The fiery-haired woman was a veritable Bodhisattva sent to rescue her! Ziye instantly felt her energy restored to full, jumped up, took the bracelet-like Silver-Comm, and opened the light screen. On the screen, Hong Fa’s delicate eyebrows were severely knitted in anger. “You little brat, how dare you ignore me?”
Ziye wiped away a bead of cold sweat. “I was just working out…”
Hong Fa gave a haughty, cold glance at her delicate frame and sneered, “With your flimsy physique, what in the world could you possibly forge?”
Ziye felt she had found a kindred spirit. “I think so too. What could possibly come of it?”
Hong Fa, assuming she was being sarcastic, snapped back irritably, “Fine then, scram! Go call that alien over here for me!”
So, it turned out she was after An Junlie. Ziye cast a speechless glance at the sky. “I’ll send you his Silver-Comm signal in a moment.” With that, she disconnected the call and commanded 120, “Order a Silver-Comm, deliver it at top speed.”
An Junlie looked puzzled. “What is a Silver-Comm?”
Ziye flicked the bracelet made of near-silver super-metal on her wrist. “The dedicated communication device for the Silver Rune Star.”
Modern communication generally relied on faster-than-light transmission, but the Silver Rune Star was too technologically backward to utilize hypersignals. Therefore, the communication expert, Monk Tu Lu, developed the Note-Sound communication technology suitable for use on the planet, abbreviated as Silver-Comm.
Silver-Comms always took the form of jewelry, worn on the body so as not to be cumbersome, being both aesthetically pleasing and convenient.
Upon receiving the order from his mistress, 120 walked up to An Junlie and asked with a smile, “Hello, Mr. Alien. What kind of Silver-Comm jewelry might you require?”
An Junlie glanced at the images displayed on 120’s light-brain and selected a men’s wristwatch. He disliked wearing jewelry; earrings and studs were not his style, rings and bracelets interfered with his mech piloting, and necklaces felt like they were choking him, causing discomfort.
The item was delivered quickly.
Ziye took a look at the Silver-Comm signal, and a look of profound satisfaction crossed her face as she laughed, “Hahahaha, WQNMLGB.” (A local expletive meaning roughly, "I bought a watch last year.")
Excellent, she felt the delicious thrill of righteous revenge. She crisply forwarded the Silver-Comm signal to Hong Fa and then darted off to the side, still chuckling. An Junlie watched her, bewildered. Where was the humor? Why couldn't he understand? Was this the difference between an alien and a native?
As soon as Hong Fa received An Junlie’s contact information, she immediately roared, “Alien, I order you to pilot your mech over here immediately, or I’ll blow the roof off your place!”
An Junlie helplessly rubbed his forehead.
Ziye was ecstatic inside. Oh yeah! She was finally free of An Junlie, she really wanted to celebrate! However, she managed to maintain a completely expressionless face and instructed 110, “Take him to the mech hangar and give him a Raven.”
The Raven was one of Ziye’s own designs, far more advanced than the Crow model. It featured thicker plating, a metal exterior with thermal insulation to nullify probes, and significantly enhanced firepower, making it suitable for everyday skirmishes.
An Junlie had just finished his workout, and Hong Fa’s invitation was rare, so he agreed and followed 110 to the mech hangar. Ziye glanced at him, pretended to be calm as she walked toward the living room, but the moment he was out of sight, she bolted, wanting to do a cartwheel from sheer joy.
Finally escaped the sea of fire!
She decisively sent Hong Fa a flying kiss and headed to Workshop Number One to continue her unfinished work.
This is a beautiful beginning, Ziye thought to herself. Little did she know, this was the start of a nightmare.
Hong Fa and An Junlie engaged in a battle using live ammunition, destroying one mech in less than two hours—a rate of destruction a thousand times faster than when An Junlie wasn’t around! Before An Junlie arrived, she had only repaired a mech once in two years. Now, every two hours, 110 would enter and send her a mech damage report. Reading the reports, she felt immense pressure. Never mind missing arms and legs; what was with the cannon tubes warping, chest plating shattering, and armor vanishing into thin air? Was this a test of her repair skills?
Ziye felt little desire to maintain the mechs she had built herself.
She ordered the nano-repair robots to immediately start reshaping them and instructed 120, “Tell the alien that he must fully compensate for the time-cost of repairing the mechs; and tell Hong Fa that she bears all the expense for all mech repairs.”
110 and 120 dared not disturb her again. Only then did she have time to export the data from the previous PK between An Junlie and Hong Fa for analysis.
Being a technician was a skilled job, requiring not only data analysis but also systematic maintenance and mech reinforcement; one needed to understand ballistics, mech piloting, trajectory analysis, and more. But all these theories were static; they only became useful when applied to mechs and pilots.
Ziye comprehensively analyzed An Junlie’s hand speed, attack momentum, optical computer calculations, cannon trajectory, combined with the extent of mech damage, during the battle. Her eyes stared at the cascading numbers on the screen: 90, 120, 140… 190!
This was An Junlie’s composite index.
It wasn't perfectly accurate, merely a reference point. However, the average person’s score was usually between 60 and 100, while skilled pilots ranked between 100 and 150. Ziye herself was only at 80, yet An Junlie reached 190!
Ziye gasped inwardly.
She looked at the mech disassembled piece by piece on the workbench and resolutely realized she had been wrong. Previously, she had calibrated and repaired An Junlie’s mechs based on a maximum expected score of 150.
There was no choice; she had to re-calibrate.
Ziye sighed in her levitating chair and commanded the robots to begin the work.
Just then, with a loud BOOM, it sounded as if a bomb had detonated on the roof! The entire house trembled as if struck by an 8-magnitude earthquake, and the shadowless lamp on the ceiling swung wildly, casting countless afterimages. She frowned, and in the next instant, the energy generator emitted a sharp, long alarm. She hurriedly commanded, “Activate emergency shutdown!”
As soon as the words left her mouth, the generator automatically tripped, and the surroundings plunged into darkness.
What in the blazes was going on! Ziye felt the veins throbbing on her forehead. She walked into the yard and saw two Ravens engaged in an aerial bombardment directly above her roof. Anger surged within her. She grabbed the loudspeaker and roared, “I order you both to clear a three-kilometer radius immediately, or face the consequences!”
“Lala, the little brat is angry, the consequences are severe!” A teasing male voice drifted down from above. Ziye looked up and finally noticed several spectator spacecraft nestled in the crowns of the tall trees, observing the fight. The speaker was Da Tou, who grinned broadly and waved at Ziye. “Little brat, your alien is pretty good; quite the fighter. I’ve been meaning to spar; haven’t stretched my legs in ages.”
Ziye was boiling with rage. “Do whatever you want! If the mechs break, don't come asking me to fix them.”
Da Tou burst into laughter. “Deal. I’ll use a battleship then.”
Ziye reached her breaking point. She ordered Xiao Dou Ya, “Enter Level Three combat readiness mode. Command all combat robots to load 1,000 manganese-material orbital slugs within three minutes. Leave no one alive within three kilometers!”