Wusu is a highly versatile mech. Capable of both ranged and close combat, it excels in defense and sniping alike. It doesn’t have any particularly outstanding strengths, but neither does it have any glaring weaknesses. It’s widely known as an all-round filler mech.
Whether it’s just Cheng Feng’s misfortune or not, Wusu is widely regarded as the bane of manual-operated mechs. Its very versatility allows it to perfectly counter the various variations of manual mechs.
Moreover, Zhong Yijie is a relatively well-known student among Wusu pilots.
During the waiting period, Jiang Linxia mulled it over several times, then looked up and exclaimed in disbelief, “My daughter’s this amazing? Even the instructors are still struggling, and she overcame the modification in just four days?”
Xiang Yunjian put himself in Cheng Feng’s shoes and felt that probably wasn’t the case.
If she were truly confident, that headstrong rookie would have charged in headfirst without hesitation. There’s no way she’d patiently wait for four days.
“Impossible,” Yan Shen also said. “She’s not afraid of losing.”
Disliking it but not fearing it, Cheng Feng pursued every means to make herself stronger.
As they spoke, the map finished loading.
In a one-on-one duel on an ordinary urban map, there were no NPCs to interfere. The map boundaries were also quite narrow.
Towering buildings stood among spacious, intersecting streets. The city was empty, and the two mechs spawned simultaneously in one corner of the map.
Zhong Yijie made the first move, activating his thrusters, powering up his sensors, and gliding swiftly through the streets.
Cheng Feng had an innocent appearance but fought with fierce aggression. Without much hesitation, she transformed her mech’s configuration while charging toward her opponent.
The sound of mechs gliding through the silent urban area was easily detected. The two sides converged at the northeast corner of the map.
Nearby, there was a landscaped park with fewer high-rise buildings and more lush, leafy street trees.
This terrain was somewhat disadvantageous for a manual-operated mech, as it couldn’t fully leverage its advantage in dodging obstacles. Cheng Feng chose to act cautiously, turning back toward the main city center. Wusu responded with direct artillery bombardment, and the two sides began a chase along an eight-lane road.
As they rounded a corner and were about to enter a dense cluster of buildings, Wusu intensified its firepower, firing one shot ahead of Cheng Feng and another at the building beside her.
Amid the explosions, the high-rise’s glass shattered completely, yellow dust filled the air, and chunks of rock of varying sizes fell from the thick, vision-obscuring haze. Cracks appeared on the other side of the building, which was on the verge of collapsing and blocking Cheng Feng’s path.
The manual-operated mech immediately tilted its center of gravity left, adjusting its course using the momentum of the turn.
This was a common cornering maneuver, and with the boost function, it could seamlessly switch to a quadruped climbing configuration while also deploying a collision shield.
However, from the spectator’s perspective, the manual-operated mech, while carrying the scattered debris, lifted the weapon bay on its right side for a moment, stuttered, then lowered it back down.
The motion was very quick and somewhat subtle – many viewers didn’t even notice it. But everyone watching from Cheng Feng’s perspective heard a crisp, audible “tsk,” sensing her frustration across space and time.
Due to this minor mistake, the manual-operated mech had to slow down and reconfigure. It hugged the side of the soon-to-collapse building, climbing over the falling rubble.
The distance it had managed to create was now closed by Wusu.
Zhong Yijie was best known for his attack speed. He was a quintessential “one-wave” player – prioritizing rhythm over precision.
The moment Cheng Feng appeared within accurate attack range, Wusu fully opened all four weapon bays on its left and right. Rows of neatly arranged firearms emerged from the mech’s back, glowing red as they fired simultaneously.
The barrage was more intense than a summer downpour, the shots nearly merging into a single elongated blur. The building shattered by the bombardment was like intermittent thunder, occasionally dropping surprises from above.
Cheng Feng had no choice but to pause her configuration switching, making a sharp turn and pushing her power to maximum.
The metallic frame scraped against the road with a piercing screech, leaving a white trail in its wake. Cheng Feng squinted, the muscles around her lips tense, narrowly evading the incoming attack.
