Rust mist with rust stars has a smell.
Like copper wire scorched by psychic energy mixed with engine oil, with a hint of the sweet smell of rotten psychic crystal, Feng Hao crouched in the half-mecha wreckage, the hydraulic pliers biting a hot energy conduit. The remaining blue electricity in the tube burst out from time to time, leaving tiny scorch marks on the back of his hand, but he didn't even blink an eyelid; he just rubbed it casually with his sleeve, revealing half of his cold, glowing metal forearm - the mechanical prosthetic left to him by his father, with several strips of emergency tape wrapped around the paint-peeling joint, like a scar that hasn't healed.
With a "clang", the energy tube was torn off, and the remaining psychic energy inside turned into a speck, vanishing into a fog of rust. Feng Hao threw the tube into the canvas bag on his back, which was already filled with fragments, enough to replace half a block of the most basic nutritional paste. He looked up at the sky. The rust fog was so thick that he couldn't even see the federal abandoned geosynchronous satellite, only the occasional sound of patrol ship engines cutting through the fog, like a Damocles' sword hanging over the heads of every scavenger.
"Lad, your hands are quite sharp."
Three figures emerged from the depths of the mecha cemetery. The leader, a burly man, had an electromagnetic cigarette in his mouth. The red light on the cigarette butt flickered in the fog. He played with an energy dagger in his hand, and the psychic energy on the edge of the blade was in a jumble like a tangled ball - it was obvious that it was a poor quality modified from a scrapped psychic core, but it was enough to walk across the lawless land of Rusty Star.
Feng Hao did not speak, but just quietly moved the canvas bag behind him. He recognized the gang, the notorious scavenger robbers in the neighborhood, who targeted lone travelers like him. The joints of the mechanical prosthetics suddenly gave a slight jolt, as if warning, and he instinctively clenched the hydraulic pliers, his knuckles turning white from the force.
"What's in the bag?" The burly man spat out the cigarette butt and pointed the dagger straight at Feng Hao's canvas bag. "Show it to the guys. Maybe it can be exchanged for something good."
The other two chuckled and came around, their footsteps rubbing against the ground full of broken armor pieces. Feng Hao's Adam's apple moved. He knew what would happen to rebel - last month, a new scavenger who refused to hand over something was stripped of his arm and thrown into a pile of psychic waste, and there was no sound the next day.
"Take it out." The burly dagger pressed against Feng Hao's chest, and the stabbing pain from the inferior psychic blade tightened the back of his neck.
Just then, the mechanical prosthesis suddenly became hot, as if there were a ball of fire burning in a metal tube. Feng Hao suddenly remembered his father's last words: "There's something hidden in this arm. Don't use it unless it's absolutely necessary." Before he could think about it, the heat had already spread through his veins all over his body, and the blue-purple psychic energy burst out from the fingertips of the mechanical prosthetic limb without warning, like a bolt of lightning that suddenly tore through the rust mist.
"What the hell? !" The burly man subconsciously raised the energy shield - the second-hand one he had snatched, with a dent on the shield surface.
But this time, the energy shield failed to stop.
The moment the blue-purple psychic hit the shield, the proud energy membrane burst like a burst soap bubble, and the fragments roared in all the way. Feng Hao himself was stunned as he looked at the flowing psychic energy on the mechanical prosthesis, which shone in his pupils like a boiling psychic solution in his father's laboratory.
"Psychic and mechanical fusion!" Someone screamed.
Feng Hao knew better than anyone else what these four words meant in the Rust Belt Star. He suddenly came to his senses and slammed the hydraulic pliers back on the nearest man's knee, taking advantage of the moment when the man bent down in pain, he grabbed the canvas bag and ran deep into the mecha graveyard. The humming of the energy dagger and the cursing came from behind, but he dared not look back, the psychic power of the mechanical prosthetic limb was still going wild, and with every step he ran, there was a bluish-purple light mark on the ground.
In the low-flying Iron Eagle Guard patrol ship, the surveillance screen suddenly lit up with a blinding red light.
"High-risk psychic fusion reaction detected." Cold electronic sounds echoed in the cabin.
On the screen, bluish-purple psychic tracks were clearly visible, and at the end was the silhouette of a runaway teenager whose mechanical prosthetic limbs glinted ominous in the rust mist.
"Target locked - Feng Hao."
The red name slowly emerged in the center of the screen, like a death sentence for Dao.
Feng Hao's lungs seemed to be filled with rust mist, and every breath was accompanied by a scraping pain like metal. He crawled into the chest of a decommissioned heavy mecha, which was once the standard equipment of the Federation Army and now only had a rusty skeleton, but could barely hold off the pursuers behind him.
