Beyond the Zenith

Despite being an F-ranker and unable to armor up, Yang Qingbai still dreamed of fighting his way out beyond the zenith. He wanted to risk his life alongside everyone and then hopefully survive to tell the tale.

In the eyes of others, Wen Jifei mysteriously couldn’t armor up either. Still, he had become more diligent in his marksmanship training after getting his hands on the maneuvering device that Zhang Dao’an had left behind. With his right hand fractured, he had been training with his left one these past few days, practicing his grip and sometimes just aiming without firing, focused for hours at a stretch.

Little Qing and Mira’s teamwork at District 1123 had shown Plague Chicken a path to being useful on the battlefield. Like Mira, he had started to pin his hopes on a breakthrough in Coalition’s research, hoping for a gun that could fire dead iron bullets propelled by source energy. Mira had warned, though, that this line of research had most likely been shelved due to various problems and flaws.

As for Han Qingyu, well, his efforts hardly needed mentioning.

Liu Shiheng, the rich kid from Harbor City, watched as everyone around him put their best foot forward and was left feeling increasingly lost and confused. Every day, he made a point of ‌deliberately recalling the comfortable life he’d once had back in the city. This wasn’t done out of nostalgia, but so he wouldn’t accidentally get swept up in the heat of the moment one day and throw his life away.

His serial number, 9-771233, was etched into his blade, marking it as undoubtedly his. This same blade had cut down a Sharpie and carved a deep gash into the chest of a Glowing Blue Sharpie in District 1123, but he hadn’t been the one wielding it.

Why the hell should I feel like I don’t deserve some lousy blade?! Liu Shiheng thought to himself. Ugh. I’ve been training, too. I just don’t want to risk my life, that’s all.

After brooding over this for some time, he leaned over the edge of his bunk to peer at Han Qingyu, who was slumped on the floor. “Little Qing.”

Han Qingyu glanced up. “Yeah?”

“Sometime when you’re free, let me join your sparring sessions too. Just... go easy on me.” Liu Shiheng smiled awkwardly. “I could use the practice. For self-preservation.”

He Tangtang, also of Dormitory 22, would occasionally spar with Han Qingyu. He had a B+ integration level, and his strength was growing rapidly.

Han Qingyu smiled and nodded. “Sure.”

“Destroy him,” Wen Jifei chimed in as he walked in through the door with a grin. Walking over to Han Qingyu, he held out a brown envelope. “Mail for you. Looks like it’s from home. Want me to open it?”

The envelope bore only the forwarding address, with no actual hometown address on it.

Wen Jifei clumsily used his right elbow and left hand to tear open and unfold the letter for Han Qingyu, smiling in a way that was hard to read. “Yao Yue wrote to me too. I didn’t reply last time, so she sent another one.”

“You should write back. What did she say?”

“Just talked about her life at university. She’s studying journalism, so she’s full of questions. Asked how I’m doing in the army, if it’s tough and if I’m improving... all sorts of things. She also encouraged me to study hard for the military academy exam. She said some guy at school tried to pursue her, but she already turned him down, so I shouldn’t worry.”

“That’s really nice.”

“Yeah, I know. Now go read your letter.”

Wen Jifei went back to his own bunk, leaned against the wall with his head tilted back, and laid Yao Yue’s letter over his face.

After a long pause, he suddenly said from behind the letter, “Do you think there’ll come a day when the whole truth about the Sharpie invasion can’t be kept secret anymore, and the entire world finds out? And then, just like Yang Qingbai wrote, we’ll launch into the sky in front of the whole world and fight our way out beyond the zenith?”

Dormitory 22 went quiet for a few seconds.

“Then I’d better find myself a wife first,” He Tangtang said seriously.

“I’d want to take you guys to Harbor City for a few days first,” Liu Shiheng added.

There was a brief lull in the conversation.

“I’d want to see Yao Yue and be able to tell her what I’ve been doing these past few years, that I haven’t been slacking off,” Plague Chicken said quietly, mind filled with thought about how he had been “disappointing” Yao Yue ever since their promise back in middle school. “I just don’t know if she’ll have gotten married by then...”

Another brief silence filled the room.

“Little Qing, what about you?” He Tangtang asked, noticing Han Qingyu hadn’t said anything.

Han Qingyu stared down at his letter. “My parents wrote that they’re thinking about opening a small shop. They’re asking for my opinion.”

Then, turning to Wen Jifei, he asked, “Plague Chicken, you know more about this stuff. What do you think? It’d be that restaurant at the big curve on the road to my village, the one where drivers stop to eat. You’ve seen it. My parents say the owner is looking to sell, and the price isn’t bad.”

