Quit! In the massive arena made of football fields, Caesar stood alone, silent as ever.

His opponents, upon learning they were matched against Caesar, had immediately notified the committee of their withdrawal. The young women in the stands shrieked in excitement.

Compared to how the "Golden Lion" Basta forced opponents to concede by demonstrating his power, Caesar’s victory—achieved without even displaying his strength, simply by standing on the stage to hear the news of his win—was the true meaning of victory without a fight. Caesar, just like his moniker, the "Great Emperor," inspired retreat and submission merely by the sound of his name.

"Caesar! Caesar!

Caesar! Caesar..." The rhythmic, unified chant pierced the sky above the stadium.

In the face of these resounding shouts, Caesar's silhouette seemed imbued with the commanding aura of an emperor surveying his domain. Xue Tian, crossing his legs, repeatedly pursed his lips: "Seriously?

The martial arts competition has just begun, and everyone is already showing off their divine powers? Can't anyone keep a lower profile?

Isn't hiding one's strength and playing the pig to eat the tiger better?" "It's Lin Ling's turn now." At Qin Fen's single utterance, Xue Tian immediately clamped down on his complaints and watched the figure entering the arena, Lin Ling, with intense focus. As one of the few female soldiers in this martial arts event, her flawless appearance drew attention that was in no way less than Caesar’s.

The crowd, which had been screaming excitedly just a moment ago, quieted considerably. However, many male spectators began whistling loudly, echoing throughout the venue.

As usual, all the cheers and applause seemed utterly disconnected from Lin Ling. Her opponent, a young European recruit, nodded with impeccable gentlemanly grace: "A beautiful lady, might I have the honor of buying you a drink after our combat concludes?" The microphones scattered around the field immediately broadcasted his words to everyone, causing another wave of uproar.

With the world's homogenization, European men retained the demeanor of former British gentlemen mixed with the romantic sentiment of former Frenchmen. Men who blended the finest qualities of various ethnicities possessed an undeniable charm that attracted the opposite sex.

"No." Lin Ling refused flatly, momentarily stunning everyone. "Why?" The European recruit was slightly puzzled.

Refusals were not uncommon, but they were usually polite evasions; this was the first time he had encountered such an abrupt rejection. "You will be injured and hospitalized; you cannot drink alcohol." Lin Ling's expression remained unchanged, yet in the eyes of others, it took on a different hue: arrogance, a cold and biting arrogance.

"I will be injured...?" The European recruit wore a faint, disbelieving smile as the bell signaling combat sounded. Lin Ling’s figure vanished from her spot in a flicker.

The reinforced concrete beneath her feet seemed to conceal a giant firecracker; with a deafening explosion, several chunks of concrete, the size of an infant’s fist, erupted into the air. The European recruit’s pupils constricted, and his body reacted with a pre-cognitive dodge: he bent over, tucked in his stomach, and sprang backward like a startled monkey.

Bang! Lin Ling's foot struck the recruit squarely in the abdomen.

The sheer force propelled him off the ground, sending him flying backward like a curled-up shrimp. Lin Ling’s speed was so blinding that many couldn't tell if the recruit had bent over intentionally or if Lin Ling’s kick had forced him into that position.

The recruit tumbled nearly twenty feet, rolling several times before collapsing onto the ground, curled up, spitting yellow bile. The suggestive whistling ceased.

The cheers died at that very instant. Almost no one expected Lin Ling to send her opponent to the hospital in the blink of an eye.

Yes, although there was no sound of shattering bone, internal injuries were inevitable from that kick. Yang Lie and Caesar, whose eyes were fixed on the arena, suddenly brightened.

This woman’s qi? Qin Fen's eyebrows furrowed involuntarily.

This woman was still overwhelmingly powerful, and her movements, just like before, gave no discernible hint of her qi. It was impossible to gauge her star-level strength, much less predict when or how she would attack.

"What a formidable beauty," Zeus exclaimed, staring at Lin Ling as she stepped off the stage. "Just now, I couldn't predict her means of attack.

No! I should say, I couldn't predict when she was going to attack at all." Yang Lie nodded with a slightly grave expression.

This woman might be even more dangerous than Qin Fen! That fight wasn't about her intentionally hiding her intent; it was about truly rendering her attack intent formless.

"Yang Lie." Brooks, whose face was covered by his military cap, awoke from his slumber. "That woman is also in the upper bracket, isn't she?