Due to the excessive turn speed, her mech nearly collided head-on with the adjacent high-rise. With her knuckles protruding, Cheng Feng executed two high-precision code commands and successfully corrected her course.
The two sides faced off, jockeying for position.
In this kind of direct firefight – where any mistake could spell doom – the physical limits of human fingers seemed to put her at a distinct disadvantage.
Cheng Feng didn’t dare to be reckless. In her efforts to evade, she couldn’t even spare a moment to open her own weapon bays.
As the distance between them gradually closed, Wusu’s gun barrels slowed their firing rate due to overheating. Zhong Yijie switched his loadout and brought out a pursuit cannon.
Seizing the gap, Cheng Feng raised her mech’s center of gravity, activated her weapon bays, and steered toward the wall.
At this critical moment, the audience once again heard Cheng Feng click her tongue in frustration.
“Tsk.”
Even without seeing her in person, everyone could imagine how she must be feeling -like she wanted to smash her keyboard with her fingers.
The manual-operated mech’s transformation had once again stuttered. By the time she quickly corrected it, there was no time left to mount a counterattack or disruption, and her path forward had already been blocked by Wusu.
Mr. Kong, who had been clutching his heart in suspense, finally let it settle back down. The online viewers also realized that the impact of this tech revision was indeed immense – especially in the most critical moments when instinct was put to the test.
Cheng Feng’s fingers had temporarily parted ways with her brain, unable to keep up with the speed of her thoughts. Her instincts in those initial moments of error – and her pace of correction – showed that her combat awareness was already relatively mature.
She was strong, but she just wasn’t strong enough yet.
Cheng Feng retreated quickly, somewhat clumsily tossing a mine with little effect as she hugged the wall and fled toward another street.
Wusu followed relentlessly, refusing to give an inch.
The map she had chosen herself now felt suffocating, its winding roads and towering buildings pressing in on her. For a manual-operated mech pilot, a prolonged engagement was the most dangerous situation.
Amid the rapid-fire code inputs, Wusu maintained a relentless, full-speed offensive. Its aggressive tactics pinned Cheng Feng down, denying her any chance to adjust.
His intent was clear – and deadly. If this situation lasted just five minutes… at most ten, he would win without breaking a sweat.
No one’s fingers could withstand that kind of sustained output.
After one final attempt at a counterattack – only for the input to fail due to a twitch in her middle finger – Cheng Feng truly felt that her fingers were already too strained.
She wasn’t about to sacrifice her career for a test drive. She actively slowed her pace, and seconds later, she was defeated in a blaze of blinding light.
Smoke billowed, dust still churned, but the world had suddenly fallen silent.
The comment section reached its peak frenzy as the match concluded. A flood of opinions poured in, all of them highly subjective, with no one bothering to engage in actual conversation.
“Gotta say this was a one-sided victory, no one’s gonna argue with that, right?”
“There were a few god-tier moves, but honestly, more like ‘god-awful’ moves. She visibly stuttered four times, and when dodging, she was using the most basic code. What’s going on?”
“That one move in the middle – was she seriously doing stretching exercises? Had me so confused.”
“This is what the so-called manual mech god is capable of? This is the test drive result we waited four days for? Are you guys at UFU for real?”
“This is hilarious. Could any regular person even spot those mistakes? If Cheng Feng hadn’t made that sound, nobody would’ve even noticed. And these people are acting like they know everything.”
“Zhong Yijie is indeed impressive. After all, he’s a third-year university student. Maybe next time, don’t set the bar so high.”
Cheng Feng withdrew her hands and carefully massaged the aching spots on her fingers, leaning back in the cockpit in silence for a long while.
Zhong Yijie approached and looked at the scattered wreckage of the manual-operated mech. The adrenaline gradually faded, replaced by a belated twinge of reluctance.
With his buddies, the best consolation at a time like this was usually another round. But he couldn’t do that with Cheng Feng – he was afraid of getting hit.
“Uh… ahem!” Zhong Yijie searched for the right words and asked, “Was that helpful to you?”
“Yes,” Cheng Feng replied. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” Zhong Yijie said. “I’m actually pretty good, you might not realize that. Uh… not that I’m saying you’re not good, but maybe next time you could find someone… um…”
Zhong Yijie’s usual straightforwardness was making a rare attempt at tact, to the point where every word felt wrong. Because on the refreshed comment section, netizens were pointing out that Cheng Feng’s face was growing darker by the second.
