Beyond the Zenith

The die had probably rolled again.

If one were to visualize the flow of source energy, it was like a massive wave about to come crashing down, only to turn into the dribble of a little boy having a piss, or maybe a broken faucet, dripping slowly. Then, out of nowhere, another massive wave.

That was the way Dice worked.

Han Qingyu stood there, staring at Plague Chicken, fighting with everything he had not to burst into laughter. He felt like he was losing his mind a little. Watching the flickering blue glow of Wen Jifei’s maneuvering device was like watching a die tumbling endlessly through the air.

“Don’t just stand there. I’m serious. I heard something crack inside my forearm. Did you hear it?” Wen Jifei asked lowly.

His right arm didn’t look broken, at least not visibly so, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t fractured.

Han Qingyu shook his head. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“That’s good, at least.” Wen Jifei looked annoyed with himself. “If I’d known, I would’ve walked away all cool and collected after that first hit. My reputation would’ve been... well, the debate about who between us is stronger would’ve been an eternal mystery of the Ninth Army.”

Han Qingyu didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Doesn’t it hurt?”

“Not too bad. Probably numb,” Wen Jifei said with a shake of his head. “I finally understand why the legendary swordsmen in wuxia novels always stun the world with one big fight, then retire into seclusion.”

Based on his rambling, he seemed fine. Han Qingyu relaxed a little.

“So, what do you want to do? Should I walk you to the medical room, or should I call over a few of the female equipment officers to take you there?” Han Qingyu nodded toward the cluster of female equipment officers standing nearby, members of what could only be described as the “Plague Chicken Dynasty” of the equipment hall.

Wen Jifei glanced over, froze for a second, then said urgently, “Quick, Little Qing. Ask me what happened. Loudly. And throw in some disbelief.”

Han Qingyu was silent.

“Hurry up!”

Han Qingyu cleared his throat, took a moment to get into character, and raised his voice. “Plague Chicken, what happened to you?! How did this happen?!”

“It’s fine, probably just a minor fracture.”

Surprisingly, Wen Jifei honestly admitted to his injury, probably because there’d be no hiding it if his arm ended up in a sling.

A wave of quiet laughter followed, whether out of sympathy, mockery, or simply because people couldn’t help themselves.

Mixed in were a few alarmed gasps from the female equipment officers.

Wen Jifei let out a rueful smile, then delivered his next line. “Nothing I could do. I had to forcibly reverse my source energy surge just now.”

The female equipment officers didn’t grasp the significance, not really understanding this sort of thing. Everyone else was instantly stunned—Han Qingyu by how outrageously far Wen Jifei was willing to take this, and everyone else by how outrageously strong Wen Jifei appeared to be.

Everyone knew that source energy moved through the body in surges. The surge flowed outward to deliver power, then ebbed. Controlling the rhythm and speed of the surge was the foundation of maneuvering-device combat.

Wen Jifei was essentially claiming that he’d made a crashing wave turn around. That kind of forced reversal would probably make even a ten-year veteran cough blood.

The recruits thought back to the way S-19 had effortlessly dodged their attacks during training. Even with it holding back, the occasional hit barely seemed to register. Meanwhile, Wen Jifei’s single blow had sent the thing flying. It was starting to sound plausible.

The Azure Coalition’s entire eighty-year history had only produced a dozen or so Dice, and they’d never been publicly disclosed. Naturally, the recruits were unaware of the true situation.

In the stunned silence, Wen Jifei glanced back at S-19 and added, “I realized as the blade was coming down that the hit was too heavy. I was afraid I’d destroy it.”

Han Qingyu was so embarrassed he wanted to pretend he didn’t know the guy.

S-19, on the other hand, turned its head to stare at Wen Jifei in a human-like manner. If it could think, it would probably wonder, Is that really what happened?

The difference between those first and second strikes had been enormous.

“Alright, go ahead and train. I’ll rest over here,” Wen Jifei said lightly, strolling to the side and flashing a relaxed smile at the female equipment officers.

Well, the only one in pain here is him. Han Qingyu picked up the dropped blade with his left hand and drew the other blade from his back with his right before turning to the handler girl.

“Hey, uh, comrade handler. Should we officially start the clock now?”

The girl glanced at her watch, walked over, and gave him a sly little smile. “I started the clock a long time ago. He’s your friend, isn’t he? I’m counting from when he started. Also, my name’s Wan Xiujing.”

Han Qingyu couldn’t care less what her name was. He cared about the time.

“Eh, you’ve got many energy cores, right? The head instructor just said you do.” The exasperating little girl abruptly changed her tone and expression. “Wanna be friends?”

She was still a kid, and the transparency of her ploy was almost painful. Besides, “making friends” was an extremely expensive activity. Han Qingyu had recently witnessed a prime example firsthand. That person’s name was Tu Zi.

“I’d rather not. I only make friends with people with source energy,” Han Qingyu bluntly refused. Her obsession with energy cores was enough to tell him that she wasn’t one of those people. “Now, get your robot ready.”

S-19 turned around.

Dual blades in hand, Han Qingyu’s maneuvering device hummed to life, blue light flaring as he rocketed forward like an arrow.

He’d been holding back all afternoon.

This session was burning through his personal energy core.

He was paying for this, and it was expensive. But he only had fifteen minutes a day. That was it.

All of that mattered. The most important thing, though, was that his opponent was a robot.