Wen Jifei thought about it. “Why not just open one in town instead?”

“They probably don’t want to be too far from the fields at home. That spot’s closer. Also, rent in town is expensive,” Han Qingyu said, glancing down at the letter again. “Plus, there’s been talk that they’re going to build a new highway through the mountains out there, connecting straight to the next province.”

“Then it’s definitely worth it.” Wen Jifei briefly mulled it over. “Since they’ll be serving food, tell your parents to hire a few people from the village so they don’t wear themselves out.”

“Mm.” Han Qingyu nodded and went back to reading.

This was a trivial matter, a quick exchange, yet Liu Shiheng could feel the earnestness in Han Qingyu’s words. There was a sense of fulfillment in them, even joy and satisfaction. While Liu Shiheng couldn’t understand it, he couldn’t help but envy it a little.

***

The next day was the seventh day of Han Qingyu’s training sessions with S-19 and the last day of the first cycle—payday.

No one aside from Wan Xiujing and the cat sunbathing on the high domed window was present.

Wan Xiujing propped her chin in both hands, watching the fight unfold in the ring and comparing it to earlier days.

“How come he seems to get tougher the more he gets hit?” she mumbled to herself, stunned. “Whoa, he’s actually landing hits now.”

In the ring, Han Qingyu’s right-hand blade swept diagonally upward from his lower left to the upper right. S-19 raised its right arm to block.

The moment the dead iron straight blade came into contact with its arm, Han Qingyu rapidly spun it in his palm, slashing again and again against S-19’s right arm. The vibrating force created a lock, momentarily pinning the arm in place.

His left-hand blade drove toward S-19’s lower abdomen at the same time.

As it was about to connect, S-19 twisted sideways and charged. Its body shot forward like a cannonball as it slammed its shoulder into Han Qingyu’s chest and launched him off his feet.

It wasn’t finished yet. It chased after him with a fluidity that didn’t belong to a pile of metal plates and kicked at him.

Han Qingyu glanced down at where its iron leg was aimed... and quickly crossed both blades in front of his groin.

Cold sweat poured down his face as he barely managed to block it and hastily dodged to the side. S-19 flipped around, once again coming at him with a sweeping side kick at the same height.

He blocked it, but S-19 just attacked there again.

These are basically neutering kicks! Chain groin kicks! Has S-19 gotten dirtier, or has it just identified a weak spot? Han Qingyu wondered, completely forgetting that he had gone for the robot’s lower abdomen first. Though to be fair, it was a robot.

S-19’s chain groin kicks were endless. Han Qingyu dodged frantically, and after narrowly avoiding two in a row, he was about ready to shout at Wan Xiujing to stop.

Then, a creak echoed through the air as S-19 suddenly froze in place. It stood rigid and unmoving, as though its power had been cut.

Han Qingyu let out a long, shaky breath, still rattled. Turning to the stands, he shouted at Wan Xiujing, aggrieved, “You did that on purpose, didn’t you? Are you really that vicious, girl?”

Wan Xiujing looked flustered, but she didn’t say anything.

Han Qingyu didn’t wait for a reply. Shifting his attention back to the robot, he lifted his leg and kicked it right between the legs with the top of his foot, then followed up with a slap on the head.

“Can’t you be an honorable robot?”

After venting, Han Qingyu composed himself enough to mull over the fight and decided that S-19’s approach wasn’t entirely uncalled for. There was no guarantee that a Sharpie wouldn’t attack there, after all.

“So, uh...” He turned around again, changing his tone to something less accusing. “Did it run out of energy cores, or is it a malfunction—”

“Ahhh!” Wan Xiujing screamed and pointed at him.

Han Qingyu heard movement behind him and spun around, but he was too late.

Boom.

This was probably the hardest punch S-19 had thrown in all their sessions. It seemed to be going all out in this one strike.

The blow sent Han Qingyu flying off the ring, but it still wasn’t done. The robot had gone berserk.

Han Qingyu spat blood. Scrambling to his feet, he turned and ran straight for the door.

There were still two minutes left in the fifteen-minute session. Han Qingyu normally treasured every single second, but for once, he chose not to argue about it.

“You’re not going to finish?” Wan Xiujing called from the stands.

“Nope!” Han Qingyu was nearly out the door.

“You still haven’t given me my energy core.”

“Tomorrow... and then we start the next seven days!” he called from outside the hall.

Wan Xiujing was at a loss for words.

Outside, a passing recruit caught sight of Han Qingyu. “Whoa, he’s coughing up blood.”

Han Qingyu raised a hand, calm and collected. “I’m fine.”

Another mouthful of blood followed.