Chapter Ten

He had unintentionally completed the training!

Ye Chong’s mind was momentarily blank; he hadn’t even realized how he had managed to meet the requirements. He tried piloting the Blackbird through the training several more times, and each time, he passed with ease! No matter how much he thought about it, he could not figure out what had changed.

Well, never mind. Ye Chong was not particularly inclined to dwell on reasons he couldn’t uncover after half a day’s pondering—so long as his skills improved, that was enough! More importantly, he wouldn’t have to eat that organic mush next week!

Without lingering, Ye Chong immediately exited the virtual network. The steel ball training was still waiting for him. Ever since Winnie’s injury, Mu had reinstated the steel ball regime.

Yet, this round of training had taught Ye Chong an important lesson: speed wasn’t everything.

Sun Xuelin gently comforted her cousin Xiu, whose face was pale with fright. In her heart, Sun Xuelin felt a surge of gratitude toward Ye Chong. If he hadn’t caught her cousin, who knew what would have happened? But thinking of how he had been even farther away than herself and yet moved faster, Sun Xuelin felt a trace of fear, quickly washed away by burning curiosity. How had his skills improved so quickly? Had he really been hiding his strength the last time?

Xiu’s wide eyes held a hint of terror, her serene and delicate face drained of color, her long black hair disheveled, her slender frame trembling faintly, like a flower bud struggling against the chill wind—so fragile it stirred instinctive pity.

Sun Xuelin gently smoothed Xiu’s hair. Xiu could hold back no longer and collapsed into Sun Xuelin’s arms, sobbing softly. Sun Xuelin stroked her cousin’s scented shoulders in silent comfort, the very picture of an elder sister. In truth, Xiu was only ten days her junior, but her timid nature had always led her to trail behind Sun Xuelin since childhood. Sun Xuelin, strong-willed and guided by her father, had always protected her cousin, and no one dared cross her. Thus, she became Xiu’s natural guardian. Two years ago, when Xiu’s family moved away, the girls were separated, but Xiu still depended on her cousin deeply.

Sun Xuelin spoke softly, “Don’t cry, Xiu. Let’s go home now, all right? Let’s go home first.”

Xiu nodded obediently.

With Xiu in her arms, tears still glistening on her cheeks, Sun Xuelin led her out, pausing to glance back at the room.

Did he recognize me? Was that nod for me? Sun Xuelin felt an inexplicable restlessness in her heart.

The next day, Ye Chong began a new round of training, in a different room and with different exercises.

It was the first day, so his movements were still clumsy, but he threw himself into the work wholeheartedly. Absorbed in his effort, Ye Chong failed to notice that two uninvited guests had entered and were observing him from the sidelines.

Sun Xuelin’s mouth fell open in shock, big enough to fit an egg. She stared blankly at the awkward figure on the training ground—was this really the same Ye Chong who had inspired such fear in her yesterday? If seeing him training in the basic section had surprised her, then watching him now, meticulously practicing moves she herself had mastered at the age of eight or nine, and doing so with the fumbling awkwardness of a first-timer, left her utterly astonished.

Had he never learned the basics? If he had, why was he here? And why were his movements so clumsy? But if he hadn’t, how had he managed that high-level, chaotic wave jump? Pure luck?

The only thing Sun Xuelin was certain of was that this was a truly peculiar fellow.

Xiu gazed intently at the Blackbird, her bright eyes betraying nothing of her thoughts.

The two girls watched the focused figure on the field, entirely absorbed.

After a long while, Sun Xuelin came to her senses and noticed her cousin still rooted to the spot. “Xiu, why are you still here? Aren’t you going to train today?” she teased. “Don’t tell me you were scared by yesterday and don’t dare to train today?”

Xiu seemed to come back to herself, her face flushing bright red. “Ah… Oh… I… I’ll start right away!” she stammered, then clambered into her Blackbird and wobbled uncertainly into the air.

Watching Xiu’s Blackbird sway precariously, Sun Xuelin felt nervous for her, though she called out reassuringly, “Don’t be afraid, Xiu, it’s all right. I’m watching you!”

