Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Lin Fu initially wanted to ask if he had any concerns, but after a half-second of thought, he remained silent, lowering his head.

Though nervous, Tang Qian didn't seem to harbor that kind of sentiment towards him.

Lin Fu quickly began disassembling the chest plate of the mech. Seeing that Lin Fu lacked strength, Tang Qian leapt up to the edge of the mech to assist. With a forceful twist, he easily dismantled it, earning Lin Fu’s silent envy.

Together, the two spent the afternoon laboring to repair the mech.

Tang Qian stowed away his mech armor. "Thank you."

Lin Fu waved him off, "I should be the one thanking you. Let's not stand on ceremony, goodbye!"

Then he continued to tinker with the mech.

Tang Qian watched his retreating back with a complex mix of emotions, lingering for quite some time before departing.

As Lin Fu dismantled another part of the mech, he mused that this person was likely an old acquaintance of the original owner.

Unfortunately, he retained no such memories.

*

Tang Qian's visits became increasingly frequent, often spending his mornings training in mech combat before coming over to assist Lin Fu with the disassembly and assembly of mechs.

Once Lin Fu was certain Tang Qian harbored no Sentinel-like feelings for a Guide, he openly accepted his help, eagerly leveraging his knowledge to rapidly master most of the mech's structure.

This was something he inherently knew how to do; living in a war-torn area, collecting scrap and assembling electrical tools was a fundamental skill. He had similarly encountered various large-scale machinery and vehicles during the war. However, the technical complexity of the mechs far exceeded anything he had previously encountered, necessitating fresh learning and understanding.

Busy assembling mechs by day, he grew increasingly adept at controlling them by night.

It wasn't until half a month later that the instructor finally approached him, saying, "You can try linking your psychic energy, but don't force it."

Lin Fu climbed nimbly into the cockpit, connected his psychic energy, but refrained from rashly controlling the mech.

After spending over ten minutes in the cockpit, he returned to the ground. "It won't move."

Bazil laughed, "Of course, it wouldn't. I'd be surprised if you managed to move it on your first try. Practice it a few more times. Remember, to control a mech, you need to feel it first. Take it slow. The headmaster only expects you to move your fingers, which shouldn't be too hard."

Observing his expression, Lin Fu asked a question he had long harbored, "Does piloting a mech harm the body of a Guide?"

Bazil replied, "No, if it can be controlled, it will be; if not, the mech won't budge. Beyond a certain time, it will automatically expel the Guide's psychic energy."

After a pause, he added, cautiously, "But don't force it. Otherwise, your bones and internal organs will suffer pressure injuries, and you'll have to spend at least a few days in a regenerative pod."

Lin Fu inquired further, "What about psychic energy? Can it be harmed?"

Bazil chuckled at the question, "A Guide's physique might be frail, but their psychic energy is not inferior to a Sentinel's, and is even more stable. Even if a Sentinel could suffer psychic harm, it's unlikely for a Guide to have such issues. This is common knowledge. How come you, as a Guide, are asking me?"

Unfazed, Lin Fu responded earnestly, "I'm afraid of getting hurt."

Bazil found himself at a loss for words momentarily.

It was this very Guide who had stubbornly insisted on enrolling in the military academy, and now he was expressing fear of injury. Which soldier could avoid it altogether? Hadn't General Karl too borne scars on his face?

Every general's glory and strength were built upon a multitude of scars.

If one feared injury, why come to the academy to invite hardship?

Unbeknownst to Lin Fu, in just that short span of time, the instructor had concocted a myriad of reasons to persuade him to leave, to spare him further suffering.

He was earnestly pondering over Bazil's words.

Guides were physically weaker, but possessed formidable psychic strength. Piloting mechs could only harm their bodies, not their psychic force.

His body wasn't severely injured, only slightly affected, but the impact on his head was extremely severe.

Was it because his psychic strength wasn't sufficient?

Suppressing his myriad doubts, he completed his daytime tasks and, as usual, headed to the cockpit for night training.

He could now control the mech to lift its entire arm, performing some simple movements.

But that was limited to the upper body.

He had never controlled the legs, let alone stand upright or perform other actions.

Perhaps… tonight he could attempt it.

