Jiang Linxia and the others had clearly been trying to stir up tension between Cheng Feng and Xiang Yunjian. Unexpectedly, when the first round of the finals was matched, the one paired against “Ye Guicheng” was Xin Kuang.
The move caught the netizens completely off guard, and everyone in the group chat was stunned as well.
What’s Good About Summer: No way, no way? Is San Yao seriously pushing this group into maximum internal conflict?
What’s Good About Summer: Aside from Yan Shen being too weak, is everyone else really going to be eliminated by our own people? How many neutron players does UFU even have? Is this really appropriate?
A Little More Reckless: ??? You’re dragging me into this too? Come out if you’ve got the guts – I’m at your door.
What’s Good About Summer: Sorry, stirring things up has become second nature. But when are you finally going to realize I’m not in the dorm right now? You scumbag!
My Family’s Got a Mine: @YeGuicheng, looks like you probably won’t get to see Xiang Yunjian. What a pity.
What’s Good About Summer: Fight! I love watching this. [applause]
Xiang Yunjian: What are you using to fight?
My Family’s Got a Mine: Cut it out. Don’t try to scout enemy intel for Cheng Feng – I’m not telling you.
Xiang Yunjian: Since when do robots know so much scheming and roundabout maneuvering, huh? @YeGuicheng
Ye Guicheng: Mr. Kong came looking for me just now. [scratches head]
A Little More Reckless: It’s actually not an Owl emoji pack? [surprised]
Ye Guicheng: Owl feathers are expensive. That action is prohibited.
Yan Shen turned his head and said to the people beside him with a laugh, “Mr. Kong is definitely saying, ‘What an unlucky kid.’”
Running into Jiang Linxia midway through the preliminaries, then facing Xin Kuang in the very first finals match – without real skill, you genuinely couldn’t pull off that kind of bad luck.
A year later, Cheng Feng once again cleared his name through firsthand experience. Thinking back, Yan Shen still vividly remembered the terror of being dominated by sheer bad luck.
Mr. Kong was indeed sighing exactly that in his heart.
The manual mech operation department had made thorough preparations, ready to provide Cheng Feng with every possible support. Never had they expected the first match to be this intense.
Even San Yao’s chaos-loving netizens, who usually thrived on drama, couldn’t help but feel a bit sympathetic.
Cheng Feng herself was pretty frustrated too, because she realized there was an especially huge amount of research material on Xin Kuang – far more than she could possibly finish reading.
Actually, she had noticed this while preparing materials during the break.
But at the time, she thought: in the ability rankings, one of them was ninth and the other eleventh. Their rankings were so close that the chances of them being matched against each other were probably low.
Maybe Xin Kuang would even get eliminated by someone else before facing her. Surely she couldn’t be that unlucky.
So she quietly let it slide and focused more of her effort on studying Xiang Yunjian instead – after all, Xiang Yunjian’s analysis reports were also absurdly long, like foot-binding cloth: long and painful to get through.
Who would’ve thought Yan Shen’s bad luck would still be haunting her even now.
It was all his fault.
The day of the official match arrived in the blink of an eye.
Cheng Feng still had to keep up with her regular coursework, so in the end she only managed to get through about half of the summary Mr. Kong had prepared for her.
But in actual combat, what mattered more was adaptability – especially against players like Xin Kuang and Xiang Yunjian, who had extensive experience, highly variable styles, and a preference for unconventional tactics. They were the sort of players who probably didn’t even know themselves what kind of attack pattern they’d pull out in the next round.
9:15 a.m.
Cheng Feng walked to her station. Under the watchful gaze of the manual mech operation faculty and staff, she forced the corners of her mouth upward into a stiff smile, gave an awkward wave in all directions, then turned and logged into the system.
This time, when she logged into San Yao, she didn’t appear directly in the waiting area for battle preparations, but instead in the public event center.
Focusing her eyes, Cheng Feng saw a glowing marker spreading out beneath her feet, pointing toward a newly built raised platform not far away.
The path leading to it was covered with a vivid, solemn red carpet. Silver points of light drifted down from the air every so often. At the far end stood a large backdrop with her name and Xin Kuang’s written in bold, flamboyant calligraphy.
And beneath her name was the personal bio she had written when creating her account:
[A ** person]
Cheng Feng: “…”
Looking at it now, it felt utterly baffling.
So this was the kind of treatment finalists got?
It was seriously scalp-tingling.
Before Cheng Feng could drop her businesslike smile, she was forced to plaster it back on again.
Standing on the interview stage, she lowered her gaze toward the tightly packed crowd of spectators in front of her. The audience’s voices were all muted, so the only thing Cheng Feng could see were the transparent chat bubbles floating above their heads.
“Fengfeng, listen to me. I know modern society believes in science and rejects superstition, but you don’t have to be that stubborn. Sometimes paying for a little psychological comfort is totally worth it.”
“[Strategy Guide: 100 Most Effective Temples Left Over from the Interstellar Era], [The Power Within Your Heart], [What Exactly Makes Mysticism So Mysterious?] – take these. It’s all Mom’s love. As a person, you need to believe in a little superstition.”
“I misunderstood you. Go pay your respects somewhere, and remember to buy a thicker incense stick – don’t cheap out on that. Eat well these next few days too.”
“I don’t even pray to the god of exams for my own finals, but for you, I got up early and bought an apple to place in front of the statue on our sports field. Don’t let me down, babe!”
These were all utterly baseless slanders!
