Chapter Seventy-Nine: A Dazzling Performance (Part One)

Ye Chong stepped into the modification chamber. The moment he entered, his body made a slight adjustment. Unfamiliar surroundings always put him on high alert—a habit honed into instinct, even though he knew there should be no real danger here. Without thinking, his piercing gaze swept through every corner of the modification room like a cold wind.

He had no idea that his every move was being broadcast live to all viewers through the holographic cameras installed throughout the chamber.

Though his actions were subtle, someone in the audience let out a gasp, springing to their feet before quickly sitting down again, aware of having overreacted. Their eyes sparkled with keen interest as they watched Ye Chong’s performance on the holographic screen, a faint, knowing smile playing on their lips.

Elsewhere in the audience, several others also stood up at almost the same moment, faces filled with astonishment and eyes flickering with intrigue.

The chamber itself was immense—some three hundred meters long and a hundred meters wide—lined with all manner of mecha components. At its center stood a single optical computer.

The computer’s voice announced, “All components within this room are available for use. Please submit your design plan at the terminal, then proceed to complete your modifications. You have forty-five minutes to finish. Failure to complete the task within the allotted time will result in a deduction from your score, and your team’s pilot will have to use a standard R-1 mecha for the next round.”

Ye Chong began to carefully inspect the components spread across the floor. One couldn’t help but marvel at the resources of Blue Sea Academy. The sheer number of parts in a single modification room represented a considerable expense, and every contestant consumed just as many. The cost must be staggering! If Ye Chong knew this was only one of thirty-two competitions held across the school, he would surely be even more astounded.

But at this moment, his mind was utterly focused.

With a single sharp gaze, Ye Chong took in the haphazardly arranged components, and in a heartbeat, he had a clear plan. After a brief pause for thought, he strode toward the optical computer at the center, and without hesitation began to submit his modification proposal.

In the broadcast control room, dozens of people bustled about. With so many contestants, it was difficult for most viewers to distinguish between them, or even know whom to watch. The control room existed precisely to solve these problems—explaining each contestant’s design choices to keep the audience engaged and ensuring that every modification chamber had a dedicated staff member on hand to quickly relay highlights to the central director, who would then select and broadcast the most notable moments on the main holographic screens. In this business, speed was paramount.

This year, the chief broadcast director for Blue Sea Academy’s Mecha Tournament was Rui Su, deputy head of the Broadcasting Department.

Rui Su had graduated from the Broadcasting Department at twenty-three and, within a year, earned her senior director credentials with her thesis, “On the Mutual Compensation of Dynamic Application and Narrow Field Techniques,” becoming the youngest senior director in the academy’s history. At the academy’s request, she stayed on as deputy head of the department the following year—this year.

It was Rui Su’s first time at the helm of the academy’s prestigious tournament.

Her waterfall of black hair hung smoothly over her shoulders; her deep blue eyes were as calm and profound as a handful of sea water, hinting at the salty breeze of the ocean. Her skin was pale as snow, features pure as jade, her lips a delicate shade of cherry blossom—altogether, a beauty so exquisite as to take one’s breath away. Her graceful, alluring figure was enough to inspire wild imaginings.

By any measure, she was a sight to behold.

Yet the crisp sound of her voice, sharp as rain but at this moment more like a raging storm, shattered any sense of tranquility.

“You’re all hopeless! Can’t even handle something this simple? If you mess up my work this time, you’d better be ready to repeat the entire course! And you there, Wang Xiao’er, didn’t you hear what I just said? Move it! You always seem so diligent, but when it matters most, you freeze up. Are you a man or not?” Rui Su’s eyes were stormy seas, brimming with anger.

Wang Xiao’er, thin and frail, trembled under her tirade. The other students, too, shrank back, but the scolding had the effect of making everyone’s hands move faster.

Rui Su kept muttering, “Useless bunch! Not one of you can share my burden at a critical moment! What rotten luck I have, to wind up with a class full of donkeys.” Even in her exasperation, her beauty was undiminished.

