Chapter Forty-Two: Another Battle in the Cold Wind

Page 1

In autumn, a cat saw that "Kitty Is the Cutest" had suffocated itself in the sand and felt utterly hopeless about him. Perhaps this person's intelligence was touching, so she simply skipped the second match and remained oblivious to the fact that her fans had already been lured away, clinging to someone else and calling him "Master."

Just then, someone named "Cold Wind" in her friend list replied to her.

"A hundred billion in backing? Isn't that the newbie who drives the Strider? Can he shoot now? Don't worry, little kitty, let me teach him a lesson."

Seeing Cold Wind decide to stand up for her, she suddenly felt reassured. Cold Wind was an alt account belonging to a single person. Over the past month, his fame had soared. With his knack for piloting Level 5 mechs against Level 6, Level 6 against Level 7, and Level 7 mechs reigning invincible under 1000 points, he had never lost a battle. Moreover, his sharp tongue was infamous—he loved to ridicule opponents, and eventually, it was revealed that this alt belonged to someone ranked in the top hundred. For a while, no one dared provoke him.

Surely he’d beat that person to a pulp. Thinking of this, the cat in autumn felt a surge of anticipation.

Meanwhile, Li Daoran heard Chen Ming’s voice, his eyes flickered, and he rejected the duel invitation.

Soon, Cold Wind sent a private message.

"What’s wrong? Afraid? Chicken." Cold Wind assumed Li Daoran recognized his identity and dared not accept, so he planned to mock him and leave. After all, being a top hundred expert, it was normal for others to avoid him, and there was little he could do about it.

"Afraid? Certainly not. Fighting like this is pointless."

"?"

"How about we bet on our IDs?"

"You want a wager duel?"

"Yes."

"How do we bet?" Cold Wind was intrigued. He didn’t expect anyone under 1000 points to dare challenge him to a wager duel.

"All points go to the winner."

"Is that it?" Though there was a significant point gap between them, Cold Wind didn’t care. These 900-odd points meant nothing to him; it was just a casual alt for entertainment.

"The loser changes their ID. We name each other's new ID."

"Deal. It's a bet."

Page 2

Changing names required ten merit points, but Cold Wind agreed readily; Li Daoran didn’t know this. Neither considered the possibility of losing. The replay of the previous scene was still etched deeply in Li Daoran’s mind. Now, he was brimming with confidence, convinced that no one could evade his blade. Cold Wind also couldn’t imagine losing to someone who, just a month ago, couldn’t even move properly.

Cold Wind spent a few merit points to resend the challenge. Their agreement was that the loser must comply, or their account would be banned, and an internal network account was worth far more than ten merit points. This was Cold Wind’s assurance that Li Daoran wouldn’t break the deal.

Li Daoran didn’t hesitate and accepted.

Li Daoran chose the Strider decisively; this time, Cold Wind did as well.

Two Striders, with Autumn Cat and Kitty Is the Cutest spectating.

The map was random. Cold Wind disdained exploiting map advantages, so he chose random.

This time, the map was a plain—an endless expanse, perfect for large-scale battles.

Both Striders appeared on the plain at the same time. To distinguish them, Li Daoran’s Strider was silver, Cold Wind’s was black.

They appeared less than ten kilometers apart and spotted each other instantly, both startled.

"He’s behind, less than ten kilometers. No time to fetch a gun—draw the blade."

Li Daoran quickly manipulated his mech to draw both blades, but did not attack rashly.

"Hey, you can draw your blade now—impressive progress, but far from enough. Let uncle teach you how to use a sword." Cold Wind’s voice echoed across the vast plain.

The proximity surprised Cold Wind. He had planned to sneak in with a shot to blow up Li Daoran and vent for that young lady. He hadn’t expected Li Daoran to draw his blade first. His pupils contracted; a month ago, Li Daoran couldn’t even move, and it was clear he wasn’t faking.

Such rapid progress ignited a dark fire within him. Is this what they call a genius? He had practiced day and night for two years, agonizing over every technique, yet he couldn’t match a genius’s month of growth. Now, he hovered around the top hundred with no further advancement, while newcomers were surpassing him one by one.

That’s why he created an alt—finding pleasure in crushing newcomers, but in truth, witnessing their progress was what he craved—the desire to become stronger. He vented his envy through relentless mockery and ridicule.

Now, he saw the ceiling above his head. To break through was as hard as climbing to heaven, so he hated it. Hated that some people could always grow stronger, hated their rapid progress, hated that he couldn’t pilot a real mech.

Facing the genius Li Daoran, his jealousy became even more uncontrollable.

Page 3

Li Daoran was unaware of Cold Wind’s tangled thoughts. At such close range, with identical mechs, the test was in the most solid fundamentals—there was no room for hesitation. Whoever acted faster, whoever better anticipated the other's intentions, would win.

"Daoran, careful, he’s coming. He’s attacking the left. Step back, turn your body, raise your left knee."

Li Daoran’s pupils contracted. He saw Cold Wind attacking the right, but trusting Chen Ming, he followed the advice.

Sure enough, when Cold Wind closed to within a kilometer, he abruptly shifted angle and attacked the left. Chen Ming had anticipated his move, thwarting him. Li Daoran’s knee strike, like a stroke of genius, caught Cold Wind off guard.

But Cold Wind was indeed a top hundred expert, a towering figure in the novice zone. In that critical moment, his mech bent its elbow and smashed the knee strike down, producing a thunderous crash. Neither could gain distance.

"Drop the blade, left hand uppercut."

Another command came from Chen Ming. With the previous experience, Li Daoran didn’t doubt him, even though dropping the blade meant abandoning his most advantageous weapon.

Unexpectedly, Cold Wind also chose to drop his blade almost simultaneously. The three-meter-long sword was too cumbersome in close combat. Now Li Daoran understood.

Yet, his uppercut was still too slow. Cold Wind crossed his arms and locked the punch against his chest.

"Danger! My fault—I underestimated Cold Wind’s skill. His control is seamless. Clearly, Daoran’s world is not to be underestimated. I was careless. Daoran, prepare to sacrifice one arm."

Li Daoran gritted his teeth, unwilling to accept it. From the start, he hadn’t seen through Cold Wind’s attack direction. If only his knee strike or uppercut had been a bit faster, the fight would have ended long ago. He had the advantage, but his speed was lacking, allowing Cold Wind to react and block every move just in time.

"Don’t worry, Daoran, there’s still a chance. Now’s not the time to hesitate. Don’t follow his rhythm. Turn the opposite way, sacrifice your left forearm, roll back, pick up the blade, and create distance. Missing one arm doesn’t mean defeat."

The black Strider locked the silver Strider’s left arm, activated auxiliary propulsion, and rotated left.

Most pilots would follow the rhythm to protect their arm, then look for a chance to strike or counterattack, but that meant certain defeat. When you follow the flow, he will suddenly release and fling you away. At that moment, the four blades are at your feet; a Strider with a blade will easily defeat one without.

Chen Ming’s choice was exceptionally decisive—he abandoned the left arm to retrieve a blade and create distance, ready to fight anew.