The mechanical prosthetic's psychic power was still running around, and the bluish-purple light seeped through the gaps between his fingers, casting distorted shadows on the inner walls of the mecha. He held his arm tightly, trying to suppress the strange force with his willpower, but the cold sweat in his palm made the metal surface even more slippery.
"I found that guy!"
The robber's roar came from outside the mecha, accompanied by the "ding-dong" sound of the energy dagger hitting the armor. Feng Hao curled up in the wreckage of the cockpit, his gaze sweeping over the scratched console - which still had the blood handprints of its former owner, which had turned dark brown under the erosion of the spirit energy.
"Come out and die!" The voice of the burly man came close to the armor, "Spirit Weapon Fusion, the Iron Eagle Guard will deal with you sooner or later. It's better to leave your arms now, and you can be left with a whole body!"
Feng Hao touched an emergency cable under the console with his fingertips. The insulation was already rotten, and the exposed copper wire was flashing a faint current. He looked at the twitching psychic power on the mechanical prosthetic limb, and a wild thought suddenly emerged.
What happened in father's lab when the psychic solution came into contact with an electric current?
He had no time to think about it, and the moment he grabbed the cable, the blue-purple psychic of the mechanical prosthetic limb wound itself around.
"Boom!"
A violent explosion burst out of the mecha's chest, not a frenzy of psychic power, but a shock wave produced by the collision of electric current and psychic power. The wreckage of the entire heavy mecha was shaking, and the rusty armor plates were rustling like fallen leaves.
Feng Hao was blown away by the air wave and hit the inner side of the shoulder armor of the mecha, with a sweet and fishy sensation in his throat. But he didn't have time to wipe the blood from the corner of his mouth. With the cover of the swirling smoke and dust, he slipped out through the crack in the armor.
Behind him came the robbers' screams, probably wounded by the flying debris. Feng Hao did not dare to look back and only knew to run to the deeper cemetery - where countless scrapped mechs were piled up, the most suitable place for hide-and-seek on the Rusty Belt Star.
The mechanical prosthesis's psychic power was weakened after the explosion, but it seemed to have taken root and flowed slowly through the metal vessels. He could clearly sense that force, no longer as violent as before, but with a bit of... Familiar warmth, like the vibration in the palm of his father's hand when he was debugging his psychic device before his death.
"Daddy..." He murmured subconsciously.
Before he could finish speaking, a shrill alarm suddenly pierced the sky.
It wasn't the robbers' cry, it was the Iron Eagle Guard patrol ship!
Feng Hao raised his head sharply. The rust mist was torn apart by a searchlight, and the pale beam of light swept over the mecha graveyard and finally settled on him. The sound of the patrol ship's engine drew nearer and nearer, shaking the ground to the point of numbness.
He saw the iron eagle emblem on the hull, glowing cold under the searchlight. A lackey of the Federation, an accomplice of the Dao Alliance, a nightmare for all the fenders of the Rusty Belt Star.
The mechanical prosthetics suddenly trembled violently, as if sensing something. Feng Hao lowered his head and saw the emergency tape on his metal wrist scorched by psychic energy, revealing a blurry line of engravings beneath - that was his father's name, Feng Zhan.
"Target, coordinates X73, Y29." The patrol ship's loudspeaker made a mechanical synthesis sound, "Repeat, high-risk spiritual and mechanical fusion found, requesting support."
Feng Hao turned and ran, and the shadow of the mecha cemetery became his only cover. He got into the landing gear of a scrapped reconnaissance aircraft and watched the searchlight flash overhead, his heart pounding like it was about to explode.
The communicator, which was hidden in the gap of the landing gear, suddenly sizzled. It was a second-hand item he had picked up, and usually he could only hear the black market radio of the scavenger. But now, the Iron Eagle Guards' encrypted communication was coming from inside, disrupted by some kind of interference signal:
"... Detecting psychic fluctuations... Consistent with... Chaos Protocol..."
Chaos Protocol? What's that?
Feng Hao's attention was interrupted by the sudden sound of footsteps. Not robbers, heavier steps, with the characteristic hydraulic sound of a mecha.
The ground troops of the Iron Eagle Guard are coming.
He pressed against the cold armor plate and felt that familiar warmth rise again from the mechanical prosthetic limb. This time it was not an out-of-control outburst, but rather like a bowstring ready to burst forth.
Father said there was something hidden in the arm.
Maybe it's more than just something.
The searchlight swept over again, and this time Feng Hao did not dodge. He looked at the blue-purple psychic energy flowing from the mechanical prosthetic limb and suddenly clenched his fist.
He couldn't run away.
Then try to see how hard this "legacy" left by father can be.