Lesson 1 of Introductory Mecha Combat: Never engage in high-risk maneuvers such as opening the cockpit hatch during battle.
This was an ironclad rule drilled into cadets from day one. Even the lowest-ranking student in class would never make a mistake that basic.
The crowd stood slack jawed. Even Zhao Zhifan froze, half-expecting Fu Siheng to storm out of the cockpit in a fit of rage and drag him down for a physical beating.
Instead, Fu Siheng commanded the mecha to raise its sole functioning left arm. At the same time, he tossed an object directly from the open cockpit toward the mechanical hand.
setup smoothly caught the item in its grip, and the cockpit hatch sealed shut once again.
The onlookers exchanged bewildered glances, until someone broke the silence: “Does he really lack spiritual power? Controlling it with that level of precision and synchronization is insane.”
Snapping out of his stupor, Zhao Zhifan seized the split second before the hatch fully sealed to launch a third barrage.
A wall of artillery shells surged forward, faster and more violent than his previous two attacks.
Yet Fu Siheng caught everyone off guard yet again. He executed a sharp sidestep, dropping the mecha into a half-prone position on the grass. From a distance, it looked as if he had been brought down by a direct hit.
Gasps rippled through the spectators beyond the perimeter fence. Lin Yue clapped a hand over his mouth.
He had watched Fu Siheng’s mecha matches before, but those had been viewed through a tactical commander’s lens without Fu Siheng personally fighting on the front lines. A 1v1 duel as intense as this was a first for him.
Taking advantage of the brief pause in Zhao Zhifan’s targeting cycle, Fu Siheng snapped the mecha’s left arm forward. A long whip lashed out like a bolt of lightning, crackling through the air to strike Zhao Zhifan’s knee joint with surgical precision.
As it turned out, he had dropped to the ground specifically to stabilize his stance and sweep the lower body of his opponent.
Inside his cockpit, Zhao Zhifan felt his seat tilt violently. His heart sank to the pit of his stomach. Years of piloting told him instantly what that meant: severe leg damage.
Before anyone could process what was happening, the whip recoiled at an impossible angle. Like a striking viper, it shot out a second time, slamming hard against Zhao Zhifan’s other knee joint.
The entire exchange took less than two seconds.
Even putting aside the time required to extend and retract a weapon, doing so back-to-back without a rest period was practically impossible even for automated robots.
It defied all logic.
Most people assumed that entering battle with high-tech weaponry meant smooth sailing. But in reality, the hardest weapons to master weren’t firearms they were melee weapons, especially flexible whips.
Zhao Zhifan’s mecha let out a deafening metallic screech before crashing heavily onto its knees, fractures spreading rapidly across the joints below.
Yan Xun chuckled softly, glancing down at his watch before turning to Shi Yuanyang. “Ten minutes on the dot. You guessed right.”
Shi Yuanyang, transfixed by the fight, let out an appreciative clicking sound with his tongue.
Fu Siheng slowly brought his machine to its feet, wrapping the whip tightly around Zhao Zhifan’s mecha. With a harsh yank, he dragged the entire unit across the ground, trailing a path of shattered components behind it.
A heavy silence fell over the parade ground. The cadets were stunned speechless.
That’s a multi-million-credit machine right there, and he’s just stripping it for parts! For most of them, it was the very first time seeing a mecha dismantled right before their eyes.
The scene was bloodier to watch than slaughtering a hostile Zergan creature.
The cockpit hatch hissed open once more. Fu Siheng stood up from the command platform and, operating the controls single-handedly, used the left mechanical arm to hoist Zhao Zhifan’s battered machine upright.
“If this were a real battlefield, you’d be dead by now.” His voice was devoid of emotion, his expression unreadable as if he hadn’t just pulled off a miraculous sequence of maneuvers.
Zhao Zhifan shoved his own hatch open, breathing heavily, his eyes bloodshot. “Do what you want with me. You only won because you used cheap tricks. Real battlefields don’t use simulated ammunition.”
Though burning with indignance, he had no choice but to swallow his pride. Every one of his attacks had been hair-breadths away from blowing his opponent’s head off.
