Throat? That's right, for almost all humanoid mechas, the throat is a critical weak point. Due to its dense array of light nodes, even slight damage can easily cause mecha control failure. Moreover, overly thick armor at the throat would greatly reduce flexibility, so except for some heavy firepower mechas, most others have to leave this vital area in a rather awkward state. But it's worth noting that almost every mecha owner is well aware of this and takes meticulous care to protect it.

Brian Clark shook his head inwardly, dismissing this idea.

The cockpit? Not even worth considering—no one would neglect their own life! And unlike the throat, the cockpit of a humanoid mecha is located right in the chest, where the armor is by far the thickest on the entire machine. Looking at the magnetic blade in his hand, even if every strike hit the same spot, it would take at least a dozen blows to pierce the cockpit. In close combat, after a dozen strikes, he’d probably have already been chopped to pieces by the opponent’s beam saber, not even a bone fragment left!

So what to do? Brian Clark racked his brains for a solution.

But time waits for no one. Ding—a soft sound, and the battle began!

Brian Clark cast aside all distracting thoughts and focused intently!

Jason sat leisurely in his mecha, the high bridge of his nose and the smile at the corner of his mouth—one that had enchanted countless women—paired with naturally wavy golden hair, made him look like a prince from a fairy tale: noble and elegant, exuding aristocratic grace in every gesture. His brown eyes carried a hint of mockery as he looked at the Blackbird before him.

Jason exclaimed, “Truly, ignorance is fearless! You actually want to challenge my Apollo with that Blackbird? Sigh, looks like I’ll have to give you a proper lesson today!” The contempt in his words was unmistakable.

Determined to “teach” Brian Clark a lesson, as soon as the system prompt finished, Jason piloted his beloved Apollo in great strides toward the Blackbird. He didn’t even activate the firing system, nor did he intend to use the double-layer uranium shield.

The Blackbird remained motionless, as if resigned to its fate, just waiting for him to finish it off.

“Sigh, what an unfortunate guy! But meeting me is your greatest misfortune! Poor fellow!” Jason clicked his tongue. He’d been in a foul mood these days, and now, finally, he had a chance to vent! He couldn’t just kill this plaything in one go—Jason sneered inwardly, a hint of malice in his heart.

The distance between the two rapidly shrank. Jason let out a light snort, his beam saber trembling as it feinted and struck toward the Blackbird.

Jason could almost imagine his opponent’s face now—full of panic and helplessness. With a swish, the Blackbird’s wing would be sliced off by his saber, and then the real cat-and-mouse game would begin. A smug smile spread across Jason’s handsome, slightly wicked face.

The game was just beginning! Jason thought triumphantly.

No shooting? Brian Clark was puzzled. Logically, shooting would be the fastest and safest way to deal with his Blackbird, so why was the opponent choosing the harder route?

The opponent’s slow approach made Brian Clark feel even more uneasy. Even in close combat, not using a speed advantage—wasn’t that just foolish?

When the opponent’s blade slashed at his left wing, Brian Clark was even more confused. Ignoring the vital points and attacking the unimportant left wing instead? And not even using the double-layer uranium shield, leaving the chest wide open. To Brian Clark, this strike was all show and no substance—the beam saber blossomed with red sparks, pretty to look at but utterly lacking in force, and the angle was completely off.

Brian Clark could hardly believe that someone so skilled at modifying mechas could make so many, and such stupid, mistakes.

But regardless, with an opportunity right in front of him, how could Brian Clark let it slip by!

The Blackbird’s speed shot to maximum in an instant. Brian Clark sidestepped smoothly, easily escaping the range of the opponent’s beam saber. The magnetic blade swept upward in a diagonal slash—szzzt—a soft sound, leaving a wound five centimeters deep and nearly a meter long on the opponent, like a gaping mouth, silently mocking. Before the opponent could react, the Blackbird’s left wing, at top speed, crashed heavily into the opponent’s chest.

Both mechas were moving at high speed, so when they collided head-on—bang!—a loud crash sent both machines tumbling awkwardly to either side.

For the well-prepared Brian Clark, this level of impact was child’s play. Basic training included how to react at the moment of collision, and Brian Clark, who had even completed the extremely harsh training set by Logan Carter, had already pinpointed his next landing spot at the very instant of impact.

Brian Clark’s hands moved with astonishing speed, performing complex maneuvers. The auxiliary engines under the Blackbird’s flanks danced like musical notes, deftly and precisely adjusting their angles. All twelve auxiliary engine nozzles recalibrated in just a tenth of a second.

Suddenly, the twelve auxiliary engine nozzles flared open. The Blackbird, just twenty centimeters above the ground, paused slightly. The mechanical arm under its right flank suddenly spread its five fingers, bracing hard before the Blackbird hit the ground. At the same time, the Blackbird’s wings shifted to a horizontal angle, and it was like a great bird skimming the water—just a light touch on the surface, and it soared into flight.