Chapter 48

Chapter 48

He Yilan's expression was relatively restrained as he looked at Bai Luming, yet it still seemed as if he had just heard the most amusing joke in the world: "You said you want to do what?"

Bai Luming paid no mind to the other's reaction and simply repeated what he had just said: "Additional training."

He Yilan's lips curved upward slightly: "You—additional training?"

Such an expression, paired with his tone, made it all the more meaningful, causing Bai Luming to frown: "Can't I do additional training? Do I really look that unambitious?"

He Yilan answered with a question: "You tell me?"

Bai Luming glanced at him, feeling that this person had a very one-sided understanding of him. He could be proactive and hardworking too, alright.

"Colonel Liang Deng bought my 40 military points with a 'long-term meal ticket.' I just feel like I shouldn’t let his expectations down. If you’re really that free, you can just head back. It’s better than looking for trouble for no reason."

He Yilan, who had been about to close the simulation pod door, paused and opened it again with his movement: "No need, I’ll wait for you."

Just as Bai Luming thought this person was being considerate enough to offer him companionship, he heard He Yilan continue casually: "It’s rare to see you being proactive and hardworking. I’d like to stay and observe. After all, if I miss this chance, there might not be another."

"..." Bai Luming shot him a look, tch'd at this guy who never says anything nice, and said, "Then you’d better watch closely. An ambitious man is the most charming—don’t let it blow you away later."

He Yilan looked at him: "Mm, waiting for you to blow me away."

Bai Luming laughed at that: "If you really get blown away, it’ll be your turn to kneel before me, crying and begging for me to spare you a glance. Let’s see if you can still laugh then."

He Yilan didn’t respond, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

As Bai Luming reopened the simulation pod and climbed back in, He Yilan said calmly and lightly: "If it really comes to that, we can think about how to beg then. No rush."

Bai Luming had already entered the simulation pod and didn’t hear what He Yilan said.

He tapped a few times on the virtual screen, and a long list of training assessment items appeared in the center of the display.

This Military Intranet Training System covered training content from all departments. Depending on the difficulty, the points awarded for completing each assessment ranged from 1 to 50 points.

Trainees from various military regions participating in this concentrated training mostly engaged in simple tasks worth 1 to 5 points. After several days, the average accumulation was around 20 points. A few exceptionally outstanding top students had attempted challenges worth around 10 points, among whom Ji Xinghan had completed tasks worth over 10 points, currently ranking first among all concentrated training trainees with an impressive score of 120 military points.

Following the logic that a "long-term meal ticket" is nothing to sneeze at, Bai Luming was quite willing to meet Liang Deng’s request.

Though he wasn’t quite sure how it involved the public image of the No. 6616 Military Region, "once a citizen of Planet No. 6616, always a soul of Planet No. 6616." Slacking off daily is one thing, but a sense of collective honor was permanently engraved in his bones. So, while earning the long-term meal ticket, he might as well uphold the military region’s image—it was absolutely his duty.

Bai Luming didn’t waste time either, directly setting his account to "private" and clicked into the 40-point project section.

Going straight to the point was always the most time and effort-saving way.

Bai Luming had once been a dedicated user of the Military Intranet. After entering the interface, the list of assessment projects came into view, almost all of which were exercises he had mastered back in the day.

This made Bai Luming frown slightly.

Really? After all these years, hasn’t the project database had any interesting updates?

Thinking this, he quickly scrolled down the page and finally saw a few projects he hadn’t tried before at the very end of the list.

Bai Luming’s eyes lit up with delight.

Now we're talking!

Since it’s all about having fun anyway, new projects are what makes it interesting.

The last few 40-point projects were clearly updated in recent years. Bai Luming selected one related to solo mecha content.

Upon entering the introduction page, the names of the top five completers of this project were displayed in the upper right corner, including Chi Yan, the commander of the Red Feather Army, all well-known figures from the Four Great Legions.

In a way, this Military Intranet Training System had indeed become one of the strange competitive points among the Four Great Legions. For instance, whenever a new assessment project was launched, the competition among the armies rivaled that of phenomenally popular online games racing for first clear.

Bai Luming muttered to himself while clicking into the record details on the list—

Within a total combat duration of half an hour, this Red Army marshal had achieved just over 5,000 kills.

