A simple exchange, and Qin Fen strode into the best VIP box reserved for the Recruit Competition. Five pairs of eyes, each holding a different agenda, locked onto him.

Instantly, the hairs on Qin Fen’s arms prickled, and his internal True Qi began circulating urgently without conscious direction, snapping him into a combat readiness.

"Oh?" A flicker of surprise crossed's (Will's) eyes. None of the five Major Generals were from purely administrative backgrounds; they carried an inherent, hard-edged aura of iron and blood. Most people would instinctively lower their gaze in such a presence, fearful of meeting their eyes. Yet, this young man's first reaction was the urge to fight!

(Oxar) appraised Qin Fen up and down. This young man always managed to deliver a surprise. Not many, not even seasoned veterans who had seen actual battle, could stand calmly under the scrutiny of these five, let alone generate a fighting intent. Did this young man feel uncomfortable unless he was defying every expectation?

(Beard Zhao) arched his eyebrows toward the other four generals. Even his thick beard couldn't conceal the smug smile playing on his lips. See that? This is the caliber of our East Asian recruits!

Will deliberately avoided Beard Zhao’s provocative glance, slowly swirling the wine in his glass. "Recruit Qin Fen from East Asia. I had previously discussed with General Zhao the desire for our American recruits to engage in the most comprehensive exchange and sparring session with the East Asian recruits. That’s why the Mobile Armored Units sparred with you yesterday. Now, our Air Combat Team has heard that you single-handedly defeated Europe's 【Napoleon Air Combat Team】."

raised his glass and snorted coldly. Bringing up the 【Napoleon Air Combat Team】 at this juncture was clearly laying a stepping stone for the American Air Combat Team's potential victory over Qin Fen.

Will glanced at the silent , a faint smugness touching his lips. "Our American young men are eager to exchange air combat techniques with you. However…"

Will’s gaze sharpened as he focused on Qin Fen’s supported right arm, shaking his head gently. "It seems inconvenient for you now. If you feel the need to postpone, I can convey that to the boys."

A goad? Qin Fen smiled wryly. The technique was simple, but the timing and setting were exquisite. To refuse a challenge in front of generals from other military regions—where would that leave the honor of the East Asian Military Region? Even with an injury, it would imply a lack of spirit.

Will chuckled softly. Qin Fen had already lost the initial surprise attack and today’s sniping engagement. Whether he refused the match or accepted it and potentially lost to the Air Combat Team, his morale would be severely damaged. For a martial artist who relied on sheer ferocity, like Qin Fen, a broken spirit often meant a significant drop in power.

"Qin Fen," Beard Zhao stroked his thick black beard thoughtfully. "You are injured; there’s no need to push yourself too hard. The American Air Combat Team also wishes for a fair fight against a fully fit you, not to earn a hollow title of victory."

A cold smirk played on Will’s lips. War is not a gentleman's parlor game; fairness is irrelevant. A good soldier forces his opponent into a disadvantageous position to crush them and secure the greatest outcome.

"General," Qin Fen nodded slightly, a smile on his face. "I am also very eager to experience the prowess of the American Air Combat Team. However, enjoying pleasure alone is not as good as enjoying it with others. I wonder if the esteemed Generals would be interested in observing the battle?"

Will raised an eyebrow, his eyes widening, his mouth slightly agape in utter astonishment. What was this kid planning? Not only did he accept the invitation, but he asked everyone to watch? Was he that confident of victory?

The glass of Bordeaux in ’s hand rippled, scattering concentric waves across its surface. Given his martial arts prowess, the liquid should have been as still as lake water; such disturbances only occurred with immense psychological shock.

Beard Zhao stared blankly at Qin Fen. Did this kid even know what he was doing? Did he have to exceed expectations in every single action just to feel at ease? Fighting in front of generals from every military region meant that a loss wouldn't just shame him; it would publicly humiliate the generals themselves.

"General?" Qin Fen called out softly, snapping Will out of his surprise. "What do you say?"

"Heh heh…" Will let out a dry laugh, spreading his hands and shrugging his broad shoulders repeatedly. "That works too."

watched Qin Fen with quiet intensity. This youth’s actions were consistently unexpected, leaving himself no retreat. Inviting the Generals to watch was like pushing both sides to the edge of a thousand-foot cliff; whichever side fell would drop into ruin. For a mere recruit to challenge the honor of established Generals—this level of audacity was rare not just among new recruits but even among seasoned soldiers.

"Then, let's go!" Beard Zhao stood up gruffly. "I suddenly look forward to this sparring match."

Will slowly rose, gazing at Qin Fen’s retreating back. What an incredible young man. Not only was his spirit beyond ordinary, but his mind was acutely sharp. He had used a goad only to employ a counter-goad. If a distinguished General dared not accept a mere soldier’s invitation, the General would lose the contest of spirit first. A small soldier refusing a fight only affects him; a General refusing an invitation damages the morale of all American recruits.

The Generals from Africa and West Asia exchanged looks, their eyes sparkling with the anticipation of watching a good show. Will being cornered by a recruit was already half a loss for him.

