I'd already struck my pose, and this was what you showed me?
You fucking struck a pose just to become a pretty target? You screwed me over this badly in a team match?
Once again, he was the only one left. The fat kid felt especially unlucky today. In the last match, he'd been the only one left and then lost. Was this round going to repeat itself? At this distance, he couldn't guarantee that the Grenade Launcher in his hands would hit the enemy Long Arrow I-Type mechs. Wait for them to get closer? Then he'd die even faster. Yeah.
The pilots of the two Long Arrow I-Type mechs were stunned when they saw the White Skeleton get blown up so cleanly. They hurriedly checked the system records again. That was right—it was "Egg Lord." The system had displayed a kill notification.
What was going on, then? Could those two fallen Strikers have both been complete noobs? That was the only explanation.
The two Long Arrow mech pilots let out long breaths, and the pressure on them instantly vanished. Without that monstrous First Generation Unit that had scored a Double Kill according to the system notification, they could do whatever they wanted now.
The fat kid's Striker Modified skillfully pulled out its Grenade Launcher again. No one else played a melee mech at such long range.
As the two mechs in his sights gradually approached the optimal impact point, the fat kid's palms started sweating. Today had been more thrilling than the past half month combined. I'm the backbone of the team. I'm the backbone of the team. Anyone standing beside him would have clearly heard him muttering those words over and over. He was practically possessed.
They were getting closer, closer. Huh? Why were those two guys heading toward that Striker? No, they were heading toward Mu Fan's First Generation Unit.
"Brother, let's take out this First Generation Unit."
"Yeah. Come to think of it, I've never seen a First Generation Unit on the PO Battle Network. Let's get closer and take a souvenir photo. Add me as a friend. Take the picture for me, then send it over after we get out."
"No problem."
The two Long Arrow I-Type mechs had originally been heading toward the fat kid's area, but now they slowly approached Mu Fan's EH01 Type. They had activated their active Targeting Radar to guard against a sudden attack from the remaining Green Team member—the fat kid.
Poor Mu Fan had been teleported out of the battlefield in the explosion long ago. Back in the VIP room, he stared speechlessly at the real-time projected light screen before him.
"This Striker is really in the way!"
"Yeah, and the Striker under this First Generation Unit's foot is in the way too. It'll make taking a picture inconvenient."
"How about this? Let's move that kneeling one aside."
"Sure."
So the two Long Arrows each extended one metal arm, grabbed the fallen Striker that was kneeling there, and prepared to toss it aside.
Not far away, the fat kid had already begun optical sight calibration. But through his lens, he saw the two mechs starting to move the Striker.
The fat kid began wondering whether he really was some hidden expert. He began wondering whether all the opponents he'd met before had been planted actors. Those two mechs were actually going to move the Striker that was pinning down a Soldier Ant Anti-Material Mine.
My god! If you don't court death, you won't die.
Beep beep!
"What's this? Fuck, a mine! That's fucking sneaky!"
Boom! A violent cloud of smoke erupted, blasting the two suicidal Long Arrows high into the air. Though they were ranged mechs, the mine's power was limited and hadn't completely destroyed them. The two mechs began desperately adjusting their direction in midair.
Unfortunately, they had been blasted toward Mu Fan's EH01 Type.
More than ten tons of weight slammed into the standing White Skeleton, knocking it over.
Beep beep!
Boom! This time, a red cloud rose up. The Power Cabin had clearly been blown through.
The fat kid ignored everything else. He immediately stood up, raised the Grenade Launcher, and fired two rapid shots. The area was swallowed by explosions again.
The two Long Arrow I-Types were dead beyond dead.
"Lemon Balloon" had achieved a Double Kill! The announcement echoed throughout the arena.
The Striker Modified standing on the rock froze. Those mines he'd bought with Star Coins were ridiculously effective. He'd have to buy them for every match from now on. Back in the VIP room, Mu Fan, who was watching the real-time projection, was frozen too. This was practically a miracle—divine skill!
That worked too?! The same thought surfaced in both their minds.
Impressive... magnificent! Was he setting this up for me? Could he have seen me place the mine and deliberately used himself as bait? What an expert. As expected, he was incredible—an Infallible Plan.
In the cockpit, Young Master Harry's heart was filled with towering admiration for Mu Fan.
