Top Warzone Analyst Chapter 90

When Cheng Feng returned to the activity hall, it was empty again.

The students were having their specialized course on the third floor – she wondered what would be taught tonight.

In the room where half the lights had been turned off, Cheng Feng dragged her faint shadow behind her and began her evening run once more.

In the empty hall, every small sound became distinct. Though the night sky outside the window was silent and calm, her uneven, shallow breaths added a restless noise to the air.

Riding the rhythm of the footsteps, Cheng Feng silently recited strings of code, trying to keep her brain busy so she would have no time to feel the exhaustion in her body. But this also meant she could no longer accurately perceive time – the flow around her seemed to slow to a crawl, and a journey of just a few hundred meters felt as long as a marathon.

At 9:30, the preset alarm suddenly went off, pulling Cheng Feng’s consciousness back from where it had drifted far away into outer space.

Worried that the infirmary would be too crowded after class officially ended, she first organized her gear, then went to lie down at the massage robot for half an hour, and applied some anti-fatigue medication. Feeling reborn, she once again returned to her battlefield.

Physical training was nothing more than repetitive mechanical motion.

Cheng Feng didn’t know when she had fallen asleep – probably sometime between the third and fourth items of the combination training.

After finishing the sprint segment, she slowed down and reached behind her to pull out the submachine gun model she was carrying, preparing to aim at the target and shoot. As she lowered into a half-squat stance, her knees gave way uncontrollably; her arm, which she had used as a brace, wasn’t applying much force either, so her body simply lay down on the ground.

Lying down was an incredibly comfortable position. Pressed against the cold floor, a small thought of slacking off flashed through her mind – she decided to rest for five minutes.

Before she could even scorn herself for it, her eyelids had already closed shut, and her world of thoughts began to race freely like a wild horse.

In the midst of the chaos, Cheng Feng still remembered that she hadn’t finished one round of training. She couldn’t tell whether it was her body or her soul that stood up, but with light and brisk steps, she continued the training along the white line.

A familiar figure flashed past the training room door. The little owl fluttered in, craned its neck, and let out a sharp cry, lighting up all the lights in the venue.

In the short time they had been apart, its wings had grown as strong as if undergoing a second round of development, and its feathers had suddenly become thick and fluffy. Yet, on its small, delicate body, it all looked rather incongruous.

Cheng Feng was so overjoyed that she didn’t point out the oddness she felt. Instead, she exclaimed, “Friend! You’ve completely changed!”

But why hadn’t it grown to look like the eagle of her dreams?

The little owl stopped in front of her, lowered its head to preen its feathers with its beak, and then warmly invited her to step onto it, wanting to take her flying together. It said it had installed the newest, most powerful, and most expensive flight system, and now had full legal clearance to carry a passenger.

Cheng Feng was utterly astonished. She looked down at its wings, feeling a mix of anticipation and embarrassment. Yet, under its eager urging, she carefully stepped onto it.

The little owl’s platform was unstable. Standing on it, Cheng Feng felt completely unsteady – top-heavy and swaying side to side. She tried to curl up her limbs and lower her center of gravity, terrified that she might fall off at any moment.

Before she could find a proper stance, a red light flashed between the eyes of the intelligent robot beneath her feet, as if some strange program had been activated, and it launched forward straight from a standstill at full speed.

Cheng Feng held her breath, astonished at how powerful its chicken-like legs actually were. She also thought to herself that the Alliance’s technology was simply too cutting-edge, always evolving in directions she couldn’t comprehend.

Although her limbs felt as if they were bound by something, making it hard to move freely, an irrepressible joy burst forth from her heart.

In the blink of an eye, the little owl carried her out the window. Before she could enjoy the thrill of the wind in her face for long, her gaze turned downward toward the ground, and then – person and owl – they began to plummet rapidly.

They hadn’t even lasted ten seconds before a flight accident happened.

Cheng Feng wanted to open her mouth and yell: Why have you become so unreliable after just changing your shell?!

She flung her arms out and grabbed wildly at the air – and that motion also managed to wake her from the dream. Opening her eyes, she saw the white light of the ceiling reflected through a hazy mist, and in the corner stood the instructor’s clean, fair-skinned face.

Cheng Feng took a moment to collect herself before recalling her current situation. In a hoarse voice, she asked, “What time is it now?”

The instructor said, “1:30.”

Cheng Feng wasn’t sure how long she had been asleep. Unable to figure it out, she propped herself up with her left arm. The muscles in her limbs were so sore and weak that they didn’t feel like her own, making even this simple movement clumsy and stiff.