Can you really fight your way through to meet me in the finals? I hope my final opponent isn't her, right?" "Brooks," Yang Lie replied, leaning back against his seat.

"You should worry about yourself. Xue Tian, the 'Rage Chopper,' is in the lower bracket, and Caesar isn't exactly an easy opponent." "Wow, General Zhao.

Asia doesn't just have Qin Fen as its ace this time." In the massive VIP room, Major General Will of the American Military Region looked at the grizzled General Zhao beside him with undisguised astonishment. "Asia doesn't just have Qin Fen as its ace this time." The generals from West Asia, Africa, and Europe also glanced at General Zhao with slight surprise.

They hadn't expected Du Zhanpeng's sudden death to have zero impact on the fighting strength of the East Asian recruits. "General Will," General Zhao replied, mimicking Will's elegant manner, "Don't you also have triple insurance?" "Heh heh heh..." Will smiled calmly, raising his wine glass.

"I thought the biggest threat to our American Military Region in this New Recruit Competition would be the European Military Region, as usual. I never expected...

heh heh." A flash of subtle anger crossed the eyes of European General Oksa, but the violent heaving of his chest quickly subsided. Gently swirling the fine red wine in his glass, Oksa’s mouth slowly curved into a proud smile.

"General Will, you are absolutely right. I have always firmly believed that our Air Combat Squad and Mobile Armor Units could defeat the American Military Region in this competition.

Even though both of our participating teams can no longer compete, I still hold that conviction." Will's earlobe twitched slightly; he had to suppress a laugh, quickly taking a gulp of wine to prevent himself from chuckling aloud. "Our European Military Region's two teams have been defeated this time." Oksa's voice was filled with frankness, devoid of any resentment or unwillingness.

"I can stake my honor as a soldier on this: even if the champions of the aerial combat or mobile armor events are America, Africa, or West Asia, you will all be undeserving winners!" The wine glasses held by the generals of the three major military regions froze simultaneously. Oksa continued speaking loudly: "The true champions of these two events are a recruit who is not qualified to participate—the one you see, Qin Fen.

So, you don't need to mock the European Military Region behind our backs. Because, if you encountered Qin Fen, you would suffer defeat too.

Of course, you can use his ineligibility as an excuse not to touch that hornets' nest." "Heh heh... heh heh..." Will chuckled repeatedly, swirling the wine in his glass faster and faster.

The generals from West Asia and Africa watched the red wine in their glasses in silence. Will’s hand stopped turning the glass, his eyes fixed on Oksa with undisguised admiration.

It was truly unexpected for someone to admit such inferiority so openly. The generals from West Asia and Africa both set down their wine glasses.

The reasons why the European Military Region’s Air Combat Squad and Mobile Armor Unit withdrew from the competition were known to everyone through various channels. Will let out a long sigh, looking at Oksa again with renewed respect.

Oksa’s generous admission had created a dilemma for the generals of all the other regions. They could avoid Qin Fen and proceed with the normal competition schedule to determine the champions for the air combat and mobile armor categories.

However, avoiding Qin Fen would allow Oksa to claim they were afraid to fight. At that point, Oksa could proudly declare that only European soldiers feared no one, and soldiers from other regions were cowards who lacked the courage to face Qin Fen!

The New Recruit Competition served not only as a venue for mutual sparring and exchange but also as a contest for military honor. To avoid combat?

What honor was left for a soldier? Even if they ultimately seized a championship, bringing it back would bring no glory to their military region; it would only leave behind the reputation of being the ones who backed down, having picked up a tainted victory that would stain their region’s name.

The generals of West Asia and Africa glared angrily at Will. Because of one casual remark mocking the European Military Region, they were now dragged into the predicament of having to privately issue challenges to Qin Fen.

Will tilted his head back and drained the wine glass in one go, exhaling a long breath before shaking his head with a wry smile. Who would have thought that the image-conscious European Military Region would suddenly be so candid today, catching everyone off guard?

"Since General Oksa puts it that way, then..." Will clenched his fists tightly and looked at General Zhao, who remained composed and silent. "General Zhao, I wonder if your East Asian recruit, Qin Fen, is available tonight?" "Oh?" General Zhao returned Will’s gaze with a beaming smile.

"What is it, General Will? You're not thinking of...?" "Heh heh heh..." Will poured himself another glass of red wine.

