The thick scent of seared beef filled the room, blood-heavy and rich. As it sizzled in the pan with pepper and an array of spices, the aroma shifted—no longer just the smell of meat, but something primal and mouthwatering. A silver knife cut through the slightly crisped surface of the steak. Unlike the way a handle had once pierced a wild bison's skull—releasing a spray of fresh blood—this meat, though tinged with red juice, offered more of that savory essence that made fingers twitch with hunger.
For citizens of the Federation, long accustomed to synthetic food, natural ingredients like this were practically irresistible. Especially for someone like Uncle Feng, the repair shop owner who lived for good meat—and for the teenager Xu Le, whose appetite matched his curiosity.
After a dinner that felt too rare to be real, Xu Le cleared the dishes and stashed the leftover meat and organs in the oversized freezer inside the operations shed beside the mine. With nothing urgent left to do, he found himself unexpectedly idle. For a moment, he just stood there, at a loss. Then he grabbed a bottle of red wine and two glasses from a drawer and climbed the rusted steel ladder up to the grassland above the pit.
Uncle Feng had been up there a while already, silently watching the last smear of sunlight slip away and surrender the world to total black. When Xu Le handed him the glass, Feng took a sip, smirking without smiling.
"Using my good wine to bribe me? Must be something you want to ask."
Xu Le settled down beside him, following the old man's gaze across the distant plains. The sun was long gone, but he could imagine how glorious that moment of its descent must have been. He knew Feng was hiding things from him. But honestly, he didn't mind. He'd only followed the man to learn machine repair, not to uncover some dramatic, emotional backstory.
After all, everyone had their secrets. Some were just better left undisturbed.
"I'm not an idiot," Xu Le said suddenly.
He didn't dramatize it—didn't pretend he was struggling to speak, didn't hesitate for effect. Just a pause, deliberate, right before the word that mattered. Ever since his parents and little sister died in that mine collapse ten years ago, his life had felt adrift. Every now and then, emotion bubbled up in clumsy, awkward ways—this was one of them.
His eyes narrowed in the dark. He'd been suspicious for a while. Over the past two years, aside from learning repair techniques and honing his practical skills, Feng had made him strike odd postures, engage in strange daily exercises. It all reeked of something... off.
Xu Le was simple and sincere, but not stupid. He'd always assumed those exercises were some kind of military physical training—maybe to make his body tougher, more capable. Since it couldn't hurt, and the boss told him to do it, he complied.
But today, after killing that wild bison, something cold had crept into his chest.
Feng was just a mech tech who'd fled the military… right? Then why did what he taught feel so lethal? Was it possible that those routines—those movements—were actually secret combat techniques, forbidden and hidden by the military?
"I never thought you were an idiot," Feng said, removing the glass from his lips. "In fact, I think you're a genius." His voice was calm, but a strange smile flickered in the lines at the corner of his eyes.
"I'm not a genius either," Xu Le replied, almost with resignation. "I just don't get it—why are you teaching me all this stuff? It's useless. The Defense Ministry's mech tech certification exam doesn't cover field combat. I don't want to waste my time."
His voice began to tremble, the words carrying a strain of buried frustration.
Feng didn't even look at him. "If you're asking this," he said quietly, "then clearly you resent what I'm making you do. I just don't understand… where that resistance comes from."
Xu Le's breath hitched. "This is Year 63 of the 37th Constitutional Cycle… Human civilization has come this far, and you still want me to train like this? One person—no matter how skilled—can't stand against a mech. He can't fly into space and battle warships by himself."
"You want to be a mech tech capable of repairing all three core systems of mechs and warships. So of course, to you, cold machines seem far more powerful than fragile humans," Feng said, his tone hardening. "But don't forget—no matter how far humanity advances, we're still biological beings. You still live in this body. And this body is your first and last line of survival. It's the first machine you must master."
"As for mechs, warships... they're just extensions. No one lives inside a mech forever. You still need to eat, sleep, take a dump. You'll want to screw, to climax, to shower. You spend a tenth of your life without clothes—how much more without a mech?"
Xu Le stared at him, dumbfounded. What Feng was saying sounded ridiculous. And yet… somehow it made a twisted kind of sense.
Feng finished his wine in one swig and suddenly chuckled. "Besides, with the Federation's current energy shortage, who knows when our precious warships will end up as floating space junk?"
"Mechs don't rely on crystal ore anymore," Xu Le shot back, stubbornly refusing to be persuaded. "High-energy compression batteries can power them on land indefinitely. And anyway… what's the point of all this survivalist crap? I'm not going to war with the savages in Xilin. I just want to fix things, earn some money doing what I like. Why should I care about any of this?"
Feng laughed. "Let's not talk about your future. Honestly, I doubt you'll pass the Defense Ministry's exams. Maybe you'll just end up working for me forever—for free."
Then his laughter faded, and his gaze darkened.
"Think about the people on the three planets of Shanglin. Think about those clans that've lasted thousands of years. Even the Seven Great Houses—why do they still revere that old man and his disciples? It's because of his personal strength. Pure and simple."
Shanglin—capital region of the Central Star Circle, the most advanced, luxurious place in all the Federation. To Xu Le, who came from the forgotten East Forest provinces, the Seven Great Houses were distant, untouchable nobility. And the old man Feng mentioned...
"Oh my god," Xu Le whispered. "You're calling the War God 'that old guy'…"
Feng ignored the outburst.
"Forget horse stance today. Just repeat the routine exercises once more."
He looked down at Xu Le, who'd collapsed after holding the stance for half an hour. The boy hated these drills—but never slacked. For all his reluctance, he was relentless once he committed. Who else, Feng mused, could endure two years of this, day in, day out, at just sixteen?
"Focus on your breathing. Relax your mind," Feng said slowly, watching the boy sweat and shake on the grass. "Feel it. Remember every path of pain in your muscles. Don't run from it. Learn it."