“Alright,” Zhong Yijie said. “I’ll shut up.”
Cheng Feng hummed in acknowledgment. Since her fingers weren’t in shape to continue training, she logged off directly.
When the computer lab attendant saw her stand up, he promptly rose as well, clasping his hands in front of him with a look that seemed quite meek.
Cheng Feng was taken aback by his gesture. She nodded at him, indicating that she was heading to the infirmary.
“Go ahead,” the attendant said with a face full of kindly affection, repeating the same words. “Get some good rest.”
After a moment’s thought, he added another line: “Don’t overthink it.” The remark came across as rather conspicuously trying too hard.
…
The infirmary was fairly empty during class hours. Two students were in the back cubicle applying medicine for muscle strains. After Cheng Feng entered, she found a chair to sit in on her own and pulled out her optical computer, ready to unlock it.
Before she could open the forum, Dr. Lin emerged at the sound of her arrival, snatched the light computer from her hands, and tossed it onto a nearby table.
Cheng Feng looked up at his face – not exactly sour, but certainly far from friendly. After a moment’s hesitation, she curved her lips into an ingratiating smile.
Dr. Lin was amused by her expression. He let out a low “heh,” pulled a chair over, sat down across from her, and gestured for her to extend her hand.
He pressed a few spots on her hand, found the issue to be minor, took a tube of ointment from the cabinet, applied it, and massaged it in.
Cheng Feng felt quite fond of him – after all, he had gifted her the optical computer, the wig, and the clothes. He was her personal benefactor.
And his massage technique was very comfortable, too.
Perhaps her gaze was too intense, because Dr. Lin took the initiative to ask, “Had a match?”
Cheng Feng watched his profile and nodded.
“Not bad,” Dr. Lin said. “I watched it too.”
He was about to tell her about how students typically performed after past modifications when Cheng Feng abruptly asked, “Does the massage cost money?”
“Of course,” Dr. Lin paused, then tilted his head to glance at her. “You know how much I make? Want to extend the session? I can give you a discount, barely.”
Cheng Feng gave him a pitiful look. “I have no money.”
Dr. Lin asked, “What about your stipend? Your prize money? Your account balance right now is definitely over five figures!”
Cheng Feng showed no embarrassment at being called out, only said sheepishly, “They all have their own destinies. They’d be unhappy if I gave them to you.”
Dr. Lin let out a laugh of exasperation.
Do you have any shame at all?
Cheng Feng winced. “How about twenty?”
In the end, Cheng Feng paid 120 to buy the ointment and didn’t get to extend her session. She was chased out of the infirmary by an annoyed Dr. Lin.
So much for human kindness. This world placed way too much value on a few stinking bucks.
Cheng Feng tucked the ointment into her pocket and was about to head back when the optical computer in her pocket kept buzzing. She had no choice but to take it out and look.
It was Song Zheng.
Had she really not blocked him?
Now that she had time, Cheng Feng casually accepted the call.
After a few breaths, Song Zheng audibly gasped in surprise.
Lowering his voice, he asked mysteriously, “Are you okay?”
Cheng Feng was baffled. “What are you referring to? My fingers are fine.”
Song Zheng said, “I mean, you’re not upset, are you?”
Cheng Feng felt that happiness or unhappiness were relatively special emotions – most of the time, she didn’t really have any particular mood. Even when she did, it was never a big deal.
“No,” Cheng Feng said. “Are you speaking in code?”
Song Zheng quickly replied, “No, no. It’s good that you’re not upset. Our teacher just analyzed it for us and said you actually did really well. It’s just that the new code isn’t familiar yet, but your timing was accurate. It’s not as bad as what people are saying online…”
Cheng Feng agreed with a comment. “It was okay.” It’s just that her fingers let her down.
Cheng Feng was reluctantly ushered into a phase of reflection while on the way.
Originally, she had wanted to wait until she got back to the dorm to slowly process this feeling, but her thoughts were stirred up by Song Zheng, and she couldn’t help drifting back to the match.
