Counterfeit Hero Chapter 110: Revised: Volume 3, - 20 The Status of the Mecha

Editor: Geoffrey_

Fatty and Milan turned their heads, only to see a middle-aged man with several bodyguards arguing intensely with a short young man. The topic of their debate was the effect of the cha’s size and weight on its speed. This issue is actually very simple; the cha’s shape, weight, engine power, energy distribution, electronic systems, transmission, and drive system, as well as the initial focus of its design, all affect its speed. It’s just like humans and horses: horses are heavier and larger than humans but humans can’t outrun horses, while elephants are larger and heavier than cheetahs but can’t outrun cheetahs. This is a very clear logic, but when it’s applied to chas, it changes the point of view.

When it cos to chas, the speed of off-road travel and road travel are two different concepts. Long-distance travel at full power and short-distance burst speed are also different concepts. The drive modes of humanoid chas, beast-shaped chas, and insect-shaped chas are fundantally different and can’t be debated using such general principles.

These two guys were obviously beginners, stubborn and clueless. The rich middle-aged man argued that greater power equates to faster speed, with larger chas taking longer strides, while the short young man loudly rebutted, asserting that the smaller size faces less gravitational and inertial impact, thus being more agile with better burst speed. They fervently interrupted each other, vehently accusing each other of ridiculous notions.

Fatty laughed so hard his stomach hurt. The two argued loudly, heedless of those around them, their debate was completely misaligned. The middle-aged man talked about speed while the young man discussed burst speed; one ignored agility while the other ignored endurance. Yet both argued passionately, with the crowd listening intently, with even so troublemakers joining in just to stir things up.

Since their understanding of speed concepts differed, naturally the rationale followed suit. But these two gained montum, personal attacks beca evident, and more people joined in the fray. Short people mainly sided with the young man while tall ones sided with the middle-aged man. So seasoned cha enthusiasts tried to intervene multiple tis to explain, but were rebuffed. Fatty secretly asked Milan, "Why are these people at this level?"

Milan, listening and laughing with a hand over her mouth, said, "Those who can afford chas are usually wealthy. Few truly understand cha maintenance. Do you think everyone has your luck, getting to see blueprints in labs? Nowadays, top chanics are recruited by major corporations. cha maintenance and modification involve many disciplines; it’s hard for anyone to master them all. chanics and modifiers in the civilian sector, regardless of skill, call themselves masters. Most are newcors, and those with so fa are elevated high. This repair center’s strength lies not in the skill level of its chanics but in its large, cooperative team."

Fatty pondered this, and it seed true. Without his military training in the Repair Camp or being forced by Boswell to study theory and blueprints in the lab, he might be worse than these two. They are at least experienced cha players, while he had never even touched a cha before, only liked buying cha books. He was completely ignorant of internal structures and paraters. The speed concept of chas and Flying Cars is entirely different. The structure and drive modes are of two distinct types. With the vast array of private chas, even models of the sa size and weight perform differently in speed. It’s extrely difficult for a novice to grasp the principles without systematic study.

Seeing no staff intervening in this heated argunt, Fatty thought, "No wonder this repair center is so busy, daring to call itself unbeatable. Compared to these players, it indeed seems unbeatable. If I retire, I’ll open a repair center and claim to be super unbeatable. Wouldn’t that be cool?"

Both sides were getting heated, the short young man said, "Don’t believe ? I’ll show you. Let’s race, you’re taller, let’s see who’s faster!" This confused logic left the middle-aged man speechless. He was used to being pampered; now soone wants him to race! Fortunately, one of his well-built bodyguards stepped forward and said to the young man, "I’m taller than you, why don’t we race?"

The young man didn’t expect to be caught in his own challenge. He was confident against the middle-aged man but facing this bodyguard, built like a sprint champion, he felt unsure. His eyes road, hoping soone among his companions would step in to replace him.

Fatty, tired of the noise, decided to join in, loudly saying, "I’ll race you!"

This was directed at the young man, who was furious. "Championship physique bullying is bad enough, but why are you a fatty getting involved? Fine! We’ll race! You’re taller and heavier, let’s see who’s faster!" The middle-aged man, seeing victory within grasp, was suddenly interrupted by Fatty, and said, "No, no, my guy will race. You can’t!" Fatty retorted, "Why can’t I? I’m taller and heavier, my stride counts for two of his. I insist on racing!"