Inside the training field, Xiu looked around in confusion, at a complete loss.

Sun Xuelin called, puzzled, “What’s wrong, Xiu?”

On the verge of tears, Xiu replied, “Xuelin, I think… I think I forgot everything I learned yesterday!”

Sun Xuelin’s expression froze. She could only press her hand to her forehead in exasperation, nearly fainting.

Ye Chong, meanwhile, was entirely focused on his own training for the sake of better food and didn’t even notice that there were two more people in the room. If Sun Xuelin and Xiu had come closer, they would have heard him muttering, “I want meat… I want meat…”

Mu’s requirements were as stringent as ever. Even with his toes, Ye Chong could tell that this was the very limit of what his Blackbird could achieve.

He repeated the monotonous, grueling training over and over, losing all sense of time. Only when Mu reminded him did he realize how hungry he was; his stomach felt glued to his back.

Ye Chong immediately exited.

Sun Xuelin and Xiu stared in astonishment at the spot where he disappeared.

From that day on, two figures could always be seen in the stands, watching Ye Chong’s daily training from afar.

Ye Chong, of course, noticed. Being vigilant at all times and in all places was second nature to him. But since the two mechs merely sat quietly and watched, never interfering, he chose to ignore them. What puzzled him was why anyone would watch such tedious, basic training without getting bored.

But it was none of his business, he told himself. If he didn’t give his all, he’d be stuck eating that tasteless organic mush.

So Ye Chong continued his relentless training, and Sun Xuelin and Xiu their silent vigil. There was an unspoken understanding between them; they never spoke, though sometimes they’d nod in acknowledgment.

Ye Chong’s training in the real world had also advanced significantly. He could now keep up the steel ball drill for an hour and a half with ten balls, and his physical conditioning had reached a new level. He was acutely aware of his growing strength: his sprinting speed was five times what it once was, his strength seven times, and the speed of his hands eleven times faster than before. The only oddity was that his weight hadn’t increased noticeably, which even Mu found remarkable.

Now, even without a mech, Ye Chong could hunt some of the lower-tier mutant creatures. His physical prowess was clear.

In his right hand, Ye Chong held an exquisitely thin, sharp blade; in his left, a fragrant roasted rat leg. With a flick of his wrist, he sliced off a sliver of meat thin as a cicada’s wing, nearly transparent. As soon as the sliver separated from the leg, it curled into a roll, which Ye Chong deftly flicked into his mouth with the tip of his knife. His hand moved faster and faster, the meat rolls flying into his mouth like bullets from a machine gun, and Ye Chong wore a look of utter bliss.

He had discovered by accident that slicing the meat extremely thin preserved its rich flavor, making it melt in the mouth and leaving a lingering aftertaste—the thinner, the better.

The meat leg dwindled rapidly, until only a spotless bone remained, as clean as if it had been washed.

Ye Chong exhaled in satisfaction, tossed the bone aside, stretched, and asked, “Mu, I finished all my basic training yesterday. What’s next?”

Though the past days had been hard and monotonous, Ye Chong was getting used to it. Compared to the aimless wasteland of his past, this life was far more fulfilling. Now, suddenly without a goal, he felt a little lost.

He thought of the Shadow Phoenix and Blackbird who always watched his training, with whom he had barely even exchanged a word—sometimes only a nod. Would he ever see them again? He found himself missing these strange yet familiar companions. He considered telling them tomorrow that he wouldn’t be coming to the training room anymore, but then dismissed the idea. Friends? Perhaps that was just wishful thinking. They weren’t even from the same world—maybe leaving quietly was best. If he could ever leave Garbage Planet, maybe they could truly become friends. Ye Chong’s thoughts wandered.

Mu’s calm voice broke his reverie: “Combat. Gain some real combat experience, then move on to advanced skills.”

Ye Chong’s eyes lit up. “Combat? Excellent, that’s what I love best! All this training was getting unbearably dull!” His earlier melancholy vanished.

After so much practice, he finally had the chance to put his skills to the test, and Ye Chong was filled with anticipation!