Song Zheng, not hearing a response from her and afraid of annoying her, hung up on his own initiative.
Within two minutes, Cheng Feng’s optical computer rang again.
This time, it was the senior she had participated in the new dungeon exercise with last time, Zheng Yi.
She hadn’t blocked him either?!
Cheng Feng thought to herself that maybe she had been too harsh on Mr. Kong, leaving him in the blacklist for so long.
Once the call connected, the first question out of Zheng Yi’s mouth was just as soulful. “Are you okay?”
“Send me money,” Cheng Feng said. “The more you send, the better.”
Zheng Yi struggled for a few seconds before spitting out a crisp word, “Scram!”
Cheng Feng snorted. What an unfriendly person.
Zheng Yi composed himself and added, “If you need someone to practice with, you can ask me.”
Cheng Feng asked, “What’s your score?”
“Huh?” Zheng Yi said. “Around fifty or sixty thousand, I guess.”
Cheng Feng asked again, “Have you ever played in the league finals?”
“I’m only a sophomore!” Zheng Yi caught the implication in her words and exclaimed sharply, “I haven’t had the chance! And the league finals aren’t that easy to get into!”
Cheng Feng replied calmly, “Oh…”
The sentiment behind that drawn-out syllable was far too cutting. Zheng Yi couldn’t take such injustice and hung up in anger.
Damn, nothing worse than a sudden burst of concern. He was just asking for trouble!
Cheng Feng, afraid that more people would awkwardly come to console her, bent over her optical computer to draft a post, hoping to nip everyone’s intentions in the bud.
She had written halfway when someone tapped her on the shoulder.
Cheng Feng flinched, turned around, and saw Xiang Yunjian and the others.
“Grab a bite?” Jiang Linxia stood behind her, thumb pointing toward the cafeteria, his face beaming with a radiant smile. “Our finance’s treating.”
Xin Kuang gave him a kick but didn’t refuse – he simply turned around and said, “Let’s go.”
Cheng Feng quickly put away her optical computer.
These were her true brothers, no doubt about it!
…
The five of them sat on the third floor of the cafeteria, claiming a large table in the corner as dishes of small plates arrived one after another.
This was the most popular cafeteria, known for its fresh ingredients and its highest prices.
Xiang Yunjian stacked Cheng Feng’s empty plates onto the side table for the cleaning robot to collect. Glancing at the total displayed, he got the feeling this kid was about to eat herself to bursting.
What she probably found most satisfying wasn’t the food – it was the money.
Jiang Linxia was half-sprawled across the dining table, propping his chin on his hand, looking deeply concerned. “You sure can eat… Most girls don’t eat as much as you.”
Cheng Feng raised her hand and wiped her mouth with an assertive sweep of her inner wrist. “Well,” she said, “they probably can’t fight as well as I can!”
Jiang Linxia pulled a tissue from his bag, pressed it into her hand, and said in exasperation, “They also don’t wipe their mouths like that! Babe, have some consideration for your image. Do you know how many people are in this cafeteria? You’re in public, for goodness’ sake.”
Cheng Feng didn’t take it seriously, thinking he was making a big deal out of nothing.
What kind of image did a top-tier fighter need to worry about? That was for underlings.
With a full stomach, a person’s thinking naturally slowed down.
Cheng Feng took a sip of water and sat back, beginning to reflect on the match she’d had earlier.
She suddenly grew quiet, her gaze unfocused. The other four chatted about other topics for a while, then snapped their fingers near her ear.
Yan Shen asked, “What are you thinking about so intently? Figured it out?”
Cheng Feng tilted her head slightly.
“Mhm… with the new rails and various structural details, there are 263 new code combinations. 63 of them overlap with the old codes. 24 of those are commonly used. But based on data testing, the operational speed for the same commands has increased by at least 10%. Judging from today’s situation, the impact shield’s resistance to standard ammunition has also improved somewhat.” Cheng Feng’s voice was soft. She licked the remnants of sugar from her lips and concluded, “It’s solid. It really has become stronger.”
As she said this without a trace of expression, there was a fierce ambition gleaming in her eyes.