Before trying, Lin Fu called out mentally to the system, "Why does my head hurt after controlling the mech? Is it because my psychic strength isn't enough?"

Ever since Lin Fu had joined the military academy, the system had been unusually silent, leaving him to wonder if it was a sign of its displeasure.

When Lin Fu called out to it, it hesitated for a few seconds, emerging reluctantly: [Host, please wait.]

[Scan complete. The host's current psychic strength is sufficient to support normal mech piloting without adverse effects.]

Lin Fu frowned.

Surely it couldn't be because he wasn't a soul of this world, and the mech could detect that?

He pondered deeply and began to think that the seemingly impossible reason might actually be the most probable.

Perhaps it wasn't that the mech could detect his soul as foreign to this world, but rather, his integration with this body wasn't complete enough, leading to this condition.

*

The difficulty of making the mech stand was not simply a notch above lifting an arm.

When standing, the entire weight of the mech is borne by the legs, subjecting them to immense pressure. At the same time, it must maintain overall balance to stand unaided.

He controlled the mech, bracing against a side guard, and gradually stood up.

Once standing, the originally crouching mech towered even more, easily taking in the entire training ground in its view.

Lin Fu clenched his teeth; the moment he let go, a sense of weightlessness overwhelmed him, and the pain inside his skull intensified.

Fortunately, there was no vomiting of blood this time; it seemed his body had acclimated to the intensity. He stubbornly resisted falling and slowly slid the mech back into its original position before exiting the cockpit.

It was only when he climbed out of the cockpit that he realized his legs were numb and uncontrollably trembling.

The situation was a bit better than expected; perhaps he could control the mech to walk normally before the two-month deadline.

Dragging his numb legs, he gradually moved back to his quarters, leaning on objects for support, oblivious to the astonishment of someone watching the surveillance footage.

The young Guide leaned back in his chair, elegantly crossing his left leg over his right, his fingertips tapping lightly on the console's surface.

How intriguing, the infamous Lin family's disgrace was sneaking out for training in the dead of night.

He entered his credentials and pulled up the surveillance footage of Lin Fu's routes from the villa area to the training field, starting from the beginning.

Especially noting that he was injured on his return from the training field on the first day, he was impressed by his audacity.

So it was Bazil's first time letting him into the cockpit, and he had the temerity to try moving the mech.

Indeed, if he weren't audacious, how would he dare to enter the military academy and negotiate terms with Principal Karl?

As he sped through the footage, his fingertips caressed the delete key, contemplating whether to do this favor.

After a long moment, he mused, "The principal’s expression would certainly be priceless if he saw him freely controlling the mech."

Accompanying a murmured whisper, there was a soft "click" as the records were completely deleted and replaced with past footage by the cyber-brain control.

*

Every breakthrough brought immense pain, yet the surprises it yielded were just as considerable.

This was especially true when Lin Fu noticed the gradual enhancement of his physical constitution.

He had never anticipated that enduring the pressure from the mech could actually condition his body.

This revelation led Lin Fu to abandon conventional equipment training altogether, investing more time and effort into controlling the mech.

During his surreptitious midnight training sessions, he even had a close call, nearly running into someone, but luckily, his quick wits allowed him to evade detection.

A month passed in the blink of an eye, filled with his ceaseless training.

The deadline arrived.

That afternoon, the mech training ground was thronged with a multitude of spectators.

Ever since a young Guide had entered their military academy, countless individuals had been aware of the wager between the principal and the pretty boy, and they were all very curious about the outcome.

The vast alloy square was densely encircled by layers of onlookers, among whom stood the towering and fierce-looking Principal Karl.

Students without training assignments felt a shiver down their spine at the sight of him and conscientiously retreated, putting some distance between themselves and the principal.

Yet they couldn't help but sneak peeks at the young Guide from the corners of their eyes.

Such a slender frame, it seemed like a mere shout from a sentinel could reduce him to tears; the principal must have a heart of stone.

If it were them, they'd never have the heart to do it.

Lin Fu, with a taut face, bore the pitying gazes around him, his expression growing increasingly stoic.

Having waited there for a while, Karl waved him over nonchalantly, "Go ahead, even if you can make the mech move a single finger, you win. I won't go back on my word."