As Jiang Linxia tapped on the video, he had a sinking feeling.
The moment the signal connected, his instructor’s enlarged, grim face filled the screen.
He brought his nose close to the optical computer, a cold smirk curling at the corners of his mouth, as if eager to convey his “care” for them through his eyes. “Eat and drink well; your time is running out.”
Jiang Linxia couldn’t help but swallow hard. He adjusted her posture, sitting up straighter, and awaited the interrogation with an utterly solemn expression.
The instructor asked darkly, “What exactly were you doing just now?”
Jiang Linxia cautiously replied, “M-maintaining order?”
“You little–” His furious rant was cut short mid-sentence. He pulled the optical computer farther away, glanced back at the leaders behind him, and swallowed his words with difficulty.
He transferred all his pent-up anger onto Jiang Linxia instead. Glaring fiercely at the screen, he raised a hand and made a shooting gesture at his own head, squeezing out a sentence through clenched teeth. “Just wait until you get back – I’ll deal with you then!”
Jiang Linxia: “…” Everything about the post-war planet was fine, though he wondered how difficult it would be to immigrate there.
The instructor, now beyond words and only wanting to curse, simply switched the interface to the drill channel and told them to reflect on their own.
Jiang Linxia and Yan Shen huddled together, watching a cut and sped-up replay of the battle from a third-person perspective.
Their expressions began to shift the moment the instructor ordered Cheng Feng to switch sides.
When they realized their ambush had been exposed from the start and they had been chasing after Cheng Feng like they were running naked, Yan Shen leaned back slightly, his face a picture of shocked devastation, his mouth hanging open.
Jiang Linxia stole a sidelong glance at the person beside her and felt somewhat comforted, thinking he looked even more pitiful than she did.
Once again, the instructor’s voice cut in from off-screen. “How could you all be so careless? Cheng Feng took down all four of you by himself, and he’s just a kid!”
Yan Shen: “Uh…”
The instructor continued his targeted tirade, “After Yan Shen was taken out, you still didn’t heighten your alert. Jiang Linxia, you were way too cocky. How much did you have to drink before heading into battle? Felt like a damn dream, didn’t it?”
It really did feel like a dream. Jiang Linxia complained bitterly, “But how was I supposed to know he’s a Command Class B? I thought he was just a pure manual mech pilot. None of us could use our optical computers or GPS, but he was the only one who seemed to be cheating.”
The manual combat instructor nearby suddenly spun his head around and interrupted, his voice booming. “Young man, be objective, watch your words! Who told you he’s a Command Class B?”
His tone was gruff and openly threatening. Jiang Linxia could almost feel the spit spraying from across the distance. He shut his eyes and fell silent, trembling.
What was with today? Was he just professionally stepping on landmines?
The lives of these middle-aged folks were truly too complicated.
Yan Shen was still intently watching the video. Seeing the battle progress fast-forward to the moments just before Jiang Linxia’s demise, he nudged his buddy with his arm, signaling him to pay attention to the replay.
This assembly phase, regardless of whose perspective you used, looked chaotic.
The technician directly pulled up the large map, using yellow stars to represent Cheng Feng’s teammates, white dots for the remaining examinees, and then a bright red dot to signify Cheng Feng herself.
Xiang Yunjian and the other two were depicted as moving targets, like hot potatoes.
Jiang Linxia felt that just from the choice of icons, you could tell these guys had something wrong with them.
They were biased.
He vigorously rubbed his face and focused his attention on the video.
The red dot moved with sharp decisiveness, charging straight for the city center.
A cluster of yellow dots followed behind her, heeding her commands as they halted at various intersections.
Judging by the shifts on the map, Cheng Feng wasn’t aiming for a dense formation. Instead, she maintained a certain distance, strategically positioning the remaining candidates still on the field like scattered stars across the board.
First, the twelve members of her own team secured the northeastern sector of the abandoned town.