Her vision was still a bit blurry even after focusing. Cheng Feng raised a hand to rub her eyes, but the instructor quickly stopped her. She handed her a bottle of eye drops and told her to pay more attention to eye hygiene.

As she watched Cheng Feng tilt her head back, try her best to open her eyes wide, and tremulously squeeze the eye drops in, the instructor joked, “You were waving your arms and legs around even while sleeping. Were you dreaming about me or Tao Rui?”

Cheng Feng said, “Not at all.”

She kind of missed the little owl – even if it still couldn’t fly, that would have been fine.

That silly bird – she wondered if it had charged itself on time.

All it ever did was run outside to fight with stray cats, or squat on the railing and look down below.

The instructor said, “Today’s course materials have been uploaded to the platform. Remember to download and review them.”

After several attempts, Cheng Feng finally managed to get the eye drops into her eyes. She lowered her head, droplets of water rolling down her face. Combined with the red veins in her eyes from staying up too long, she looked as if she had been crying.

“Okay,” she said politely. “Thank you.”

After saying this, the instructor didn’t leave immediately. Instead, she put down her optical computer and sat down next to Cheng Feng, adopting a chatty posture. “I thought you would have left yesterday.”

“I haven’t asked you this yet – between my model and Tao Rui’s, which one do you prefer?” Cheng Feng hesitated, then added, “Is that something you can talk about?”

The instructor thought for a moment. “Hmm…”

She casually unbuttoned the top button of her uniform, considered for a moment, and replied, “Analysts with high combat attrition really do have difficulty advancing further. That’s a common problem many newcomers face. So some commanders with exceptional skills, or those who already have some cooperative experience, will appropriately increase the weight of supplies, missions, and other special conditions.”

Cheng Feng more or less understood.

“It’s just that for Tao Rui, this kind of model is still too early. He doesn’t have the corresponding skills yet, nor does he have relatively strong individual soldiers. He talks about prioritizing interests without meeting others’ prerequisites, which makes his style seem callous. But that doesn’t mean his model is right or wrong,” the instructor said frankly. “To be honest with you, the mecha units of the Expeditionary Force are the elite of the entire military. In top-tier fields, model parameters like Tao Rui’s are more mainstream than yours.”

Cheng Feng showed no surprise and simply nodded slightly.

The paper she had helped grade leaned in a similar direction, so she fully understood.

What angered her wasn’t the rightness or wrongness of the model at all, but the disrespect Tao Rui had shown. To defend the correctness of his model, he had deliberately positioned himself against human sentiment, as if that were the only way to ensure the model worked properly. It was utterly absurd.

The instructor observed her expression and, seeing that Cheng Feng seemed more exasperated than angry, said with amusement, “But this is also one of the aftereffects of the full-reality simulation system. Everyone instinctively assumes that life is just data in a game. Yet when it actually comes to the battlefield, more than 90% of students end up unable to pull the trigger or take a life – far from looking down on life.”

Cheng Feng was silent for a long time. Then, with a stern expression, she said two words: “I can.”

The instructor laughed. “He was also training here tonight. I talked with him for about an hour. I asked him the same question, and he gave the same answer – he thinks he dares.”

Cheng Feng said flatly, “I’m serious. I have the right to speak on this. He’s just talking nonsense – I’ll bet my hair on it.”

“You two really are a bit different in this regard.”

The instructor seemed lost in thought. After sitting face-to-face with Cheng Feng for a few minutes, she reached over, took the statistical device hanging on Cheng Feng’s chest, and glanced at the numbers. A hint of sympathy appeared on her face. “You should continue your training. I’m leaving now.”

Cheng Feng replied listlessly, “Oh.”

Cheng Feng was very hungry, but after that short nap, her spirits had lifted a little. Her efficiency was higher than she had expected, and she managed to stay up and complete the final set of training.

However, when she glanced at her chest badge, the time displayed was already close to 4:30. Not wanting to return to the dormitory, she simply lay down on the floor in a corner of the training hall and fell asleep right there.

When she woke up again, two senior students had grabbed her by the arms, one on each side. Before she was even fully conscious, she had already been dragged into the middle of a formation, and in the next second, she was passively standing at attention.

Mr. Zhou stood at the very front, hands clasped behind his back as he swept his gaze across the formation. Seeing Cheng Feng’s disheveled hair and dazed expression, he blew his whistle sharply and barked, “Morning training is about to begin! Everyone, snap to it!”

The shrill whistle jolted Cheng Feng awake, and her drowsiness faded away. The feeling of hunger, however, grew even stronger.

