Chapter Nineteen: Crushing

Fatty and Mu Fan sat in the Directional Suspension Vehicle, as Fatty began introducing Mu Fan to relevant knowledge about the PO network.

"The place we're going is the Training Base. It'll give you basic training in the PO Battle Network. This world has a high degree of freedom—if a veteran applied for a smurf account, they could skip it. But I still recommend you go."

Mu Fan listened intently, then asked, "What kind of operations does it mainly train there?"

"Mostly mecha operations and individual combat. But the latter isn't that meaningful, because whether you can fight or not shows clearly. It only provides simulated sparring—no real improvement in technique. The base's purpose is to get you familiar with this world as fast as possible."

"Mm." Mu Fan didn't ask further.

As they spoke, the two had already arrived at their destination.

"You go on in. I'm heading to the Combat Zone. I've already noted the coordinates of this Training Base. Once you're familiar with it, just call me directly."

Fatty rubbed his hands together. Boot Camp was just too boring. As an old hand like him, there was nothing to do here. What, you said Training Base? No way—spending a whole day hitting dummies?

"Alright. I'll contact you when I'm out. And... thanks." Mu Fan gave a grunt of acknowledgment, his eyes showing gratitude toward Fatty.

"Don't mention it. Since we're friends, no need to be formal. I'm still waiting for you to finish up and carry me along! I'm off!" Fatty waved his hand dismissively, then with an excited expression, charged into the Teleportation Point beside him. With a shwoosh, he vanished.

Mu Fan looked down at the Light Screen on his wrist. Behind 'Lemon Balloon,' it now showed they were in different zones, followed by his rank: Silver 1 Star.

Shaking his head, Mu Fan stepped into the pale blue spatial door.

His body passed through a thin film, cool and refreshing, and then he found himself in an empty, deserted corridor.

Following the blue guiding light at his feet, Mu Fan walked up to a Metal Revolving Door and pressed a faintly glowing button beside it.

"Greetings, recruit 'Egg Lord.' This is Base 341 Training Center."

Mu Fan's facial muscles twitched involuntarily. Right now, all he wanted to ask was if he could change his nickname again.

"Please select a training program. One: Individual Combat Training. Two: Mecha Piloting Training."

As Mu Fan heard the voice, he saw two options displayed on the Electronic Screen before him. He reached out a finger.

"Individual Combat option." Mu Fan answered decisively.

Both types of training needed to be mastered. Starting with individual combat, then familiarizing himself with mecha training—Mu Fan's plan was clear. To get used to this world, he had to begin with the basics, just like surviving in the wild: cautious in everything, one misstep could cost a life.

When Mu Fan pressed that button, the entire corridor went dark, as if returning to the moment he first entered the battle network and met Black. All around, silence and darkness reigned.

Soon, a glimmer of light emerged from ahead. Light shone through the Metal Revolving Door. With a series of clanks, the corridor Mu Fan stood in vanished. He stomped the ground—a specially made composite material floor. A beam of light enveloped a ten-meter radius around him, while everything else remained pitch black.

So realistic! Mu Fan was secretly startled. This feeling—it was like he was back in the deep forest, hunting at night.

No! What's with this atmosphere, this sense of pressure?! Why is my heart pounding so hard?

Swoosh

"Who?!" Mu Fan spun around sharply. At this moment, he was no longer the quiet, low-key youth. His back arched slightly, and his arm bones creaked softly.

A figure flashed past in the shadow on his right. If not for Mu Fan's extraordinary senses, he wouldn't have noticed it at all.

Mu Fan clenched his fists, lowering his body even more, like a wolf poised to pounce. Another heartbeat thudded in his ears.

What's going on? It feels so real. That abnormal heartbeat when encountering danger in the wild is clearly feeding back into the PO world. But Fatty said it wasn't this realistic.

Whoosh! Another shadow flashed by. Mu Fan whipped his head around. He could see in the dark, but he still couldn't make out the surroundings' end or the shadow's form. He could sense that the shadow was deliberately staying in his blind spots.