Cheng Feng cleared her throat lightly. Just then, the commentator’s voice rang out from the void.
“Hello, Cheng Feng!”
Cheng Feng lifted her head and glanced around in every direction.
The commentator said, with rather obvious intent to flatter her, “Long time no see, Cheng Feng. Feels like you’ve grown a little taller, and your hair’s gotten longer too.”
Not knowing which direction he was speaking from, Cheng Feng offered a restrained smile toward straight ahead.
The commentator quietly breathed a sigh of relief, thinking to himself: Cheng Feng isn’t going to leave me hanging today, right?
The commentator asked, “Facing Xin Kuang this time, do you have any special thoughts?”
“Very lucky,” Cheng Feng replied instantly. “I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time!”
As she spoke, she glanced sideways at the rows and rows of chat boxes below.
…They were all filled with utterly disgraceful nonsense from paid trolls.
The commentator asked, “How has your preparation been? Have you identified any weaknesses in Xin Kuang?”
Cheng Feng replied seriously, “I can’t say.”
The commentator said, “Alright, alright. Worried about leaking confidential information?”
“No,” Cheng Feng corrected him. “No matter how much preparation you do beforehand, if it hasn’t been verified in actual combat, you can’t treat your conclusions as real weaknesses to exploit.”
“…Oh.”
The commentator was momentarily stunned by her sudden upright seriousness. He let out an awkward laugh and hurriedly moved on to the next question.
“Xin Kuang is proficient with quite a few mech types. His most commonly used heavy armor mech is said to be unsuitable against manually operated mechs. What kind of mech do you think he’ll switch to this time?”
Cheng Feng caught sight of a comment from the audience. Without really thinking, she blurted it out, “A bad student always has the most stationery?” [1]
The chat boxes instantly became strangely uniform. The netizens’ excitement came through loud and clear, even in silence, as they shook with glee.
“This is the scene I’ve been waiting for. Don’t hold back!”
“Can they start fighting during the interview stage?”
“Why does Cheng Feng look so short here? Is she really 160 cm?”
“Last time Cheng Feng said she was 168 cm. According to netizen rounding rules, that probably means 158 at best.”
“When Cheng Feng logs off, everyone here is going straight onto her hit list.”
Cheng Feng turned around and saw Xin Kuang standing behind her. No one knew when he had gotten onto the stage – he was smiling with an almost “peaceful nuclear” expression.
He casually rested one hand on Cheng Feng’s shoulder and asked calmly, “Guess what kind of stationery I’m using today?”
The commentator said excitedly, “People online are saying that Wusu counters manual-operation mechs! Is that true?”
“That doesn’t exist,” Cheng Feng said, raising a hand to dismiss it. “I’m all-purpose.”
Xin Kuang smiled. “I believe you.”
But when the two of them moved to the battle map, Cheng Feng realized that Xin Kuang’s “I believe you” didn’t mean he believed she was all-purpose – it meant he believed the netizens’ wildly aggressive analysis, and had actually chosen Wusu.
“Beautiful!”
After confirming Xin Kuang’s selection, the commentator slapped the desk and shouted in satisfaction, thoroughly pleased by the spectacle. But after glancing at the map parameters, his tone sank slightly, and he groaned, “This is a devil map.”
The map was set in a suburban town that had failed to evacuate civilians in time.
The streets had already been cleared of people, but through the glass windows of high-rise buildings, NPCs could still be seen running in panic. Low-rise buildings also contained many civilians who hadn’t managed to evacuate.
Because it was a suburban industrial zone, the surrounding environment was very open, with large empty spaces and ramps designed for heavy transport robots.
However, using ranged or explosive weapons carelessly still carried a high risk of collateral damage.
Both contestants and viewers had unanimously labeled this type of map a “devil map,” because in official league matches, players were not allowed to kill too many NPCs – exceeding a certain limit would result in immediate disqualification by the system.
Normal practice arenas didn’t have this issue; most maps were empty cities where you could level the place without ever reaching the penalty threshold.
But evacuation maps were different – just one poorly placed shot, and you might hit an NPC shelter. And then the match would basically be over.
“The commentator said, ‘When fighting in this kind of match, you always have to pay attention – this is a setting that requires restraint and composure.’ He let out a barely noticeable sigh and said gravely, ‘This type of map is quite disadvantageous for Cheng Feng. From the qualifiers onward, her main strategy has been violent firepower suppression – her firing rate and equipment-switching speed are her biggest strengths. If you restrict close-range combat and strictly limit the use of ranged weapons, it’s basically like disabling one of Cheng Feng’s arms.’”
Yet, her opponent was precisely someone like Xin Kuang, who specialized in close combat.
The commentator couldn’t help muttering under his breath, “It’s said the probability of drawing this type of map is under 5%… Cheng Feng is really… quite ‘lucky.’”
The bullet screen was already filled with rows of “moment of silence.”
Cheng Feng had heard of this map before, but had never experienced it herself, so she was currently checking the system settings.
She said to Xin Kuang, “Wait a moment.”
Xin Kuang replied very easily, “Take your time.”
Cheng Feng carefully read through the full description again, then studied the map parameters in detail. After that, she pulled out the mechanical longsword from the left side of her mech and said flatly, “You might not believe me, but I’m actually pretty good with melee weapons too.”
Translator’s Notes:
[1] The phrase is a Chinese idiom mocking people who rely on having lots of gear/tools instead of actual skill.