Fu Siheng pushed himself up and vaulted cleanly off the two-meter-high platform.
“Have your self-reflection written and on my desk by tomorrow,” he said without looking back. “And get both of these machines sent in for repairs.”
Zhao Zhifan glared at his receding back, his gaze dark.
A few sharp cadets picked up on his choice of words: “Both.” Whispers began to ripple through the crowd.
Yi Fengbei looked puzzled. “Didn’t he say taking the elevator was a mark of respect? Why did he just jump down this time?”
“To celebrate the victory alongside his machine…it’s an old Hera tradition,” Shi Yuanyang explained, a proud smile gracing his face.
Yi Fengbei figured he would just take their word for it. After pondering for a moment, he asked in dead earnest, “Was I being too mouthy earlier? Will Instructor Fu be mad at me? Do you think he gets so angry he tears students apart to vent?”
Shi Yuanyang couldn’t hold back a burst of laughter. “Hard to say. So you’d better stay on his good side.”
Word of the morning training incident reached Qu Mengda’s ears in no time.
Before Fu Siheng could even soak in the hero-worshiping looks from the cadets, he was summoned to the Principal’s office for a chat.
On the top floor of the administrative building, Qu Mengda sat opposite Principal Qi Kun inside a spacious office.
Qi Kun had joined the Imperial Military Academy a few years back as a Senior General. Though in his early fifties, he was remarkably well-preserved. He had a refined, serious demeanor a long face with an aquiline nose that gave him a sharp, shrewd look, though his eyes radiated an approachable warmth.
Fu Siheng had met him a handful of times during his student days: once when his father, Fu Shouming, brought him over to pay his respects, and a few other times at official ceremonies.
When Qi Kun saw Fu Siheng enter and salute, a gentle smile broke across his face.
“Haven’t seen you in a few years, Little Fu. You’ve grown even more impressive,” Qi Kun said, gesturing for him to take a seat opposite him.
Fu Siheng cast a quick glance at Qu Mengda before sitting down beside him.
Qu Mengda spoke up first. “Principal, this boy’s spent too much time in the military camps, so he tends to be a bit rough on the cadets. He crossed the line this time. As the Dean, it’s my fault for failing to supervise him properly.”
Fu Siheng raised an eyebrow, offering neither agreement nor denial.
Just as Qu Mengda was about to reprimand him further, Qi Kun chuckled and waved it off. “No harm done. In fact, it’s a good thing. Let the kids experience what it’s really like ahead of time they’ll have to face it sooner or later anyway.”
At the end of the day, a military academy was an educational institution. It wasn’t quite the same as infantry units, where training was purely focused on preparing for war.
In the past, Fu Siheng could spar with soldiers as wildly as he pleased. But on campus, such conduct was technically forbidden.
“Principal, Dean… sorry for the trouble,” Fu Siheng said, looking up. “I’ll cover the repair costs for the mechas at the financial department later.”
Qi Kun waved his hand. “No need.”
Fu Siheng and Qu Mengda exchanged a puzzled glance. Anyone who had been at the academy for more than two years knew that while the Principal was generous with campus infrastructure, he was notoriously stingy when it came to operational costs.
Qi Kun cleared his throat softly. “Before you enrolled, Marshal Fu had already deposited a security fund on your behalf. Any equipment damage will be deducted from that.”
Fu Siheng: “…”
Qu Mengda looked equally awkward. He turned to Fu Siheng and grumbled, “If you exercised just a bit of self-control, you wouldn’t be paying out of pocket every single day.”
In truth, that was somewhat unfair to Fu Siheng. Had he not held back at the last second, Zhao Zhifan’s mecha wouldn’t just be half-damaged it would have been completely scrapped.
“Let’s put this matter aside,” Qi Kun said, switching the topic. “Little Fu, the main reason I called you here today is something else.”
Fu Siheng looked at him attentively.
“Your training methodology is quite effective,” Qi Kun continued. “Though today’s execution was slightly improper, it introduced some fresh concepts to the Command Department such as training with cold weapons and live combat between instructors and cadets. I think we can draw inspiration from this for future curriculum.”