"The New Recruit Competition is fundamentally about mutual progress through exchange between military regions. Since General Oksa has praised the East Asian recruits so highly, our American Military Region naturally wishes to exchange insights with your region to promote mutual advancement." "Excellent, that would be wonderful," General Zhao said, casually setting down his wine glass.

"General Will, what field would you like to start the exchange in?" "How about?" Will smiled, bringing the glass to his lips. "Mobile Armor." "Mobile Armor?" General Zhao smiled apologetically.

"General Will, I’m afraid we East Asians only have one 'Jungle Ranger' left from our entry..." Will smiled, nodding at the ongoing match in the arena. To maintain the fairness of the competition, the mobile armors from each military region were inspected by personnel from other continents before each New Recruit Competition, ensuring they were standard issue with no modifications before being approved for entry.

If East Asia were to transport a new mobile armor into the competition zone now, inspectors from other continents could not arrive simultaneously. Any minor modification—perhaps tampering with the vector thrust evasion system or making sneaky adjustments to the turbine engine—could easily alter the final combat outcome.

"How about this," West Asian Major General Lahad interjected slowly. "Both West Asia and Africa can each select one unit from the participating models and gift it to East Asia.

General Zhao, would that work?" "General Lahad," Will said, setting down his cherished wine glass. "That would be profoundly unfair to your future schedules.

Why don't we from America donate one as well? That way, we maintain some semblance of fairness on the field later." Three mobile armors?

Oksa laughed before General Zhao could respond. Based on the impact data brought back by the recruits, even a frontline ace mobile armor pilot had only about a fifty-fifty chance against Qin Fen.

America? Oksa shook his head repeatedly.

Even the former champions of the New Recruit Competition in mobile armor fighting were like mere children against Qin Fen; surviving a few extra seconds against a recruit piloting the "Crusader" depended entirely on Qin Fen's mood. "Haha, since everyone is being so generous, if I remain polite, Old Zhao will look like a fool," General Zhao chuckled, rubbing his hands together.

"How about this: we shouldn't take too much advantage of you all. I won't choose heavy artillery models like 'Galaxy Steel Soul,' 'Alloy War God,' or 'Lightning Warrior.' I'll take the 'Sun-Piercing Angel,' 'Doomsday Butterfly Shadow,' and 'Crimson Lotus Phantom.' Just these three." The generals of the three continents nodded slowly.

This request was not excessive. These three mobile armors were, at best, medium-weight units; their armor and power output couldn't compare to machines like the 'Galaxy Steel Soul,' 'Alloy War God,' or 'Lightning Warrior.' "Since the matter is settled, let's all continue to enjoy the competition," Oksa said cheerfully.

The Waterloo encountered by the European Military Region would soon be faced by the other regions. "The recruits this year are quite impressive." The generals of the other four regions nodded in agreement, refocusing their attention on the massive arena.

Among the new recruits from the five military regions on this glorious stage, there were no more instances of quitting without a fight like Caesar's. Even the losing side strove to display their utmost strength.

Except for a few matches where the disparity in strength was so vast that they ended in an instant knockout, the other battles were reasonably intense. On the first day of the martial arts competition, all thirty-two matches concluded, yet the audience showed no signs of leaving; people were rewatching the replays on the projection screens.

These scenes, unavailable once they left the venue, were being used by the crowd to reminisce about the day's matches. The participating recruits had quietly departed.

While the next day wasn't for the thirty-two to sixteen advancement in the martial arts events, the previous bouts had given everyone a sense of their opponents' capabilities, allowing them to focus their preparations for the upcoming duels. "Qin Fen?" A lieutenant stopped Qin Fen in his path.

"Yes," Qin Fen nodded. "Sir, may I ask what this is regarding?" "The General sent me to inform you that you have a new military assignment today." An assignment?

Qin Fen looked up toward the VIP box. It seemed General Zhao had no intention of letting anyone rest.

"This mission is like the last one; successful completion will be recorded for military merit," the lieutenant said, his eyes carrying a hint of doubt. "The General stated that the American Military Region's ['Freedom'] Mobile Armor Squad wishes to conduct a friendly sparring session with our East Asia before the official competition.

You will be the sole participant this time—victory is mandatory and will earn merit; defeat will result in disciplinary action." "Time and location." "Time: now. Location: the previous one." "Understood." Qin Fen snapped a crisp salute and turned to walk toward Du Peng and the others waiting for him just ahead.

"I have a small matter to attend to; I'll join you shortly." The lieutenant picked at his ear. A small matter?

