Chapter 103: Old Pang

Close-combat mechas can only unleash their full power in close-range hand-to-hand encounters. Because their attack radius is so limited, the first priority for a close-combat mecha is always to close in on the enemy. Only when the opponent is brought within its attack range does the mecha have a chance to be effective; otherwise, it’s nothing but a living target.

Thus, most close-combat mechas begin by desperately advancing toward their adversary, striving to narrow the gap. Yet Ye Chong did the exact opposite. After dodging Brandt's shot, he immediately withdrew to a distance, leaving Brandt staring in astonishment as Ye Chong grew smaller before his eyes, shrinking into a tiny black dot almost instantly.

Fleeing without a fight? Brandt was flabbergasted. Wasn’t he afraid of being mocked? After all, it was just a game! Quentin didn’t seem like the type to be cowardly.

Ye Chong’s retreat drew a chorus of jeers from the spectators in the hall, and though the uproar was not large, it caught the attention of those watching other games. Soon, everyone was focused on the holographic screen displaying the match between Ye Chong and Brandt.

Inside the game pod, Ye Chong manipulated his mecha with unwavering concentration, his mind free of distractions.

For Ye Chong, this was battle—not just a game. Whenever it was a fight, he went all out. In battle, it was life or death; there was no room for idle thoughts.

From Brandt's earlier shot, Ye Chong could tell his marksmanship was top-tier. Even in that fleeting instant, if Ye Chong hadn’t been prepared, he would already have been hit.

Approaching Brandt would give him at least three opportunities to fire. With such precise aim, even a single chance would likely spell Ye Chong’s defeat.

Therefore, distancing himself from the opponent was undoubtedly the wisest choice.

Ye Chong felt no shame in fleeing; his abilities had suffered no loss, which meant he still had a chance to win. Fighting the enemy where they had the greatest advantage was the height of folly—unless absolutely necessary. Ye Chong’s countless battles had taught him to always maneuver for an environment more favorable to himself.

Ye Chong pushed his mecha forward at top speed, expanding the scan radius—nothing. He expanded it again—still nothing. Once more—still nothing. Unperturbed, Ye Chong methodically widened the scan radius, undaunted by the monotony; he’d endured far duller tasks before. Finally, when the scan reached its maximum, he discovered a sizable asteroid belt at nine degrees off the trajectory, though it was very far off. If he flew, it would take at least twelve hours to reach.

The greater the scan radius, the lower the precision, the higher the energy consumption, and the longer each scan cycle took. Thus, nobody chose to scan too broadly—it was far too risky.

Brandt followed from a distance. His momentary hesitation had let Ye Chong pull far ahead, and at such range, his accuracy dropped sharply. He tried a few shots, but none landed. So he ceased firing to conserve energy.

What was Quentin up to? Brandt wondered. There was nothing ahead, and continuing like this was a waste of time. Brandt expanded his own scan—still nothing.

Quentin showed no sign of stopping, still flying forward.

Brandt’s suspicion grew. From their recent interactions, Quentin didn’t seem the type to waste effort on pointless actions. There must be something ahead. Brandt widened his scan radius further, but the void stretched endlessly—nothing.

With this scan radius, Brandt calculated that at Quentin’s current speed, it would take at least five hours to reach whatever destination he was aiming for.

Could it be even farther away? Brandt shook his head. Who would be so foolish as to spend over five hours on an inconsequential game just to win a match?

Impossible! Brandt immediately dismissed the idea. Surely no one was that foolish anymore. The notion made him chuckle softly at its absurdity.

Most of the onlookers shook their heads and left, leaving only a handful still paying attention.

A burly man with a ruddy face and thick black brows, now furrowed in confusion, muttered, “Big brother, what’s that kid up to? I can’t figure it out. It doesn’t feel right. If he’s running, he’s not in a hurry; if he has some scheme, there’s nothing ahead. Besides, this setting isn’t favorable for close-combat mechas unless the opponent slips up. Otherwise, I can’t see a way out. The guy behind has excellent marksmanship; mistakes seem unlikely.”

