First Battlefield Commander! - Chapter 159
Chapter 159: Wind Wing
Wind Wing
Ye Buqing lowered his voice while tangling with the Balian, speaking to Cheng Ze over the channel: "Toss them over here, let's tie them all together."
Cheng Ze paused mid-charge, indignantly retorting: "Who do you think I am? Some centrifugal force generator spinning around my own axis? My weight class isn't enough for that."
Ye Buqing said: "I meant throw one over. The Pojun is lighter—just yank him."
Cheng Ze continued angrily: "Even if I were the Hulk himself, would the mech allow such perversion?"
"..." Ye Buqing said, "You won't know until you try."
Lian Sheng agreed: "Brother Bu is right. You shouldn't lack this spirit of practical verification. Dare to imagine."
"Imagine yourself getting shot full of holes into a skeleton..." Zhao Zhuoluo reminded him very tactfully, "You're about to get perforated."
Cheng Ze roared and raised his cannon barrel.
He was nearly dazed by the Pojun and Leibao's thermal weapons—the two opponents showed no mercy—so he maxed his speed and began serpentine maneuvers.
Earlier, with one chasing and one fleeing, their relative speeds had canceled out, so it hadn't felt excessively fast.
But when Cheng Ze suddenly turned around while the Pojun was still moving forward, their combined velocities created an impact like a meteor striking Earth—the oppressive force rushing straight at them.
The two red team members initially thought they could hold their ground and force him to stop first. But Cheng Ze only accelerated, charging at them without hesitation.
As he closed in, he switched to a straight line, aiming specifically at the Pojun. He got even faster.
"Holy shit!" Finally, the Pojun yielded first, dodging aside and exclaiming: "These juniors nowadays aren't human!"
The Leibao said: "A man shouldn't be so ruthless with himself."
Cheng Ze took a breath, leaned back slightly, and fired his cannon at them.
The two split left and right for safety. Cheng Ze shot past them before decelerating and turning back.
He immediately accelerated again, this time still heading straight for the Pojun.
"He's coming for me!" Seeing his posture, the Pojun fled while shouting: "Bao! Quick! Get him!"
Before the Leibao could act, the Pojun's forward stride suddenly faltered. Ye Buqing's wind bullet arrived at just the right moment to disrupt his rhythm.
The Pojun fell face-first.
This was when one had to admit the clumsiness of mechs. Once the torso passed the tipping point, no matter how strong your core was, you'd still go down.
The Pojun could only try to mitigate the fall.
He stretched out a hand to brace against the ground, using the force to roll sideways before planting a knee to rise.
Looking back over his shoulder, he saw the heavy mech already charging at him.
Realizing the danger, the Pojun's breath hitched. He stopped moving and barked: "Bro!"
At that speed and momentum, plus the heavy mech's inherent mass stability, getting captured was a real possibility.
The Leibao's thoughts raced through attack, defense, and rescue options before his feet moved on their own—he had no time to think, just pounced forward.
Then came two heavy impacts. Yellow sand billowed as three mechs tumbled together in the dusty haze, entangled inseparably.
The trio: "..."
Lian Sheng, biting her finger, suddenly shuddered: "Ooh...!"
Zhao Zhuoluo: "..." Impressive.
Ye Buqing: "...I did my best."
The Pojun, crushed at the bottom, dazedly cursed after a moment: "Holy shit?!"
The Leibao tried to get up, but the heavy mech's weight pressing on his waist made it hard to find leverage. Worse, sensing his movement, the heavy mech reactivated its thrusters to increase downward pressure while pinning his head with one hand.
"Damn it!" The Leibao swore too, "Get off!"
Cheng Ze, realizing he was safest on top—pinning two with free limbs—retorted: "Like hell!"
The Pojun, immobilized, lifted his head: "The fuck you trying to do?"
A standard mech weighed over a ton, let alone heavy models with reinforced armor. With the Leibao and heavy mech stacked atop him, the Pojun bore tremendous pressure.