Facing the ['Freedom'] Mobile Armor Unit, the reigning champions from previous New Recruit Competitions? Why would the General send a recruit who hadn't even been formally assigned to a military branch to spar?

Qin Fen left the stadium, slightly pulled down his cap, and headed straight for the mobile armor competition grounds. On days without matches, the mobile armor arena was empty of spectators; tourists, having enjoyed a feast of martial arts, had flocked to bars and restaurants to revel and unwind.

In the vast, empty mobile armor arena, the machines stood in two neat rows. The recruits participating in the mobile armor combat from the African and West Asian Military Regions were already seated in the stands.

On the other side of the stands, the European recruits stiffened when they saw Qin Fen appear at the entrance tunnel, their faces unable to conceal their admiration. As opponents, Qin Fen’s actions were detestable.

But as soldiers, the injured European recruits felt nothing but respect and admiration for Qin Fen. They had been thoroughly defeated by overwhelming strength, with absolutely no reliance on trickery.

The East Asian recruits standing beneath their military's mobile armors beamed when they saw Qin Fen arrive. The few American mobile armor recruits were momentarily stunned.

This East Asian recruit, who had participated in pistol shooting, semi-automatic rifle matches, and the martial arts competition, must have received intel from above and come to watch the mobile armor combat, right? Qin Fen stood beneath the mobile armor ['Doomsday Butterfly Shadow'], looking up at the giant machine that towered over a regular person.

He took a deep breath, then silently climbed the access ladder. This time, not just the American recruits were stunned; the recruits from West Asia and Africa were equally dumbfounded.

This... was the mysterious figure the high command ordered them to counter?

No one had anticipated that the mysterious individual sent to fight for East Asia would be the most dazzling star of the competition: Qin Fen. ['Doomsday Butterfly Shadow'] slowly sealed its cockpit, and Qin Fen’s voice issued from within, flat and calm: "Come all at once.

We can begin." Come all at once? The few American recruits exchanged glances, a look of helpless amusement crossing their faces.

Rumor had it this East Asian recruit had defeated the European recruits in a mobile armor, but East Asia only had one intact machine left. How dared he be so arrogant?

Didn't he know that the ['Freedom'] team was even stronger than the ['Crusader']? Ignorance should have limits!

"Luke, go test this 'hero's' methods." The order was given, and the slightly lean white recruit quickly climbed into the cockpit of the ['Lightning Warrior']. This nearly perfect streamlined machine offered speed comparable to lightning strikes, coupled with a powerful fire system, making it an excellent mobile armor skilled in technique, speed, long-range, and close-quarters combat.

Captain Eisthauer, who issued the order, watched his side’s ['Lightning Warrior'] with complete confidence. The warriors selected for this task were not chosen randomly but meticulously screened.

['Doomsday Butterfly Shadow'], by its original design, was meant to counter elite air force pilots, thus its long-range attack capabilities were outstanding, even equipped with guided weaponry. But its flaws were equally obvious: its close-combat performance was poor, and its power output speed was slightly inferior to the ['Lightning Warrior'].

Luke looked ordinary, but he was the second strongest mobile armor combatant on the team! The ['Lightning Warrior'], unlike most mobile armors created for general combat, was designed specifically for engaging other mobile armors.

With technological advancement, unit types didn't just have counter-relationships; they could also cooperate. The ['Lightning Warrior'] was built to support aircraft in engaging ground-based mobile armors, specifically targeting long-range attack types like the ['Doomsday Butterfly Shadow'].

The first thing Luke did after entering the cockpit was to activate the gun sight angle detector, ready at any moment to select an evasive maneuver before the opponent could fire. The European recruits watched Luke’s machine's reaction with sorrow.

These reactions were perfectly correct against an equal opponent. However, this opponent was not equal, and he might not even choose to fire.

['Doomsday Butterfly Shadow'] slowly detached the massive cannon mounted on its arm and casually slung it onto its back. It lightly flexed its ten newly freed fingers.

The recruits from the other three continents, excluding Europe and East Asia, were stunned! What was it doing?

Was ['Doomsday Butterfly Shadow'] abandoning its superior firepower? And flexing its fingers?

Was it choosing close combat? The close-combat performance of ['Doomsday Butterfly Shadow']...

Thump, thump, thump... ['Doomsday Butterfly Shadow'] charged toward the ['Lightning Warrior'] with massive strides; the shockwaves generated by its immense metal body impacting the ground were like a minor earthquake.