Beside him, a middle-aged man with a bushy beard flashed a sharp look in his eyes, speaking gravely, “You’re mistaken, little brother. The one in front is the one to watch! He’s got a tenacious spirit—a real hard case. As for the guy behind, his aim is good, but he’s all show—never seen real combat.” His words carried a hint of disdain.

The burly man was startled. He’d never heard his elder brother praise anyone so highly. If it weren’t for his brother’s reputation for honesty, he’d have doubted him. He asked cautiously, “Big brother, I don’t see this tenacity you mention—just him flying forward. Seems pointless!”

The bearded man chuckled, revealing sharp white teeth and a nostalgic expression. “If I hadn’t played this scenario myself, I’d have thought just like you. Once, I faced a guy in twenty matches—ten wins each. We agreed the twenty-first would decide it all.” His face softened with reminiscence, while his companion listened, admiring the feat.

“The twenty-first match was this exact scenario. He suddenly chose a close-combat mecha and, like this young man, turned and ran right away. I didn’t think much—just gave chase. That chase lasted twelve hours. I was young and eager to win, never imagining it would take so long. Seven hours in, I realized his true aim! I thought my mecha’s scan radius was huge—never expected to meet someone even tougher! From the starting position, at nine degrees off the trajectory, there was a massive asteroid belt—but twelve hours away.”

The burly man gasped in astonishment; the answer was beyond his imagination. He couldn’t fathom two people chasing each other for twelve hours over a game.

“I lost that match, but I was convinced. You’ve surely heard of him—he’s the Child of Light,” the bearded man said matter-of-factly.

“The Child of Light? The undefeated legend?” The revelation left the burly man slack-jawed in disbelief.

The bearded man offered no further explanation, only watched Ye Chong on the screen with interest. “Never thought I'd meet another like this! If the Child of Light were here, he'd recognize a kindred spirit.” He then lapsed into silent contemplation.

Are these people all mad? The burly man stared blankly. Twelve hours for a game? Even his normally calm brother had done it!

After a long pause, the bearded man raised his head, casting a meaningful glance at the still-flying lra mecha on the screen.

He pondered, then cautioned, “Little brother, we’re here to repay Master Fred’s kindness. Let’s not get involved; just keep a discreet watch on this fellow.”

“Keep watch? Wasn’t he brought by Brandt? Shouldn’t be a problem, right?” the burly man replied, bewildered.

Seeing his brother’s confusion, the bearded man sighed inwardly and patiently explained, “You have to watch their eyes. Did you notice? When Brandt and that guy entered, they were guarded, their eyes betraying mutual wariness. They’re still too young—can’t conceal their expressions. Even as they walked together, their distance was subtly off. And, if I’m not mistaken, this guy wasn’t originally on the ship!” Though he spoke speculatively, his tone was certain and his gaze steady.

The burly man was stunned. “You mean he snuck aboard mid-journey? That’s impossible! How could anyone sneak onto the Sabelly?”

The bearded man shook his head. “I’m not sure, but just keep an eye out. This ship is crawling with people—anything could happen. We’ll just do our best.”

“Oh!” The burly man nodded, half-understanding.

“Hey, Kasan, Old Pang, still watching? Those two are really boring—what’s the point?” A man with a face like a slab of meat and a drink in hand approached them.

Old Pang smiled mildly. “Nothing else to do. You’re here for a drink with Kasan, right? Kasan, go keep Leopard company—don’t sit around bored.” He signaled Kasan with a glance.

Kasan rose with a vague “Oh.”

Leopard grinned in delight, rubbing his hands together. “Yeah, sitting here’s dull! Old Pang, want to join?”

Old Pang politely declined. “I’ll pass. My drinking isn’t in your league—Kasan will do just fine.”

Leopard didn’t insist, taking the confused Kasan off to the bar.

Brandt grew increasingly frustrated. Over half an hour had passed, and Quentin showed no sign of stopping—what was he up to?

Brandt struggled to suppress his irritation, gritting his teeth to endure.

Just as impatience took hold, suddenly the screen went black, and the game pod automatically opened. Before he could remove his helmet, a piercing, frenzied alarm shook his eardrums painfully.

For reasons unknown, Brandt’s heart jumped—then, inexplicably, he felt a wave of relief.