The Generals of the Five Great Military Regions would be watching!

The American Air Combat Team stared in disbelief at the few figures occupying the vast spectator stands.

Few spectators, yet their weight far surpassed that of the tens of thousands sitting in the main audience section.

A General observing from the backstage was an entirely different proposition from an audience member in the front row.

The small contingents of recruits from West Asia and Africa's air combat teams also understood: the Generals had stepped onto the gambling table! Whether it was Qin Fen or the American Air Combat Team, the loss wasn't just about one person or one competition; it was about prestige.

The American recruits couldn't afford to lose, but could Qin Fen afford to lose again? Another defeat to the American Air Combat Team would be his third straight loss, which would severely impact even his seemingly unbreakable spirit.

No one could afford to lose! Yet, only one side could win.

The recruits from the West Asian and African air combat teams found their fists clenched without realizing it, their eyes glancing at the American Air Combat Team with a hint of envy.

Qin Fen was injured—what a golden opportunity! Air combat, unlike sniping, relied almost entirely on the use of both hands. The two hands worked in concert, producing an effect far greater than simple addition. One hand? That didn't just restrict 50% of his strength; perhaps it was only 30%, or even less!

The best chance! Everyone present knew this was the perfect opportunity to defeat Qin Fen. A man capable of defeating the 【Napoleon Air Combat Team】 with his hands, when at full strength, was absolutely unrivaled in the Recruit Competition. The American Air Combat Team could only pray to the Goddess of Fortune to be their mother to have a chance of winning.

But now? As long as the God of Misfortune wasn't the American team’s godfather, they already had the advantage.

Qin Fen settled into the simulator cockpit. The door, infused with futuristic technology, slid shut slowly. He gently stroked the various control instruments inside with one hand.

The American Air Combat Team exchanged glances and simultaneously entered their respective simulator cockpits.

One-on-one? The 【Napoleon Air Combat Team】 had already lost a genuine ace pilot! Even single-handed, Qin Fen might not lose to any single one of them. Although ganging up on one was disgraceful, war was never fair. The American recruits repeatedly chanted this to suppress the pride in their warrior hearts.

The projection screen entered the phase where pilots selected their aircraft. Will noticed a bead of sweat forming on his palm.

What? Will shook his head lightly. Was he afraid of losing? Impossible! Even an ace pilot couldn't hope to defeat this squadron single-handedly while piloting with one hand.

Qin Fen chose the Ghost fighter—the aircraft he was most familiar with and favored the most.

The Ghost fighter? ’s eyelids twitched violently. Was this the legendary Ghost fighter that defeated the 【Napoleon Air Combat Team】?

The countdown for the battle began to tick down: Ten… Nine… Eight…

Beard Zhao instinctively crossed his hands, his gaze clouded with vague worry. Fighting in the air with only one hand was too much of a strain.

Three… Two… One…

“FIGHT!”

The fighters from both airfields roared almost simultaneously, their powerful drive cores pushing the jets rapidly toward the runway.

"How…?"

Will’s splayed fingers suddenly gripped the backrest of the seat in front of him. The first to lift off the ground wasn't one of the physically intact American team members, but Qin Fen, facing them with only one arm!

The expressions of the African and West Asian air combat recruits shifted simultaneously. Such speed? Was Qin Fen truly injured? Was he really operating the fighter with just one arm? Could I achieve that speed?

No! The African and West Asian recruits looked at each other with dejection. That takeoff was too perfect. A one-handed pilot was faster than pilots with two functional hands.

"Good!"

Beard Zhao couldn't contain his excitement, slamming a fist onto the backrest of the seat in front of him, the sheer force shattering the support.

"General Zhao," Will took a deep breath, maintaining his smile. "This is just takeoff; it’s not the real…"

BOOM!

A massive explosion from the projection screen interrupted Will’s speech.

In the sky displayed on the screen, within a colossal fireball, the insignia of the American Military Region flag was faintly visible. The position formerly occupied by the lead aircraft of the entire squadron was now empty.

"What happened?" Will stared blankly. The lead aircraft was shot down right at the start? Was Qin Fen really fighting one-handed?

Will shifted his gaze to the picture-in-picture feed from the cockpit on the projection screen.

"This is…"

Will stared dumbfounded at the picture-in-picture feed. As a General who had seen significant events, surprise was rare, but Qin Fen's performance elicited continuous exclamations.

One hand! It was indeed one hand! His hand speed didn't appear astonishingly fast; the faint afterimage trailing his hand showed no discernible advantage over the American team members who also had only one hand trailing an afterimage.

But watching closely, Will could see the difference. There was no wasted distance in the movement of his fingers. Each movement stopped just at the edge of contact, striking without hesitation. In contrast, the members of the American Air Combat Team, though fast, struck consistently near the center of the keys.

This minute gap was fatal in combat!

