First Battlefield Commander! - Chapter 145

Chapter 145: Warning

The sudden emergence of motion sickness became a major issue that directly eliminated a small portion of students during the latter half of the preliminary rounds.

Truth be told, aside from mech pilots, other military specialties don't require such high adaptability to speed. Moreover, Sanyao's configurations weren't even pushing those limits.

Students who passed the selection trials would become leading figures in other military branches even if they couldn't qualify as mech pilots. Specialization typically occurs after entering military training.

Now this process had been accelerated.

Perhaps it was because the difficulty spike in sensor-controlled mechs after the update made many acutely aware of industry barriers. Or perhaps Ji Ban's demonstration had sparked a new wave of interest in manually-operated mechs.

Countless people began turning their attention to manual operation, attempting to forge a new path. They believed this might represent the future development direction for mechs.

Manually-operated mechs, delayed for nearly a century, had finally made their comeback.

Especially for those students aiming to become mech pilots who, due to this update, prematurely recognized their limitations.

If there was any method that could allow them to return to the competitive stage, manual operation might be it.

When it came to effort, they were never stingy. If only fate would give them this opportunity.

Before long, the Research Institute actually allocated personnel to create tutorial videos explaining manual operation code. These were publicly released for free on their official website.

Major military academies and Sanyao all helped promote them.

The momentum genuinely suggested manual operation might develop into a viable path.

With overwhelming public demand, Sanyao promptly updated their system to include offline manual operation training modules.

Seeing Ji Ban's crisp, fluid movements and lacking other reference points—combined with spectators analyzing the advantages of manually-operated mechs during matches—people subconsciously underestimated the learning curve.

However, they forgot that half the reason manually-operated mechs were phased out was precisely because they were so difficult to adapt to.

All the analyses and bold claims were nonsense. Only when they began basic training did they experience the towering barrier between manual and sensor control—an insurmountable chasm. At their "advanced" age of twenty, crossing it seemed impossible.

First, manual operation's field of view wasn't as comprehensive as sensor control. Environmental awareness wasn't as sensitive either.

All information was transmitted through a single screen displaying cluttered, chaotic data. Operators had to interpret this jumble, make decisions within seconds while continuously inputting code commands.

The consensus in manual mech circles was clear: on the battlefield, if confusion caused operational paralysis, that mech was as good as dead.

Manual mech operation essentially combined data analysis with frontline combat.

Excelling at just one aspect wasn't enough—both were required.

Second, the command code dictionary alone was beyond ordinary people's capacity.

Just making a mech walk required dozens of commands accounting for speed, direction, leg lift height, etc. Complex terrain demanded rapid sequential inputs without a moment's lapse in concentration.

While custom codes could be created for specific actions, improvising from basic commands was possible but painfully slow.

Responding to public demand, Sanyao had Ji Ban publish his personal code library.

When revealed, the masses nearly spat blood.

Over three thousand unique codes plus countless chained action sequences instantly triggered traumatic memories of final high school exams.

Third was the conflict between instinct and requirements.

Facing danger, sensor mechs could flee instinctively. Manual operators had to roll up their sleeves and calmly declare: "Don't panic, let daddy input some code first."

Who could guarantee maintaining normal performance under crisis conditions?

Moreover, while your body might know reflexive responses, that didn't translate to knowing how to maneuver a mech against attacks. It wasn't simply raising arms or legs—the entire frame needed coordinated activation to generate sufficient force.

Only then did they understand: manual mechs' inherent rigidity hadn't changed.

Ji Ban spent fifteen years developing his instinctive operation style. They didn't have fifteen years to spare.

"Now I finally get why manual mechs were phased out. My conspiracy theories about the Alliance were wrong. I repent."

"Have we degenerated, or have mechs evolved beyond us?"

"Older mechs had limited functions. Ji Ban's transformable mech added countless features, increasing difficulty a hundredfold. This is manual operation—even with excellent designs, finding capable pilots is nearly impossible."