"Not only will I race him, I’ll race your guy too!" Fatty proclaid, "It’s unfair to bully us short people!" The crowd erupted, wondering where Fatty stood, as he challenged both sides, clearly looking to have fun. The bodyguard confidently shook his head, "You can’t outrun ; you’re too fat!" Fatty retorted, "No way, I’ll race! You’re bullying for being short and underestimating for being fat. I’ll show you what a nimble Fatty can do!"

The middle-aged man, fired up, declared, "Asan! Go, make him lose completely!"

Milan, laughing so hard she clung to Fatty, the two were carried along by the crowd to an open area in the cha repair waiting area. Fatty pretended to do warm-up exercises while Milan struggled, trying to pinch him to death amidst the laughter.

A bystander marked a starting line, asured a hundred ters, and brought a cha to act as referee, using its optical scanner to ti the race. Standing at the starting line, the middle-aged man shouted, "Wait!" Everyone paused, watching him approach Fatty. He said, "Originally, you shouldn’t be involved, but since you insisted, if Asan loses, I’ll give you a [Hurricane]. If you lose, what will you do?" The crowd buzzed; a brand new 2059 [Hurricane] private cha was a coveted treasure.

Fatty hesitated, not knowing what to say and ready to denounce gambling when Milan boldly declared, "We’ll give you a [Hurricane] if we lose!"

Imdiately, two voices echoed simultaneously, "I’ll provide the [Hurricane]!" Fatty and Milan turned to see two people staring at each other in surprise, one of whom was a familiar face—Mills, the Young Master of Simai Hotel. Beside him were his usual companions, smiling broadly.

Fatty didn’t recognize the other person. Puzzled, he wondered if he had ever seen this person before. Mills supporting him was strange enough, and now an unknown old man looked serious about it. When did Fatty’s running beco so popular?

Mills ca up to Fatty, saying, "Brother Tian, I was childish before. Regardless of winning or losing today, consider this an apology. I wanted to speak with you last ti but missed the chance." Among those present, Mills and his friends were most aware of Fatty’s identity. Despite being sowhat naive, growing up in a business family gave Mills a quick understanding of appropriate actions. Plus, they genuinely wanted to be friends with Fatty.

The unknown old man stood aside, smiling silently.

Fatty helplessly nodded at Mills, feeling cornered yet determined. Damn it, I’ll give my all. Losing would be really embarrassing.

At the signal, the three dashed forward like arrows. Fatty, with special training, left the agile young man behind within thirty ters. By seventy ters, even the bodyguard Asan couldn’t keep up with Fatty’s frenetic pace. When Fatty, like a raging rhino, crossed the finish line first, everyone was speechless. No one expected Fatty to be so formidable.

The middle-aged man was stunned, never expecting Asan to lose. Worse, he had willingly offered up a [Hurricane]. Though he didn’t mind losing a cha, as a supposedly charming and elegant high-society figure, his pride mattered. Fatty cheerfully returned, easily winning a [Hurricane] cha, feeling eager to race again.

Unfortunately, the middle-aged man didn’t plan on being a sucker twice. He angrily called over a staff mber from the repair center and said, "Bring him a [Hurricane] and put it on my tab." Fatty seriously said to the middle-aged man, "See that? The real speedy one is Fatty’s cha! You should focus your modifications in that direction from now on!"

Upon hearing Fatty’s words, the onlookers who understood laughed. An old stranger couldn’t hold back and loudly said, "This gentleman is just joking with everyone. Modifying a cha involves many aspects, not just the influence of its size and weight. If you’re unclear about it, our center regularly holds cha lectures. You’re welco to attend." After speaking, he smiled wryly and whispered to Fatty, "Master, please don’t tease us. If we really modified chas to be like Fatty’s, our reputation would be ruined by these nitpickers."

A bit startled, Fatty asked, "What did you call ?"

