Baisha's team wasn't charging Kaisin Grez's pack just to steal kills—they aimed to throw a wrench in his plans. Cen Yuehuai led the assault, her mech skidding down a slope, sparks flaring from its feet. She raised her bow, unleashing a meteor shower of arrows on Grez's scattered units. Selection rules barred cadet-on-cadet violence, but sabotage was fair game, so her arrows targeted their mutant prey.
Xizhou's cadets reacted swiftly, parrying or slashing her arrows. But Cen's shots were cunning—some aimed off vital points, enraging the mutants into frenzied charges that disrupted Xizhou's formations.
"They're not killing—they're breaking our lines!" an Xizhou cadet shouted. "They're here to stir shit!"
The label fit perfectly.
Baisha and Sino dove into the fray, their prowess overwhelming. Rather than reaping kills, they harried Xizhou's cadets, tripping them up. Sino's chain-blade whipped through the air, his mental energy surging, not attacking but intimidating. The mutants, sensing his ferocity, grew frantic, their struggles intensifying.
"We can't keep tangling like this—we'll lose!" an Xizhou cadet yelled, lunging with a light-sword to finish a mutant buffalo. His mech's wings flared, propelling him skyward, sword aimed at the beast's neck.
A sharp zip cut the air—Baisha's silver-cord lance. The cord snared his leg, yanking him off-balance. His mech spun, crashing toward the ground. In his dizzying view, the buffalo broke through two cadets' blockade, its horns lowered, charging.
Boom! The buffalo's impact hurled the mech ten meters, smashing it into the dirt, joints sparking. Its hull sported two gaping holes—without a mechsmith's repair, he'd never last the week.
Xizhou's two mechsmiths rushed with toolkits, but Cen's ice arrows froze their path. "These mechsmiths are easy pickings," she said over the team channel. "Combat majors outclass them by miles."
"Don't get cocky," Sino warned. "Keep sharp. We can use these crazed mutants to knock out more Xizhou cadets."
"Got it," Cen replied.
Kaisin's units, uneven in skill, buckled under the onslaught. Many containment lines collapsed. Kaisin gritted his teeth. "Forget the prey—catch them!"
The "wolf pack" locked onto Baisha's team as primary targets. Baisha dodged an Xizhou cadet's stun bolt, spotting the silent wolves closing in. "We're out!"
Kaisin chased them from the plains into a towering cedar forest. "Keep after them," he ordered. "Our speed dominates in woods—they're ours."
Wolf mechs, lightning-fast, blurred into afterimages. Baisha's team vaulted a ridge, glancing back to see Kaisin's silver wolf mech perched atop, claws extended, eyes glowing blue, poised to pounce.
They stowed weapons and scaled the cedars. Just then, Kaisin's comms erupted: "Someone's in the grass!" "Boss, another poacher!" "He's strong—sliced three A-grades in one swing!" "Tianquan again!"
Kaisin whirled. A deep-blue mech emerged, wielding a massive flat light-sword, its white blade streaked with neon blue. With a slash, it conjured gray mist, humming like a whale breaching waves. Xizhou cadets reeled—3S-grade power, at least. With Kaisin's pack lured away, this mech carved through their remaining prey, swift and merciless.
"We've been played, Boss!" a cadet cried. A textbook diversion.
Kaisin, seething, faced Baisha's team. "What's your game?"
Baisha, perched on a cedar branch, whistled. "It's a fair fight, Grez. All's fair in war."
Kaisin glared, but poaching was within rules. He couldn't brawl them down. Swallowing his rage, he ordered, "Retreat. Ignore them."
The "alpha" withdrew, his pack grudgingly following.
"Close call," Cen sighed, leaning against the trunk. "Thought they'd catch us."
"Beast mechs' speed is no joke," Sino said.
Baisha radioed, "Yu Yan, you good?"
"Clear," Yu Yan's cool voice replied.
"Syncing our route—meet up," Baisha said, settling cross-legged on the branch, musing. "Wonder what driving a beast mech feels like…"
"I've tried," Sino said. "Beast mechs are trickier than humanoid ones. You mimic animal movement but break their limits, needing years to sync with the mech's instincts."
Humanoid mechs shared similar controls, adaptable even for novices like Baisha's team. Beast mechs demanded lifelong mastery.
"They stick to one mech forever," Baisha noted. "Even upgrades keep the core design."
"For muscle memory," Sino said. "Feel is everything."