Shen Dan fished a carton of milk and a steamed bun out of his bulging pocket and passed them over from the side.

Mr. Zhou pursed his lips, but turned away turning a blind eye. Seizing the opportunity, Cheng Feng wolfed them down. With something in her stomach, she finally felt alive again.

Not sure if she should call it lucky or not, today’s training session was marksmanship. A water cup was placed on top of the firearm to train stability in holding the gun.

Cheng Feng had always been able to hold a gun very steadily. Unlike the Alliance, which had gun control regulations, she had learned how to handle a gun as soon as she was old enough to understand. But now, with her physical energy excessively depleted and her muscles out of her control, she had no advantage at all in the stability assessment.

Fortunately, the base didn’t have high accuracy requirements for Class B commanders. Moreover, shooting wasn’t something that could be mastered through sheer training in a short period of time, so the instructor also went a bit easy on the grading.

Cheng Feng’s performance in the formation was still fairly decent. She managed to complete the mission requirements, though it was a close call.

After enduring another day, the base finally went on break.

Cheng Feng collapsed onto her dormitory bed to catch up on sleep. She slept like a log. When she woke up, she spent the remaining half of the day going through the course materials on the platform. Finally, just before the deadline, she finished uploading her assignments, pulling herself back from the brink of being expelled.

Her fellow students also breathed a sigh of relief. They had worried a lot about this junior over the past few days – just watching from the sidelines had been nerve-wracking.

In reality, Cheng Feng had been under even greater pressure, because Mr. Luo had sent her two messages. They scared her so much that she couldn’t sleep at night or eat in peace.

Mr. Luo: I’ve been thinking. To give you more motivation, I’m going to set up a personalized encouragement plan for you.

Mr. Luo: If you get sent back one day early, I’ll apply to deduct 1,000 from your scholarship. The cap is 10,000. That’s pretty reasonable, don’t you think?

Cheng Feng nearly smashed her optical computer on the spot.

After safely making it through, she sent Mr. Luo an emoji of [wiping tears]. Mr. Luo replied earnestly.

Mr. Luo: Don’t slack off. Don’t underestimate yourself!

Ye Guicheng: …

She wanted to block this guy. Cheng Feng turned in her light computer without any hesitation.

The high-pressure life blurred everyone’s sense of time, but of course, it couldn’t stop the growth of their hair.

The base wasn’t about to let go of this opportunity to show off its traditional specialty.

On the second weekend of March, the instructors retrieved clippers and scissors from the warehouse, announcing that they would give all the male students a haircut to salvage the base’s average appearance.

For the female students, anyone with bangs covering their eyes or short hair that wasn’t neat would also get a trim. If they could tie all their hair up, they’d barely be given a pass.

That day, the activity square was filled with wails and howls.

Whether the instructors’ haircutting skills were good or not entirely depended on whether fate took pity on you.

Amid her panic, Cheng Feng borrowed a hair tie from someone and discovered that her previously frizzy short hair could now be tied up quite nicely.

Mr. Zhou crossed two fingers and measured them against her hair length back and forth, but unable to find an excuse, he only trimmed her bangs in the end.

He regretfully recommended, “What I’m best at is giving buzz cuts. Want to give it a try?”

Cheng Feng ran off as if her backside were on fire.

Not even in her wildest dreams!

Although the base didn’t have very high standards for students’ hairstyles – just neat, clean, and not covering the ears – the instructors enthusiastically gave all the male students a buzz cut that revealed their scalps.

After the haircuts, this group of students looked as if they had just been released from a prison rehabilitation program, giving them a particularly tough and fierce aura.

For the male students, the buzz cuts could barely be described as crisp and clean – at least not ugly – but for the female students, it was nothing short of a disaster.

Cheng Feng sometimes relied on hairstyles to remember people. Faced with several female students whose bangs had been cut somewhere between their eyebrows and the middle of their foreheads, she almost couldn’t recognize them.

Fortunately, they all wore caps during regular training, so their unsightly appearances didn’t have to make frequent appearances.

After the unified haircuts, perhaps feeling that everyone now had a fresh new look, the base simultaneously released a performance statistics report.

The report listed the average scores of various academies since the start of training. Each student could also download a personal evaluation form about themselves.

“What does this mean?” Cheng Feng searched for her name using the link provided by the instructor and asked the person next to her. “Are they hoping we start over as new people?”

The senior student said, “It probably means training is almost over, and we’re about to split into teams for the Red vs. White camp assessment.”