High Martial: I Use Everything as Swords

Word is, this old-timer used to be a retired officer from the City Defense Army’s Heavy Armor Mecha Master division.

During a beast tide, he’d used his own arm to jam a Demon Beast’s mouth shut to protect his teammates. That’s how he lost his hand.

Compared to the fawning Zhou Ping, the grim Evil Qi emanating from Lei Zhen was clearly more to the pilots’ liking.

Lei Zhen used his good left hand to pull a pack of cheap cigarettes from his pocket. He stuck one in his mouth but didn’t light it.

His sharp eyes swept across the cafeteria, finally landing on Han Feng’s table.

To be precise, they landed on the tall pile of bones in front of Han Feng.

"A good appetite is a blessing."

Lei Zhen strode over, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

The metal chair let out a strained CREAK under his weight.

"In our line of work, if you don’t have some fuel in the tank, you can’t even pull the control stick."

His voice was coarse and raspy, extremely grating to the ear.

Han Feng wiped the grease from his mouth and nodded.

"Director Lei."

Lei Zhen grinned, revealing a set of teeth yellowed by smoke.

He knocked on the tabletop with his mechanical hand, producing a metallic CLANG CLANG.

"Old Zhang told me you’re the one flying that ridiculously ugly ’Gray Donkey’?"

Beside them, Gu Yun immediately perked up his ears, a look of schadenfreude on his face.

’See? Even the Director thinks that plane is ugly.’

However, Lei Zhen’s next words made Gu Yun’s smile freeze on his face.

"Good eye."

Lei Zhen gave a thumbs-up with his cold, mechanical thumb.

"Out here in the wastelands, you gotta be thick-skinned."

"I see those young pups all flying flashy ’Hunting Falcons.’ They look pretty, but when a beast tide hits and it’s time for close-quarters combat, they’re all just fragile chickens."

As he spoke, he intentionally yet casually glanced at Gu Yun’s pristine white flight suit.

"These days, some of you youngsters treat your planes like they’re some delicate woman."

"Waxing them, painting them... aren’t you afraid a Demon Beast will use you for target practice once you’re in the sky?"

Gu Yun’s face flushed red with anger, and he nearly snapped the chopsticks in his hand.

"It’s paint-job art! It’s a belief!"

Gu Yun couldn’t help but retort.

"Besides, my ’Scarlet Witch’ has the most advanced aerodynamic design. It’s twice as fast as that clumsy transport plane!"

"Fast?"

Lei Zhen scoffed, his eyes filled with disdain.

"Kid, the day you get surrounded by a dozen Iron-Winged Crows, you’ll learn that an extra millimeter of armor plating is a hell of a lot more useful than being a tiny bit faster."

He turned his head, ignoring Gu Yun, and looked at Han Feng.

"Do a good job."

"The farm’s safety is in your hands for the next few days."

"If you can hold the line, I’ll have Old Zhou prepare fifty catties of special-grade Purple Crystal Wheat for each of you to take with you."

Han Feng’s eyes lit up instantly.

Fifty catties of special-grade Purple Crystal Wheat!

That was good stuff, something that could be exchanged for a lot of hard currency on the black market.

"Don’t you worry, Director Lei."

Han Feng stuffed the last piece of meat into his mouth and said indistinctly.

"As long as the pay is right, the Demon Beasts are getting wrecked."

Just then, a shrill, urgent bell suddenly rang out across the entire farm.

"DRING DRING DRING—!!!"

It was the signal to begin the operation.

The smile on Lei Zhen’s face vanished instantly. He shot to his feet.

The aura that erupted from him in that moment put a trace of pressure even on Han Feng.

"Time to get to work."

Lei Zhen looked out the window.

In the distance, several giant, armed harvesters belched black smoke. Their massive bladed wheels began to spin, emitting a tooth-grinding metallic screech.

"Alright, you pups, stop eating."

Lei Zhen’s voice turned cold.

"The moment the harvesters start moving, all the monsters and ghouls underground will come out for their meal."

Han Feng quickly put down his tray and grabbed the helmet from the table.

He glanced at Zhang Hao and Wang Meng beside him. The lax look in their eyes was gone, replaced by a sharp battle-readiness.

Even Gu Yun had shed his arrogant demeanor, his expression turning serious.

Although the kid had a severe case of eighth-grade syndrome, he had to have real skills to get into the Sharp Sword Society.

"Let’s go!"

Zhang Hao ordered.

The group rushed out of the cafeteria and sprinted toward the airfield.

As Han Feng ran, he calculated in his head.

’The base pay for this mission, plus the Purple Crystal Wheat promised by Lei Zhen, plus any Demon Beast Materials I might get from hunting... If I can just pull off this one job, I won’t be far from buying my very own fighter jet.’

’Gray Donkey, time to get to work.’

Han Feng patted his helmet, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk.

For the money, and for that damn sense of security.

After arriving at the airfield, Han Feng saw that the huge, rectangular maintenance pod under the Gray Donkey’s fuselage had been detached by the farm’s ground crew.

Without that big belly, the Gray Donkey’s bloated silhouette looked much cleaner.

Han Feng walked a very satisfied lap around the Gray Donkey, then called out to the ground crew organizing ammunition nearby.

"Hey fellas, do me a favor and load the ammo belt up to full."

Han Feng pointed to the feed chute under the nose of the aircraft.

The Gray Donkey might be slow, but its weapon loadout was definitely a class above.

That 30mm six-barreled rotary machine cannon was originally meant for an attack aircraft, but it had been crammed into this plane’s belly.

It had an ammo capacity of a full thousand rounds.

The ground crew pushed over an ammo cart. The gleaming yellow armor-piercing incendiary rounds shone with a mesmerizing luster in the sunlight.

Han Feng picked up a bullet and weighed it in his hand. It was heavy.

’One of these rounds costs fifty Contribution Points.’

He silently calculated in his head.

’That’s the price of two catties of pork.’

’I’ll have to be careful when I start shooting. A miss is a loss; a stray is a crime.’

Just as the ground crew was proficiently operating the loader to "feed" the ammo belt into the fuselage, a heavy, rhythmic vibration suddenly came from the ground.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The sound grew closer, each impact causing the fighter jets on the airfield to tremble slightly.

"Holy crap! The big guys are coming out!"

Wang Meng’s booming voice carried a hint of excitement.

Han Feng followed his gaze.

In the distance, at a massive steel warehouse in the farm’s core area, an alloy gate several meters thick was slowly rising.

Behind the gate was a deep darkness.

Immediately after, three bipedal mechas, each over three meters tall and painted jet-black, walked out with heavy steps.

Behind them followed several dozen smaller mechas of the same model.

"That’s the farm’s ’Iron Armor Camp’!"

Wang Meng’s eyes lit up. He slapped Han Feng hard on the shoulder and began to introduce them as if he were listing his family treasures.

"See that? Those few over four meters tall at the very front are the elite command units, the [Storm II]. Only Meridian Passage Realm Martial Artists can pilot them."

"Their right arms are Spiritual Energy Cannons. One shot can turn a Tier Two Demon Beast into a kebab!"

"The shorter ones behind them are the mass-produced [Iron Wall-IV]. They’re tough as nails and the main force for advancing positions."

"Their pilots have to be veterans at the Body Tempering Seventh Layer, at least."

"When fifty of those things take their positions, they form a solid steel wall!"

Wang Meng’s gaze finally settled on the most massive and ferocious-looking machine at the very front of the column, a mecha nearly six meters tall. His eyes were filled with envy.