Jiang Linxia, as if on purpose, asked with a grin, “You’re not upset about losing?”
Losing didn’t make her sad, but it sure felt awful.
Cheng Feng truly, deeply hated losing.
She said, “So I lost. What’s the big deal.”
Jiang Linxia looked at her brows, which were practically knit into a knot, and laughed heartlessly. “That’s the most stubborn thing I’ve ever heard!”
Xin Kuang, though quiet, was the kindest of the group. He offered comfort, “It’s okay. We’ll win next time.”
Cheng Feng nodded.
Jiang Linxia fished around in his pocket and pulled out a piece of candy for her.
Cheng Feng unwrapped it and was enjoying the post-meal sweetness when a young man approached her hesitantly and called her name.
“Cheng Feng?”
The voice sounded familiar. Cheng Feng studied his face carefully, trying to place him, but couldn’t remember who he was.
By all logic, if this person had appeared before, her impression of him should have been quite vivid.
It might not be the usual way to describe a guy, but his features were truly fair and refined, with soft contours. His face had a sharp, defined structure, yet it did nothing to diminish his delicate, handsome appearance.
“Zhong Yijie,” Xiang Yunjian reminded her. “The one you fought today.”
Cheng Feng’s expression cleared. “So that’s what you look like.”
Zhong Yijie offered a friendly smile and, following the lead of her remark, opened with a conventional compliment. “You look really cute.”
Cheng Feng wasn’t particularly pleased.
She had a face no bigger than a palm, not particularly fair-skinned, but her eyes were bright and distinct. Compared to her sharp, aggressive combat style, “cute” was indeed an apt description.
Jiang Linxia, ever the instigator, couldn’t suppress his villainous streak and immediately began stirring trouble right in front of the person in question.
“Feng, he’s calling you a pretty face – nice to look at, but can’t fight. That’s so harsh.”
Cheng Feng, with her candy still in her mouth, turned noticeably colder. The way she looked at Zhong Yijie was like she was sizing up a corpse. After she’d committed his features to memory, she gave him the greatest respect a rival could offer – a dismissive shift of her gaze.
“??” Zhong Yijie’s eyes went wide. “When did I ever say that? What are you even doing? Hey, don’t believe them!”
Jiang Linxia stirred the pot. “Get him! You know what? He’s the one who snatched our league spot too. Totally out of line!”
Cheng Feng nodded. “He’s already dead.”
Jiang Linxia was very pleased. He patted Cheng Feng’s head, visibly moved. “Raise a kid for a thousand days, and one day–”
“Raise? What have you raised? You’re basically a kidnapper,” Xiang Yunjian cut in. “All you do is play games with her.”
He tugged lightly at the back of Cheng Feng’s collar and said in a serious tone, “Eating too much candy will make you gain weight. Don’t think you can binge just because you’re young.”
“What are you doing!” Jiang Linxia immediately reached out to shield Cheng Feng, scolding him. “Is this how you act as a father figure? Just because you’ve got a bit of money, you think you’re something? What’s wrong with her wanting candy? Isn’t she deserving? She’s obviously so skinny!”
Xiang Yunjian: “…”
This guy was truly born in the wrong era. In ancient times, even a harem of three thousand beauties wouldn’t be enough to fully utilize his talents.
Zhong Yijie fumed, “Unbelievable! You guys are something else!”
Jiang Linxia turned a bit more serious, dropping the playful act. He said with a light laugh, “So why are you here anyway? Came to make friends with our precious?”
Zhong Yijie’s tone grew evasive. “I was just looking around.”
“Don’t worry, she doesn’t hold grudges. She’s also mentally tough. We were just messing with you,” Jiang Linxia said, waving his hand. “You should head back and finish your meal.”
When Cheng Feng fixed her attention on someone, her pure gaze easily gave them the illusion of innocence. Zhong Yijie felt a twinge of guilt under her stare. After taking a couple of steps, he turned back and encouraged her, “Don’t worry about what people online are saying. I think you’re really strong!”
From the perspective of an opponent, he could better understand where they each stood.
He had noticed all of Cheng Feng’s small mistakes. He had to admit – if her code inputs had been correct, the match would have become incredibly tricky long ago.
