Chapter Seven

Sun Xuelin had tried several times to pull the trigger, but something felt off, a sensation that made her deeply uneasy. The gun she always trusted seemed infected by her uncertainty; not a single shot hit its mark. Ever attentive, Sun Xuelin quickly noticed that YC's manner of advancing was strange—somewhat reminiscent of an arc-step, yet subtly different.

Hmph, using an arc-step to dodge my shots? How naive, she thought, feeling a surge of inexplicable irritation. Countering the arc-step wasn't difficult; every pilot had their habits, and careful observation always revealed them. She had faced YC in so many matches that she knew his tendencies by heart. Besides, the arc-step itself didn't have many variations, and she was thoroughly familiar with it.

Counting silently through the possible arc-step changes, Sun Xuelin kept her gaze fixed on YC, searching for the perfect moment to fire.

Now! Without hesitation, she pulled the trigger.

Yet—she missed!

YC seemed to anticipate her, twisting just in time to evade the shot. Was it luck, or something else? Sun Xuelin's mind exploded into chaos.

As YC drew closer, Sun Xuelin grew anxious, her hand firing wildly at Ye Chong as if moved by instinct.

Perhaps by heaven's mercy, one bullet struck YC's left shoulder, throwing him off course.

By now, Ye Chong's clothes were drenched in sweat, his arms so heavy they barely obeyed him, even trembling with spasms. He bit his lower lip hard, blood staining it, but he felt nothing.

Suddenly, his mech shuddered—Ye Chong understood his Blackbird had been hit. He had no time to check where; his hands never paused.

Sun Xuelin, still reeling from her lucky shot, saw that Ye Chong had been forced aside—an opportunity too good to miss. She started to adjust for a fatal strike.

But to her dismay, that very shot made YC's movement more bizarre, more unpredictable, more elusive than ever, utterly confounding her aim. Panic tightened her chest, her marksmanship unraveling.

Ye Chong watched as his opponent grew larger and clearer in his sights, excitement surging within. Unknowingly, the weight in his arms lessened, and his speed quickened.

Closer… closer… almost there!

Ha! Ye Chong roared, thunderous as spring’s first storm.

His opponent froze, as if shocked—was it a trap, a ploy? Ye Chong wasted no thought. The magnetic sword on his back was already in hand, his left reaching for the alloy dagger strapped to his knee.

He knew: if he could close in, the fight was over.

The magnetic sword hummed in the air, its blade flashing. He met no resistance, slicing easily through his opponent’s throat—a result so effortless, Ye Chong was momentarily stunned. Just like a human, damage to a mech's throat was just as lethal.

How could the opponent make such a basic, fatal mistake?

No time to ponder. Years spent surviving on Junk Planet had left Ye Chong without mercy; his left hand struck like a snake, the alloy dagger thrusting swiftly and precisely into the upper chest of the Shadow Phoenix mech—the pilot’s cockpit.

At that moment, the victory announcement sounded in the room.

Sun Xuelin lay stunned on her floating chair, the network helmet drifting quietly before her. The eerie, elusive movements, the ruthless and direct attacks, and the indomitable courage haunted her mind.

Sun Ninghai, noticing his daughter’s distracted look at the dinner table, exchanged a glance with his wife, who shook her head gently. He asked with concern, “Lin’er, what’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”

Sun Xuelin snapped out of her reverie, wondering at her own state. Forcing a smile, she replied, “It’s nothing, I just met a very strange opponent today.”

Her father’s interest was piqued. “Oh? A strange opponent? How so?”

Sun Ninghai was a senior pilot, and every technique Sun Xuelin knew was taught by him.

Remembering this, Sun Xuelin recounted the events of the day. When she spoke of YC’s repeated defeats and persistence, Sun Ninghai nodded approvingly. “Not bad. YC is indeed a courageous person.”

As she described YC’s final, bizarre movement—so similar yet different from the arc-step—Sun Ninghai’s expression grew grave. He then asked for more details; with his prompts, Sun Xuelin recalled many subtle points she’d missed before.

Sun Ninghai spoke seriously, “If your description is correct, YC was using unordered waveform jumps. This evasive maneuver is typically employed only by senior pilots. It requires not just advanced manual skills but also a sophisticated mech—only a high-grade mech with an advanced AI can handle the complex calculations.”

Sun Xuelin was puzzled. “But he was using the Blackbird!”

“That’s what surprises me. Normally, the Blackbird couldn’t perform such maneuvers; even if his manual skill was high enough, its AI couldn’t handle it. That leaves only one possibility: he modified the Blackbird, installing a powerful AI.”

Sun Xuelin pouted. “But he seemed like a novice to me!”

Sun Ninghai chuckled. “Why not? Novices can modify mechs too. Perhaps his teacher or elder customized it for him, to suit his style. Still, YC is impressive to pull off such high-level moves.”

Sun Xuelin remained unconvinced. “Then why didn’t he use them from the start? Why wait until he lost so many times?”

Sun Ninghai was stumped. “Ah… that… Well… Er… Lin’er, let’s eat first, shall we? Look, the food’s getting cold.”

His wife smiled, watching her husband awkwardly shovel food into his mouth.

Though her father’s explanation made some sense, Sun Xuelin felt there was more to it. She couldn’t say why, but intuition told her so.

Just as Sun Ninghai never imagined someone could complete those actions solely by hand, without AI assistance, Sun Xuelin likewise never considered such an impossible idea.

Frustrated, she rubbed her aching head—she’d been thinking too much. Enough, she decided. Next time she met him, she’d ask him herself.