Even when sparring with Lao Jian, Han Qingyu hadn’t dared to use both his device and his internal source energy at the same time. Aside from that one time at District 1123 when he’d leaped down to cut the Sharpie, he had never once gone all out in training.

There was no way the robot would notice. After all, it had no way to measure it. Even if it could, the thing was a hunk of scrap metal and couldn’t exactly tell anyone.

Han Qingyu’s twin blades came down with a resounding boom and a crack.

The spectators were stunned. “Did you see that? The robot had to block.”

Throughout the entire afternoon, S-19 had almost never been forced into a scrambling, desperate block like that.

“Can it afford not to? Little Qing’s gone berserk.”

“Three hits in a row... four... five...”

Some of those present had watched Han Qingyu’s leap to cut down the Sharpie at District 1123, but most hadn’t. This explosive display and brutal beating of S-19, which had spent the entire afternoon silently mocking the recruits, brought many to their feet.

“Now that’s more like it!” someone cried out.

Han Qingyu pressed his attack on S-19 in a relentless torrent.

Cheers kept coming.

Then, a sudden, explosive impact sent Han Qingyu’s entire body flying backward. He jammed both blades into the ground to brake, but still skidded back over ten meters before barely managing to stop and regain his footing.

His face twisted in pain. It felt as though a giant sledgehammer had just slammed into his chest. The impact was so massive he nearly coughed up blood. Not that coughing blood was a big deal, but he was just a recruit. He could hardly steal Platoon Leader Lao’s signature move, so he held it in with everything he had.

Ten meters away, S-19 stood motionless, one metal arm extended in front of it, fist clenched.

It had thrown one punch. It was nothing fancy. Just very sudden, fast, and heavy.

Surprised murmurs filled the air.

“Hey, it’s hitting back?”

“Yeah, I thought this was supposed to be attack drills only?”

“So strong.”

Han Qingyu steadied himself and turned to Wan Xiujing. “You told it to fight back?”

“Huh?” Wan Xiujing met his gaze with panicked eyes, as if she’d frozen and didn’t know how to explain.

Han Qingyu’s furrowed brow relaxed, and he broke into a bright grin. “That’s even better. I was just thinking that I’d be alright if it fought back... Leave it. Don’t change the command. Let it hit back. Let’s have a full sparring session.”

Wan Xiujing blinked twice. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Han Qingyu gave a firm, confident nod, then adjusted his stance and charged back in.

Two minutes later, Wen Jifei left for the medical room with a few female equipment officers accompanying him.

Not long after, He Tangtang, Liu Shiheng, and the other roommates also got up and left, talking amongst themselves as they went.

“I can’t watch this anymore.”

“Yeah, he’s half dead.”

Recruits left with heavy sighs.

“That’s brutal.”

“Yeah, watching this is crushing what’s left of my confidence.”

“If the robot’s this strong, why not just send robots to the front lines? Why do we have to risk our necks?”

“No clue. There’s probably only one or two. Maybe they’re too poor to mass produce them.”

“Right. If there aren’t enough to form a unit, the Sharpies will just rip them apart.”

Nearly everyone had gone. The brief fifteen minutes felt like an eternity to Han Qingyu, as he was being relentlessly pummeled the whole time.

Finally, Wan Xiujing, sitting at the edge of the field, stood up and raised her hand. “Time’s up.”

S-19 stopped.

Han Qingyu stood for two seconds, then dropped to the ground, sprawled flat on his back. He gasped violently, as though on the verge of death.

The girl leaned over and peered at Han Qingyu’s face with concern, as if afraid she would lose a customer. “Are... you okay? Will you be coming back tomorrow?”

“Hoooo...” Han Qingyu let out a breath with great difficulty and managed a nod. “Yeah.”

“Full sparring again?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Just remember to bring the energy cores.” She turned and cheerfully walked away, not even bothering to help him up. “Bye!”

Han Qingyu gave a bitter smile. He struggled for a while before finally sitting up.

A few dozen meters away, he saw two silhouettes in the sunset.

S-19 walked with steady, measured steps. Wan Xiujing trailed beside it like a little sidekick, alternating from one side to the other.

When they reached a tree, S-19 stopped, turned its head to look up at a branch, and reached out a hand. A black-and-white cat with a silver gradient coat leaped down from the branch and landed in its palm.

“Mangmangmangmang, you’ve been sleeping all afternoon!” Wan Xiujing said, stroking the cat.

The cat named Mangmangmangmang meowed in reply and hopped down from S-19’s hand to trail alongside them.

A girl, a not-so-tall robot, and a cat walked side by side into the fading glow of the sunset.

***

It was dinnertime in the mess hall.

“Tangtang,” Han Qingyu called out to the boy sitting across from him and looked him dead in the eye.

This big, rough-mannered guy had an embarrassingly cutesy name, so everyone, Han Qingyu included, normally opted for “Big He,” “Big Oaf,” or “Big Tang” instead.

He Tangtang’s skin crawled at the use of his given name. “What? What do you want?!”

“It’s just... since you’re done eating, could you maybe feed me a few bites?” Han Qingyu asked.

Before he could explain that he couldn’t move his arms and fingers, He Tangtang grabbed his tray and bolted.

Every other roommate at the table bolted with him.

Han Qingyu didn’t even have it in him to cry. He had no choice but to duck his head down and eat straight from the bowl.