The old stranger laughed, "Master! You are definitely a master of cha modifications! I was just listening behind you for quite a while. Everything you said about each cha was spot-on. Your insights truly impress . Look, I even recorded it." As he spoke, he took out a tiny recording device and pressed replay. The voices of Fatty and Milan discussing the pros and cons of various chas played back.

"You are...?" Fatty found it odd that this person had been recording him for no reason. The old stranger smiled, "I’m Hescoe, the owner of this repair center."

Fatty was shocked to find out that their commotion had drawn out the boss himself, and he smiled, flattered, "Wow, the mighty boss! I hope I didn’t cause you any trouble?"

Hescoe knew the na of his center might offend experts, so he laughed, "The na was chosen out of spite. Sorry if it amused you."

Fatty thought for a mont, recognizing the favor Hescoe had shown, and waved his hand, "Haha, just joking. But... although the modified chas you have on display are quite good, they aren’t exactly unbeatable. Argunts about these issues are quite simple. It’s just that when your staff doesn’t bother to explain, it makes things seem off."

Mills and his friends, who were also listening, were stunned. When did Fatty Lieutenant beco a cha modification expert? But thinking it over, rescuing so many people from behind enemy lines must take so skill! Hearing that the old man was the boss, Mills said, "By the way, my cha has been here for modifications for about a month. Why isn’t it done yet?"

Hescoe hesitated, glanced around, and said, "Well, so things shouldn’t be discussed here. Let’s go to my office."

Fatty and Milan, already eager to learn more about private chas, agreed. They followed Hescoe to his office. Once the door was closed, Hescoe smiled wryly and said, "There’s nothing we can do. Nowadays, skilled chanics are rare. I can barely keep this center running because my team is solid. Skilled chanics don’t stay long; they get poached by big companies with formal training systems and high pay. No one wants to work in small modification shops anymore. We can hardly keep up with the workload these days."

Fatty curiously noted, "But your business seems good!"

While pouring tea for them, Hescoe explained, "I’m the tallest dwarf. People co here because they don’t have other options." He sighed, "In a few days, I’ll lose a few more skilled chanics. The East District is opening a new repair center, bigger than mine, backed by a cha manufacturing company. Even newbies flock there. Forget about old masters."

One of Mills’ quicker friends chuckled, "You’re hoping this master will be your top chanic, aren’t you?"

Hescoe’s face reddened, seeing his thoughts exposed, and said, "Well... I don’t know where Master works, but if he’s willing... It’s just that I’m desperate, and I must have seed foolish to you all."

Fatty and Milan exchanged a knowing smile, thinking, "This old guy has a sharp mind."

Mills shook his head and said, "Better forget about it. You wouldn’t believe who he is... better drop it. Saying it would scare you." His look of pride suggested knowing Fatty’s identity was a big deal.

Hescoe, savvy from decades in the repair business, quickly changed his approach, smiling as he handed Fatty a card, "This is our VIP card. Your expenses here are on . If you’re interested, feel free to drop by for tea and give us so tips!"

Fatty was bewildered, only now realizing the high regard in which skilled chanics were held in these private repair shops. Just by discussing with Milan, he was almost treated like an idol. The reception was overwhelming. Uncertain, Milan smoothly took the card from Hescoe, smiling, "Sure! As long as you don’t mind the trouble, we’ll co by anyti. It’s not about giving tips; we all learn together."

Fatty understood Milan’s plan. Despite their lab’s comprehensive blueprints and data, their main focus was on military chas. [Logic] would need to incorporate experiences from private chas for future modifications. What place could be better for research than a center dedicated to private cha repairs? Not only could they encounter various cha types and modification ideas, they could examine internal structures and system components firsthand. This opportunity was indeed valuable.

Seeing Milan agree, Hescoe grinned ear to ear and said to Mills, "I’ll call the workshop about your cha right away and make sure it’s prioritized!" He picked up the phone, ready to ask for Mills’ cha repair number, when suddenly, the office door burst open. A staff mber rushed in, out of breath, shouting, "Mr. Hescoe, soone’s causing trouble!"

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Five thousand words! I’ve given my first piece. Charging for the top four, brothers, cast your monthly votes. (To be continued. For more, please log in to CMFU. Support the author and official reading!)