian glanced back but offered no response.

At the traffic light intersection, the group came to a stop.

The city center was not as desolate as they had imagined. Vehicles and pedestrians flowed past in a lively, bustling stream, like a heart pulsating with newfound vitality, beating with vigorous energy.

Over the past few days, Xiang Yunjian had grown accustomed to being stared at, yet he couldn’t help but glance back in response to one particularly intense gaze.

Along the roadside, numerous mobile stalls were set up, and the source of that gaze was hidden among them.

Fifteen? Maybe even younger. Dressed in a style that seemed boyish.

Xiang Yunjian narrowed his eyes slightly.

The youth wore clothes that were clearly too large, sitting cross-legged on the ground with a few heads of cabbage arranged in front.

The patched black jacket was covered in a layer of dust, giving it a mottled appearance.

The face was small, mostly hidden by the upturned collar. A cap sat on the head, and somewhat awkwardly, the hood of the jacket had also been pulled up over it.

The only visible features were the eyes – bright and clear, with a distinct contrast between black and white, gazing back directly and openly.

There was no fear, reverence, envy, or curiosity in that gaze – none of the emotions other residents in the city showed when seeing them, nor the weariness and weight stained by the shadow of war.

They looked innocent and guileless.

The traffic light changed, and the crowd surged forward. Jiang Linxia pushed him from behind, urging him to hurry across.

Xiang Yunjian snapped out of the daze that gaze had drawn him into, taking two steps forward. It wasn’t until they turned the street corner that the feeling of being watched completely faded.

The group arrived at the school ten minutes earlier than scheduled. The school reception staff were already waiting at the entrance, inviting them inside.

A middle-aged man in a suit walked alongside them, explaining, “This group consists of our school’s best students. Their greatest strength is their exceptional resilience. Unfortunately, with limited teaching resources and equipment here, their foundational skills may lag behind those of students in the Alliance. However, if they can study at UFU, I believe they’ll progress rapidly. Please believe me – they are truly talented students…”

Xiang Yunjian habitually walked with long strides, forcing the middle-aged man to quicken his pace to keep up, leaving him breathless by the end of his explanation.

Xiang Yunjian slowed down slightly and nodded in understanding.

Walking through the underground parking lot, they came upon an open area where a row of people stood neatly lined up. These were likely the students selected by the school.

As Xiang Yunjian approached, he spotted the dark figure at the far end of the line and paused in surprise.

Jiang Linxia also glanced back behind him in astonishment.

They hadn’t been walking slowly – how had this small guy managed to get ahead of them?

The middle-aged man handed over the list in his hand and was about to explain the specific details of these students when he noticed the group’s odd expressions. Turning around for a closer look, he realized there was an extra person in the lineup and immediately exclaimed, “Hey, this… this isn’t a student from our school!”

He rushed over as if to grab the person, but the other dodged nimbly.

The small figure, carrying a huge basket of cabbages on her back, pulled some distance away and ran to the edge of the wall.

“What are you trying to do? How did you get in here?” the middle-aged man pointed and shouted to drive her off. “Go on! Get out of here!”

Her movements as she climbed the wall were highly skilled. With a casual reach and pull, she vaulted straight up. The wall was nearly two meters high, yet there wasn’t a single unnecessary pause – cleaner and more decisive than many well-trained cadets.

The muscle at the tail of Xiang Yunjian’s brow twitched.

Up ahead, the middle-aged man wore an unpleasant expression. Muttering a couple of words, he tapped his temple with a fingertip and gestured. “Something’s not right… right here.”

Everyone present turned their gaze toward him at once.

Feeling inexplicably uneasy under their gaze, the man nervously added, “It’s true! A lot of people here have seen this person! Long-term residence has been in a derelict zone outside the city. The guardian passed away early on, and government shelter was refused. Past attempts by staff to offer assistance were met with strong resistance, and the behavior has always been highly irregular.”

Xiang Yunjian asked, “How does this person survive, then?”

“Growing vegetables, or taking on manual labor. A living is scraped together through all kinds of odd jobs,” the middle-aged man sneered. “Then mechanical parts get purchased, supposedly to repair the body. Isn’t that clearly a problem?”