"Is it really going for close combat?"

Luke grinned, drawing the Electric Light Warlord's close-combat armor-piercing weapon, the Electromagnetic Bifurcation Slash. This was an electromagnetic melee weapon equipped with two high-performance pulse-guidance chips; the magnetic field it generated during combat not only intensely interfered with the enemy’s electrical circuits but also formed a protective energy field around the equipped mecha.

The captain of Team [Freedom], Aesir, smirked. This newcomer from East Asia seemed utterly intoxicated by victory, truly believing he was superior in everything he did! Even a frontline Mobile Armored Warrior wouldn't dare pilot the Doomsday Butterfly Shadow into close combat against Luke's piloted Electric Light Warlord.

The Doomsday Butterfly Shadow's speed was not slow. The distance between the two closed to fifty meters. Luke held the Electromagnetic Bifurcation Slash horizontally across the Electric Light Warlord's chest; at thirty meters, he could unleash the Star-Piercing Strike and eliminate the audacious Doomsday Butterfly Shadow!

Forty-five meters, forty meters, thirty-five meters, thirty meters!

A fierce gleam shot through Luke’s eyes: Star-Piercing…

Forced Control! Reactor output overloaded by 332%! The Doomsday Butterfly Shadow instantaneously transformed into a massive metallic rainbow, flashing past the Electric Light Warlord's flank, and the Electromagnetic Bifurcation Slash was suddenly in the Doomsday Butterfly Shadow's grasp.

In the massive Electric Light Warlord's chest, a gaping hole remained—the mark left by the piercing of the Electromagnetic Bifurcation Slash.

Aesir’s smile froze on his face. What was this? The Electric Light Warlord, renowned as the 'Butterfly Killer' for its close-quarters prowess, had been defeated in a melee against the Doomsday Butterfly Shadow, a unit supposedly optimized only for long-range fighting? How was this possible? How could the Electromagnetic Bifurcation Slash be in the hands of the Doomsday Butterfly Shadow?

Aesir slowly rotated his stiff neck, looking at the hands of the Electric Light Warlord that had been holding the weapon. Those metallic arms now appeared over ninety percent intact. The only incomplete parts were the fingers gripping the Electromagnetic Bifurcation Slash.

The ten fingers, capable of crushing a normal human to pulp, were all bent outward, the split metal seams hissing and sputtering blue flame.

The fingers had been forcibly broken! In the instant of their engagement, the Doomsday Butterfly Shadow, vastly disadvantaged in raw strength, hadn't attempted a head-on clash. Its target had been those ten fingers gripping the weapon!

Aesir gasped, his breath catching. In the fleeting moment the two mechas crossed paths, landing even a single punch was difficult, let alone wrenching all ten fingers apart and simultaneously seizing the weapon to carve a hole in the opponent.

In the stands, the newcomers from Africa and West Asia felt a chill run down their spines. Was this the true strength of the pilot who forced the European Mobile Armored division to withdraw? Such formidable power, yet East Asia only had one complete Mobile Armored unit?

Qin Fen gently twirled the Electromagnetic Bifurcation Slash in his hand. "Now, can you all come at once?"

Aesir’s gaze remained locked on the wound in the Electric Light Warlord. Mecha combat often ended in catastrophic explosion and pilot death, and the destructive power of the Electromagnetic Bifurcation Slash was immense; a mecha struck by it usually detonated.

Yet, the Doomsday Butterfly Shadow's strike had merely rendered the Electric Light Warlord completely combat-ineffective, without any secondary explosive damage.

Breaking fingers to steal a weapon was nearly impossible. To accomplish such a near-impossible feat, and simultaneously cripple the Electric Light Warlord with surgical precision, avoiding a pilot-killing explosion—what level of mastery was this?

One-on-one? Aesir surveyed everyone present. Shock flickered in the eyes of every rookie; no one here could defeat this East Asian newcomer in a Mobile Armored duel.

Not even using a heavy armor unit like the Galaxy Steel Soul would guarantee victory. The Doomsday Butterfly Shadow had demonstrated near-surgical precision, showing everyone that unless the opponent was literally a giant iron ball, even the thickest armor would have weak points and seams. Those areas were more than enough for him to strike effortlessly.

Aesir sighed deeply, slowly lifting the arm that felt weighted with lead, and violently swung it downward. "All of you, come on!"