As he said the last line, he cast a glance at Qu Mengda.
Qu Mengda nodded in agreement immediately, though he felt a surge of surprise internally.
“Prepare well for the upcoming Mecha League,” Qi Kun said, giving Fu Siheng a meaningful smile. “I hope to see you join the ranks of the ‘Excellence Program’ a month from now.”
This time, the shock was written plain as day on Qu Mengda’s face. Even Fu Siheng was taken aback he hadn’t expected the Principal to say that.
“As for Little Fu’s training methods, Old Qu,” Qi Kun said, turning to Qu Mengda, “the kids need real combat experience. Learn to let go when necessary, and don’t keep them on too tight a leash.”
With that, Qu Mengda had no choice but to nod in compliance.
After going over a few more administrative tasks, Qi Kun dismissed them.
Once the two had left, Qi Kun picked up the communicator sitting on his desk and dialed a number.
“Hey, Old Fu. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine here,” he said, standing by the window as he watched Qu Mengda and Fu Siheng walk out of the building one after the other.
“Though I still have to ask… aren’t you taking too big a risk by sending the boy here?” His tone lost its earlier lightness, tinged with heavy concern.
Whatever Fu Shouming said on the other end made Qi Kun pinch the bridge of his nose, looking weary. “True. As long as that mole isn’t caught, the Imperial Command won’t know peace. Old Fu… it’s been tough on you.”
Down below, Fu Siheng and Qu Mengda strolled across the grounds as squads of cadets ran past in formation.
Qu Mengda glanced at Fu Siheng and said, “Even if the Principal gave you his blessing, don’t get too carried away. You can’t treat the cadets like that next time.”
“With the way Class 3 usually trains, there’s no way they’ll make the cut for the ‘Excellence Program,'” Fu Siheng said coolly.
Qu Mengda scoffed. “Oh, look at you getting all competitive! Do you really want in that badly?”
Fu Siheng suddenly let out a faint smile. “Dean, why do you think the Principal said those things to me? Does he genuinely believe I have what it takes… or did someone tell him to say it?”
He tilted his head toward Qu Mengda. Though his eyes carried a smirk, the look gave Qu Mengda an uneasy chill.
“Who could possibly dictate what he says?” Qu Mengda blurted out. But the moment the words left his mouth, a name flashed through his mind.
He whipped his head around to look at Fu Siheng, but Fu Siheng said nothing more.
As they approached the Command Department building, Fu Siheng broke the silence. “Dean, there’s no need to guess. To this day, I still haven’t figured out what my dad is trying to accomplish by reassigning me here.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets, watching the passing students with an air of relaxed detachment. “There are plenty of places to gain field experience. Why go out of his way to override my wishes and shove me into this place?”
Qu Mengda was about to ponder his words seriously when the phrase “override my wishes” rubbed him the wrong way. “You ungrateful brat! What’s wrong with returning to your alma mater? Are you holding a grudge against someone here or what…”
He cut himself off mid-sentence. Fu Siheng had abruptly stopped in his tracks.
Both men looked up. Standing right outside the main entrance of the Command Department was a tall figure.
Clad in a sleek black tactical uniform, it was Yan Xun.
Qu Mengda hadn’t lost his memory entirely; he remembered the awkward friction between these two earlier. Taking the initiative, he called out, “Little Yan, what brings you here?”
Yan Xun snapped to attention and delivered a crisp, flawless salute to both of them. “Dean Qu. I came to speak with Instructor Fu regarding a minor matter.”
Qu Mengda looked back and forth between the two.
Fu Siheng clearly had no desire to talk to him. Avoiding his gaze, he asked coldly, “What is it? Say it right here.”
Curious about what business Yan Xun could possibly have with Fu Siheng, Qu Mengda made no attempt to hide his unblinking gaze.
Yan Xun was hardly the type to second-guess himself or tread lightly. Without a trace of hesitation or embarrassment, he asked right in front of the Dean:
“It’s nothing major. I just wanted to know, Instructor Fu… when are you going to unblock me?”
Fu Siheng: ???