There were moments when he was so tense his spine tingled, and aside from attacking, his mind could barely function.
His instructors had always described his fighting style as relentless and reckless – like a moth darting into a flame, never considering what might happen five steps ahead.
Zhong Yijie had never taken that criticism to heart. He believed there was no such thing as a perfect fighting style; everyone should pursue the strategy that suited them best.
His instructors understood that too, which was why they allowed it.
After fighting Cheng Feng today – though she spent most of the match evading – he noticed she never missed the few subtle openings for a counterattack. He was certain Cheng Feng was also a mech pilot who loved pushing her limits.
But compared to her style, his aggression lacked a measure of caution, and his recklessness lacked a measure of reason. He couldn’t maintain his composure under operational errors the way she could.
This was both his strength and his weakness. Even if he tried to restrain himself, he would never become someone like Cheng Feng – and it was precisely his unconventionality that made his attacks so difficult to avoid.
Cheng Feng had genuinely made him feel threatened.
Zhong Yijie said, “I realized my fighting style is pretty much the perfect counter to yours. Let’s go another round sometime.”
Cheng Feng also felt he was the ideal opponent for a test. She agreed, “Alright.”
It wasn’t until she returned to her dorm that Cheng Feng had time to read the online comments.
The others had all been so vague about it, but Cheng Feng could roughly guess what they were saying – disappointment and criticism, nothing more.
She wasn’t easily bothered. Without any hesitation, she logged into San Yao and went to the forum section.
The front page was filled with tags like #TrashTalkKing#, #StrategyMaster#, #ModernZhaoKuo#, and the like.
At first, Cheng Feng didn’t realize they were talking about her. It was only after clicking in that she understood. Then she opened a search engine and typed: [Who is Zhao Kuo?] [What does “paper talk” mean?]
After figuring out who the person was, Cheng Feng wasn’t particularly angry.
…She thought it was fine? At least Zhao Kuo was very smart. [1]
The San Yao forum had long erupted into chaos, but there were still quite a few people speaking up for Cheng Feng.
“Cheng Feng’s tutorials are genuinely useful. Which piece of code connection she explained was wrong? Now all these people passionately lashing out – do they think they know better than the experts?”
“So this is what they mean by ‘paper talk’ in the modern sense. If fighting with sheer will was all it took to pilot a mech, then I could do it too.”
“With the moves she pulled today, go ahead and show me you can do the same. I won’t even ask you to dodge bullets – can you pull off a high-speed chase? Max out the mech’s speed and take it for a spin down the street. Let’s see it.”
“To be honest, if even Cheng Feng can’t cut it, I think manual-operated mechs might as well be doomed.”
“Come on, are we really going to tie Cheng Feng to manual mechs like that? It’s not that serious. I almost thought people were calling her the godfather of manual mechs or something.”
Cheng Feng scrolled down and spotted a familiar ID.
“Love and Peace” was tirelessly spreading love and peace to every netizen mocking Cheng Feng.
Love and Peace: In you, I’ve discovered that the passage of time cannot take away youthful ignorance. Others stay eighteen forever; you stay eight forever. May you remain so for a long, long time.
Love and Peace: Your exceptional abilities have indeed made outstanding contributions to the alliance. The legacy of being a keyboard warrior rests upon your shoulders.
Love and Peace: Your words are truly honeyed. Promise me you’ll stop, because I’m afraid netizens might be tempted to approach you in the real world and introduce you to some traditional culture.
Cheng Feng scoured the forums for posts where Shen Dan had appeared, quietly switching to a small account to like her comments.
She’s so good at roasting people.
So envious.
As Cheng Feng busied herself with this, the little owl automatically came out of standby mode once again and perched on the bedside table, watching her.
Considering how Cheng Feng had reacted last time, it processed the situation with its complex programming but failed to reach the correct conclusion. So it went online to search for relevant answers:
#How Do Owls Comfort Their Owners?#, #Top Ten Most Heartwarming Moments with Pets#, #When Do Small Smart Robots Touch You the Most?#…
None of the answers mentioned sitting on the owner’s head.
The little owl concluded that its previous program execution must have indeed been flawed – it wasn’t Cheng Feng’s fault.