"Both systems share high skill ceilings. Observations from this selection tournament."

"Given identical functions and parameters, manual is objectively harder. Sensor control allows rapid proficiency—manual has no shortcuts."

"Poverty limits my imagination."

"Wrong, friend. Your limitations stem from weakness, not poverty."

"Who's your friend? That pierced my heart like ten thousand arrows!"

Life's ups and downs could be truly tragic.

The fair-weather enthusiasts finally abandoned manual operation, returning to spectator roles. As for the eliminated candidates, they returned to their academies for counseling.

The military offered more specialties than just mech pilot. Besides, they'd never truly experienced it—why obsess?

Post-update, student capabilities began stratifying.

After the initial seven-day adaptation period came peer matches. Within half a month, skill gaps became pronounced.

The talented progressed despite stumbles while the unadaptable stagnated. The latter were inevitably eliminated.

Since many academies barely qualified enough students for later stages, single eliminations created domino effects. Within a month, participant numbers halved.

Alliance University and other elite schools also suffered heavy losses, but their larger contingents kept them safely above the cutoff.

Fortunately, Zhao Zhuoluo's group adapted relatively well to the new mechs. Perhaps their prior thruster training accelerated the transition.

As time passed, their urgency grew.

Their team's distinctive presence also attracted numerous students seeking Lian Sheng's advice on adapting to the new models.

Between her ancient martial arts foundation and proven results, they believed she possessed secret training methods. Even if undisclosed, proximity might confer benefits.

Yet Lian Sheng had no special techniques to teach. Mastery required personal dedication. Her recommendations mirrored standard training regimens.

Her knowledge of training methodologies couldn't match professional coaches' scientific approaches. Their faith in her advice bordered on delusional.

One male student intercepted her: "Watch me again! I'm performing your forms! It's strange—I'm copying your movements exactly, but the mech's responses feel completely different."

Lian Sheng said: "It's about rhythm. Mimicry can't capture martial arts' essence."

The student pleaded: "Then watch me again and give pointers!"

Lian Sheng fantasized about punching him into oblivion. With difficulty, she said: "You're... really not cut out for this."

Having been elite performers their entire lives, no one had ever told them they couldn't do something. This rejection stung particularly hard.

He couldn't accept it!

"Then how can I improve?"

"..." Lian Sheng said, "Turn back time."

"Are you saying I'm too old? That's fine—I can compensate through training. I only need self-defense, not mastery."

"No. I mean return to the womb."

After a pause, he asked: "Are my physical attributes inadequate?"

Lian Sheng made a shooing motion: "No, your intelligence is inadequate."

The student immediately collapsed theatrically, wailing: "Don't be like this, Lian Sheng! Help us! At least let us observe your training—don't avoid us!"

Lian Sheng: "..."

Lian Sheng: "..."

She typically trained in private Sanyao rooms. They begged her to open observation permissions, promising not to interfere.

This was nonsense. If they could hear her comments, how was that non-interference?

Lian Sheng simply trained in public areas, hoping to discourage them.

Thus the five conducted sparring drills in open spaces surrounded by dense crowds.

Fang Jianchen mused: "They won't shed tears until seeing the Yellow River, yet they've seen it and still refuse. Why? The gap is reality."

Lian Sheng questioned existence: "Why cry upon seeing the Yellow River?"

Fang Jianchen said earnestly: "Severe pollution."

Zhao Zhuoluo passed by and remarked: "People won't shed tears until seeing the coffin, nor abandon hope until reaching the Yellow River."

Fang Jianchen facepalmed.

Lian Sheng said: "Manual operation has merits. Disabled individuals with strong mental faculties could train from childhood, reaching peak performance by university—ideal for military service."

Cheng Ze asked: "Why must intelligent disabled people fixate on mechs?"

Fang Jianchen said: "Mechs are amazing! Given the chance, even if endless successors crushed me, I'd still say yes!"

Cheng Ze looked at him with disdain.

