Slap! Slap!
Wang Desheng was stabbed twice in the shoulder.
"Hehe!" Zhang Fan pointed at him with a contemptuous look, holding up his two swords. "How about it? Do you submit? I can still beat you even if I'm carrying 100 pounds of weight."
“Indeed, it has both strength and skill, making it difficult to defend against.” Wang Desheng rubbed his numb shoulders, chuckled, and then lifted up two 10-kilogram iron sandbags. “Here, put these on.”
"Have some decency!" Zhang Fan complained to him. "This is unacceptable. You can't beat me, so you resort to these underhanded tricks."
Despite his complaints, Zhang Fan obediently put the two 10-kilogram iron sandbags on his arms. Now he is carrying a total weight of 120 kilograms, with the weight on his arms doubling to 40 kilograms.
These days, Zhang Fan has been practicing swordsmanship with Wang Desheng, and he can feel that his swordsmanship has improved by leaps and bounds.
According to Wang Desheng, he used to only swing his sword instinctively, relying entirely on brute force in his attacks, with too many unnecessary movements.
Now, after Wang Desheng's training, the movements have become simpler and cleaner, with each move aimed at the vital points, in order to kill with a single sword strike.
"I say, with your abilities, you shouldn't just be a captain or battalion commander," Zhang Fan couldn't help but ask. With the added weight on his arms, he was left only to parry Wang Desheng's attacks.
Wang Desheng is nearly forty years old. As the camp leader of the F training camp, his position is still nominal. Zhang Fan always felt that he was not simple, and that such a low position did not match his ability.
"Hehehe." Wang Desheng stroked his bushy beard and laughed heartily again. "A hero doesn't dwell on past glories. Besides, I can't even beat a greenhorn like you. What ability do I have?"
"Tch!" Zhang Fan really wanted to tell him that he was no greenhorn and that if he had been willing to serve in Ryan, he would be a major general by now!
Clap clap clap!
Zhang Fan unleashed a fierce attack with his sword. Wang Desheng never asked about his identity, so Zhang Fan didn't inquire about Wang Desheng's past either. Between men, some things don't need to be asked as long as there is mutual trust.
“Go to your mecha simulation training class tonight,” Wang Desheng suddenly said. “Your basic skills are already good enough; you just need to practice.”
"Mecha?" Zhang Fan had almost forgotten about it. He had originally planned to go to the mecha simulation training room on his first day at the academy, but the competition delayed him, and he hadn't been there yet.
“Of course.” Wang Desheng nodded. “Otherwise, what’s the point of practicing with two swords? There’s no chance for you to show off with two swords on the battlefield; a single bullet could take your life.”
Zhang Fan thought about it and realized it made sense. Wang Desheng had accompanied him to practice swordsmanship for so long, of course it wasn't out of boredom; he was training him to be a mecha soldier.
"But shouldn't mech pilots learn to drive first?" Zhang Fan asked, somewhat confused. "I've never even touched a control stick."
"Who told you that you need a joystick to pilot a mecha?" Wang Desheng glared at him. "Have you been reading too many comics? Do you think piloting a mecha is like operating an excavator?"
"Isn't that right?" In Zhang Fan's understanding, piloting a mecha is just like sitting in the cockpit of a car, right?
"You'll see when you come over tonight." Wang Desheng was too lazy to explain to this country bumpkin who had never seen the world.
After dinner, Zhang Fan went to the mecha simulation training room in the academy's competition center.
"Just me alone?" Zhang Fan was a little stunned.
“Yes.” Wang Desheng came out from behind. “Because you’re the only mecha soldier in the entire academy.”
Depend on!
"Why?" Zhang Fan was a little confused. No one had told him this before. In his eyes, wasn't piloting a Gundam every boy's dream?
"And how did I become a mecha soldier?"
“I filled out the application for you,” Wang Desheng said matter-of-factly. “You’re the only transfer student in F Battalion, and you’re the only one who hasn’t chosen a major yet. I’ve been training you for so long, don’t you know this is mecha soldier training? Your signature is on the application form.”
Wang Desheng showed Zhang Fan a photocopy of a volunteer application form, which indeed had his own signature on it, in his own handwriting.