His mech's frame was hardened to withstand high pressure and impacts. But he didn't know if it was brittle.
They held position briefly. Cheng Ze tried reaching for his weapon, but his movements made the two beneath him stir.
This arrangement couldn't last. Soon the Leibao and Cheng Ze coordinated a twist, throwing him off.
Cheng Ze righted himself first, seizing initiative. The Leibao and Pojun also stood.
Now they didn't dare separate, sticking close together to face Cheng Ze.
Cheng Ze said darkly: "What? Conjoined twins now?"
"Yes, junior," the Leibao laughed, "Please, don't separate us."
Cheng Ze charged again. The Leibao turned and hugged the Pojun. Digging their heels into the sand, they braced against the impact.
Cheng Ze's team pushed forward, trying to pry them apart, but it was futile—they only managed to nudge them slightly.
Fang Jianchen's voice suddenly crackled through, laughing wildly: "Hahaha I can't hold it in anymore sorry! But this reminds me of The Tyrant's Ragged Princess !"
Several people: "..."
Cheng Ze found he couldn't budge them. Meanwhile, their melee weapons posed a real threat—especially the Leibao's high-voltage stun weapon. With the heavy mech already damaged, one touch would be disastrous.
His grip slipped as he released his target and retreated, snapping: "Shut the hell up!"
The three stood close, eyeing each other warily, waiting for someone to make the first move.
Long-range? Cheng Ze was at a disadvantage. Close combat? Also a disadvantage.
This was problematic.
"Lian Sheng, Lian Sheng," Cheng Ze asked, "Any moves good for taking out legs?"
Lian Sheng, watching from the rear, sighed: "How regretful it is to lack skills when needed."
Cheng Ze: "Well?"
"Lower your center of gravity to attack the legs," Lian Sheng said. "If you want to throw them, put the heavy end outward. Grab their legs and swing."
"I know that! But it's impossible!" Cheng Ze cried, "Weren't you watching? They're hugging!"
Lian Sheng: "Then it's fine. I've been watching. If you can't lift them, you're not strong enough."
Cheng Ze: "..."
"Goodbye, Hulk," Cheng Ze resigned himself. "Goodbye, my homeland."
Lian Sheng said: "Goodbye what? Back up, get a running start. That earlier charge looked good."
"That won't work either!" Cheng Ze said irritably. "This is a beach—the sand's too thick. It's good for defense but bad for momentum."
Lian Sheng said: "If you charge from the front, inertia will make them lean forward. To stabilize, they're actually bracing backward. After impact, yank their knees forward—they'll topple backward easily."
She tried demonstrating with her hands before remembering they couldn't see, so she summarized: "Charge, grab the nearest legs, pull toward you. Knees bend easier than thighs."
Cheng Ze sniffed and decided to try.
He retreated for a running start, then rushed at them.
As he closed in, Cheng Ze dropped his center of gravity, sliding in to grab their legs.
The Leibao's eyes widened: "Holy shit!"
What kind of expert thigh-hugging technique was this?
The Leibao and Pojun stood firm. The impact only made them shudder slightly—less than before. Then they both raised their weapons.
Arm in arm, they prepared to strike downward when suddenly their knees buckled forward uncontrollably.
Cheng Ze kept his thrusters firing, skimming past them along the ground.
He pivoted into a crouch, seized the Pojun's ankle, and stood with a roar, spinning him around.
The Leibao had just risen when his comrade's body slammed him back down.
Ye Buqing was still entangled with the Balian but kept an eye on his teammates.
Seeing Cheng Ze had secured his target, Ye Buqing seized an opening to grab one of the Balian's chains.
The freshman, excited at having seemingly caught him, extended more chains from his back to bind him.
Cheng Ze shouted: "Ready!"
The Fengyi activated full power. With lightning speed, Ye Buqing yanked the chain toward them.
The freshman felt the pull and knew it was bad, bracing himself. Cheng Ze's roar filled his ears as a black shadow crashed between him and Ye Buqing.
