Section Six

Almost simultaneously, both mechas moved. A dazzling flash lit up Ye Chong’s vision, and he instinctively raised his titanium shield to protect himself, rolling away on the ground. When Ye Chong staggered to his feet, he realized he hadn’t managed to dodge—the shot had pierced right through the shield, which provided barely any protection, and his left flank was severely grazed.

His opponent was visibly stunned—clearly, he hadn’t expected Ye Chong to survive that shot. Seeing that the titanium shield was useless, Ye Chong discarded it and broke into a run, using obstacles to disrupt his adversary’s line of sight.

But his opponent was clearly a veteran—calm and unflustered. The Shadow Phoenix–2’s specialties were exploited to their fullest, and Ye Chong was unceremoniously pierced by a second shot.

After being killed for the nth time, Ye Chong’s tenacity was awakened. Eyes bloodshot, he demanded again and again for the opponent to restart.

After yet another defeat, Mu Shang’s languid voice sounded, “There are sixty-two methods of evading gunfire. Would you like me to teach you one?”

Ye Chong couldn’t help but curse, “Damn Mu, you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? You just watched me die over and over? You’re really something else!”

Mu Shang replied dispassionately, “According to psychological theory, people remember painful failures most vividly—the probability fluctuates between 90% and 96%. Using it as motivation occurs in 52% to 63% of cases. I trust you now have a deep memory of it.”

Ye Chong was so angry he nearly jumped out of his mech to settle things with Mu Shang. “You… You… You’re ruthless!”

Mu Shang ignored him and instead played a video clip, its origins unknown. Ye Chong swallowed his retort and focused on the footage. It was short, less than ten seconds; he didn’t have time to analyze, only to stare wide-eyed so as not to miss a single detail.

Mu Shang left him with a single phrase: “Watch closely.”

The video featured another Blackbird mecha, but its agility was astonishing. Its chaotic, wave-like advances flowed with effortless grace, no hint of hesitation, making it impossible to predict its next location.

For the first time, Ye Chong understood how skill could reach such heights.

His blood began to boil.

Sun Xuelin couldn’t help but feel a certain admiration for the opponent named YC. Although YC and she were on entirely different levels, even after losing again and again without suspense, YC always got back up, unyielding—a quality not everyone possessed.

Repeated easy victories brought Sun Xuelin no satisfaction. YC was certainly a novice; the mecha he piloted made that obvious. Here, Blackbird was forever the symbol of beginners. Defeating a novice wasn’t something to boast about for someone who had received rigorous training and expert guidance since childhood.

Yet strangely, whenever Sun Xuelin faced YC’s invitation to battle, she always unconsciously accepted. To outsiders, these fights might seem meaningless and dull.

Such courage deserved encouragement, Sun Xuelin told herself, finding comfort in her kindness. She didn’t realize a restless curiosity was stirring deep in her heart.

What kind of person was YC?

Far from the junk planet, Sun Xuelin bit her lip, her delicate brows knit in thought, a sweet face lost in contemplation.

This time, YC didn’t immediately request a rematch as before, but stood motionless.

Was he giving up? Sun Xuelin breathed a sigh of relief—it was about time. With Blackbird’s performance, it was impossible to evade her Shadow Phoenix’s attacks. She should advise him to start with the basics.

Just as she was about to speak, YC’s battle request suddenly popped up.

He hadn’t given up? It was futile! He ought to recognize the gulf between them. Sun Xuelin thought so, but her hands acted faster than her mind, and before she realized it, she’d already accepted YC’s request.

Well then, another round it is. Sun Xuelin smiled self-deprecatingly, her snowy teeth showing.

Ye Chong stared intently at the ground between his Blackbird and the Shadow Phoenix, replaying the footage in his mind again and again. His body leaned forward, betraying his tension.

Mu Shang, as detached as ever, spoke slowly, “The full name of those evasive moves is ‘Chaotic Waveform Leap.’ The key lies in the word ‘chaotic.’” Mu Shang was always stingy with words, stopping abruptly and saying no more.

Ye Chong was so frustrated he could grind his teeth, but there was nothing he could do—he had to wrack his brain to decode the meaning of ‘chaotic.’

Chaotic… chaotic… chaotic… Ye Chong muttered the word under his breath.

Time waits for no one. Before Ye Chong could grasp the true essence of ‘chaotic,’ his opponent had already accepted his battle invitation.

Ye Chong could only throw all distractions aside. This was no time to ponder the meaning of chaos—his mind was filled only with that footage, that wave-like trajectory utterly devoid of the scent of smoke and fire.

So many rounds with Blackbird had given Ye Chong firsthand experience of its capabilities—far beyond mere theoretical parameters. He realized how impossibly difficult it was to execute that wave-leap maneuver with Blackbird. Its onboard computer couldn’t handle such complex calculations, so the only option was to rely entirely on himself.

The only comfort was that manual control had always been his strength, honed through training with Winnie, whose mecha computer was even worse than Blackbird’s.

Ye Chong began to breathe deeply, each breath like a bellows—long and weighty.

Beep! In an instant, Ye Chong’s hand moved. Blackbird shot out like an arrow, but not in a straight line—it advanced in an arc.

Almost at the same moment, a deep crater was blasted into the spot where Ye Chong had just stood.

Ye Chong had no time to worry about anything else. His eyes were locked on the ground between them, his blood surging as if plunged into molten iron, his mind a burning blankness. His hands moved with astonishing speed, executing a dizzying array of maneuvers without pause.

Blackbird maintained its maximum speed throughout.

Ye Chong’s hands grew faster and faster; soon, whether from evaporating sweat or sheer velocity, faint afterimages like gauzy mist appeared around his fingers.

Absorbed in the moment, Ye Chong noticed none of these details.

Sun Xuelin aimed and fired as usual, but missed. It wasn’t a concern; YC occasionally dodged a few shots, but he always lost in the end.

Slowly, Sun Xuelin sensed something was amiss.