"No, I don't remember signing this form." Zhang Fan looked at Wang Desheng with suspicion. "Did you put this form inside the attendance sheet and have me sign it?"
Chirp—
Wang Desheng glanced at the sky at a 45-degree angle and whistled.
"Don't pretend you didn't hear me!" Zhang Fan was exasperated. "That's exactly what you did, wasn't it!"
Zhang Fan was the only one in the entire academy to sign up for the mecha soldier position, because the mecha soldiers nowadays are, in a sense, a type of soldier who does odd jobs and serves as cannon fodder.
In space warfare, cannons and giant ships are the main characters, so trainees naturally prefer to stay in the relatively safe cockpit of the warship at the rear, and fire a missile or shell at the enemy with a flick of their fingers.
Even if mechs are equipped with long-range sniper rifles, their effective range is no more than 10 kilometers. Compared with cannons and missiles that have a range of hundreds or thousands of kilometers, mech soldiers are soldiers who rush to the enemy to fight with bayonets, so naturally few people sign up. And since Ryan Military Academy is a command academy, not an infantry academy, even fewer people sign up.
Zhang Fan was the first person to sign up this year.
"You're messing with me! Is it too late to change my college application now?"
"Stop nagging, this is a pressure suit, put it on." Wang Desheng tossed a bodysuit resembling a tight-fitting leather jacket to Zhang Fan. "Didn't you always say you wanted to pilot a 'Gundam'? Hurry up!"
These words seemed to have a magical power; Zhang Fan immediately went to the changing room and quickly changed into his pressure-resistant suit.
The pressure suit is like a soft, form-fitting spacesuit, except it doesn't have a helmet. There's a structure at the back of the neck that looks like a metal external spine connecting to the tailbone.
"Is this really the driver's cab? Are you sure you're not lying to me?" Zhang Fan stood next to something that looked like a well, with a dark hole below that seemed to have liquid flowing inside.
"Could you give me a flashlight? I need to check down there... Holy crap!"
Wang Desheng kicked Zhang Fan into the well.
Thump!
Holy crap, there really is water here! Is it really a well?
The well was pitch black. Zhang Fan tried to surface for air, but found that Wang Desheng had already covered the well with the cover, and there was no air inside.
A few minutes later, Zhang Fan couldn't hold his breath any longer, and bubbles kept coming out of his mouth.
"Relax, that's a nerve solution. Let it fill your lungs, and you'll be able to breathe normally."
Wang Desheng's voice rang out, and at the same time, the surroundings lit up. Zhang Fan found himself inside a transparent water sphere.
Click!
A cable-like device automatically connected to the metal external spine on Zhang Fan's back.
"The driver is in position."
"Beginning to establish neural connections"
1%...
The nerve solution becomes exceptionally transparent when electrified. It serves as the medium for the mental link between the pilot and the mecha. Without the need for a control stick, the pilot enveloped in the nerve solution can manipulate the entire mecha.
call--
After confirming that he could breathe in the liquid, Zhang Fan relaxed and floated in the center of the spherical cockpit.
"What should I do now?"
“Of course, we’ll have a simulated battle.” Wang Desheng’s holographic communication screen appeared in the upper right corner of the sphere. “Here are a few beginner tutorials; you can familiarize yourself with them first…”
Beep—
After saying this, Wang Desheng's holographic image disappeared.
"Hello?" Zhang Fan was speechless. He called Wang Desheng several times but got no response. He ran faster than a rabbit.
Never mind, I'll figure it out myself.
Zhang Fan enthusiastically began to familiarize himself with those simple tutorials.
What he didn't know was that the warning lights outside the No. 01 mecha simulator had already turned completely red.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
Warning! Warning!
"What's going on?" Wang Desheng was a little confused by this sudden situation.
"Someone has hacked into our security system and is connecting simulator number 01 to the 'Warfire' server." The technician was typing furiously on the keyboard, sweating profusely.
Wang Desheng was stunned for a moment, then his eyes widened.
"Immediately disconnect the neural link of simulator 01!"
"It's impossible!" The technician was almost in tears. He knew better than anyone how serious the situation was. The neural link index of simulator No. 01 was at its highest level of 100%.
Entering real-time combat in this state, even though the battle takes place in virtual space, the brain perceives it as real, and the result is...
Brain death.
It could really kill someone!
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