The taut chain absorbed the impact, its shape rapidly deforming. Ye Buqing held on tight, so he and the Balian were dragged toward the center.
The Balian's newly extended chains looped around, binding all three together tightly from behind.
Twin cries of "Holy shit!" overlapped.
Finding one exclamation insufficient, they added another.
The maneuver was slick—successfully tangling themselves together. Now they couldn't break free; the more they struggled, the tighter the knots became.
No wonder the Balian was dangerous—it was mainly used post-battle for cleanup.
Cheng Ze didn't hesitate to raise his weapon and bombard the writhing mass.
The red team's numbers dropped by two. Simultaneously, points on the map dimmed.
Cheng Ze then looked at the Leibao, hesitating.
Lian Sheng said: "Just come back alive! Mech damage doesn't matter—the commander will replace it."
"Sounds generous!" Cheng Ze shouted. "But have you spent any money?"
Lian Sheng: "There's nowhere for me to spend it!"
Cheng Ze: "Give it to me then."
The Leibao was already moving.
Currently, the Leibao was relatively intact, while the Fengyi was immobilized by chains, effectively useless. The heavy mech's surface was cracked—prime conditions for him to strike.
With two teammates down, he had no choice but to take out an opponent here. Letting them escape would make this operation a net loss—unacceptable.
For Cheng Ze, the best way to eliminate him was mutual destruction.
"What's happening?!" The red team commander panicked. "One glance away and you self-destruct?"
The Leibao had no time to respond.
The enemy commander said: "Just retreat—preserve our strength!"
The Leibao said: "Too late."
Commander: "Be careful! Pilots are our priority—retreat if needed!"
Cutting losses was always hard to decide in the moment but easy to regret afterward.
Yet from an investment perspective, since perfect timing was impossible, no loss-cutting or profit-taking was ever truly wrong.
Mutual destruction was simple: either fire a high-yield cannon at point-blank or drag the Leibao into the ocean.
The Leibao clearly wanted distance, while Cheng Ze disliked ranged combat.
They began circling—advancing and retreating in turn.
Nearby, Ye Buqing struggled to free himself from the two disabled mechs. Reaching behind the Balian, he worked carefully to dismantle its chain mechanism while maintaining balance.
In the observation room, silence reigned.
The instructors didn't speak, so the students dared not either.
Watching the beach melee, the instructors seemed lost in thought, offering no commentary.
Then someone's stomach growled, shattering the quiet.
The student clamped his mouth shut, trying to vanish into the crowd.
The instructors exhaled and resumed quiet discussion.
One said: "These students—though freshmen—are already quite proficient with mech operation."
The students expected praise for Cheng Ze's heroic efforts, but the instructors unanimously commended Ye Buqing instead.
Having focused on Cheng Ze, they'd subconsciously treated Ye Buqing as background.
"Especially that Fengyi—what was its top speed just now? At such velocity, accurately hitting moving chains with over 90% accuracy is remarkable."
"More importantly, he still assisted teammates mid-combat. His eyes have adapted exceptionally well to the new mech's speed—and the data updates aren't even that old. The new generation surpasses the old."
At high speeds, no matter how calm, people instinctively focus intensely on themselves and their immediate surroundings—dividing attention is difficult.
Yet Ye Buqing had both harassed the Balian and monitored Cheng Ze.
An instructor smiled: "Switch perspectives—it must look spectacular."
From their god's-eye view, the Fengyi just seemed to flit about like a fly. But from Ye Buqing's perspective, Cheng Ze's situation would've been fleeting glimpses—the true challenge was processing that information.
"Fengyi always seems soft and nonthreatening. To reduce weight for speed, it carries minimal weapons, making it unimpressive in direct combat—more like a hidden presence." The left instructor frowned. "But Fengyi pilots are the hardest to train. In battle, they don't just scout—they evacuate wounded and deliver supplies under fire..."
Support mechs like these demanded higher innate talent than frontline models—similar to snipers or scouts.
