Top Warzone Analyst Chapter 136

Cheng Feng learned her close-quarters combat techniques from the little owl – they emphasize simplicity, directness, and going straight for the target.

The essence of legwork, palm strikes, and waist power must all be mastered, stripping away all flashy and superfluous moves, while staying mobile and observant, so that at the critical moment, one can deliver a fatal blow to the opponent.

But a manually operated mech has no legs, no hands, and certainly no waist.

In theory, Cheng Feng knows what she should do, but in actual combat – especially in close-quarters duels with cold weapons – she lacks sufficient experience.

If it weren’t for a clearly defined objective, she would generally avoid this kind of engagement.

Besides, using a manual mech to engage in close-quarters combat against a neural-sensor mech – what’s the difference between that and competing with someone in calligraphy using your feet? How could the precision of typing code ever match the subtle, intricate movements of a human limb?

As Cheng Feng drove toward Xin Kuang, he was standing still, stretching his arms as part of his warm-up routine. Seeing her approach, he curled his fingers in a beckoning gesture – a highly provocative move.

Cheng Feng brought up the cannon on her mech’s shoulder, estimated the distance between Xin Kuang and the several buildings behind him, and then thought better of it.

She angled her blade, circled around Wusu for a moment of observation, then suddenly accelerated, launching the first attack from a lower right angle.

Xin Kuang’s posture remained calm and composed. Seizing the perfect moment, he raised his left-hand blade to block her strike, while his right hand – unbeknownst to her – had already pulled a long spear from behind his back, thrusting it straight at the midsection of the manual mech.

Cheng Feng’s heart truly skipped a beat when she realized he was going for a ruthless move. Fortunately, this kind of wide, sweeping attack wasn’t too difficult for a manual mech to dodge. She activated the thrusters on the left side of the mech’s body and pivoted the machine ninety degrees to the left.

This maneuver was hard to execute with pinpoint precision, and the mech inevitably drifted backward by one full body-length under the thrust.

The two mechs were now at an awkward distance – and judging by their positions, it seemed Xin Kuang had the better angle for pursuit.

But Cheng Feng’s next command wasn’t to bring up her shield for defense. In the blink of an eye, her slender fingers struck the keyboard in unison, and she charged toward Xin Kuang’s flank with even greater ferocity, gripping her weapon tightly and slashing down along the edge of Xin Kuang’s blade with full force, forcing Wusu to bend its torso downward.

Unfortunately, Xin Kuang reacted with lightning speed. A slight turn of his wrist, a subtle flick of the blade – and the seemingly clumsy mechanical blade suddenly became nimble under his adjustments. He deflected the manual mech’s reckless, headlong force, and with a push and pull, sent it careening uncontrollably toward a tall building on the side.

The blade struck the wall, high-voltage current sparked, and scorched black burn marks spread across the surface like a web.

Cheng Feng immediately withdrew her weapon and retreated backward, but she wasn’t quick enough to avoid it entirely – Xin Kuang spun around and swept his spear across the chest of her manual mech, leaving a gash.

Although the cockpit wasn’t inside the mech itself, Cheng Feng still felt as if half her body had gone numb. She shifted her hips to adjust her sitting posture, trying to relax her muscles as much as possible.

This kind of duel – one that truly tests combat skills – was incredibly unfriendly to a manual mech. Xin Kuang’s seemingly effortless parries, cuts, and flicks were nothing short of a dimensionality reduction attack.

“Bold!” The commentator’s heart was pounding wildly from that brief exchange just now. He cleared his throat and, after a two-second pause, added, “It looks like the situation is getting a bit tricky for Cheng Feng. Xin Kuang’s combat skills are definitely among the best in the industry – nothing to sneeze at. It’s also clear that, even though the manual mech’s attack methods are relatively low-key, Cheng Feng is not a conservative pilot!”

The word “reckless” might as well be stamped on her forehead. When it comes to offense, she really does have nerves ten times thicker than anyone else. The commentator never expected her to throw herself straight onto the opponent’s blade right from the very start.

Cheng Feng slowly stepped back, and Xin Kuang followed at an unhurried pace.

When she had retreated to a relatively central spot in the open area, Cheng Feng said, somewhat exasperated, “Is this weapon combination of yours even reasonable?”

If he were going with dual blades or dual guns, Cheng Feng wouldn’t have much to say about it – but she never expected him to go with a blade-and-spear combo. That was just way too quirky.

Xin Kuang said, “I haven’t used my ultimate move yet.”

“Eh?” The commentator chimed in jokingly, “Is Xin Kuang’s ultimate move just throwing money at the problem?”

Cheng Feng asked, “What is it? Can it spin you up into the sky?”

Xin Kuang said calmly, “Come over and find out.”

Cheng Feng rolled her neck and let out a breath.

If brawling wouldn’t work, then what about a surprise assault? The manual mech was fast enough – and generally speaking, speed is invincible.

In actual combat, Cheng Feng never gives hesitation much room. The moment the thought crossed her mind, she moved.