Suddenly, Wang Xiao’er let out a frightened yelp, his voice cutting through the tense silence among the students. Already irritated, Rui Su exploded again, “Wang Xiao’er, are you looking for trouble? You always act so obedient, but today all you do is cause me problems!” She nearly stormed over to give him a piece of her mind, but a glance at his scrawny frame gave her pause; with her strength, she might actually hurt him.

She reluctantly lowered her long, slender leg.

Wang Xiao’er, pale as a sheet, finally found his voice and shouted, trembling, “Sister Rui, come look at this!” He pointed at his holographic screen.

Rui Su never let her students address her as “teacher,” insisting it made her sound old—she preferred “Sister Rui.”

Suspicious, she made her way over, grumbling, “Wang Xiao’er, if you’re playing games with me, you’ll regret it—if you survive at all.”

But as soon as she reached his screen, all business now, she focused intently.

Suddenly, Rui Su stared as if possessed, eyes glued to the screen, utterly transfixed.

Several seconds passed before she snapped out of it, leaping up as if her feet were on fire and dashing to her main console. “Wang Xiao’er, send me your feed, now!” she shouted as she ran.

He scrambled to comply.

Outside, the audience noticed that every holographic screen now showed only one person—the contestant in Modification Chamber No. 5!

Simultaneously, Sun Xuelin and Axiu gasped in shock from the front row, the latter clasping a delicate hand to her mouth, both faces filled with disbelief.

Chamber No. 5—it was Ye Chong!

Even as their cries of surprise faded, the entire audience erupted in astonishment, as Rui Su had just switched every screen in the school to the feed from Chamber No. 5.

Hundreds of thousands of spectators across the campus all witnessed a scene they would never forget.

On the screen, the young man’s hands moved with an almost magical fluidity, each part sliding through his grasp with the ease of water, every motion seamless and unbroken. If that were all, it would not have been so shocking—every modifier was expected to have such skill.

What truly stunned everyone were Ye Chong’s hands.

For the first time, his extraordinary hand speed—far beyond ordinary human capability—was put on full display before a massive audience. Poor Ye Chong, oblivious to it all, had no idea that his secret was being revealed to the world. If he’d known, he would probably have been beside himself with regret.

To expose one’s abilities so openly was, in Ye Chong’s eyes, the height of foolishness.

But he had not realized the entire process would be broadcast live, and with no help from Ding Yining, he could only rely on everything he’d learned to complete the modifications. Completely absorbed, he paid no attention to how astonishingly fast his hands were moving.

His hands were so deft they scarcely seemed human, their blurred yet clearly visible movements captured in high definition for all to see—no one could doubt their authenticity.

The entire hall fell silent.

The commentator’s voice, barely able to contain its excitement, echoed through the quiet campus: “My god, what extraordinary hands! Such incredible speed from a modifier! This is enough to make every student in the mecha program feel ashamed! With hands like these, what could he possibly fail to accomplish?

We’ve just received information about this contestant—he’s Ye Chong from Chamber No. 5, only twenty years old! At that age, he’d still be in the lower grades here! Truly remarkable! There’s no doubt—he’s not just a genius, he’s a genius among geniuses! Ye Chong isn’t even one of our students; there’s not a single record of him ever attending school, so I believe no one can dispute what I just said!

I bet our dear principal just received his file too. He’s probably more anxious than anyone for the contest to end—he must be staring wide-eyed at the screen right now!”

The audience burst into good-natured laughter.

“Unbelievable! I’ve just received Ye Chong’s hand speed report! According to the data, during the entire process, his maximum hand speed reached an astonishing 3.57 Hertz! Has he installed an engine in his hands or something?”

Again the hall erupted in collective astonishment.

3.57 Hertz!

Everyone looked on in shock. Was that even humanly possible?

Another quip from the commentator sent another wave of laughter through the crowd.

But for Ye Chong, 3.57 Hertz was not even his top speed. He wasn’t consciously holding back—his unfamiliarity with the academy’s modification tools had limited him. After all, he’d only trained a few days at Ding Yining’s home; reaching this level was already exceptional.

Yet the most exciting moment was still to come.