Illya declared this time she would achieve immediate success.

However, she had forgotten one thing.

That was, this wasn't the first time Aixbent had pulled such a trick; he was experienced, and by the time he was teleported out of the battlefield, he had already swiftly cleared away all the evidence.

Whatever faint clues remained were entirely expected.

Because, the Sword Model was not piloted by a single person.

Before this match, the twins had both piloted it in mecha combat.

So, Illya boarded the mecha filled with hope, wanting to find evidence detrimental to Chushao, but after searching the entire cockpit, she didn't find a single shred of proof.

She was so angry she nearly smashed the mecha on the spot.

Chushao, how dare you bully people like this!

She took a deep breath, striving to calm herself down.

Since she couldn't find evidence of them taking turns, she would focus on the enhancers instead.

It was true they hadn't used enhancers, but she could manufacture the illusion that they had!

Having made up her mind, just as she was about to exit the mecha, her subordinate sent an urgent message: "Miss, Peizhe wishes to see you." Illya said coldly, "He won't be seen!" A stray dog dares to ask for an audience with her?

It was mercy on her part for not finishing him off.

The subordinate whispered weakly, "But, Miss, Peizhe wants to see you one last time..." Illya's expression changed: "What did you say?" The subordinate murmured, "His neural damage exceeds sixty percent; he’s gone mad, and even if he survives, he’ll be a vegetable.

The doctors say to stop treatment." Illya stared blankly at the communication, as if only now realizing the inevitable aftereffect of that XX5—she was stunned speechless.

Did he mean Peizhe was going to die?

The one who was always content just by her side, who never asked for anything from her, and never made things difficult for her; she had always believed Peizhe would always be with her, no matter what happened.

But suddenly, someone was telling her Peizhe was dying.

This meant Peizhe would no longer be by her side, she wouldn't have his support for whatever she wanted to do, and she would be left utterly alone.

She could not accept this terrible reality.

Illya quickly dismounted the mecha and rushed toward the less-crowded side door, heading to the landing pad, piloting a shuttle directly to Fiya’s private hospital.

Upon arrival, she immediately found the doctor in charge and obtained Peizhe’s medical report.

The subordinate hadn't lied; Peizhe was indeed fading fast.

Illya looked at the report, and tears involuntarily streamed down her face.

With a choked voice, she pleaded, "Doctor, save him, please save him, okay?" The doctor quickly responded, "Miss, you’ve seen the condition.

It’s better to use a fully functional clone than to keep him.

The clone is identical, with consciousness fully preserved." Illya stood frozen for a long moment, murmuring, "Then what about him?" Truthfully, Illya herself detested the clone concept.

She even loathed having a clone of herself, constantly fearing that someone might secretly activate it one day and steal everything that was hers.

She couldn't bear that thought.

The doctor said, "Euthanasia." Illya almost shouted instinctively, "No, I don't want him to die, I don't want to!" The doctor sighed, "Fine, I will do my best to save him." Illya looked blankly at the doctor, unable to decide whether she should keep Peizhe or have him terminated and activate the clone.

She found she couldn't bring herself to order Peizhe's death.

Illya felt utterly exhausted.

After a long while, she managed to compose herself and walked toward Peizhe’s ward.

Perhaps seeing him first would help her decide.

The door to the ward was shut tight, guarded by two subordinates who bowed deeply upon seeing her.

Illya said, "I'm going in to see him; don't let anyone else in." The two subordinates simultaneously extended their hands to block the door, dissuading her: "Miss, he has gone mad.

Don't go in; he might hurt you." The soundproofing in the ward was so excellent that Illya couldn't hear a sound from outside.

She flatly refused to believe them, saying, "Are you lying to me?" The subordinates cried out in protest, "We truly aren't!" Illya's face hardened, "Let me in." The two subordinates exchanged a glance and pulled the door open simultaneously, one on each side.

The moment the door opened, a terrible shriek erupted from within, accompanied by the thudding sound of objects colliding.

Illya gasped in shock and rushed in, the two subordinates quickly following.

Peizhe had indeed gone mad.

The gentle gentleman of the past, the most mild-mannered pilot ever voted by the female students at the military academy, was currently smashing his head against the wall like a severe addict.

The wall was equipped with a gas mechanism, fully inflated, ensuring that no matter how hard he hit, he wouldn't cause himself to bleed profusely.

Illya was horrified, covering her mouth as she cried out, "Peizhe, what happened to you?" She had seen the effects of Fiya’s poison needles.

But she couldn't imagine Peizhe turning into one of those experimental lab mice, so frantic that he couldn't even recognize people anymore?

Hearing the sound, Peizhe charged forward with bared teeth and claws, frightening the two subordinates who quickly moved to restrain him.

Illya finally broke down crying, "Peizhe, Peizhe, how could you be like this?

Doctor, quickly call a doctor over!" The attending physician arrived swiftly and had a nurse administer a sedative.

After being subdued, Peizhe quickly slipped into a coma.

The attending physician sighed, "He could still recognize people just a moment ago; now he doesn't recognize anyone." Illya’s entire face was smeared with ruined makeup from crying.

She sobbed incoherently, "Doctor, I beg you, save him, you must save him!" The doctor thought to himself, If only you had thought of this earlier.

When he administered the first injection, he had warned her that a second dose couldn't be given so soon, or his life would be in danger.

Yet, not only had she given it, but she only sought his help when he reached this state.

However, he was Fiya’s doctor; he couldn't defy the Miss's orders.

His only option was to transplant all the suitable parts from the clone into Peizhe, merging him with the clone.

The issue was that this procedure was costly, the surgery difficult, with only a fifty percent chance of success, and the poison needles could never be completely purged, always remaining a latent danger.

The doctor chose his words carefully, saying, "I will do my utmost." Illya slowly sat down by Peizhe’s bedside, her voice hoarse, and whispered, "Everyone, please leave.

I want to stay here with him for a while." Everyone promptly exited the ward.

Illya gazed at Peizhe’s gaunt, pale cheek.

In just half a day, this morning he had been vibrant, telling her he would definitely bring back the championship, and by night, he had become this wreck.

When he wore his military academy uniform, though lean, he looked upright, giving an impression of height; in the patient gown, he seemed completely collapsed, although it was only a small change in stature.

Illya wept, "Peizhe, am I going to lose you?" _(To be continued)