Chapter Seventy: The Radiant Mecha Soars with Joy

When everyone saw the modified mecha, they couldn't help but cast strange glances at Ye Chong. Even Ding Yining, who had been bustling about, was dumbfounded when he saw the mecha that was almost entirely built by his own hands.

Could this thing still be called a mecha?

That was likely the thought in everyone’s mind except Ye Chong.

The entire mecha was shaped like an arrow, with a body that was extremely narrow but rather tall, resembling a flattened swordfish. The main engine was installed at the rear—a configuration Ye Chong arrived at after careful calculations, as it placed the center of gravity in the optimal position. The front of the mecha had two side wings forming a ‘V’ shape, but unlike typical metal slats, these wings had several auxiliary thrusters mounted on them, allowing for wide-ranging directional changes. However, piloting this mecha required extraordinary skill. The cockpit was located along the shaft of the arrow, with barely enough space for someone of Ke Han’s stature to fit inside—now Ke Han understood why Ye Chong had asked about his height earlier. Because the cockpit was so cramped, the onboard computer wasn’t particularly powerful. If Ye Chong were piloting it himself, he probably wouldn’t bother with the computer at all, relying solely on manual controls. This, however, drew fierce objections from Ding Yining, who believed that without a computer, the mecha would be virtually useless.

The mecha was constructed mainly from lightweight titanium alloy. While not especially strong, it was exceptionally light. Ye Chong chose a Flamingo-3 engine for the main thruster, not only for its powerful output but also because it weighed only half as much as others in its class. Most importantly, its directional control range was the widest among its peers. While most main engines simply provided thrust, leaving steering mainly to the auxiliary thrusters, a few could also alter direction—but with far more limited range. Among them, the Flamingo-3 had the broadest directional capability, which was Ye Chong’s primary reason for choosing it. Of course, the Flamingo-3 wasn’t commonly used in mechas because of its high energy consumption—twice that of mainstream engines of the same class—which greatly limited its applications. In Ye Chong’s design, a full energy load would only last eight hours of flight. However, since Ke Han had told him that the competition required only two hours of flight time, this mecha would more than suffice.

Ding Yining had painted the whole machine a light blue, clear as a mountain spring. Its strange, sharp design made it look aggressive and lean, brimming with power, and left everyone eagerly anticipating its speed.

The group exchanged glances; none had ever seen such a bizarrely styled mecha—it seemed more fitting to call it a flying craft. Ke Han, however, gazed at the light blue oddity with shining eyes, wishing he could leap into the cockpit at once.

After Ke Han’s test flight, he emerged from the cockpit pale-faced and a bit unsteady on his feet.

Everyone rushed over. Yang An asked anxiously, “Han, what happened to you?”

Ke Han’s voice trembled. “It was... it was too intense! This thing is so fast! I nearly crashed into someone several times! It’s incredibly hard to handle!” Once he’d calmed down, however, Ke Han’s face showed utter exhilaration. “But it’s unbelievably fast! I’d say it can match the speed of professional racing mechas! It was a thrill!”

Nearby, Sun Xuelin looked ready to try it herself. Ah Xiu, frightened, quickly grabbed her to hold her back.

Ding Yining gazed at the mecha he’d personally modified, utterly enchanted. He murmured, “Hmm, what should we call it?”

Ke Han hurried over. “Fly—how about ‘Fly’?”

Sun Xuelin shook her head. “That sounds awful—just one syllable? Let’s call it ‘Feylok’!” As soon as the pretty girl spoke, Ke Han quickly voiced his agreement. Ding Yining also thought ‘Feylok’ sounded good. He glanced at Ye Chong—the true designer—but seeing Ye Chong’s indifferent expression, Ding Yining surmised he probably didn’t care what the mecha was called.

So, without any formal discussion, the name for the mecha was decided.

Seeing that it was getting late, Ye Chong prepared to leave. Turning to Yang An, he said, “Four hours in total, twelve hundred and twenty-five credits per hour, for a total of five thousand credits!” His tone was calm, showing no embarrassment at all.

Sun Xuelin sneered, tugged Ah Xiu away, and went to the side.

Yang An happily and promptly paid, knowing full well that this man was a genuine expert—and with him on board, their group’s chances of winning had vastly improved.

Ding Yining was utterly absorbed in the design blueprints, while Ke Han stared at Feylok, his hands caressing every surface, unable to let go.

Meanwhile, Sun Xuelin and Ah Xiu whispered in a corner, their conversation inaudible.

Ye Chong’s extraordinary hearing picked up faint traces of his own name, but he paid it no mind. In his view, the two were a bit odd, and he couldn’t be bothered to get involved.

Once he confirmed that his personal account had increased by five thousand credits, Ye Chong nonchalantly said goodbye and strode away.

Out on the street, Ye Chong realized it was the shop’s busiest time. Anxious, he ignored all propriety and sprinted at full speed. To passersby, it was as if a blur flashed before their eyes—by the time they looked carefully, there was nothing to be seen, and they dismissed it as a trick of their vision.

When Ye Chong returned to the shop, it was indeed packed, with Grandpa Qian busily tending to everything alone, clearly exhausted. Ye Chong felt a pang of guilt, greeted Grandpa Qian, and dashed into the kitchen. Grandpa Qian’s face showed clear relief upon seeing Ye Chong return.

By the time the last customers had left, it was already past eight in the evening. After dinner, Ye Chong told Grandpa Qian he was turning in early.

He carefully took out the items he’d obtained from the building; the chip recorded nothing but trivial details of Grandpa Xu’s daily activities, without any valuable information. The identity cards, however, yielded something—Mu’s formidable abilities quickly traced their origins.

“These people are from the Ji family?” Ye Chong asked.

Mu replied, “Based on the data, the probability exceeds ninety-five percent.”

“Then it’s certain,” Ye Chong said. “But why would the Ji family want to monitor Grandpa Xu?”

After a quick review of the Ji family’s background, Ye Chong soon understood their motive: they must be extremely interested in Grandpa Xu’s new theory and were doing everything they could to recruit him. But Grandpa Xu seemed to have no interest in cooperating. Ye Chong didn’t think their methods were particularly malicious—had it been him, he might have been even more aggressive. But understanding didn’t mean agreeing, and agreement didn’t mean acceptance, especially since the victim was connected to him.

The Ji family must have gotten word by now, Ye Chong thought. He quickly logged into the virtual net, left a message for Grandpa Xu in Aurora, saying he’d be busy and wouldn’t be able to visit for a while.

The Ji family! A cold smile flickered across Ye Chong’s lips.