Counterfeit Hero

”In actual combat, we usually don’t have many opportunities to fight one-on-one. Even if we do, we won’t be able to use overly complicated techniques.”

At the Scadivow Base terminal building, an alloy framework supported a vast, bright space. The previously arranged service counters, baggage scanners, and conveyors had all been removed, replaced with rows of foldable chairs. Tian Xingjian stood on a temporary central control platform, tapping on the keyboard to switch the virtual screens to combat training footage, while explaining basic control techniques to the bandit army soldiers.

”Thus, the techniques we need to master are those that kill our opponents as quickly as possible and offer the highest survival rate for ourselves. Earlier, I discussed the improvement of arc sprint techniques. Now, let’s look at a typical Level 1 control pattern and how to combine it with a Second-level basic sliding side kick...”

In the massive terminal hall, nearly a thousand bandit army Mecha soldiers from different factions were intently listening to Fatty’s theoretical class on Mecha controls. The sunlight filtered through the twenty-meter-high glass walls of the hall, enveloping the blue-uniformed warriors in a halo of floating dust particles.

In the quiet space, aside from Fatty’s voice, it was so silent that you could hear a pin drop; not even a single cough was heard. The Mech Knights were intently scribbling on their control manuals while listening, their eyes fixed on the virtual screens with concentration and excitement.

Fatty’s voice echoed throughout the hall. The combat scenes on the virtual screens were frozen in time. The warriors occasionally glanced at their equally focused comrades, frequently feeling a sense of surrealism.

Years, even decades of diligent practice and hard work—they once thought their lives would be a series of steps, learning from countless predecessors in the trajectory from Mechanical Warrior to Mechanical Knight, to Mechanical Lord.

Becoming a Mechanical God, standing at the pinnacle of the Free World, had once been the dream of each one of them.

However, when war came, they realized how fragile they were as Mech Knights in this chaotic world.

Without long-range firepower and energy shields, the private Mecha, with its flashy or practical techniques, was stripped of its formidable shell in the face of fierce firepower. Society’s familiar forms crumbled in an instant, and the skills they were proud of became worthless.

If they hadn’t come here, the Mech Knights believed their lifelong beliefs would have already crumbled.

Fortunately, they came here.

In these recent days, what they learned here was something they had never imagined before. They never knew that these techniques could be controlled in other ways. They also didn’t realize that when they unknowingly climbed the mountain guided by Fatty, those basic control skill records, which once seemed to be the limit, could be so easily broken.

Everything felt like a dream.

Not long ago, their Sect Master led them into this base, then ordered them to forget their former identities and become part of the bandit army. They were assigned to various squads, repeating different kinds of training every day.

When they barely slept three to five hours before being driven like ducks to the training field. When they mechanically crawled and rolled in the mud like fools. When the instructors’ roars exploded beside their ears, tightening their nerves to a blank state. No one could see the future clearly.

Later, these Mech Knights gathered at Scadivow Base saw sixteen hundred selected comrades being called into this immense ”classroom.” At that moment, everyone was just numb, not caring why those comrades were called in.

The bandit army’s selection seemed to have no specific standards. Among those sixteen hundred, the best were a few Mechanical Commanders, and the worst were Outer Disciples who had only trained for two or three years. It seemed these people were merely more serious and diligent than others in those tedious trainings.

The remaining Mech Knights continued their exhausting training, watching one group of chosen comrades enter and exit, then being separated to another training field.

Until a few days later, during Mecha combat training, when they were effortlessly defeated by comrades who were previously much lesser than them did they understand what had happened.

They would never forget those comrades who were first to enter the classroom and receive Mecha control training—their bright, fervent eyes. They also remember sitting in their defeated Mechas, overwhelmed by incredulity. From that day, they stood straighter, ran faster, and tried harder, all to have a chance to sit in that classroom!

”Watch my movements carefully,” Fatty sat in the simulation training machine, the camera lens focused on his control stick and virtual keyboard, ”When ending an arc sprint, we need to change the Mecha’s inertial direction; otherwise, the side kick will turn into a straight kick. We all know this, but during the process of changing force direction, regular control protocols usually require downshifting the engine to boost, making directional control very cumbersome. However, if we do it this way...”