Xiang Yunjian’s tone was hard to read, though his deep, resonant voice carried a certain severity, as if accusing. “To live independently in such harsh conditions – even healthy adults might not manage that.”

The middle-aged man opened his mouth to argue, but Xiang Yunjian swiftly changed the subject, “Let’s begin the testing first.”

The exam took place in an empty classroom across the way.

There were three subjects in total, lasting eight hours, conducted as a full simulation.

After setting up the equipment and confirming the network connection, the four took turns invigilating. Yan Shen stayed inside first while the others stepped out for some air.

As they walked out of the teaching building, they noticed the small figure had returned. Standing on an old swing ahead, they swayed back and forth expressionlessly.

Jiang Linxia remarked curiously, “Why is there a swing in their school? It’s not a kindergarten.”

Xiang Yunjian replied, “This place used to be a park before it was converted. The original school building was destroyed in an explosion.”

Jiang Linxia said, “Oh.”

Jiang Linxia thought about going over to strike up a conversation, but seeing his two companions make no move, he dropped the idea and sat down on the steps by the entrance.

As she swung to the highest point, Cheng Feng released the ropes and jumped off the swing.

Perhaps due to her slender build, her movements appeared exceptionally light and nimble – she landed softly yet firmly, without a single stumble.

Jiang Linxia, recognizing her excellent muscle control, whistled in appreciation and cheered, “Not bad at all, kiddo.”

Cheng Feng remained silent, slipping her hands into her pockets as she stood quietly beside her basket of cabbage, watching them intently.

Half a minute later, Xiang Yunjian looked up and asked, “How much for the cabbage?”

The other spoke – but not entirely in a human voice.

“Five yuan per 500g.”

What came out was a cold, mechanical tone – the kind of assistive tool many people with damaged vocal cords use.

“No pesticides,” Cheng Feng added, her attitude noticeably more enthusiastic when it came to making money, offering a few more merciful details. “Soil contamination makes it hard to grow.”

Jiang Linxia was skeptical. “Still dealing with soil contamination after all these years?”

Cheng Feng gave a serious nod, lifting the bamboo basket with one hand as she explained, “This is 25kg.”

Xiang Yunjian said, “I’ll take it all. You can unload it.”

Xin Kuang rested his chin on one hand and grinned, tilting his head. “That much? Can we even finish it all?”

Xiang Yunjian replied, “You lot eat so much – afraid you won’t finish a few cabbages?”

Jiang Linxia drew out his words with a sarcastic tone. “I get it. Cabbage stir-fried with cabbage for lunch, cabbage stewed with cabbage for dinner. If it’s still fresh tomorrow, we can have cabbage wrapped in cabbage, right?”

Cheng Feng set the bamboo basket down in front of them and straightened up.

Jiang Linxia thought she had understood Xiang Yunjian’s intention to lend a helping hand and felt a bit embarrassed. Just as he was about to generously reassure this kid, he heard the cold, mechanical voice from the device near her ear say, “If needed, I can pickle or spice-cure them into sauerkraut or kimchi for easier portability. Processing fee is only fifty.”

“Little money-grubber,” Jiang Linxia chuckled, half-amused and half-exasperated. “Or rather, a little profiteer.”

Cheng Feng moved all the cabbage out and walked over to Xiang Yunjian, extending her hand toward him.

Xiang Yunjian took out his optical computer and casually asked, “Account number?”

“No account,” Cheng Feng replied. “Cash, please.”

These days, few people carried cash, but considering this was a post-war planet, Xiang Yunjian had withdrawn some money earlier.

He pointed to the person beside him and said, “Talk to our accountant. He comes from a wealthy family.”

Cheng Feng followed his gesture to see a young man with a friendly smile, holding banknotes between two fingers, giving a charming wave of greeting.

Xiang Yunjian switched his optical computer to training mode.