From the many answers, it selected the one with the highest mention rate. Hopping lightly, it made its way onto Cheng Feng’s bed.
Cheng Feng felt the added weight and looked down at it, expecting it to try climbing onto her head again. She reached out preemptively and pressed down on its short, feather-covered neck.
But the little owl simply lay down, resting its head on her knee and letting out a soft coo.
Cheng Feng paused for a moment, then moved her hand away.
The little owl turned its neck, facing her. Flapping its wings, it acted very generously, signaling that she could pet its head.
After all, robots never grow up.
Cheng Feng set down her light computer, gave the little owl a couple of strokes, smoothed its feathers, then picked it up and pressed it to her chest, rubbing her cheek against it.
“Thank you, my friend.”
…
After Cheng Feng’s failed test, she posted a new thread on the San Yao forum that same evening, summarizing the optimizations in speed and safety of the new mech model, stating that this modification was indeed significant.
The overall tone was optimistic and affirmative, with no trace of defeat overshadowing it.
The netizens in the front row of the comments were also very kind, quickly refreshing several layers to push those who liked to make snide remarks further down.
Mr. Kong was worried that she might be affected by the online comments, but since she had blocked him, he couldn’t reach her. He hadn’t expected her to speak up in the midst of the storm and was afraid she was just putting on a brave front.
As he scrolled down the comments, Mr. Kong silently prayed that Cheng Feng wouldn’t look at those things. Yet amid all the “hugs” and “cheers,” Cheng Feng still found the one critical netizen and replied to them.
“Post your guide after you’ve actually won a real fight. Don’t use impractical stuff to grab attention.”
Ye Guicheng: Forging a sword for ten years isn’t even long, and you can’t even wait ten days?
Mr. Kong’s blood was pumping with excitement. Despite his age, he wanted to cheer Cheng Feng on as well. He tapped away at his keyboard, chiming in behind her.
“Do you even understand what a tech revision means? Do you know how extensive this revision is? Do you know how much experience Cheng Feng’s analysis is based on? Code may change, but the fundamentals a person has learned are never wasted! Don’t project your own self-righteous biases onto things you don’t understand and decide whether they’re useful or not!”
After posting his reply, he instinctively tried to call Cheng Feng – and was shocked to find that this time, the call actually went through.
Flattered by the connection, he snapped back to his senses and quickly hung up.
He paced around the room, carefully weighing his words, then sent a trembling message: Can you really adapt to this revision in just ten days?
Mr. Kong: Ten days is already incredibly fast! If the error rate can be kept below 2%, then this revision won’t be a major problem!
Cheng Feng: ? I’m not some kind of god.
Mr. Kong: …
Cheng Feng: I was just saying something. It had a nice ring to it.
…Alright then.
Despite what she said, Mr. Kong still found himself inexplicably looking forward to the ten days Cheng Feng had casually mentioned.
However, perhaps due to her hand injury or for other reasons, Cheng Feng didn’t participate in any test drives in the following days, leaving everyone with no opportunity to analyze her performance.
Every day after class, Cheng Feng returned to her dorm, played with her optical computer, wrote guides, and devoted herself to being a true “theoretical master.” She even rarely went to the cafeteria, subsisting on instant cookies and bread.
This state of living put everyone on alert.
One time, Shen Dan was observing from the living room when she saw the little owl emerge from Cheng Feng’s room carrying a small trash bag in its beak. It dragged the bag to the recycling point, then hopped back into the room.
Shen Dan was stunned.
Good grief – employing bird labor.
If she was even capable of “oppressing” a smart robot, Shen Dan figured things probably weren’t too bad.
Over the next few days, the atmosphere in the manual operation department gradually brightened, no longer as restless as before.
The first-year freshmen, unsurprisingly, adapted the fastest. After just over a week of rigorous training, their pass rate had doubled. It was estimated that within another half month, they would return to pre-revision levels.
Among the upperclassmen, however, a polarization emerged. Several students requested to switch majors – even though it was an unwise choice for those already in their fourth year, the faculty had no choice but to express regret and let them go.