Long time no see, Bai Luming was somewhat curious about how this workaholic was maintaining his personal condition, whether he had declined or gotten worse. Seeing such an astonishing assessment score, his eyes narrowed slightly.

If nothing else, this training system really easily sparked some strange competitive spirit.

The rules of this mecha project were very simple: participants needed to face a swarm of insectoids with B-level combat power or higher in an extremely harsh live-combat environment. Within the half-hour official assessment period, they had to utilize the arsenal equipment to achieve over 2,000 kills to pass the assessment.

The focus of this project lay mainly in two aspects: first, how to maintain a stable output rhythm and ensure personal safety amidst the endless insectoid swarm; second, how to accomplish effective kills within the allotted time.

With just one glance, Bai Luming knew this project was specifically designed for the elite of the first-tier armies—no wonder it offered a 40-point reward.

This simulation system used an S-class combat mecha, allowing participants to import their own mecha data.

Bai Luming didn’t have a compatible mecha data card on hand, so he selected a relatively standard-issue model and made simple configurations based on his operating habits.

With preparations complete, he briefly warmed up. The usually casual look in his eyes sharpened slightly as he officially entered the mecha operation interface.

The surrounding lights dimmed and then brightened again. When his vision recovered from the darkness, what met Bai Luming’s eyes was a desolate and bleak scene.

The countdown indicator flashed several times, and the ground beneath his feet began to tremble slightly with the surging insectoid swarm.

The overly realistic simulation system made it feel as if he were truly back on the battlefield of old.

Somehow, it was the same old formula, the same familiar taste—he even felt somewhat nostalgic.

Insectoids from all directions instantly surrounded the lone mecha, leaving no room for retreat.

A slight smile touched Bai Luming’s lips. Under his control, the mecha’s mechanical arm swiftly switched to a W-type radiation rifle.

Amid the dense gunfire with almost no gaps, the kill count on the display screen began to jump at a speed too fast for the eye to follow.

Under a dazzling, devastating bombardment, the insectoid swarm directly in front of the mecha was blasted open, creating a massive breach.

The tremendous recoil from the shooting also caused the mecha to fight while retreating. As the insectoids behind opened their bloody mouths, an incendiary mine dropped from the mecha’s rear seat, snapped up by the foremost insectoid.

With a loud "Boom—!", it exploded from within the giant mouth, raining down debris like precipitation.

A side slide allowed the mecha to cleanly escape. Meanwhile, the spot where it had just been instantly turned into scorched earth, littered with the disorderly remains of insectoids.

Leaning back in the mecha cockpit, Bai Luming glanced at the shocking scene behind him, briefly savored the feel of the controls from his previous actions, and switched the arsenal again.

Various explosive effects bloomed across the barren land like an extremely brilliant fireworks display. Then, after cycling through a round of weapons, all firearms were promptly stowed away, replaced with sharp, gleaming energy blades.

Anyone who knew Bai Luming was aware that he always enjoyed the visual impact of explosions, but what was truly terrifying was his precision in close combat, accurate down to the millimeter.

Among all the melee weapons designed for mechas, the White Flame Legion’s commander particularly favored using a sword—because he felt it suited his style, very cool.

Insectoids came in many varieties; some species were naturally immune to ballistic attacks, which made it difficult for mecha operators accustomed to long-range attacks to handle close-range engagements.

Clearly, Bai Luming had no such worries.

The mecha, wielding a light sword, precisely embedded itself along the edge of the carapace. The sensation of tearing through flesh and blood felt eerily real. By the time the Zerg reacted, it was already too late to let out a roar—in the next second, it had been sliced into chunks.

More and more waves of Zerg surged from all directions, making the mecha appear incredibly small and seemingly on the verge of being completely overwhelmed at any moment.

However, if one were to observe from a high-altitude third-person perspective, it would become clear that amidst the apparent chaos, the mecha executed every evasive maneuver with easy fluidity—even the splattering fluids from the Zerg left barely any traces on the mecha’s outer shell.

As more and more carcasses piled up at the mecha’s feet, Bai Luming felt a long-lost surge of adrenaline coursing through him. Yet, despite this, he still shook his head quietly.

Having been away from mecha operation for so long, the entire process didn’t feel as smooth as it once did. To fully return to his peak condition, he would likely need some retraining.

Moreover, it was evident that the military’s arsenal had undergone significant updates over the years. Just the light swords alone had more than ten new models added. Unfortunately, each mecha could only be equipped with a limited number of weapons, making it impossible to experience them all in such a short time.