Ye Buqing asked: "Lian Sheng, how's your match preparation? Based on scheduling, you'll face off in the third or fourth round. The question is whether qualifiers will conclude beforehand."

Lian Sheng versus Ji Ban was the most anticipated matchup. Yet they only appeared on each other's prediction lists as selections neared conclusion.

Fans feared they might miss each other entirely.

If Lian Sheng's past mech skills weren't quite championship caliber, post-update she approached legendary status.

Multiple matches demonstrated her precise, professional-level control.

Perhaps because mech operation shared synergies with swordsmanship's emphasis on coordination, allowing rapid adaptation.

How could such a textbook showdown not excite?

Knees were ready—when would it begin?

Zhao Zhuoluo approached: "Even though you know each other, shouldn't you maintain some distance pre-match to avoid awkward intelligence leaks?"

Lian Sheng considered: "There's not much to hide. Our strengths and weaknesses are publicly analyzed. No secrets remain."

"Manual mechs are trending, but Ji Ban's continued victories aren't ideal. Sensor control remains the Alliance's strategic direction." Zhao Zhuoluo said tactfully, "You absolutely must take this seriously."

Lian Sheng brandished her weapon: "Naturally. I never plan to lose. The opponent is irrelevant."

While she hoped Ji Ban could win from his perspective, as his opponent... well, victory wasn't in the cards.

That afternoon, Zhou Shirui rushed to complete his data analysis. He met with Lian Sheng to explain.

Despite the volume, Zhou Shirui organized everything clearly. Knowing Lian Sheng struggled with complex data, he prioritized simplicity through diagrams and annotations.

Zhou Shirui said: "He may have undisclosed functions. I reverse-engineered possibilities based on published codes and mech structure. Red markings indicate uncertainties for your review."

This represented tremendous effort. Decoding commands resembled cryptanalysis—impossible without significant time investment.

Fearing omissions, Zhou Shirui cross-referenced all available footage, systematically eliminating possibilities to produce this version.

His tone and expression remained neutral, never mentioning the exhaustive work involved. But having worked with Hundred Meter Flying Dagger and Lu Mingyuan, Lian Sheng understood data compilation's hidden complexities.

Often the challenge wasn't technical skill but analyst endurance.

Lian Sheng reaffirmed that technical roles weren't for ordinary people—they'd go mad.

Zhou Shirui struggled against fatigue, forcing alertness. "If my brother were here, he could offer strategic advice. But my suggestions probably wouldn't help you."

Lian Sheng said: "Junior, get some rest. I'll review the rest myself."

He didn't refuse—he was at his limit. Standing, he said: "Contact me with questions. I'll pause analysis for upcoming finals projects. Flag any inconsistencies."

Lian Sheng smiled: "Thanks—incredible work. Very clear and immensely helpful."

Just formatting and phrasing must have consumed significant time.

Zhou Shirui said: "Standard analyst requirements."

Lian Sheng raised an eyebrow.

He likely aspired to surpass Hundred Meter Flying Dagger. Respect drove the desire to excel.

How fortunate to have such goals.

Lian Sheng and Ji Ban's match was scheduled six days later at noon.

The timing was neither here nor there, but it happened to be break time, so all the students on campus were free.

That day, Lian Sheng planned to go out early for lunch to avoid being late later.

Just as she finished putting on her shoes and took two steps forward, her three roommates floated in front of her, striking exaggerated poses: "Your Majesty, though we don't know why, the entire school seems deeply concerned about you. Shall I go to the imperial kitchen to fetch your meal and deliver it to the palace for you?"

"......" Lian Sheng said, "I'll go to the cafeteria myself."

Roommate C waved her hand: "Protect Her Majesty!"

Roommate A: "Pah! Escort Her Majesty!"

Roommate B said helplessly: "Escort what? Where's your majesty?"

Lian Sheng: "......"

Lian Sheng: "......"

Lian Sheng: "......"

Lian Sheng: "......"

They were having too much fun.