Especially scouts—whether ancient or modern, they've always been among the most perilous roles. Fail to hide or run fast enough, and you're dead before delivering intel.
Now the Fengyi had another duty.
When mechs were destroyed, exposed pilots faced extreme danger. Fengyis had to repeatedly sweep battlefields mid-fight.
They darted through the most concentrated fire at the edges, racing against death at top speed.
But no path home was smooth—each was long, winding, arduous, and hazardous.
The Fengyi was a mech that, once it started running, could never stop.
The crowd fell silent, watching the Fengyi with solemn respect.
Comrade Ye Buqing, currently writhing deeper into the sand while tied up.
Everyone: "..."
Everyone: "..."
Well...
Cheng Ze's situation remained deadlocked.
Lian Sheng couldn't focus solely on them—she had numerous requests to handle.
The red team's attacks intensified. Previously, when white team members retreated into wooded areas with reinforcements, pursuers would disperse. Now, they chased relentlessly.
Their goal was obvious: follow them to discover the final destination.
Lian Sheng began redirecting secure personnel inward, gradually encircling the waterfall area.
This obvious maneuver made even white team members assume she'd hidden prisoners near the waterfall—a logical spot.
As movement became conspicuous, both sides converged, forming a defensive perimeter around the presumed location.
Lian Sheng said: "We're temporarily redistributing weapons. Transfer remaining cannons to snipers and Ji Ban. If overloaded, deposit extras nearby. Maintain distance from the target—on my mark, fire at the pool below the waterfall. Named pilots, when enemies approach the waterfall, move to marked positions."
She indicated several firing angles around the pool's sides and front.
Lian Sheng continued calmly: "Others, mind sightlines—don't block shots. On my order, fire prone. Again: prone, at angles!"
Ji Ban asked: "Am I a sniper?"
"Stay upfront as melee first. Retreat to fire cannons when ordered," Lian Sheng said. "Stock up first."
Ji Ban replied: "Got it."
Ji Ban was incredibly useful. But elite manual mech pilots were vanishingly rare—one every decade, with uncertain finger longevity.
Lu Mingyuan sent another roster, switching channels.
Lian Sheng coughed: "Those hearing this, assemble at the central point."
She summoned those still struggling with high-speed mech operation or whose mechs were previously damaged.
The addressed members' hearts skipped—they realized they were being sidelined to reallocate gear.
They felt lost—not just about the match, but their futures.
Meanwhile, Cheng Ze's battle concluded. He ejected before the explosion.
Ye Buqing, freed from the chains, retrieved him and headed for resupply.
Lian Sheng clapped upon receiving the news, counting off: "Good! We now have a five-mech advantage—all elite opponents. Either they underestimated us and are panicking..."
Silence lingered before Ji Ban asked: "What's the other possibility?"
Lian Sheng: "There isn't one. I wanted parallel structure for rhetorical effect but couldn't think of another."
On this map, though operations were scattered, securing kills wasn't easy—with forces spread thin, any incident triggered reinforcements.
Losing three members was acceptable—battlefields were unpredictable. But losing three, including two key players, without scoring any kills? Unacceptable. The red commander briefly wondered if they were throwing the match.
Receiving reports, the red commander looked baffled: "What curse hit you? Or did you all skip pre-match bathroom breaks? Desperate to return for a dump?"
Silence.
Someone said: "He called us full of shit."
Teammates cursed: "Screw you!"
The speaker continued: "The commander says he doesn't need this shit."
Jokes lightened the mood—dwelling on mistakes was pointless now.
"Cool off," the commander coughed. "Report status."
A student said: "Five isn't bad—not quite sell-the-farm territory yet."
"Five? Since when are battles counted in fives?"
"...But we only have fifty total."
"Hey! We took out two mechs—that's two kills!"
"They're converging. Moving now."
"Probably the waterfall—classic hiding spot. We'd search there anyway."
"Definitely the waterfall. Makes sense."
The commander pondered, then ordered: "All units, advance toward the waterfall!"
Ty for the update!!
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