After another round of intense bombardment, the dazzling light nearly illuminated the entire sky.

Just as Bai Luming was thoroughly enjoying himself, a monotonous prompt tone abruptly sounded: "Congratulations, temporary user LIN86666. Your kill count has reached the assessment standard. Please choose ‘End Assessment’ or ‘Continue Simulation.’"

He glanced at the statistics and saw that he had indeed achieved over 2,000 kills required for the assessment—all within just ten minutes.

Given the current situation, the Zerg appearing later in the simulation would become increasingly threatening. If Bai Luming was interested, he could continue using the remaining time to see if he could break Chi Yan’s best record.

But after a moment’s thought, he realized that today’s goal wasn’t to engage in a life-or-death competition with that grind king. Besides, it was clear that Chi Yan hadn’t shown his full strength in this 40 military points mission. Even exceeding 5,000 kills in half an hour wouldn’t prove much.

Since the 40 military points were already easily secured, there was no need to push himself for even a second longer. With this in mind, Bai Luming promptly wrapped up the assessment.

After exiting the system, the results screen for passing the assessment came into view. The previously glaring zero points had now been replaced by a satisfying 40 military points.

This should be enough to report back to Colonel Liang Deng.

Bai Luming thought gleefully. After clicking the confirmation button to finalize the results, he swiftly exited the simulation pod.

His exit was so quick that he completely missed the follow-up notification that popped up on the screen—

[Congratulations on breaking the time record for Assessment Project 5536. Your current ranking in this project is No. 1, surpassing 100% of assessment users. Truly outstanding! More records await you. Keep up the great work!]

This message flashed briefly in the simulation pod before fading away along with the screen as Bai Luming closed the pod door.

The first thing Bai Luming did after securing the points was to share the good news with his "long-term meal ticket," Colonel Liang Deng.

[Lu Ming: Colonel, the 40 military points mission is complete. Please check! Also, please deposit the meal money into my account. Thank you! Here’s the screenshot of the military points [image]. Love you~ #heart#heart#heart]

"Pfft—!"

When Liang Deng received this message during dinner at the cafeteria, he had just taken a bite of food. One glance at the message made him unable to hold back, and he ended up spraying the food all over Xiao Nuoya sitting opposite him.

"..."

Xiao Nuoya’s face darkened as he raised his eyes. "You’d better give me a reasonable explanation."

Liang Deng repeatedly checked the content of Bai Luming’s message and pushed the virtual screen toward Xiao Nuoya. "...This is the explanation. See for yourself."

Xiao Nuoya was also taken aback after a quick glance. "So fast?"

If he remembered correctly, Bai Luming’s military points were still at zero this afternoon. What on earth had he done to get 40 points so quickly!?

Liang Deng looked even more bewildered. "You’re asking me? Who should I ask?"

*

At the same time, several officers across different star sectors received a new alert from the internal network: [Hello! The record rankings for Assessment Project 5536 have been updated. Your ranking has been surpassed. Please continue striving to retake your rank!]

This message made the officers frown.

Ever since the military’s internal network updated this ranking system two years ago, the competition had become intense enough. To make matters worse, every time someone broke a record, a push notification would be sent to the top 10 record holders.

"Retaking glory" sounded inspiring, but maintaining a ranking was exhausting. Yet, ignoring it entirely felt equally unsatisfying.

So, who had nothing better to do than come and break the record this time?

When would this cycle of one-upmanship ever end!?

The officers whose rankings had been surpassed reluctantly logged into the military’s internal network. As soon as they opened the record interface and saw the new name at the top of the list, they were stunned.

What the hell is "Temporary User LIN86666"?

Did some expert accidentally use the wrong account to break the record?

Wait, that doesn’t make sense either...

Beneath this temporary account, another name stood out prominently—No. 2, Red Feather Army, Chi Yan.

The officers: "???"

Who exactly is this Temporary User LIN86666? How did they break the record held by Red Marshal!?

Almost simultaneously, the officers clicked on the name. The information interface popped up: [The user you are viewing is a temporary account. The personal interface will be activated after registration is completed. Thank you for your attention!]

Clicking on recent simulation records revealed: [This user has enabled privacy protection. Access is restricted to self-view only.]

The officers: "." Seriously?