Then, the solitary red dot, with unstoppable momentum, accelerated toward the southwest. After turning all six white balls in the target zone yellow, she led them like a hen guiding her chicks, personally directing them to reinforce the defensive line step by step.
Jiang Linxia was quite familiar with the southwestern part of the map – his squad had patrolled back and forth through that area two or three times after the battle began.
Overlaying the miniature map with the intersections he remembered, he realized that every position Cheng Feng had assigned was carefully considered, not simply distributed based on distance.
Those spots were either nestled within complex clusters of buildings perfect for concealment, positioned along open routes ideal for a quick escape, or situated with a clear line of sight for effective attacks.
A few of them were places where they had set up ambushes themselves.
A sudden chill ran down Jiang Linxia’s spine – it felt as though they were being watched.
They had all seriously underestimated this scrawny little runt.
To be able to deploy personnel so precisely, comprehensively, and swiftly, while still giving them room to operate freely – that wasn’t something achievable simply by “knowing the map well.” What was even more impressive was her information processing and analytical ability.
After all, out of the hundred candidates participating in this test, more than half didn’t even know how to choose a proper ambush point, let alone coordinate large-scale deployments.
Jiang Linxia’s expression grew increasingly serious. With one arm crossed over his chest, he unconsciously rubbed his chin with the other hand, his eyes scanning the map as he studied the connections between the yellow stars, contemplating how those trapped within the encirclement could possibly break out.
Soon, accompanied by the resounding count-off over the channel, the advancing red dot gathered all the scattered forces that had been drifting aimlessly all morning, encircling the central zone occupied by the three big marks.
As the responses grew louder and more vigorous, the team member numbers – starting from the initial “12” – gradually expanded to “20,” “34,” “42”… All the white dots had turned into stars, scattered across the city, creating a surprisingly stirring scene. All it needed was a background music track.
At this point, everyone knew the battle was essentially decided. What remained was just performance time.
The next second, the map view was replaced by footage from Cheng Feng’s perspective.
After Jiang Linxia was eliminated, Cheng Feng had climbed to a high vantage point and assumed command.
Looking down from above, her cold, detached tone stood in stark contrast to the others’ rising excitement.
“Team Two, are you ready?”
Several eager voices quickly responded: “Number 5, ready!”
“Numbers 16 and 19, ready too!”
“Number 12, in position.”
“…”
The camera shifted slightly, panning across the area within her line of sight.
Then Jiang Linxia heard Cheng Feng snap her fingers smugly.
…Robots can’t snap their fingers. He’d definitely mock her for that once she came out.
“Navigation initiated. Follow my command,” Cheng Feng said. “Bait Number 5, prepare to move. Take the second right at the intersection, then scale the wall. Number 7, stand by for support.”
The moment she finished speaking, a young man dashed toward the corner she was watching, raising his gun for a blind sweep before retreating as the dust rose.
Xiang Yunjian burst out from behind the high wall, fiercely chasing after the young man.
The view switched again – now to Xiang Yunjian’s perspective.
The scenery on both sides blurred past with slight jolts. Just as he was about to catch his target, a sudden shot came from nearby, forcing him to change direction.
Cheng Feng said, “Good. Bait Number 7 has drawn the target and is heading toward Number 13’s position. Snipers, aim carefully – one hundred meters left.”
This scene felt familiar. Jiang Linxia had just experienced something similar not long ago.
What followed was like a nightmare replaying. The scattered candidates, now mobilized by Xiang Yunjian’s movements, began a relentless guerrilla-style harassment.
Though they were strangers to one another, Cheng Feng’s concise commands wove them into seamless coordination. It was like an exhilarating game of cat and mouse.
Xiang Yunjian and Xin Kuang were like two lambs surrounded by wolves, stumbling and struggling desperately, yet unable to escape their fate as prey.
Jiang Linxia couldn’t bear to watch any longer and shook his head.
