Chapter Sixty-Seven: Black and White

The pupils of Ye Chong contracted sharply!

Accelerate! Ye Chong’s hand swept across the control console like a blur, and the previously staggering F-58 suddenly surged forward as though injected with a stimulant, racing straight toward Karl with a piercing wind. The tip of his blocking lance glimmered with a ghostly light; inside Karl’s mech, the pilot stared in terror as a shard of cold light expanded rapidly in his vision.

The fruits of his relentless training saved his life at that moment. Without conscious thought, almost instinctively, Karl hastily raised his left arm’s massive shield to protect his vital areas, while his right arm managed to shield his teammate as well.

To be able to remember protecting his teammate under such circumstances—even Ye Chong had to silently admire him.

Ye Chong was about to collide with the giant shield, yet showed no intention of slowing down. With a lateral slide, the surface of Karl’s shield seemed slicked with oil, and Ye Chong skimmed along its face, sliding past to the side.

Karl found it odd; where was the expected impact? There was no sensation at all, just a light, insubstantial touch.

Suddenly, a shadow appeared at Karl’s right flank. Alarmed, Karl had no time to move the shield; he could only raise his elbow to protect his vital spots.

Hawkeye had been vigilantly monitoring the situation, only now detecting something amiss. He hurriedly sent an attack signal, but received no response. The pilot inside Hawkeye felt his heart sink—most of his comrades had likely already been killed. The enemy must have planned this in advance; a chill ran from his feet to his scalp, causing him to shudder uncontrollably. He signaled Karl to cover him as he retreated, intent on escaping as quickly as possible. He had to bring this news back!

He had just started his engine, barely able to react, when suddenly it was as if he’d been struck head-on by a high-speed mech. An enormous, tearing pain forced a shrill scream out of him, and then he saw half his body severed with ease by a massive guillotine-like blade. Blood sprayed onto the strange machine in a fountain, like splashes of vivid flowers. He couldn’t bear it; his head lolled to the side, and he lost consciousness—likely never to wake again.

At the instant Karl raised his arm, the F-58 used his thick right arm as leverage, performed a somersault, and before landing, swiftly retrieved the rarely-used alloy shield. The F-58’s tremendous momentum left Karl unable to adjust his posture in time. On landing, the F-58 pushed off forcefully, darted forward, and with a flick of his wrist, hurled the alloy shield like lightning through the gap between Karl and his giant shield, striking Hawkeye as he tried to escape.

The alloy shield’s edge was razor-sharp, and the force behind the F-58’s throw was immense. Hawkeye’s armor was far too thin to withstand it; the shield pierced right through. After a few seconds of crackling, Hawkeye exploded violently. Several nearby mechs flying overhead were so startled they nearly plummeted.

Ye Chong could no longer conceal himself; he drew his overclocked magnetic blade, intending to finish the fight quickly and withdraw.

Karl was clearly stunned by the sudden explosion, failing to notice the swift approach of the F-58.

Now was not the time to freeze up—was he courting death? In Ye Chong’s eyes, Karl was as good as a dead man. The overclocked blade darted forward like a snake’s tongue, poised to strike Karl’s fatal spot.

Suddenly, a flash of white light blinded Ye Chong! Almost simultaneously, Mu’s warning sounded: “Careful!”

Karl exploded before Ye Chong’s eyes, and the blast threw Ye Chong violently aside. Watching a small black dot on the horizon, Ye Chong’s optical computer zoomed in, revealing it to be the same white mech as before. Damn it! Ye Chong cursed inwardly.

The F-58 braced itself on the ground, stabilizing its uncontrolled posture. Ye Chong immediately executed evasive maneuvers; sure enough, another beam of white light struck the spot he had just occupied. The F-58 zigzagged across the roof, retrieved the alloy shield—now more useful than ever—and, without hesitation, Ye Chong maneuvered the F-58 to leap from the five-hundredth-floor rooftop.

The white mech pursued closely, clearly determined not to let Ye Chong escape.

Ye Chong silently lamented his bad luck—to encounter that damned white mech at such a moment.

He darted through the cluster of buildings, but this time, the white mech showed no sign of giving up. Worse yet, the police who rushed to the scene seemed to assist the white mech. Their blue, black, and white mechs were all police models, and none were low-grade—they were all mid-grade or higher. With their help, Ye Chong’s escape routes were steadily compressed.

As Ye Chong was being relentlessly chased, suddenly the F-58’s communicator crackled: “Mu, it’s Johansson. I’m around the corner, a hundred meters ahead. If you want to live, come join me.” Ye Chong’s heart skipped—so the Black Horn people had arrived!

After a brief deliberation, Ye Chong gritted his teeth and flew straight ahead. A hundred meters was but a blink for him, and he quickly spotted a black mech.

This was his first time witnessing a Black Horn combat mech. He’d long heard of them during his time with Black Horn, but had never seen one!

Now, Ye Chong’s only thought was: This mech is truly remarkable!

Ferocious! That was the deepest impression the mech gave. Its glossy black armor gleamed faintly, far more slender and balanced than training mechs. The barbs on its wrists, elbows, shoulders, head, and knees resembled the sinister white teeth of a demon emerging from hell. The right arm bore a one-and-a-half-meter curved blade, its deadly aura masked by black anti-reflective coating. Chains wrapped around the right arm, both ends disappearing into the mech’s interior, their purpose unknown.

Two three-meter overclocked magnetic blades crossed its back.

The shield on its left arm looked unremarkable, but Ye Chong immediately noticed the sharp edge concealed under black coating. Both legs bore curved blades on the outer sides, and the spurs on the heels curled upward like hooks. Ye Chong couldn’t tell how many hidden firing pods there were, but Mu explained: “There are five hidden firing pods.”

This was undoubtedly a killing machine! Ye Chong admired it deeply. Imagining Johansson’s speed-based fighting style, the potential of this mech was astonishing. Given Black Horn’s usual penchant for special modifications, there were surely more hidden features beyond what could be seen—impossible to guard against.

His F-58 was leagues apart from this mech, like a prototype compared to a finished product! If he went up against Johansson in his F-58, even though his skills were slightly superior, he would still lose.

Johansson spoke in a deep voice: “The opponent is from the Mech Association. Let’s join forces and take him down!”

Ye Chong followed Johansson’s instructions and lay in ambush on either side of the street entrance, his mind racing. Mech Association? Were they mortal enemies with Black Horn? After so many encounters, Ye Chong, who had left Black Horn, held little respect for those so-called certified pilots—he considered their abilities mediocre, so he assumed the Mech Association was similarly unimpressive. He hadn’t expected such an advanced mech to come from the Association, nor that the pilot in the white mech, while slightly inferior to himself, was far beyond the average high-level pilot. Was he really from the Mech Association?

How could the Association and Black Horn be mortal enemies?

Ye Chong couldn’t make sense of it. But now was clearly not the time for such questions. Johansson growled softly, “He’s coming!” Ye Chong quickly focused his mind.

The elegant form of the white mech appeared at the street entrance. On seeing the two black mechs, it paused; spotting Johansson’s mech, it hesitated even longer.

Johansson gave a low shout: “Attack!” Before the words finished, his mech lunged at the white one. Johansson’s speed was clearly beyond the opponent’s expectations, making him far faster than Ye Chong’s F-58.

The white mech, startled but calm, retreated swiftly, aiming a strangely designed gun at Johansson.

Then Johansson’s deep, slightly angry voice rang out: “You…”