Chapter Forty-Seven: A Solo Performance

The massive figure of the Titan brazenly flaunted its arrogance, so much so that it made the enemy hesitate, suspecting he was merely a decoy with his teammates lying in ambush nearby. Thus, they decided to ignore him, intending to slip past and attack his supposed allies.

Li Daoran had already released two bee-shaped radars and saw everything clearly. He mused inwardly that the other three were about to meet misfortune, as the five opponents’ formation and chosen route would surround them. It was impossible to believe they hadn’t detected the trio.

Now he understood what the strongman had meant earlier. Whether it was the five enemies or his other four teammates, their movements seemed clumsy and slow to Li Daoran—almost sluggish. In one-on-one fights, he hadn’t played many rounds, but except for his duel with Leng Feng, he’d seldom encountered a worthy adversary.

With the opponents’ awareness and reactions so lacking, at this roughly 1000-point tier, Li Daoran was like a demonic prodigy possessed by a master. First, he shot dead a Cheetah mech that foolishly thought itself well hidden, crawling along the ground. He then tossed aside his sniper rifle, leaped into the air, drew his twin swords, and descended like a god upon the enemy’s heavy artillery mech, the Conqueror V. The opponent had no time to react before Li Daoran cleaved it apart with his blades.

The enemy team still hadn’t recovered; in just three seconds, two of their members had been dispatched. As chills crept into their hearts, yet another was eliminated—a single thrust piercing the cockpit. The remaining two instantly chose to surrender. There was no point in continuing; this Jumper was simply too overwhelming. His movements were ghostly, his skills clean and ruthless. They could barely track his form, let alone respond. He was an opponent far beyond the reach of their rank.

“Wife, come quick and see this master!” his teammate exclaimed in the voice channel. They hadn’t even grasped what happened. In just five seconds, Li Daoran had single-handedly taken down three mechs, and the other two surrendered without a fight. They could understand those two’s mindset; in their place, they wouldn’t have had the slightest chance to resist either—why wait to be destroyed instead of just surrendering?

“I told you all, just lie back and relax. Now you see,” the strongman boasted gleefully.

“Big bro, take me with you—I was wrong!” The teammate who’d been the most mouthy at first now scrambled to flatter him.

Li Daoran didn’t waste any more time and exited straight to the results screen. He’d earned 100 points for the match, while the strongman got 10. In 5v5, points were awarded according to kills, and having taken out three mechs, Li Daoran was named MVP, scored a triple kill, and received the highest points for a single game.

He remained composed, knowing full well he was still far from his goal.

The strongman quickly rejoined him, and the two returned to the matchmaking queue.

“Continue, master?” the strongman asked excitedly. He’d just basked in reflected glory—riding along for free points might not be fast, but it was better than losing.

“Mm, let’s continue,” Li Daoran replied, now realizing his skill level was far beyond these players. There was no need to waste time holding back.

Since his technique was overwhelming, Li Daoran no longer hesitated. He instantly picked Jumper and played even more boldly—ruthless, unrestrained, wielding twin blades, darting like a phantom through every map, caring nothing for his opponents—slashing on sight. In just one day, he amassed over 10,000 points, breaking into the top 150,000.

After reaching 2,000 points, the strongman could no longer queue with him, so Li Daoran played solo five-stack matches. As the strongman had predicted, his rampage sparked a storm within the intranet, and though he might not know it, his name was becoming well-known there.

This was a match around the 23,000-point mark. Thanks to his unstoppable winning streak, Li Daoran was now matched against teammates and opponents far above his previous rank.

“Jumper? Billion Dollar Shield? I’ve heard a lot about you. Didn’t expect to get queued with you. I’m just here to lie down,” a teammate remarked as soon as they entered.

Li Daoran stayed silent—not out of aloofness, but because he’d run into this sort more and more lately and never quite knew how to respond. Anyway, matches ended quickly, and there was little real interaction.

“As cold as the rumors say. They say you have top-100 intranet skills. Wonder if that’s true,” the teammate continued, trying to draw a reaction when Li Daoran didn’t answer.

But no one responded. Silence prevailed.

Shrugging in embarrassment, the teammate gave up.

But this was no ordinary match. As the game started, the mountainous map unfolded—a chain of hills that made it even harder to spot enemy mechs.

Right from the opening, something felt off.

Three silent teammates suddenly activated their weapons and began blasting wildly around. While the game harshly punished intentional team damage, they didn’t target their allies, only created chaos and destruction. Li Daoran’s pupils contracted—this strange behavior made him uneasy. Sure enough, moments later, a barrage of energy beams rained down from afar, the enemy locking onto their position without any need to search.

“Hey, you three are throwers, aren’t you? How unlucky. Seems you’re not just targeting me—Billion Dollar Shield, they’re here for you. Too many wins, I guess someone’s annoyed with you. So, you guys making money? Mind letting me in? If there’s cash to be made, we can all profit. Not talking? Too cool for us?”

Leaping into the air, Li Daoran activated his energy shield for protection, charging forward through a beam of laser fire with sheer force.

A thunderous boom sounded—the hill he’d just stood on vanished, leaving a massive crater. His four teammates were nowhere to be seen.

“This won’t work, Daoran—the distance is too great,” Chen Ming’s voice sounded in his ear.

Li Daoran knew it too—the enemy was at least a hundred kilometers away, perched atop another mountain. Now that he’d been spotted, if they spread out and attacked from range, his one-minute energy shield wouldn’t be enough to close the gap.

“What should I do?” Li Daoran asked quietly. He’d always been the first to locate the enemy, closing in swiftly, relying on his hand speed and reflexes, his twin blades ending fights quickly. He’d grown addicted to this style, but now, forced to keep his distance, he felt at a loss.

“Snipe them! Who says you can’t show skill at range? Drop the shield, rely on your reflexes, dodge their attacks, look for an opening and counterattack. It’s more thrilling than melee—you’ll see. Actually, most of our battles these days are fought at long range; close combat is rare. Don’t rely too much on it, Daoran.

The advantage of ranged attacks is always there. Give it a try. It’s just a game, after all. I’d meant to tell you to practice this anyway—now’s the perfect chance. If you lose, it doesn’t matter. Let David teach you this lesson.”