When Lian Sheng arrived at the training room, there were still many people gathered outside. A narrow path had been forcibly cleared for passage.

Lian Sheng swiped her card to enter, then waited outside the competition machine. As the time approached, more and more people arrived. They crowded at the entrance in groups, shouting from a distance:

"Great General! I declare you!"

"Lian Sheng must win!"

"General, give us another instant kill!"

"The pride of Alliance University! Please end this selection tournament with victory!"

"If you don't bring back the trophy, don't come back to see me! Your trophy will be the betrothal gift for marrying me!"

The people nearby instantly exploded: "Damn, I've never seen someone so disgusting!"

Lian Sheng glanced at the entrance, then turned her back to them. This was truly too embarrassing.

Actually, most people hoped Lian Sheng would win. It had nothing to do with who they liked or which school she came from. It was simply that, from a standpoint perspective, she should win.

The update to sensor mechs had left some people disheartened, with all attention focused on manual operation mechs.

However, as Ji Ban's battle records grew more impressive, the public began showing bias—they were just interested in novelty, not objective evaluations.

One-sided promotion of manual operation mechs' advantages while ignoring sensor mechs' progress wasn't good for long-term development or social trends. Wasn't this exactly the same scenario as when sensor mechs first appeared, just with different protagonists?

It was time to restore some dignity to sensor mechs.

At the appointed time, both parties logged in simultaneously and were transported to the competition scenario.

It was another urban setting—over eighty percent of the latter half of the competition seemed to be urban scenarios—but this time with higher restrictions. Previous matches had been on the outskirts of cities, with some residential areas nearby where buildings were relatively low and roads wide. This time, it was right in the downtown area, with what appeared to be a pedestrian street in the middle.

There wasn't much room to maneuver. Avoiding damage to the surroundings seemed difficult.

Lian Sheng first checked her equipment, then charged out. On the other side, Ji Ban's mech also started up.

Both headed straight for the central high-rise building.

Ji Ban chose to follow the main road. Going over walls would require transformation, wasting extra energy and being troublesome, so he took a slightly longer route.

Lian Sheng's Pojun was just as fast, but it leaped and flipped off walls, navigating through narrow alleys unimpeded.

The entire mech was like an extension of her own limbs, moving like a running giant without the slightest lag.

Thus, her displacement distance on the map was farther than Ji Ban's at this point.

The broadcast administrator mischievously switched the camera angle to Lian Sheng's perspective.

Instantly, the screen was filled with chaotic spinning, the scenery on both sides blurring into streaks.

The crowd cursed, complaining of dizziness and demanding it be turned off.

Lian Sheng's Pojun reached the base of the central building first. Instead of proceeding further, she entered through the main door and began climbing the stairs from the emergency exit.

Fang Jianchen said in surprise: "Climbing stairs again?"

He was still traumatized. No matter how fast one climbed stairs, it couldn't compare to a wall-scaling mech.

"Wait, why is a close-combat mech climbing stairs?"

"Wasn't her last match with Fang Jianchen forced into close combat? Ji Ban seems to prefer close combat too."

"With this map, he'd want ranged attacks. But is that even possible?"

"From an artillery perspective, whoever holds the high ground wins."

"The most questionable part is that neither side detected the other, yet both headed straight for the same location without hesitation."

"If she really just wanted close combat, why didn't Lian Sheng stay downstairs? She must be planning an ambush."

"Stop guessing and just watch."

Not long after Lian Sheng reached the building, Ji Ban's Moshi approached.

Lian Sheng climbed to the third floor, walked to a window, and scanned for movement outside. She soon spotted her opponent.

Because they were so close, both appeared on each other's radar simultaneously.

Lian Sheng retreated a few steps to the stairwell, drew her cannon, and set it up at the corner, aiming at the target window.

Ji Ban moved upward along the building's exterior windows, seemingly unaware.

Lian Sheng mentally calculated his arrival time based on speed. Regardless of whether she saw anything, she stuck to her plan.

When the moment came, she fired at the window without hesitation.

