"Lin Ye? You stayed up all night at the internet café again?"
Teacher Wang pushed his glasses, his gaze sweeping over the empty lunchbox on Lin Ye's desk. Snickers erupted from the back of the classroom—Chen Mo lounged with his legs crossed, the eagle emblem on his wristwatch glinting coldly in the sunlight. It was an old family heirloom he'd "dug up from the clan vault," he'd said, "to teach this loser a lesson."
"The Star Exam is next week," Teacher Wang tapped the podium. "This marks the 20th anniversary of the mecha era. The college entrance exam now includes practical combat trials—the top 100 scorers get direct admission to the Federal Mecha Academy. Lin Ye, you scored 380 on the last mock test. If you don't shape up…"
"I've got a plan," Lin Ye cut him off.
After school, he slipped into the junkyard behind the school. Old Man Zhou was hunched over, repairing a prosthetic limb. He waved Lin Ye off. "Kid, I can't take that watch. Take it back."
"It's not for sale," Lin Ye said, pulling out a tattered copy of *Fundamentals of Mecha Engineering* from a secondhand bookstore. "I want you to mod this."
Old Man Zhou adjusted his reading glasses, flipping through the pages. "This is from 20 years ago—*Federal Mecha Basics*. It's obsolete… Wait, this star chart?" His finger trembled. "It matches the markings on that watch!"
That night, Lin Ye met Old Man Zhou in an abandoned warehouse. The old man had embedded a micro-projection system into the watch case, projecting detailed mecha specs onto his retina: energy cores, thrusters, weapon systems… "But synchronization rate depends on you," he whispered. "I heard the Chen family's eagle mechas hit 30% sync—thanks to their 'stellar core' bloodline. Yours…"
"Thanks," Lin Ye gripped the watch. "I'm trying it at the Star Exam."
On exam day, the Federal Stadium roared with a deafening buzz. Lin Ye stood at Station 3, staring at the holographic simulation battlefield—ten decommissioned "Anvil" mechas were attacking a city model.
"Examinee Lin Ye, synchronization rate detection… 3%."
The judge's voice made him furrow his brow. Chen Mo scoffed from the stands, his eagle watch flashing red. "Heard this loser found a scrap watch and thinks he can pass the Star Exam?"
"Combat start!"
Alarms blared. Lin Ye's consciousness plunged into the Xingqiong. Its holographic form materialized before him. This time, he didn't rush to attack. He activated the thrusters first—ten Anvil mechas swiveled toward him, electromagnetic cannons locking onto his coordinates.
"Guard Mode engaged."
The mecha's arms unfolded energy shields, their surfaces rippling with star-patterned light. The cannons' bolts fizzled against the shields, sparking harmlessly. Lin Ye surged forward, his particle beam cannon obliterating the lead Anvil. The electromagnetic blade sliced through the second's joints. When he severed the third's thruster, the chest's energy core flared to life—a fourth blue light, sync rate spiking to 15%.
"Impossible!" someone shrieked from the stands. Chen Mo's face flushed crimson; his eagle watch vibrated wildly, as if in terror.
Lin Ye didn't stop. He thought of his mother's medical pod, of Chen Mo's boot in his face, of Old Man Zhou's words: *The Xingqiong isn't a weapon—it's a guardian*. By the time the tenth Anvil crumpled into scrap, the judge's voice trembled: "Examinee Lin Ye, practical combat score: perfect."
The stadium erupted. Chen Mo leapt to his feet; his watch blazed scarlet. Lin Ye's wrist burned—the Xingqiong's hologram flickered, and a mechanical voice warned: *Hostile signal detected. Synchronization rate increased to 20%.*
Above the stands, a black mecha burst through the clouds. Its armor bore dark patterns; the energy cores on its shoulders glowed an eerie green—it was the Chen family's flagship, the "Dark Hawk," with a sync rate that rarely dipped below 25%.
"Kid," Chen Mo's voice boomed over the speakers, "you think that scrap can beat the Chens? Today, I'll show you what a real mecha is!"
Lin Ye clenched his fists. The Xingqiong's eyes flared warm gold; his heartbeat synced with the mecha's engine. When the Dark Hawk's particle beam roared toward him, he sidestepped effortlessly. The Xingqiong's palm slammed into the Dark Hawk's shoulder—a blow that shattered steel.
"I didn't come to fight," Lin Ye said. "I came to… protect."
The Dark Hawk's thrusters died. Chen Mo's scream drowned in the crash of metal. Lin Ye stared at his chest—the energy core now glowed with five blue lights. Sync rate: 25%.
He knew. The real challenges were just beginning.