Chapter Nine

Winnie had been by his side for eight years now, steadfastly serving as his most reliable guarantee of survival during all that time, despite its age and wear. Winnie was like a gentle elder, quietly and tirelessly assisting him without complaint or expectation.

Ye Chong felt as though something was blocking his chest. In all his years, he could recall only once before feeling this way—when his father passed away. Was this sorrow? Ye Chong softly asked himself.

He wondered absentmindedly if his father was doing well in another world. Resting his chin in his hands, Ye Chong lost himself in thought.

He spent the entire day alone in a deserted place, seeking silence.

When he finally made his way to the pilot consciousness training base, he called for Mu Shang and, with a calm expression, said, "Mu, I want to see the curriculum schedule."

Sun Xuelin was feeling irritable. For days she had searched in vain, practically scouring every room in the combat zone, but she had never once come across that enigmatic YC again.

Her repeated failures left her disheartened, but she refused to give up. She told herself she had to be as persistent as YC, facing setbacks again and again.

Today, again, she found nothing.

Dejected, Sun Xuelin decided to seek out her cousin Xiu, who should be in the basic training area at this time.

Cousin Xiu was her second aunt's daughter, and she and Sun Xuelin had been close since childhood. Recently, Xiu had repeatedly failed her mecha piloting assessments, so her mother had turned to Sun Xuelin's father, Sun Haining, for help. But since Sun Haining was usually too busy, the responsibility of tutoring fell mostly to Sun Xuelin herself.

There were only a handful of people in the basic training area. For most, practical training was far more effective than consciousness drills at this stage, and these basic skills were usually mastered early in life, so few bothered with the basics anymore.

Listlessly, Sun Xuelin browsed the rooms in the basic training area and soon found her cousin’s. She entered directly.

Inside was a vast open space, with various obstacles neatly arranged. Xiu was struggling through the course, moving slowly and awkwardly.

Seeing her cousin working so hard, Sun Xuelin decided not to interrupt, but instead stood in the spectator gallery to watch.

Wait—there was someone else on the course!

A black figure darted through the obstacles with astonishing speed. At that level, was there any need for further practice here? Sun Xuelin was puzzled and looked more closely.

Suddenly, Sun Xuelin felt as if struck by lightning, rooted to the spot in shock.

YC! It was definitely him! Sun Xuelin was so excited she nearly jumped in place. There was no mistake—it was him! The left shoulder of his Blackbird still bore the scar from the day she’d accidentally landed a hit, and there was that scratch on the left flank as well! She couldn’t possibly be wrong!

Was this, at last, the reward for her persistence? Sun Xuelin muttered to herself.

Ye Chong frowned slightly as he reviewed the Blackbird’s performance data. Still a bit short—just a little more, and he’d reach Mu’s standard. Yet that minuscule gap had stubbornly resisted all his countless attempts.

“Yezi, with your grasp and foundation, completing basic training shouldn’t be difficult—in fact, it should be easy! But if you’re content with that level, you’ll never be able to pilot me.”

“Most people don’t value basic training, but they’re gravely mistaken!”

When Mu Shang said this, he exuded the aura of a peerless, aloof master pilot, stirring Ye Chong’s heart to its core.

“My calculations show that 99.328% of advanced maneuvers are derived from these so-called basic movements. It’s clear that the basics are the essence of all piloting techniques.”

Ye Chong pondered this deeply.

Mu Shang then produced a detailed parameter sheet. “Yezi, I’ve set these training requirements based on your Blackbird’s performance. Follow them from now on.”

Mu Shang’s electronic eye flashed. “Remember, Yezi, never believe in limits.”

Ye Chong was eager to accept Mu’s guidance. Having survived for so long on the junk planet, he was always willing to try anything that might make him stronger.

But he had underestimated Mu’s severity. It was only during training that Ye Chong realized every single parameter was set right at the Blackbird’s limit. Exhausted to the point of near collapse, he finally managed to complete just one of the tasks, and the joy nearly brought him to tears.

Mu Shang smiled kindly. “Not bad, Yezi, but you need to pick up the pace. To motivate you, we’ll institute a reward and punishment system. From now on, if you don’t complete a task each week, the following week you’ll be limited to organic nutrient broth alone.”

Looking at Mu’s sly expression, Ye Chong was utterly resigned. With Winnie out of commission, he had to rely on Mu for hunting. One mustn’t bite the hand that feeds!

To avoid the detested organic nutrient broth he’d hated since childhood, Ye Chong had no choice but to do his utmost to meet Mu’s targets.

Today was the last day of the week—if he failed again, he’d be forced to eat that bland, nauseating broth for another week. The mere sight of it revolted him, let alone the taste.

Where exactly was the problem? Ye Chong knew Mu well—if Mu set a parameter, it meant the Blackbird could achieve it.

So why was he always just a hair’s breadth away? Ye Chong racked his brain.

Meanwhile, Xiu, in the midst of her training, glimpsed her cousin in the stands and gleefully tried to pilot her Blackbird mecha toward Sun Xuelin, but her skills were so poor that she blundered into a metal pipe suspended in midair. In a panic, Xiu gasped. Her startled cry echoed through the room via the mecha’s speakers.

That cry snapped Sun Xuelin out of her focus on YC, just in time to see her cousin’s mecha plummeting from above. Sun Xuelin’s heart leapt—Xiu had always been timid and frail, and kept her distance from mechas. If she was badly frightened this time, she might fall seriously ill, or worse, develop a lasting trauma that would leave her afraid of piloting forever. In an instant, Sun Xuelin summoned her Shadow Phoenix, pushed its speed to the limit, and rushed toward her cousin, hoping desperately to catch her before she hit the ground.

But the air was thick with oddly shaped obstacles, greatly slowing Sun Xuelin’s progress. As she watched her cousin plummet ever closer to the ground, the distance between them still too great, Sun Xuelin was so anxious she was nearly in tears.

The cry also startled Ye Chong, who was not far away, lost in thought. He looked up just in time to see a Blackbird, identical to his own, falling from the sky.

He didn’t hesitate. His hands moved, and his Blackbird shot forward like the wind toward its fellow mecha.

Perhaps, deep down, Ye Chong’s response had another cause. With only Mu for company, Ye Chong might have longed more than anyone for another of his own kind.

He had no time to think. The chaotic obstacles reminded him of the disorderly hunting grounds back on the junk planet. The techniques he had drilled for a week suddenly flooded his mind. Instinctively, he operated with calm precision—slower than usual, but far more composed.

His Blackbird drifted through the obstacles like a wisp of smoke, unimpeded, smooth and natural, without the slightest hitch.

When the falling Blackbird was still three meters from the ground, Ye Chong’s mecha caught it, then gradually slowed, gliding a short distance before setting it down gently.

“All right, you’re safe now,” Ye Chong said calmly, releasing his grip on the other Blackbird.

Two seconds later, a Shadow Phoenix–2 landed beside the Blackbird—probably a friend of this person, Ye Chong guessed with a touch of envy. Suddenly, the Shadow Phoenix looked familiar. Of course—this was the very same mecha he’d faced in his first encounter here. As the Shadow Phoenix turned toward him, Ye Chong nodded in greeting.

On reflex, Ye Chong glanced at the data readout on his console, and then froze in surprise.