Top Warzone Analyst Chapter 50

The next day was the weekend. Around eight in the evening, San Yao finally released the full-length training exercise videos amid widespread anticipation.

Two versions were made available.

One consisted of individual exercise records from each major military university. The other was a edited compilation arranged in chronological order.

In the preview, the four participating academies appeared fairly evenly matched. In fact, the other three universities seemed even more exhilarating due to their more dramatic experiences. The preview included many of their bold declarations, and the carefully crafted displays of bravado were very much in the style of our military.

Armed with snacks and fruit, netizens clicked the play button on this dark and windy night. Just as they were thoroughly enjoying the video, they realized something wasn’t quite right.

The opening stages were pretty similar for everyone, as they all rushed straight to the hospital to look for clues. After intense firefights, they reached their destination and, utterly bewildered, collectively embarked on the second round.

When the “invalid” prompt appeared, netizens were even more confused than the players themselves.

If you’re going to design a puzzle game, shouldn’t you at least give some hints? There’s not even a single clue to go on – who do you think you’re dealing with?

Viewers dragged the progress bar and saw that they hadn’t even covered one-fifth of the total gameplay time, which immediately put them at ease.

The night was still young.

Hopefully not the kind of long that drags on forever.

As the second round began, a noticeable gap emerged between the commanders of the different teams.

Cheng Feng, as if she had the script in hand, directly led her team into the next phase. The other universities, however, continued to linger in the hospital, trying to extract clues about the next stage from the patients.

From this point on, UFU diligently focused on leveling up, quietly minding their own business, seemingly oblivious to the outside world. The greatest achievement of the other teams seemed to be their relentless collection of red flags.

When the senior from UMU sincerely praised, “Not bad, junior! To think of getting the ambulance route map – those others are probably still running around in circles like headless flies in there!”, Cheng Feng and her team were making a daring escape through the elevator shaft leading to the underground level of the research institute.

When the senior from First Military University encouraged his teammates, “Everyone’s done a great job. We definitely have a leading advantage. Be patient – the entire research institute is only so big, where else could the clues be hiding? There might be some hidden compartments or something. Keep searching.”, Cheng Feng and her team had just survived a surprise attack by an NPC and were sitting on the ground, regrouping.

When the seniors from Second Military University were offering earnest guidance, “The combat effectiveness of these NPCs is significantly stronger than what we’ve encountered before; we all let our guard down. This time, let’s move as a group. Treat it like exploring uncharted territory. First, let’s see how much useful information we can uncover, and then we’ll formulate our next strategy. Don’t worry too much about the others – there’s no way they’re doing any better than us,” Cheng Feng and her team had already completed the rescue of the patients and begun their evacuation.

While the three military universities, with grim faces, were discussing how to preserve their manpower and break through this seemingly hopeless situation, Cheng Feng and her team were already standing in an empty street, holding their national flag, posing for photos.

Netizens watched with a surreal feeling, as if they were watching a spoiler reel one moment, and a cringeworthy imitation show by their hapless “sons” the next. Every shot was imbued with three parts tragedy and seven parts comedy.

In the latter half of the progress bar, UFU was nowhere to be seen. Only the three remaining military universities remained, a sight often described as “noobs fighting each other.”

Seeing this, the viewers’ enjoyment was no longer about watching them clear the game; it was purely about seeing just how badly those three academies could fail.

No wonder the Screaming Chicken combo – First Military and Second Military – had been so quiet this time. Even the students from UMU had stopped their snide remarks online. It seemed they actually possessed some self-awareness after all.

“It’s been proven: don’t throw shade carelessly, you can’t handle the consequences.”

“It’s been proven: UFU’s four consecutive championship wins in the freshman competition are well-deserved!”

“If San Yao had installed a camera in the dormitories of those participating students, I think the content might be even more exciting than the exercise footage [Evil Grin].”

“What’s so exciting about it? Isn’t it just them huddled in their blankets, shivering, and regretting being born into this world? Actually, it’ll be over quickly – the sophomores have less than three years until graduation [Doge].”

The main feature tonight was something only the students of UFU could truly enjoy. However, Cheng Feng didn’t watch it.

Compared to the anticipation of watching the edited footage, the full-length feature was just too long. Cheng Feng had already replayed the events in her mind countless times; there was no need to repeat it meaninglessly again.

But even if she didn’t watch, a bunch of people still flooded her email with text explanations and video screenshots, telling her the real continuation of this scenario’s story.

After the UFU team successfully completed the challenge, San Yao displayed the future outcome of the story on the top of the screen, hoping to help netizens understand the true cost behind this seemingly simple rescue mission involving only twelve participants.

Back then, the number of enemy forces during the siege was far greater than what they had experienced in the side quest. In the end, one soldier was severely injured and forced to retire, while two others had to retire early due to severe aftereffects of the virus.

All citizens in the city were placed under quarantine, and personnel were mobilized to provide centralized care.

The Alliance spared no expense, investing funds to gather the most elite experts to develop a vaccine. After more than a month of relentless, round-the-clock effort, the vaccine was urgently approved and put into use.

The rescue target, that young boy, after a period of psychological intervention, officially returned to school the following year. Now, he has already started his professional career.

After reading it, Cheng Feng closed the window, unable to tell if she felt a sense of poignancy or relief, or perhaps a mixture of both.

This feeling was too complex; her current knowledge base couldn’t quite decipher it.

There are no second chances in reality. A soldier’s duty does not allow for mistakes.

But if one’s motherland is strong, the people’s support never relies on just a single line of defense.

