The period for new book recommendations has ended, and I received over 6,000 recommendation votes in a month. I am incredibly grateful for everyone's support, sending you all a big kiss!

—

Ziye never mentioned the embarrassing incident that just occurred in the cockpit, acting as if nothing had happened. After all, how could she possibly admit such a humiliating experience to anyone?

An Junlie hadn't piloted his mech in a long time and was delighted, completely failing to notice her expression. "It's fine to go now?"

Ziye nodded.

An Junlie waved enthusiastically, got into the mech, and powered up!

Speed, burst power, left arm synchronization rate...

Ziye stared at the data transmitted to the little sprout's light screen and frowned. "Pilot two drones, bomb him!" The drones zipped out from the mountain, full of vigor, and began relentlessly pounding the 007.

An Junlie expertly leaped through the crisscrossing fire while piloting the mech, not displaying a single flashy maneuver, yet every movement was precisely executed.

Just as Ziye considered changing the attack method, An Junlie suddenly sent her a comm message: "Can I counterattack?"

That seemed conditional. Ziye added two heavy-duty drones for rapid circling bombardment before replying, "Yes!"

"Bang!" A piercing beam of laser light shot out, aimed squarely at the drones. In less than the blink of an eye, the beam pierced through the drone bodies. In the next instant, the light exploded, illuminating the hazy sky.

Damn it!

Ziye watched the drones shatter into fireworks in the air, her heart breaking. That was all her hard work! And the weapon that downed the drones was the rainbow laser cannon she had personally installed for him.

Truly, she had brought this upon herself. Ziye massaged her fractured heart; each drone was worth several thousand Silver Talents. No, she had to find a way to recover the losses quickly. She shifted her focus to the transmitted data. Sending this data to the drone designer might balance the budget?

Overall, she was quite satisfied with the mech repair data. At least there were no major issues; everything related to action and attack flowed smoothly.

She gazed at the mech on the screen, which possessed a beautiful technological aesthetic, and decided to reward herself with a break to rest properly. So, she decisively shut down the comms, sent robots 110 and 120 into the workshop for routine maintenance, and retreated to the study to read.

The study was the only place where Ziye felt she could truly calm her mind.

Every time she stepped into the study, it felt as if she could see Teacher Tangshan sitting at the desk, flipping through ancient texts, the light casting upon the white roses by the window, releasing waves of faint fragrance.

Paper books had almost vanished in interstellar space several hundred years ago; this entire wall of bookshelves held volumes that were all unique originals.

The Interstellar Federation did not allow prisoners to keep anything threatening, such as optical computers or mechs. Tangshan, possessing foresight, had asked someone to print several thousand paper books before being thrown into the Silver Talents, storing them in a spatial storage unit and secretly bringing them down—hence everything in the study.

She hadn't entered the study much in the last month and had forgotten to ask the robots to clean. A layer of dust covered the books. She picked a few key areas to dust off and pulled out Advanced Weaponry Research, sitting at the desk to browse.

She had read most of the books here before, but revisiting them periodically allowed her to learn new points she hadn't noticed previously. Her seat was near the window, but the afternoon light didn't reach her; instead, she could see the faint dust motes dancing in the air.

It had been so long since she felt this calm. Ziye couldn't help but smile faintly. After her teacher passed away, she always felt the house was too big, too quiet, too devoid of life. She longed to talk to someone but was too lonely to know who to approach, so she poured all her energy into manufacturing robots, building more and more of them to keep her company.

However, the more robots she had, the greater the sense of loss became. All she heard were the mechanical, emotionless voices of the robots... The more sounds there were, the more pronounced her solitude felt. After two months of this, she hardened her heart and sold off the robots, only then beginning to emerge from her despair.

An Junlie had not been on Silver Talents long, yet for some reason, it felt like they had known each other for a very long time.

It’s wonderful to have company, she told herself internally. The indescribable pain of losing her teacher, the irritation of eating boxed meals alone every day, the emptiness of busying herself pointlessly in the workshop—all of it had vanished into thin air. Her past life was gray, but now color was spreading from the depths of her heart...

As evening approached, An Junlie returned, piloting the mech. The moment he landed, he rushed to the study to find Ziye. Ziye assumed he wanted to share the results of the test flight. She closed her book and smiled, "How was the performance?"

An Junlie was silent for two seconds, then sat opposite her and asked seriously, "Kid, I want to ask you something."

Seeing his unprecedented solemnity, Ziye felt something was amiss, so she dropped her smile and nodded.

An Junlie didn't state his point directly but first inquired, "Can you pilot a mech?"

Ziye shook her head. "Don't mechs have autopilot functions?" A pilot certainly needs to master piloting, but she, for now, couldn't learn it.

An Junlie was unsurprised. "As expected."

Ziye frowned. "What do you mean?"

An Junlie glanced at the fully packed bookshelves behind her. "Your mech repairs rely entirely on theory. You have very little practical experience. Even the so-called practical knowledge you possess is learned directly from Senior Tangshan’s technical notes; you've never truly practiced it yourself."

Ziye retorted, "Understanding it is enough. With robots available, why must I practice myself?"

Seeing her completely unresponsive attitude, a spark of anger ignited in An Junlie's heart. "Humans can never rely solely on robots, or they will degenerate into ignorant fools!"

Who didn't understand that? Ziye disliked long-winded conversations that avoided the main point, so she cut to the chase: "Stop lecturing me with grand principles."

"You really don't grasp the core issue." An Junlie was frustrated beyond words. Seeing her expression, he lost any desire for a calm discussion, his temper flaring. "Whether it's the mechs you repair or the parts you fabricate, none of it has any real skill! These trivial things led everyone on Silver Talents to praise you as an expert, and now you really think you are one? Do you believe the things you make couldn't even pass through a wormhole? Regardless of whether you want to be a Master Armorist or a Technician in the future, anyone lacking practical ability will eventually be eliminated!"

Ziye was stunned by the reprimand.

It was a sharp, bloody incision.

"For your age, the way you've repaired the mech is decent—it could handle more stress, the weaponry could be more powerful, and the energy reserves longer. But because you haven't practiced, everything is based on theory, and you will never reach the highest level. Excellent theory can even be inferior to an excellent pilot; an excellent technician repairs based on the pilot's habits and the absolute perfection achieved through long-term use and wear."