No one again. Suddenly, Mu Fan's pupils shrank. He ducked low, tilting his neck slightly, and then the sound of something cutting through the air reached his ears—a sneak attack of extreme speed.

Metal weapon! Danger!

Another whoosh came. By the time the sound arrived, Mu Fan knew he couldn't dodge. He tensed his forearm muscles and raised his arm to block.

Sss. It hurt. That solid feeling of metal striking flesh—Mu Fan felt like his bones were about to break.

Was this still a virtual world? Fatty said the rookie training difficulty was this high?

Swoosh—no time to think more. A faint, unusual noise suddenly came from his left.

It's moved to the left again. Mu Fan turned alertly.

So treacherous! From the corner of his eye, he caught the Metal Short Rod hurtling toward him. Mu Fan gritted his teeth, dropped low, planted his hands on the ground, and exploded upward with all the strength in his legs, like a Cannonball, his fist lashing out fiercely.

But Mu Fan seemed to have forgotten this was the PO Battle Network. He hadn't yet accurately gauged how much his strength had decayed in the virtual world. So he could only watch helplessly as the Metal Short Rod smoothly changed direction mid-air and then grew infinitely large in his vision.

Bang! Mu Fan felt his skull crack under that blow. He felt his consciousness shatter under that violent strike, the brain's forced fear response to death shattering his senses and perception. The helplessness of losing control over his body, and the... infinite attachment to life.

In that instant, the mental blow surpassed even the pain of his skull shattering and brains splattering. Was he dead like this?...

Huh? Why was his consciousness still here? Wasn't that person lying on the ground himself? Suddenly, a tiny whirlwind rose, sweeping up his "corpse" on the ground. The "corpse" shattered into specks of light in the whirlwind, then reassembled. A pulling force dragged him into darkness, then back into light.

So this is death? Mu Fan looked down at his intact self, touched his head to confirm it was fine, and couldn't help feeling a lingering fear.

Good thing it was in the virtual world.

"How did death feel?"

When he heard the voice from behind, its unhurried tone made the hairs on Mu Fan's body stand on end. But he didn't turn around—he restrained his instinctive reaction.

"Tsk tsk. That reaction on your first time." The faint voice carried a hint of mocking praise.

Mu Fan waited until he confirmed his body sensed no danger, then turned around.

A figure emerged from the shadows—a darkness deeper than the night. Step by step, it drew closer. Mu Fan heard no sound at all. This person's control over his leg muscles was appalling.

The figure cloaked in darkness stopped at the edge of the central light. Though closer now, Mu Fan could see him even less clearly. He only saw, when the figure looked up, a pair of eerie green eyes revealed beneath the hood.

"Little one, welcome to the rookie training camp. I'm the instructor here. Relax, you greenhorn." That same flat tone, introducing himself like he was sipping a glass of water.

Phew, Mu Fan almost forgot again that this was the virtual world.

"Hello, Instructor." Mu Fan was always respectful to those who taught him.

"Mm."

The PO Battle Network was way too realistic—even the system characters could mimic tone of voice.

"Is this the rookie training camp?" Mu Fan felt something was off.

"Yes."

"Are you my combat instructor?"

"Yes."

"What should I call you?"

"Fighter." The figure waved a hand dismissively.

"Fighter Instructor?"

"Mm."

"What's the training plan next?" Mu Fan set aside his doubts.

"One more round. Log in tomorrow and come find me." Before Mu Fan could even respond, the figure swung his left arm, leaving a blur in its wake. The familiar whistle of the short staff was followed by the crack of breaking bones.

"So... underhanded." Mu Fan's arm blocked the staff, but the bent limb and caved-in ribs already had him barely able to speak from the pain.

"Training's over for today. Remember to come tomorrow." A backhanded strike, that same familiar feeling, that same helplessness with no way to dodge. Mu Fan experienced the sensation of his skull shattering again.

Watching Mu Fan vanish into light, the figure looked like he'd casually swatted a fly.

The corner of the combat instructor's mouth lifted beneath his hood, then that pair of eerie green eyes faded into the darkness. His faint muttering vanished into the complete blackness as well.

"Heh, Fighter... interesting..."