From a third-party view, the shot was extremely accurate.

Ji Ban had optical camouflage activated. Between glass refraction and the blinding sunlight, his presence was nearly invisible unless one looked closely.

Lian Sheng fired just as he appeared, before his line of sight could reach her.

The shot was powerful, blasting out the window frame and sending it crashing down.

Glass shattered, exploding outward with the shockwave. Ji Ban's screen was filled with blinding white fragments, nearly causing him to fall. But thanks to his mech's sturdy frame and quick reflexes, he stabilized.

His forearm slipped slightly downward. Two cables extended from the mech's front, hooking onto the stairs inside, while two legs emerged from the rear, pushing off the wall to propel him through the window into the building.

Ji Ban pursed his lips. He hadn't expected her to stop as low as the third floor, but if it came down to close combat, he was happy to oblige.

Just as Ji Ban used the cables to swing inside, Lian Sheng leaped out the window.

They met mid-air. Lian Sheng drew her weapon and thrust at Ji Ban's abdomen.

A screech of metal friction later, they'd passed each other.

Lian Sheng narrowed her eyes.

Moshi's armor was incredibly tough. That direct attack had only left a scratch, dealing no real damage.

The audience groaned in disappointment.

That had been a perfect opportunity. Yet even a full-force slash only produced that result—just how tough was Moshi's armor?

Was it due to structural alignment requiring a specific angle? Or did it mean only thermal weapons could penetrate?

Lian Sheng, now outside the window, glanced down. Three stories—nearly ten meters.

She activated reverse thrusters to cushion the descent while using shoulder cables to control speed.

Midway down, the cables were severed from above. Ji Ban stood at the ruined window ledge, aiming his cannon downward.

The crowd gasped.

In that split-second delay, Lian Sheng shattered a second-floor window and dove back inside.

Ji Ban stood at the window, studying his radar for Lian Sheng's position when the floor beneath him collapsed, dropping him down.

The two began exchanging heavy fire inside the building, steadily moving toward the first-floor exit.

The mall's low ceilings made fighting oppressive. They blasted open the roof, sending debris raining down.

Goods that had just fallen were sent flying again by subsequent explosions. The interior filled with heat waves, igniting flammable materials.

Fortunately, both mechs had enhanced defenses. As long as they avoided direct hits, their heat resistance allowed continued combat.

But as they fought, the scene grew increasingly chaotic. Their vision filled with flying debris and scattered flames.

The building, its foundation weakened by explosions, trembled violently. A critical support beam was severed, unable to bear the weight, and the structure began collapsing.

Seeing the danger, Lian Sheng swiftly retreated in her mech. Ji Ban followed closely behind.

A deafening roar filled the air as the building collapsed. The prolonged sounds of shattering and impact, amplified by their volume, echoed incessantly, assaulting their senses.

The entire district shook violently.

Lian Sheng looked back to see a towering cloud of dust. The commercial street behind the building had also been crushed.

A shrill alarm blared across the map.

This round of destruction was no small matter.

Lian Sheng asked: "Your fault or mine?"

Ji Ban, already multitasking with code input, was slower to process. After a pause, he managed: "Huh...?"

Lian Sheng said: "The building collapsed."

Ji Ban instinctively replied: "Not my fault!"

Lian Sheng: "Hey now, that's some shameless blame-shifting!"

Fang Jianchen listened carefully, then said seriously while hugging his knees: "Hmm? Doesn't that sound familiar?"

Cheng Ze: "A man who rejected you to your face—how could it not sound familiar?"

Fang Jianchen flushed with anger: "Shut up!"

Ji Ban didn't parse Lian Sheng's meaning and thus didn't respond. His brain was overloaded.

The urban map was too complex. Chasing Lian Sheng while maintaining high speed left no room for error. His nerves were stretched taut.

Lian Sheng sprinted ahead, occasionally firing seemingly random shots backward before continuing her escape.

Her high-damage artillery was spent, leaving only lesser-used energy guns and one newly added high-powered energy cannon.

