MECH WARRIO

Chapter 006: He Said He Doesn't Believe in Limits

"Hey, old Jixing is back! Been gone for days, probably off chasing some old lady."

"Nonsense, old Jixing never pays attention to those old ladies. You think he's like you, an old man dancing in the square every day. Old Jixing, how about a game of chess? It's been ages since we played. I'll give you a rook."

"Hah, you give old Jixing a rook? Hasn't it always been old Jixing giving you the rooks and knights?"

In the green area of the community, a group of elderly men and women basking in the sun greeted Jixinghe, who had been absent for a few days, indicating that he was well-liked among the residents.

This popularity was built on Jixinghe's willingness to help others, his excellent character both before and after his wife's passing, and the conditions of having a pension and retirement benefits.

"Nah, got things to do, you guys carry on."

Jixinghe hurriedly responded and made his way straight to his home. He didn't want to discuss his experiences of the past few days with anyone, as it would mean having to say that phrase again.

It wasn't easy to confide in General Tuyuan, nor was it for sympathy. He didn't want pity; he only wanted revenge.

The elderly men and women found it somewhat strange.

"Old Jixing is retired, what could he be busy with?"

"Yeah, what's keeping us busy? We can't be busy with anything. How about we go get some eggs? Just three bus rides and nineteen stops away."

"Do you need those eggs?"

"I don't, but it beats sitting idle."

"True, let's go. We might be late, and there won't be any seats left on the bus during rush hour."

"What's to worry about? Someone will give up their seat for us."

"That's true."

...

The house was quiet. Ten days without cleaning yet only a slight layer of dust had settled. All the furniture and appliances in the living room were neatly arranged, devoid of clutter, and only essentials remained, giving it a somewhat monotonous look.

There were no kitchen scraps left to dispose of, nor any spoiled ingredients in the refrigerator. Upon returning home, Jixinghe didn't wallow in solitude but went straight to the kitchen, retrieving two steaks he had personally marinated from the refrigerator.

There were over thirty steaks neatly packaged in the refrigerator, originally intended for...

Now, they were meant for Jixinghe alone.

He skillfully lit the stove, heated the pan with butter, and removed the steaks from their vacuum-sealed bags with freshly washed hands. Placing them vertically in the hot pan to sear the edges before flipping them over to cook, the two steaks were soon cooked to perfection.

This method wasn't ideal for steaks, but Jixinghe preferred his meat well-done. If it weren't for Jichenxing's love for steaks, he would have opted for beef stew with carrots, or braised beef with potatoes, or even braised beef directly.

Without using knives and forks, Jixinghe disliked such utensils; all the cutlery in the house was bought for Jichenxing. Placing the two steaks on a plate, Jixinghe grabbed a pair of chopsticks and began devouring them, each bite filled with force, each chew vigorous, as if these two steaks were his enemies.

Jixinghe, who hadn't eaten properly for several days, wasn't suited for steak, but his body was indeed robust, his digestive capabilities impressive, and his teeth still strong despite his age.

With a full head of black hair, he didn't look like a 65-year-old man, but he was indeed 65. After eating the steak, he took two digestive pills to prevent any digestive issues.

He needed to take care of his body and then participate in the recruitment assessment that would begin in seven days.

Despite feeling tired, Jixinghe didn't immediately go to bed. Instead, he went to the study. The study had bookshelves lining three walls, filled with neatly arranged books, mostly related to mechanical repair. There were also textbooks from Jichenxing's school days and some books on mech piloting, which Jichenxing had expressed interest in becoming when he was younger. These books were personally selected and purchased by Jixinghe.

The collection was updated annually, hence the shelves were packed, but there was no fear of collapse as Jixinghe had personally built the bookshelves. As an expert in mechanical repair, his craftsmanship was exceptional, although previously limited to car repairs.

In addition to the books lining three walls, there was a desk in front of the wall with a window, where Jichenxing had studied from childhood to adulthood.

At the center of the study were two items: an ergonomic chair connected to the power source, with a helmet-shaped object attached, and a pair of metallic gloves gleaming with a metal sheen.

These were the landing equipment for Star Glory, requiring the coordination of the helmet and gloves to complete consciousness-level interactive operations.

The mechs also contained similar consciousness interaction devices, allowing users to better control them. Compared to the initial voice-command mode combined with manual operation, this new operating mode gave the mechs true vitality, enabling them to perform various high-difficulty maneuvers.

However, because of this, the mechs of the new era demanded extremely high physical fitness from their users. High-difficulty mech actions could lead to overload phenomena, just like the fighter pilots of many years ago. Once they performed excessive maneuvers, they might experience dizziness, nausea, or even fainting or death.

No one would believe that 65-year-old Jixinghe could withstand it, and in fact, he didn't believe it himself, but he wasn't afraid of death.

The last item in the study was the wooden dummy he had personally made, which he and Jichenxing had trained with.

But his wooden dummy wasn't made of wood; it was made of iron. Thirty years ago, Jixinghe couldn't handle a wooden dummy; it would break with a single strike.

Seeing the wooden dummy, memories of Jichenxing's initial struggles and tears during training flooded Jixinghe's mind, the sound of his son's distress echoing in his ears.

"Dad, I'm calling the cops, you're abusing a child."

"This isn't abuse. Don't you want to be a mech warrior? This is to improve your combat skills, so you can survive on the battlefield and kill more enemies."

"I'm already a mech warrior, why do I need to learn kung fu? My mech has cannons and high-frequency oscillating blades. Vroom vroom, slicing melons and cutting vegetables."

"Son, do you know why mechs are designed in humanoid form? Why were those animal-shaped mechs abandoned?"

"Why?"

"Because humans are the supreme beings, and humanoid form is the most suitable for combat."

"But humans can't beat tigers."

"That's because there's a significant difference in strength, speed, and defense between humans and tigers. But if it's a humanoid mech and a tiger-shaped mech fighting, with equal strength, speed, and defense, the humanoid mech will always win."

"Why?"

"Because... humans can use swords, spears, and polearms as weapons, as well as guns. Tigers only have teeth and claws, or maybe a tail."

"Then I'll turn the tiger's claws into blades, its tail into a long spear, and its mouth into a cannon."

"Haha... then your tiger mech won't be able to run."

"It can fly, I'll add flying engines to it."

"That's not impossible, but before you do that, you need to learn martial arts from me, as well as the Eight Slash Sword Technique and the Six-and-a-Half Staff Technique."

"I won't learn martial arts. I'll call the police, you're abusing me."

If I hadn't taught him Wing Chun, hadn't supported him in pursuing his dream of attending military school...

With a thud, Jixinghe's fist struck the wooden dummy. The dummy's body rotated, and two iron rods swung towards him, but he blocked them with his elbows and knees.

Because he had exerted too much force with that punch, the blows from the rods hurt a bit, and his fist ached.

But Jixinghe felt comfortable, as if the physical pain could alleviate the pain in his heart. In this house filled with memories of Jichenxing, how could he not be in pain?

After eating and practicing martial arts to aid digestion, Jixinghe applied ointment to treat the bruises, drank tonic wine to invigorate his qi and blood, and numbed himself to ensure he wouldn't dream or wake up in tears.

On the seventh day, the iron-made wooden dummy suddenly broke, as if it had finally reached its breaking point after thirty years, or perhaps Jixinghe's skills had progressed further.

It should have been the former, but Jixinghe hoped for the latter.

In his mind, there echoed the words he had once said to Jichenxing: "Son, don't believe in limits, because if you don't believe in them, they don't exist."