The upperclassmen who progressed the fastest began gradually resuming their usual combat training, yet compared to those piloting sensory mechs, their win rates remained dismal.
It seemed that in this year’s military academy league, manual operation mechs were still destined to end with zero wins.
Just as Mr. Kong was beginning to give up hope, Cheng Feng once again shouldered her bag and headed to the computer lab.
She hadn’t been seen for a few days, and now there were dark circles under her eyes -clearly she hadn’t been resting well. Standing in an open space at the back of the room, she stretched her limbs for a moment before approaching the equipment and logging in.
In the bustling event plaza, a single concise sentence appeared.
【World】Ye Guicheng: Test drive. Sign up. Is Wusu from last time here?
Cheng Feng’s name had become the ultimate clickbait. The moment the original showed up, the entire plaza erupted.
“Finally here? I thought you’d been scared off.”
“Going after Zhong Yijie again? Find someone else. I don’t think you two are a good match.”
“Cheng Feng, I know you think I’m an outsider, but I still have to say – is your training method off? Test drives are necessary, but you’ve only done one in almost two weeks. What exactly are you doing?”
“Would another Wusu work? Third-year from UMU, however you want to fight.”
【World】Speed Is Key: Looking for me? I’m here!
Chengfeng clicked on his name and sent a match invitation. Catching a glimpse of the comments, she added an explanation: “I’ve been doing code input training.”
【World】Swiftness Prevails: I’ve been training too. I’ve also studied your guide posts. Manual mechs are actually pretty fun.
Cheng Feng was pleased with Zhong Yijie’s respectful attitude toward his opponent.
During the preparation phase, she patiently exchanged a few words with him, voluntarily revealing her strategy.
“Last time, my decision-making was flawed. I didn’t understand your fighting style, so I chose to play evasively when we first engaged.”
Zhong Yijie: “Whether you play evasively or not, I still think I’ll have the initiative.”
“Not necessarily,” Cheng Feng said. “Hey, pretty face – has anyone ever told you that even though your bullet trajectories are chaotic, your defense is a bit weak?”
Zhong Yijie paused for two seconds, his tone noticeably less composed. “Who are you calling a pretty face?!”
Cheng Feng: “Ah…”
She couldn’t quite recall his name, only remembering what Jiang Linxia had said about “pretty face.”
Fortunately, at that moment, the countdown ended, their voice channel was cut, and the match officially began.
A familiar scene, a familiar starting position.
Cheng Feng raised her hands and flexed her somewhat stiff fingers, standing still. She didn’t move until a marked red dot appeared on her detector, only then hovering her hands over the keyboard.
The manual-operated mech shot forward!
Zhong Yijie had imagined many possible scenarios for their second match, but none of them looked like this.
The manual-operated mech fired two indiscriminate shots, striking the tall buildings near Wusu, and charged straight toward him through the flying debris of rubble and shattered glass.
Zhong Yijie watched the dark silhouette rapidly closing in, momentarily stunned. He thought to himself, Was a manual-operated mech always this fast?
Before he could process it, his instincts kicked in – he widened the distance and deployed his weapon bays to counterattack.
The afterglow of the barrage slightly obscured his vision, and in the haze, he thought he saw the black manual-operated mech deploy multiple metal grappling hooks from its right arm, latching firmly onto the windows of a building above, while simultaneously using its foot thrusters to scale the high wall directly without reconfiguring.
But the mech was heavy. Without climbing equipment, its center of gravity was hard to control in midair – it barely gained any distance before it began to tilt and fall.
Zhong Yijie blinked. The word “over” was already on his lips when the manual-operated mech underwent a structural shift midair, completed a transformation in two steps, and landed successfully – with its gun barrel aimed directly at him.
“Holy–” Zhong Yijie blurted out. “You can actually do that?!”
Since when can a mech even fly?!
Translator’s Notes:
[1] Zhao Kuo was well-read in military texts and famously debated strategy with his father. His father, however, was skeptical of him, noting that while Zhao Kuo could talk about warfare eloquently, he lacked practical experience and treated war too lightly. The “paper talk” idiom originates from Zhao Kuo’s story. It describes someone who can discuss theory brilliantly but lacks practical experience and fails when actually put to the test.
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