After a brief rest, Baisha and Sino leapt through the cedar canopy, their mechs deft despite their weight. Cen, less confident, hesitated. "We can't run on ground?"
"Come on," Baisha teased. "We trained for this."
Cen gulped, diving onto a branch—only for it to snap with a crack. She lunged, clinging to a tree. "That was terrifying!"
"Behind you!" Baisha and Sino shouted.
A massive triangular snake head, red-eyed and moss-streaked, loomed from the foliage—an S-grade rock-spot viper. Cen's "Holy shit!" echoed as Baisha and Sino, weapons drawn, raced to her aid, wondering if her luck was a blessing or a curse.
They scoured the forest, bagging minor kills but no high-grades. By sunset, they reached a lake, rendezvousing with Yu Yan and setting camp. Stars reflected on the water, a bonfire flickering on the white stone shore.
"Grilled fish this time," Sino declared, roasting skewers. "No way I mess this up."
Cen, scarred by lunch, grimaced. "Don't jinx it."
"Look at that char, that sheen," Sino said, offering her a perfectly browned fish. "Better than this?"
Cen blew on it, nibbled, and spat. "Bitter."
Sino frowned. "I gutted them."
Yu Yan tried one, chewed, and spat. "Poisonous."
Sino's pride crumbled.
"The fish itself is toxic," Yu Yan clarified, eyeing the lake. "I'll catch more."
Cen spat frantically; Baisha and Sino exchanged looks. Greenstar's fauna varied—some edible, some deadly. Poison was a survival risk, but Yu Yan's tongue spotting it? Uncanny.
"How'd you know?" Sino asked.
"Experience," Yu Yan said.
"Poison experience?" Sino muttered.
Yu Yan, unfazed, summoned his bear construct, which lumbered to the lake, returning with four silver-striped fish. Roasted, they were divine. Cen, devouring hers, gave Yu Yan a thumbs-up, tears of relief in her eyes.
They pitched tents, rotating watch. Yu Yan offered to take first shift, citing his light-sleeping habits. Cen, yawning, insisted on equal shifts but crawled into her tent, passing out instantly. Baisha and Sino set the schedule and rested.
Hours later, under a rising moon, howls shattered the night—piercing, relentless wolf cries.
Cen, jolted awake, roared, "What's wrong with them? It's midnight!"
Baisha, groggy, ruffled her hair. "Grez's pack? Revenge?"
Sino shrugged. "Coincidence, maybe."
Kaisin's team was nearby, and wolves were nocturnal. If they had stamina, night hunts favored them.
"They don't sleep? Are Xizhou cadets monsters, or just Grez?" Cen groaned, covering her ears.
Yu Yan listened, then said, "Something's wrong."
Wolves howled to communicate or emote, not to squander energy. The cries weakened, trailing into pained whimpers, then silence—twenty seconds total.
Baisha's Little White Chirp appeared, perching on her knee, eyes fixed on a point, chirping warily. The others' constructs materialized, startling them.
"Trouble," Sino said, scanning the dark forest. "We check it out."
They packed camp in seconds, entering their mechs. Baisha, on impulse, checked the seed box. The seeds had sprouted, their translucent stems and yellowed leaves entwining, cannibalizing each other. Two robust survivors bore red, egg-like fruits with tiny black shadows—miniature blood ants.
Shocked, Baisha torched the box with a flamethrower.
"What's up, Your Highness?" Cen asked.
"That mangrove grove's trouble," Baisha said, dread rising. "Big trouble."
Plants birthing ants defied biology. These seeds, fueled only by melted ice, matured overnight. What if they'd stayed in the queen's corpse? What were these "new ants"?
She briefed the team. "I need to check the grove. You three handle Grez."
"No way," Cen snapped. "No splitting up. Movie rule: teams divide, teams die."
Sino snorted. "Think positive, will you?"
"You want her alone?" Cen challenged.
"Nope," Sino said.
Baisha relented. "Grez first."
Her silver-throated sparrow took flight, guiding them. Their mechs glided silently through dense shrubs for ten minutes until Baisha, leading, signaled a halt, her lance parting foliage.
A strange scent hit her. Through the branches, she saw a crimson haze. Massive, glossy fruits hung from a "tree"—not a plant but a grotesque mimic. Black roots sprawled, and atop it, a pulsating purple tumor glowed, gray veins snaking across it.
Her gaze dropped. Among the tangled vines, a broken mech arm protruded.