Whiteboard Recruits

Mu Fan rubbed his head. When he entered the light again, he found himself back at the metal revolving door.

What kind of new recruits' camp was this? Didn't Fatty say that a mock battle was meaningless? How could there be such a freakish new recruits' training camp?

Mu Fan looked around and confirmed that he was no longer in the death-filled training base. He breathed a sigh of relief.

When he looked at the electronic screen at the door, he saw that there was a red prohibition sign on it, and the countdown had begun. He calculated that it would be 0 o'clock the next day. He could enter again then, which was the day after the mysterious combatant mentioned it.

How could he be so understanding of human nature? Technology was so advanced! Mu Fan walked out of the training camp with deep awe of technology.

When he stepped out of the door, he was in a mechanical city that was so oppressive that he could not see the sky. He looked down at his wristband and said, "Lemon Balloon—Online Battle."

Mu Fan sent a message with one finger. "I'm Mu Fan. I'm out."

…

In the ruins of the ten-kilometer city, a mecha, painted orange, was hiding wretchedly in a gap formed by a broken wall beside a building made of rubble.

At this moment, the fatty was gritting his teeth in the cockpit of the Lemon Balloon, a six-generation, semi-imagined mecha, Half Cycle. "You bunch of Bronze Five-Star pieces of sh * t, seeing that your brother's mecha is good, you actually want to team up to cheat me? F*ck you!"

The fact was that the five-star Bronze players on the other side were obviously using alternate accounts. Fatty's plan to enter the Bronze rank as easily as a fish in water as a Silver had been completely destroyed. This had happened fifty times, if not a hundred times. Fatty had died very decisively every time he encountered them, but who knew that this group of people he encountered this time were clearly smurfs. There were six people on both sides, and the other side cooperated. Their marksmanship was impeccable. They destroyed the legs of a few friendly mecha who did not know how to dodge, then used an alloy knife to chop off the limbs. The only one left was the body part of the cockpit. Then… these shameless guys started playing.

"I've already kicked five people to death. I won't go out no matter what. It's too embarrassing."

Suddenly, two red dots appeared on the radar scanner in front of him on the left. Enemy! Fatty clenched his teeth, prayed, and turned on the engine silence mode.

Fortunately, his mecha was good. The bronze scums on the other side were only operating the system mecha of the fifth generation.

Damn, that's right. The opponent is the fifth generation. Why should I be afraid? The difference between mecha is too big!

When PO Battle Network engaged in a 12-member, small-scale team battle, the default matchup could only be one generation apart. That is to say, the minimum number of people you would meet when operating a four-generation mecha was a four-generation initial mecha, and the highest was a five-generation initial mecha. The system would not arrange for teammates with too big a difference, because this would result in obvious unfairness. The difference between each generation of a mecha was five to eight years, which was enough to make the difference between the technological level more obvious. If the difference was more than seven-generation, or even more than ten years between each generation.

This was the combat zone of the Fantasy Department. Fatty, who was sitting in the quiet cockpit, kept mumbling, "if you guys are really bad a** then why don't you go to real combat zone. What are you doing here? Driving the free mecha given by the system to play Fantasy. You guys are really sick."

The two red dots on the radar were approaching. Oh no, they had found me. Fatty had an unexpected talent for sensing danger, especially when it came to escaping. Fatty could always reach the highest level.

He saw two red dots entering the building behind him. They were trying to sneak through the wall.

Suddenly, his wristband beeped. "I'm Mu Fan. I'm out."

So fast! Fatty was stunned. It had only been a short while, and they had not finished a single game.

Then, the fatty clenched his teeth and said fiercely, "You bunch of scumbags, forcing Young Master Harry to take action."

Bombardment! Scorpion Mine!

Four football-sized holes suddenly appeared in the ground of the building behind the fatty's mecha. Four mechanical scorpions, glowing with white metal, climbed out. Then, the laser beam locked onto the two mecha that had just turned off the active scan and sneaked into the first floor of the building.

Jump, crash! The four scorpions bounced at an unimaginable speed.

Boom! Boom! A violent blast of air burst open, and the orange mecha that Fatty was in was blasted out by the huge impact.

As for the two parts, they had already been shattered into pieces.

"Don't look down on your fat grandpa. This is the most compatible Fantasy series of the six-generation mecha I bought, the voluntary tracking thunder," said Young Master Harry fiercely.

The two red dots on the radar disappeared instantly.

"Damn it! No. 3, No. 6, call No. 3, No. 6." The enemy captain called his teammates in the team channel, but there was no response.

System Notice: "Lemon Balloon" has killed "Qiao Musen".

System Notice: "Lemon Balloon" has killed "Seldaka".

System Notice: "Lemon Balloon" completed a double kill.

"Hahahaha! You scumbags!" Fatty's arrogant voice came from the ruins through the loudspeaker.

Bang!

Such an eye-catching orange mecha was like a lighthouse in the dark. A clear gunshot was heard, and the fat mecha's energy chamber was reactively powered by a huge sniper rifle. The bullets tore fiercely, and the high-temperature energy exploded.

"You big…" The fatty was swallowed by the fire before he could finish his sentence.

Fatty appeared in the waiting area. There were very few people here. Fatty leaned back on the couch with a depressed look on his face.

"Fatty, I'm so tired. These stupid teammates!" Fatty was full of resentment toward the battle just now. He had not cooperated in any way and had been completely reckless. If his brother had not equipped the equipment well and dragged out two of them, this round would have been a total loss.

Oh, he seemed to have forgotten something.

Fatty patted his head. That's right, Mu Fan said he came out. He was so nervous in the battle just now that he almost forgot about it.

"Video request, pass?" Mu Fan had been staring at his wristband in a daze for several minutes. Finally, there was a ring, and he heard the notification that the video call was connected.

"Mu Fan? Why did you come out so quickly? I told you it was boring training." The fatty's depressed expression had not completely disappeared.

"Yeah, I'm done with the training. What are we doing now?" Mu Fan didn't want to explain too much. He felt that it was too embarrassing. He had gone in and died twice, and it felt so real. Plus, he didn't like explaining, so that was it.

The fatty said in a depressed tone, "I was in the midst of a battle just now and did not notice your message. That bunch of grandsons screwed me over. I lost, sigh."

Mu Fan did not have a complete concept of winning or losing, so he asked, "What are we doing now?"

When the fatty saw that Mu Fan did not answer him, he said bitterly, "Wait a minute. I'll send you the coordinates. Go to the transfer point beside the training camp and come to me."

Ding… received the coordinates sent by my friend Lemon Balloon. Instructions to the navigation system.

"Yes." Mu Fan clicked to confirm. Soon, the light beam projected a walking route. Mu Fan looked up and confirmed the location of the teleportation point on the right. Many people were entering and exiting there, and there were flashes of white light.

Mu Fan walked into the building that looked like an eggshell. When he entered, he found that it was not crowded, but only him. It looked like the PO Battle Network automatically opened a separate teleportation space for everyone.

Please state the location of the transmission. A long, suspended autonomous control panel asks.

"Teleportation location: XXXX, XXXX."

"Confirm. Player" Lord Egg ", please step into the teleportation circle. The teleportation begins."

In a flash, the whiteboard freshman who did not pass the combat training.Mu Fan, who forgot that he still had mecha training, was sent out of the new recruits' base.