Surprisingly, Ji Ban's ammunition reserves seemed plentiful—his barrage never ceased, and every shot packed serious firepower.

Based on previous data, this was unusual.

He must have reconfigured his weapons, modifying cannons specifically to counter Lian Sheng.

Their path of destruction was extensive.

Ji Ban's expression was tense as he glared at the figure ahead.

Seeing half the map in ruins, Lian Sheng considered warning him that such indiscriminate bombardment would incur penalties. But then she remembered—individual matches had no scoring. Even if penalties applied, they wouldn't affect her. So she stayed silent and continued her kite strategy.

She monitored his attack frequency and pursuit speed.

Suddenly, a red announcement scrolled across the map, repeated three times in bold:

"Severe reprimand! Severe reprimand! Students Ji Ban and Lian Sheng have wantonly destroyed urban structures, flouted competition rules, and openly challenged the Peace Accord. Both are hereby penalized with a ban on further thermal weapon bombardment. Repeat offenses will result in immediate disqualification! All students take heed—do not repeat this behavior. This warning will repeat..."

Lian Sheng protested sincerely: "I'm innocent."

Though she'd guided the destruction, none of it was directly her doing.

Another red message appeared in response:

"Shut up!!"

The committee was truly furious.

Demolition crew or competition? Did they think rules didn't apply? That the Peace Accord was meaningless?

Did they know how many people were watching? How could they be so brazen? With such terrible influence, how would broadcasts and evaluations proceed? Where did they think the military academy's reputation stood?

Knowing the rules but not reminding was bad enough, but maliciously guiding destruction of urban areas? Even worse, even more deserving of reprimand.

Neither student showed restraint! Formal censure!

The audience found it amusing.

Normally, selection tournament rules were relaxed. Minor damage to structures was overlooked—some sacrifice was inevitable in combat, and limits were generous.

This was likely the first time in years penalties had been issued.

The exclamation marks alone conveyed the committee's agitation.

Ye Buqing said: "If Lian Sheng didn't know the rules, why didn't anyone explain the Peace Accord to her?"

"Don't joke—that thing's as thick as a dictionary. Who'd explain it? Most haven't even read it themselves," Fang Jianchen said. "Besides, which student in the latter half of preliminaries doesn't know not to bombard? Lian Sheng's just unlucky."

"Mainly because she's not kind enough."

"Right, right. The cunning have finally outsmarted themselves."

"Cunning? It's called strategy. Strategizing her own downfall."

Lian Sheng's mood was complicated.

Suddenly, Ji Ban exclaimed: "Huh? Why can't I attack anymore?"

This was someone who hadn't even seen the announcement.

Lian Sheng checked the match timer. Deciding it was about time, she turned and charged at him.

Ji Ban hesitated briefly before retreating and initiating transformation.

The greatest weakness of manual operation was its control method.

The entire mech's operation relied on the pilot's hands. No matter how fast or strong the operator, prolonged input was unsustainable.

Especially after continuous attacks like just now.

His fingers must be cramping.

Lian Sheng gripped her weapon, shifting it into a blade, and closed in at full speed. Using her momentum, she swung downward.

Ji Ban raised his right arm to block while inputting commands to summon arm-mounted weapons for a counterattack.

After two failed attempts, he realized all thermal weapons were disabled.

Stunned, Ji Ban cried out twice before retreating.

Lian Sheng twisted the hilt, releasing an energy wave from the blade's spine to amplify the strike.

Moshi's arm was cleaved halfway through before Ji Ban broke free.

Ji Ban spun away without panic. While moving, he severed the remaining metal connections himself. From the severed section, a new segment of metal extended.

The audience leaped to their feet, shouting as one: "Holy—?!"

Lian Sheng exclaimed too: "It can regenerate?!"

She looked closer.

Oh, not quite that miraculous. The severed portion was still hollow—just a smooth metal segment had slid out from the edges.

Its armor must be multilayered.

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