The manual mech lowered its center of gravity and dashed toward Wusu at sprinting speed. Its weapon struck down in a clean slash – without pausing, it rode the momentum and swept past. After an emergency stop, it turned back and repeated this dragonfly-skimming-the-water style of attack over and over.

From the omniscient perspective of San Yao, only the blurry afterimages of Cheng Feng’s movements could be captured. The camera kept zooming out until the full trajectories of both mechs were finally brought into frame.

The clashing sounds of metal meeting metal echoed continuously. The audience watched as the two mechs constantly swapped positions across the map; amid the dizzying spectacle, streaks of blue friction sparks flashed in midair, but no one could clearly make out the specific damage on either side.

It wasn’t until Cheng Feng finally came to a stop that the statistical data on each mech’s status panel reappeared in the corner of the screen.

The commentator’s eyes darted back and forth comparing the two sets of data. Leaning into the mic, he exclaimed excitedly, “Not good, not good! Although Cheng Feng was the one initiating the attacks, Xin Kuang’s strikes were far more effective. The manual mech took several hits during the exchanges, and its external systems have already been compromised – the current chassis damage is at 23%! In contrast, Wusu’s mech functions remain fully intact. It seems Xin Kuang’s defense is impenetrable!”

Viewers with their volume turned up could even hear the commentator’s heavy, unadjusted breathing in the background.

“Right now, Cheng Feng is at a huge disadvantage! It seems the goddess of victory has once again forgotten to favor the manual mech!”

Viewers who were skilled at using the slow-motion replay feature had already noticed that the intensity of the battle was more brutal than they had anticipated. What had previously been casual jokes now carried a more serious tone of discussion.

“Xin Kuang is still amazing! Cheng Feng is really unlucky too – if it were any other map, she wouldn’t be fighting so passively. My heart goes out to her.”

“Your sympathy doesn’t help. Whether Xin Kuang shows any sympathy is what really matters.”

“Instead of counting on these straight-laced league players to go easy on their opponents, you’d be better off hoping that Cheng Feng’s luck for her next life kicks in early, or that Xin Kuang suddenly gets an urgent call from nature – that’s more realistic.”

“She’s already gotten way further than everyone initially predicted. At the very least, she’s made it to the finals and had a run here. Losing to Xin Kuang isn’t embarrassing – it’s just a bit of a pity, sigh.”

“Is there any other tactic left? Otherwise, this is just going to end.”

The manual-mech major students who were watching the match fell into a dead silence. They instinctively turned off the barrage comments, took a few deep breaths, and only then dared to keep watching.

Mr. Kong had already gotten up from his seat, clutching his forehead as he said weakly to his colleague, “I can’t take this anymore – my blood pressure’s through the roof. Come tell me when there’s a turnaround.”

This time, Xin Kuang gave Cheng Feng no chance to catch her breath. The moment he detected even a slight pause in her rhythm, he seized the initiative and launched a new wave of ferocious attacks – swift as thunder.

The commentator felt that, at this rate, there probably wasn’t much time left in the match – and he had barely gotten a few lines of commentary in for this round. Eager to make up for it, he quickly added, “Can Cheng Feng still break the deadlock? Does Cheng Feng still have a way out? Her ideas have always been rather unconventional – can we still hold out for a turning point?”

“Right now, Cheng Feng is the only examinee among all league players who has maintained a perfect winning streak. Her miracle has lasted an entire summer – is it going to end today?”

“Can we get a camera on Cheng Feng? I really want to know what her expression looks like right now!”

True to form, the San Yao finals proved to be a bit more human-centric. Responding to the commentator’s plea, the livestream manager popped a small window on the left side of the screen. The camera cut to Cheng Feng’s cockpit, captured a two-second side profile of her face, and then quickly cut away.

Even from those fleeting glimpses, it was clear that Cheng Feng’s expression remained calm and composed. There was no panic, no sign of defeatist dejection. On the contrary, there was still a sharpness in her eyes – a fighting spirit that was far from finished.

In the final frame, she looked up at the sky with a peculiar expression.

The commentator’s rapid-fire delivery suddenly slowed, half of his prepared script now useless. Barely concealing his surprise, he said, “Cheng Feng doesn’t seem very tense – is it because of her exceptional mental fortitude? But at this rate…”

On screen, the manual mech kept retreating, as if finally pushed to its breaking point. It opened its rear weapon bay and deployed a high-damage cannon.

The commentator’s tone shifted sharply as he squeaked, “Cheng Feng fired! She’s taking a desperate – no, she fired at the sky! What is she trying to do? A second shot, a third – okay, she’s now fired every single one of the new ground-to-air cannons on her manual mech straight above her own head!”

The commentator’s eyes went wide. The words “Cheng Feng has gone mad” were already on the tip of his tongue – only his paycheck and professional integrity held them back at the critical moment.

On the battlefield, Cheng Feng had also completely thrown caution to the wind, ramming into Wusu like a fearless calf in a frantic, chaotic charge.

The commentator lamented, “Is she using this final salute of cannon fire to commemorate her appearance in the finals? Or is she venting her frustration against this map through this bizarre behavior? After all, Cheng Feng…”

He failed to finish the next several sentences, but by then the audience couldn’t care less about his slip-ups.