The instructor was equally irritated. “Tch.”
As it turned out, even the instructor’s estimated half-hour had been generous.
In less than twenty minutes, the screen erupted with jubilant cheers, overlapping with the shouts from deep within the city.
The last two members of the UFU team had also bitten the dust. The live combat drill was officially over.
Jiang Linxia climbed onto a rock to get a better view, watching as Xiang Yunjian strode back with his gun slung over his shoulder. Behind him trailed two figures – one tall, one short – followed by a massive procession of dozens of candidates.
The group of examinees seemed to want to follow Cheng Feng but found the two UFU students too intimidating to approach.
Halfway there, unable to bear the suppressed murmurs from the crowd behind her, Cheng Feng stopped and turned to talk to them.
Xiang Yunjian walked straight over and took the optical computer Jiang Linxia handed him.
The instructor barked sternly, “What do you think of your performance today?”
Jiang Linxia’s ears perked up. He pressed his lips together, waiting for the instructor to unleash a storm of criticism on Xiang Yunjian as well.
Xiang Yunjian replied calmly, “Not bad.”
“Not bad?!” the instructor’s voice cracked. “Are you kidding me?! Tell me, how many mistakes did you make today?!”
Xiang Yunjian said, “If I were on the opposing side, my performance today would be disqualifying. But if I were acting as an examiner – setting aside competitiveness and giving them a chance to shine – then considering the outcome, it was indeed decent.”
The instructor’s anger subsided. After a moment of thought, he let out a subdued “Hmph” in acknowledgment.
What do you mean, ‘Hmph’?
Jiang Linxia looked up. “That’s it?”
The instructor sneered, “Ha. When it comes to you, I still have plenty to say.”
Jiang Linxia quickly declined. “…No need.”
He turned his head and overheard a group of people shouting in the distance:
“Boss!”
“Thanks for the boost, boss! You’re awesome!”
“Boss, you may be short, but in my heart, you’re six feet tall!”
“Get lost! Six feet? In your heart, the boss isn’t even taller than you? Can’t you aim higher?!”
“The way you’re talking, I suspect you’re deliberately mocking our boss!”
The star of the show didn’t seem too thrilled with the adulation. She waved her hand, shooing them away.
The group of young men laughed, arms slung over each other’s shoulders, playfully shoving one another. Only after Cheng Feng repeatedly urged them did they finally, reluctantly, head off to return their equipment.
Jiang Linxia had to admit he was feeling a little jealous.
Cheng Feng quietly walked over and stopped about a meter away from the three of them, stuffing her hands into her pockets and staring blankly in their direction. She showed none of the excitement of a victor.
Away from her role as commander, she seemed to revert to that robot who barely spoke more than necessary.
Xiang Yunjian turned to her proactively and asked, “Was it fun?”
Cheng Feng gave a subtle nod.
The corner of Xiang Yunjian’s mouth lifted. “This is a human game.”
Cheng Feng turned her face away, using her sleeve to wipe the sweat from her forehead.
“Cheng Feng? You’re back!” The instructor’s face changed at an alarming speed, switching between gentle and irritable in an instant. “Turn up the volume! Hand it over to me!”
This guy was going to develop a split personality sooner or later.
Jiang Linxia grumbled inwardly but still handed over the optical computer.
“Student Cheng Feng, great work out there. You performed excellently. The United Federation University warmly welcomes students like you!” The instructor’s voice gave them all goosebumps. “I’ve heard about your situation from the other students. We’ll figure out a solution together.”
Cheng Feng stared fixedly at the person on the screen for a moment, then shifted her gaze slightly to the side.
The instructor turned his head and realized the manual mech instructor had somehow crept up beside him, almost pressed against him, staring intently at the screen with bright, gleaming eyes.
…His smile completely lacked the professional composure expected from an admissions officer.
“Don’t call the police,” the instructor quickly explained. “He’s actually a good guy.”