Will’s brows knitted tighter and tighter. This wasn't just confident peripheral striking; Qin Fen’s operation was a whole new level, just as martial arts has its levels, and art has its realms—air combat operations also had their own state of being! Qin Fen had entered the realm of air combat! For pilots who reached this realm, the focus was no longer on mere hand speed; operating with one hand versus two hands made no difference.

This was the realm of a true ace pilot! Will’s pupils narrowed to pinpricks. The operational style was chillingly similar to that of America’s own genuine top-tier ace pilots. No wonder this young man had invited everyone to watch; he had already transcended the low-level stage of debating single-handed versus double-handed operation.

Will slowly closed his eyes, no longer watching the fierce, spectacular, and blood-pumping air battle on the screen.

It was all meaningless now. No matter how intense the aerial combat, no matter what coordination or techniques the American recruits used, or how much firepower they applied, the outcome was sealed! Qin Fen, operating with a single hand, would annihilate the entire American Air Combat Team!

To change the result, they would either need an opposing top-tier ace pilot on Qin Fen's level, or they truly had to pray that the Goddess of Fortune was the American team’s mother.

’s lips curled into a mocking sneer as he turned to look at Will, who was closing his eyes awaiting the impending defeat. Got yourself into trouble, haven't you? Didn't expect this, did you? Qin Fen's air combat prowess had broken free from the lowest tier focused solely on hand speed.

Beard Zhao grinned widely, his thick beard unable to hide the stretch of his mouth. They won! Qin Fen's strength had reached this level; it was truly beyond expectation.

The Generals from West Asia and Africa exchanged glances, shaking their heads in a soft sigh. While they lacked the specialization in air combat to fully grasp the realm, they possessed basic insight. A single recruit air combat team could not defeat Qin Fen's skill level.

What if both air combat teams attacked together? Deep contemplation crossed the eyes of the West Asian and African Generals. If they lost…

A string of explosions suddenly erupted. The faces of the West Asian and African air combat recruits instantly turned green! They looked at each other, unable to believe what they had just witnessed on the big screen.

This… this… The American Air Combat Team, which had only lost one aircraft moments ago, how had they been entirely wiped out in the blink of an eye? How did that single Ghost fighter accomplish it?

Total wipeout!

The American recruits, seated in their cockpits, stared dumbly at the sky's massive fireball. What just happened? How did they lose so suddenly when they held the advantage?

Beard Zhao violently shook his head. What just happened? What exactly did Qin Fen do?

Will opened his eyes and let out a soft sigh. How they lost—did it matter? The true moment of failure wasn't in this air battle, but at the precise instant he encountered Qin Fen in the VIP box.

From the very beginning, Qin Fen’s injured right arm was the real landmine of the entire engagement. This arm had deceived everyone, luring them into his trap.

A goad? Will let out a cold laugh. Qin Fen must have welcomed the goading at that moment, right? For a young man to completely suppress his inner excitement at such a juncture and maintain such a calm expression.

"We lost," Will said.

Will stood up, hands resting lightly on his hips. This time, they had truly lost everything—not just the air battle, but the psychological warfare of setting traps, where a seasoned General had been beaten by a recruit.

If this were a real war… visible sweat beaded on Will's forehead as his eyes locked onto Qin Fen emerging from the cockpit. If this young man entered the military, his future potential was indeed limitless.

The crestfallen American recruits climbed out of their cockpits, their eyes staring vacantly at Qin Fen, still wondering how they had lost. Was there a system malfunction?

smiled broadly. America lost more than just the Air Combat Team this time. Before the fight, Qin Fen had already pushed both sides to the cliff edge; defeat for either side would impact the morale of their entire competing contingent. A General was the standard-bearer for the battle! Will had lost while personally overseeing it. News of this would certainly trigger a chain reaction among the American recruits.

The Generals from Africa and West Asia exchanged glances, reading the same message in each other’s eyes: The reign of the American recruits as the perennial powerhouse of the Recruit Competition had crumbled. A new hegemon would emerge in this competition, and any side had a chance, especially the East Asian recruits! Qin Fen, who single-handedly pushed down the monument of American dominance, might lead East Asia to the pinnacle of the Recruit Competition.

"Kid!" Beard Zhao vigorously rubbed his hands together. If it weren't for worrying about hindering Qin Fen's injury recovery, he would have already enveloped him in a bear hug and clapped his shoulder hard. "From now on, as long as you don't break any laws in the army, if anyone dares to provoke you! Just tell me directly, and I’ll take responsibility for everything!" Beard Zhao was overjoyed. This was far more significant than just winning an air combat match; as a General, he clearly understood the profound implications.

"Young man," Will adjusted his uniform and gave a slight thumbs-up. "You are truly something. I look forward to seeing your contests against the African and West Asian Air Combat Teams, and their Mobile Armored Units."

The expressions of the West Asian and African Generals immediately soured. Their four eyes glared fiercely at Will, wishing they could devour him alive.

Will maintained his gentlemanly smile as he addressed the two Major Generals, his eyes flashing a message that both could clearly understand: I, Will, have lost, but I refuse to go down alone! You think I'll be the only stepping stone? Dream on!