Green Team achieved victory! System calculating points... Match MVP: Lemon Balloon. Points awarded as follows: ... ...
Then the arena vanished, and the surviving fat kid was teleported out of the battlefield and appeared in the VIP room.
"We actually won. I actually won so cleanly and decisively." The fat kid was overjoyed the moment he came out. The highs and lows of life were just too thrilling.
After basking in it for a while, the fat kid immediately turned to Mu Fan and asked, "Can you tell me where your First Generation Unit came from? I just checked. That mech isn't among the ones normally sold by the system!"
Mu Fan spread his hands. "I really don't know. It was the only option available when I entered the battlefield."
The fat kid scratched his chin. "That can't be right. Are there hidden mechs in this game? If there were, someone would've leaked it already."
After thinking for a long time and getting nowhere, the little fat kid gave up when he saw Mu Fan's expression practically screaming that he had no explanation. Then his interest rose again. "How did you blow up those two Strikers just now? I checked your mech's information. It's a military conversion of a first-generation civilian model. How could it possibly fight standard military mechs, especially when it's a whole generation behind?"
Mu Fan thought about it. It was truly hard to explain, and he couldn't reveal Black's existence, so he spread his hands again. "At the time, it felt like I was out in the wilderness, facing death head-on. I didn't know what was happening either. I only wanted to survive, just like when I fought Fierce Beasts normally. The only difference was that my opponents were people. Then I won."
The fat kid really couldn't accept that answer. It sounded even less reliable than a broadcaster at the administrative station. Did Mu Fan think this was hand-to-hand combat? How much control did it take for a mech dozens of times larger to perform those humanoid movements? How fast would his hands have to be on the First Generation Unit's control panel? What kind of joke was that?
But one look at Mu Fan showed that his meaning was written all over his face: I have no explanation. Stop asking.
Still unwilling to give up, the fat kid continued, "Then why didn't you tell me beforehand when you used yourself as bait? I was ready to give up."
Thinking of how he had been blasted to death, Mu Fan felt a little embarrassed. He said earnestly and apologetically, "I was at fault this time. I'm really sorry. I almost held you back."
Towering as a mountain! The bearing of a grandmaster! Modest and humble!
He was this low-key even with his own people! I give this act a perfect score. Mu Fan's reputation in Young Master Harry's heart had already risen to Revered, and Harry gave him two thumbs-up inwardly.
"It's a shame I didn't get to see your battle. Do you have a first-person recording? Let me see it."
"How do you record it?" Mu Fan looked like a dumb goose.
The fat kid slapped his face and gave up. This guy definitely hadn't recorded anything. Battle recordings had to be activated and confirmed with the system before the match.
Were all experts this eccentric? Young Master Harry, who had encountered the world of "experts" up close for the first time, had been thoroughly led astray by Mu Fan. Unfortunately, no one could tell him that he was getting more and more off track.
Mu Fan looked at the fat kid's disappointed expression. Thinking about how he had stood there and gotten used as target practice in his first battle, he felt rather guilty. Fortunately, the fat kid's two mines had once again played a huge role.
He thought for a moment, raised his hand as though to pat the fat kid on the shoulder, paused, and then stopped.
The fat kid caught that movement. "What? Don't comfort me. I admit you were insanely badass in your first battle, but didn't you notice that Fat Brother's mines were superb? Huh? Right! Should I consider taking the demolition route with mines? Then a master's name will spread throughout the universe—Bomb Maniac, Lemon Balloon. Hahahaha! Just thinking about it makes me sound so cool!"
This time, the fat kid led Mu Fan astray.
Little Fat Harry laughed wildly for a while, then reined it in and said seriously, "Mu Fan, come on. Let's fight a second match. After that, we can rest for a while."
"Um, I'm really sorry, but I think I need to get more familiar with mech controls first." Mu Fan spoke cautiously this time. Black had made it very clear after the last match that he shouldn't even think about fighting with Body Coordination anytime soon. That experience had been a one-time thing. If he entered the battlefield again, was he supposed to stare blankly at all those buttons and mechanical levers? If he really went, his teammates would curse him to death.
So Mu Fan decided to state his thoughts. "I still need to improve my basic controls. I want to go back to the Training Camp for a few days and study the tutorials some more."
A stretch of silence...
I surrender!
Those four words echoed in the fat kid's heart.
Before you continue