Cheng Feng logged off from social media, went onto the university’s online platform, and watched recordings of two classes to supplement the basics she hadn’t covered before.

Her little owl, for some unknown software glitch, was perched on the bedside table, turning its head left and right all evening.

By the time Cheng Feng was ready to sleep, it was still twitching, and had even started flashing its eyes directly at her.

Unable to stand it any longer, Cheng Feng picked it up, patted it, and shook it, but still couldn’t fix it.

Even this mystical and usually effective repair method didn’t work; it seemed the problem was serious.

Cheng Feng solemnly took a video of it and posted it online.

Ye Guicheng: [Video] It doesn’t look too smart, what should I do?

Netizens were using her comment section as a forum to discuss the training with fellow enthusiasts. Within ten seconds, someone provided a solution.

“It’s frozen or out of battery, just restart it or charge it, silly! But is this robot of yours mute? Why isn’t it giving any voice prompts?”

Cheng Feng quickly found its charging cable and plugged it in, and sure enough, it returned to normal.

She breathed a sigh of relief, thinking to herself that this must be the stubbornness of a combat robot, after all, it used to handle this kind of “asking for food” behavior all by itself before.

Having fixed the little owl, Cheng Feng lay comfortably in bed and scrolled through the comments once more.

“Wow, it looks so cute, I want to buy one too!”

Ye Guicheng replied: Is it very expensive?

“It’s pretty expensive. Was this a present from UFU?”

Ye Guicheng replied: Xiang Yunjian and the others crowdfunded it for me.

Netizens were instantly shocked, directly pushing this comment to the top as the hottest reply.

“Who did you say? You mean that lunatic Xiang Yunjian and his team?”

“Straight guys do have feelings, straight guys do have true love! Friends, times are changing!”

“Unbelievable, a straight guy actually learned how to be a decent human being? I think there’s definitely a conspiracy behind this!”

“Is this the kind of crowdfunding where you held a gun to their heads?”

“I vaguely remember last time a certain straight guy told a teammate who asked for a gift, ‘I’ll burn it for you, would paper ones do?’ [Smile].”

Seeing the topic drift further and further off, Cheng Feng skipped that one and looked at the comments below.

“Master, tell me, how do I top up? I also want to be a San Yao VIP customer.”

“Did you accidentally stumble upon the level up method that San Yao hasn’t publicly revealed for years? I knew it, this is the secret martial arts manual for getting rich in modern times!”

Ye Guicheng replied: That’s not true at all.

“Hey girl, I’m single, 172 cm tall, can be soft or tough, no strings attached. What do you think, do I stand a chance?”

Ye Guicheng replied: Probably? I’m only 165 cm, and UFU shouldn’t have a height requirement. But if you’re a guy, I wouldn’t really recommend it. Standing with them, you wouldn’t be able to breathe fresh air.

“UFU guys have bad breath, according to Cheng Feng. Noted.”

“There’s no way you’re 165 cm, unless you’re wearing elevator shoes.”

“Inside info, confirmed by a UFU instructor himself: Cheng Feng is only 160 cm.”

Cheng Feng angrily deleted their comments.

This was complete slander! And right in front of the person involved, so brazen!

“Baby, why do you have two names?”

Ye Guicheng replied: Everyone probably does. It’s just that my nickname sounds better, so I keep using it. Unlike you guys, with names like Big Treasure, Dog Leftover, or Good Little Calf. I feel sorry for you.

“??”

“Stay away from those idiots, I’m begging you.”

Cheng Feng also thought they were pretty foolish.

“I heard there’s going to be a comprehensive new version of the manual operations technical revision in November. What do you think about it?”

“Pretty girl, reply to me – are you mainly pursuing the command route? Are you going to participate in the manual operations technical revision?”

Cheng Feng didn’t quite understand and had initially scrolled past it, but then noticed several people mentioning the term “technical revision.” So she went online to look up what it was all about.

Compared to sensory mechs, the advantages and disadvantages of manual mechs were particularly pronounced. The most impressive feature of manual mechs – their flexibility and adaptability – was the core of mech operation.

With the Alliance’s mecha technology innovating, significant changes could occur in the mech structure, including substantial updates to the weaponry arsenal, requiring corresponding modifications to some code segments.

Although the mech data provided by San Yao was far inferior to the actual performance of the Alliance’s front-line mechs, in order to screen for truly qualified students, they would implement structural innovations to a certain extent based on data provided by the Alliance military, selecting students who could adapt quickly.

Every time a technical revision came around, it was a life-or-death juncture for students in the manual operations department.

It wasn’t so bad for freshmen, as their skills weren’t yet proficient; at worst, they could just start over from scratch.

But for upperclassmen, who had to reverse the code input that had been practically ingrained in their instincts, it became extremely difficult. Every time, a number of students would have to switch majors as a result.

Hence, the manual operations major was jokingly referred to as UFU’s “high-risk major.”

However, technical revisions weren’t frequent. They generally occurred every five to ten years, or even longer.

The scope of the last technical revision hadn’t been large, involving only a few turns and transformations. Cheng Feng had already noticed it, and with a little extra attention, she could barely manage to avoid issues.

But this upcoming technical revision, according to rumors circulating online, didn’t look optimistic. From the mech model to the weaponry arsenal, defense to attack power, it was being upgraded across the board.

Someone suspected to be from an insider leaked information, advising freshmen that the sea of suffering had no shore, and it was time to turn back.

Having randomly learned some very negative information, Cheng Feng dejectedly turned off her optical computer and decided to go to sleep.