A dim blue light illuminated the screen. Jiang Linxia caught a glance and couldn’t help commenting, “Are you still practicing this? It’s not very useful. Manually operated mechs are destined to be just a brief renaissance – their obsolescence is an inevitable outcome of historical progression. The gimmick of semi-manual operation might prolong their survival a little, but that kind of control method… forget ordinary people, even geniuses struggle to adapt to it.”

Xiang Yunjian replied indifferently, “Mmm, just trying it out casually.”

After collecting the payment, Cheng Feng shuffled back quietly to sit beside Xiang Yunjian, stealing glances at his screen.

The training mode selected was semi-manual operation, and Xiang Yunjian clearly wasn’t fully accustomed to it. In just one minute, he had already racked up two “miss” indicators.

Although the range of commands for semi-manual mechs wasn’t extensive, losing control of the center of gravity severely disrupted the mech’s balance.

At the third coding error, the aggressively charging mech toppled directly to the ground, and the training interface flashed with a blood-red 【FAIL!】.

Xiang Yunjian let out a sigh, then turned his head once more and met Cheng Feng’s gaze.

Cheng Feng’s pupils were strikingly bright. Under the light, her eyes seemed to absorb it entirely, turning into pure black while clearly reflecting the silhouette of the world around them.

This kid appeared oblivious to awkwardness, simply staring straight at him without blinking.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Xiang Yunjian’s mouth as he asked, “What’s your name?”

“Cheng Feng.”

Xiang Yunjian tugged gently at her sleeve. “Why are you dressed like this?”

Cheng Feng irritably brushed his hand away, only for him to reach out and ruffle her hair. Unable to dodge in time, her cap was knocked askew.

She heard him chuckle softly before commenting, “Little baldy.”

The mockery in his tone was unmistakable, sparking a surge of anger and embarrassment in Cheng Feng. She stood up and moved aside, glaring coldly.

Xiang Yunjian, completely unbothered, waved his optical computer in his hand, acting as casually as someone teasing a cat or dog.

Cheng Feng turned her face away, expressionless.

“Here, you can play with it.” Xiang Yunjian reined in his expression and said, “I won’t tease you anymore.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Cheng Feng walked back over, half-convinced and half-suspicious.

Fortunately, the man still had a sliver of conscience left – he actually handed the optical computer to her.

“This is the simulation training from San Yao,” Xiang Yunjian explained. “Do you know how to play? Just input the commands as prompted.”

Cheng Feng subtly turned her back to him, pretending not to have heard.

Xiang Yunjian looked over her shoulder and saw her tap open the help section, reading the rules word by word. She appeared both unfamiliar and obedient, like a well-behaved new student. He decided not to pay further attention, letting her pass the time. A moment later, he stood up and advised, “Finish playing and head back soon. Our admission scope is strictly regulated – we can’t accept you. You’re too young.”

Cheng Feng straightened her back and lifted her head. When the screen’s lighting changed, signaling the start of the exercise, she quickly lowered it again, waiting intently for the countdown.

Xiang Yunjian waved to his teammate. “I’ll go inside and keep watch for a bit. You guys keep an eye out here.”

As his figure receded into the distance, Jiang Linxia lifted his eyelids, giving Cheng Feng a thorough once-over before asking, “How old are you, little guy?”

Chen Feng, engrossed in the game, answered reluctantly, “I’m not a guy. And I’m eighteen.”

The minimum age requirement for this recruitment round was adulthood, and many half-grown kids would claim to be eighteen without hesitation. Jiang Linxia clearly didn’t take it seriously, replying with exaggerated emphasis, “Wow, you’re already eighteen?”

Cheng Feng felt the urge to hit him but was too busy at the moment, so she simply tuned him out.

After playing for about half an hour, Cheng Feng set down the optical computer, picked up the empty bamboo basket beside her, and left in silence.

Not long after, Xiang Yunjian walked out, scanning the area but finding no sign of her. “Where’s that kid?”

“Gone,” Jiang Linxia replied, stretching lazily. “You already said you weren’t recruiting him. Why would he stick around?”

Xiang Yunjian hummed in acknowledgment, picking up the optical computer. The moment he touched it, a vibration ran through his hand. As the screen lit up, dozens of unread notifications popped up.