Everyone saw the red high-risk warning flash across the mech’s control panels.

Xin Kuang had sensed something was wrong the moment Cheng Feng started firing. He immediately tried to dodge and create distance.

But Cheng Feng anticipated his move and blocked his escape route with sheer determination. She shifted her metal shield to the front of her mech, intercepting him even at the cost of mutual destruction.

If he retreated, Wusu couldn’t match the manual mech’s speed – and Xin Kuang didn’t dare turn his back toward Cheng Feng.

There was no time to break the deadlock. The shells that had been fired into the sky were now falling back down due to gravity.

Xin Kuang glanced at the map and realized that the direction Cheng Feng was pushing him toward was precisely the impact zone. His expression immediately darkened.

The commentator’s professional composure finally cracked. What slipped out was a classic piece of vernacular exclamation: “What the f…?!”

The rest of the shells began to rain down one after another, and the system warning windows popped up incessantly.

Xin Kuang used his peripheral vision to urgently confirm the impact points of the remaining shells, but Cheng Feng’s assault only grew more ferocious at that moment.

While parrying her attacks, Xin Kuang had to split his attention to monitor the strikes coming from above. Through the data feed, he realized that the several shells Cheng Feng had deployed earlier were all frighteningly precise – they had landed in a pattern that perfectly encircled both mechs. She was clearly adopting a “I don’t care if I go down, as long as I drag you with me” stance.

Xin Kuang also had the word “madwoman” on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t have time to say it.

As the two remained locked in their mutual entanglement, the first shell hit the ground – exploding with a deafening roar.

The commentator stammered, “M–man-made meteor shower?” That was a pretty wild idea. Can’t beat him? Then just crush him?

Dust and debris flew everywhere, and the ground trembled along with the nearby high-rises. With each successive blast, the figures of the two mechs were completely obscured by the thick, billowing smoke.

Even though Xin Kuang managed to avoid the epicenter of the explosions, he was still caught by the shockwaves from the periphery – it felt as if he were spinning in a hurricane, unable to tell east from west, north from south.

The opposing manual mech, meanwhile, had already transformed into its defensive configuration and activated its signal-jamming function. Xin Kuang had completely lost track of Cheng Feng.

Steadying himself, he temporarily gave up on locating Cheng Feng, urgently checking his own position on the map while searching for a safe escape route through the red-highlighted danger zones.

As a heavy mech pilot and a logistics hauler by trade, Xin Kuang was no slouch when it came to survival and evasion.

He was just about to weave his way out of the “meteor crater” when a broadsword suddenly materialized out of nowhere – slashing him back into the zone.

Cheng Feng was waiting for him right at the exit.

After re-establishing each other’s positions, the two mechs – now with their radar monitoring knocked out – resorted to blind fighting, eyes shut, swinging wildly and scrambling frantically near the blast zones.

Though both remained silent, each could feel the other’s gritted-teeth determination -the ruthlessness of holding nothing back.

A blast wave from behind surged forward again. Wusu’s defensive capabilities were inferior to the manual mech’s, and it stumbled two steps off balance.

Just then, the signal-jamming function deactivated. Xin Kuang was about to turn around when the mech behind him had already closed in via positioning data from the rear…

The commentator swallowed hard and said in a low voice, “It seems Cheng Feng is dead serious about using heavy firepower. If there’s no opportunity, she’ll create one. In this chaotic melee, let’s see who emerges as the survivor.”

The situation at the epicenter of the smoke was now impossible to observe. When the “Victory” icon flashed across the center of the screen, every viewer held their breath, waiting for the winner to appear.

The billowing dust gradually settled as the gale died down.

A minute later, emerging slowly and unhurriedly from the haze on camera, was that familiar black mech.

“It’s Cheng Feng!” The commentator mustered his energy and announced loudly, “The winner is Cheng Feng! Let’s congratulate Cheng Feng on taking the first victory in the finals! She is truly the most surprising player of this season – bar none!”

Parts of the mech’s outer shell had been melted by the high heat, exposing the tangled circuitry beneath. It even seemed to be missing two unidentified components. But the battered appearance did nothing to dampen Cheng Feng’s spirits.

She tested the mech’s functions and found that the lower half could still transform – so she extended the chassis, stood the mech upright, planted her blade on the ground, and struck a cool pose facing the camera.

The message she wanted to convey was unmistakable:

“I know you’ve all talked trash about me.”

“But I won.”

The commentator remarked with great emotion, his tone lingering with afterthought. “If Cheng Feng’s legs weren’t so short, she’d actually be pretty tall.”

The netizens’ fervent excitement cooled instantly at this comment.

“Do I not already know that?”

“If the commentator suddenly disappears tomorrow, I wouldn’t be surprised at all.”

“That’s so mean – she just won, let her have her moment of glory!”

“Where are the celebrators? Where are all those manual-mech fanboys and fangirls? Isn’t Cheng Feng worth your pride? Where did everyone go?”