High Martial: I Use Everything as Swords

Dozens of silvery-white metal boxes were stacked neatly in the center of the hall, reflecting a grim, cold gleam under the fluorescent lights.

Twenty-four pilots stood ramrod straight, their gazes so intense they could have burned right through the boxes.

Han Feng casually kicked open the lid of the topmost box, revealing a streamlined helmet with a distinctly sci-fi design.

"You all see this?"

Han Feng clapped his hands, his voice echoing in the spacious hall.

"Wang Rui should have already told you how to use this thing."

"This isn’t just a helmet. It’s your bread and butter from now on, half your life up in the sky."

Zhao Tianlan, standing at the front of the formation, swallowed hard.

He had long heard Wang Rui boast about the miraculous experience of Human-Machine Unity.

But now that the moment was here, this ace pilot, accustomed to life-and-death situations, still felt his palms grow slick with sweat.

"Since you all know the procedure, I’ll cut to the chase."

Han Feng pointed to a nearby medical cart, which was covered with syringes and vials of High Tier Nutrient Liquid.

"The process will hurt a little, and you’ll feel drained. That’s a normal reaction. If any of you cry out, don’t you dare claim to be one of my men."

"Begin."

At Han Feng’s command, the twenty-four pilots moved in perfect unison, each taking a box and sitting down cross-legged.

Zhao Tianlan was the first to act.

He picked up the special blood-drawing needle and, without hesitation, pierced several major acupoints near his heart. Circulating his True Qi, he forced out a string of heart’s blood essence rich with his Essence, Qi, and Spirit.

The crimson blood droplets didn’t fall. Instead, he enveloped them in True Qi, causing them to quiver as they floated in mid-air.

"Go!" Zhao Tianlan barked, flicking his finger.

The blood droplets instantly turned into a fine mist and, like iron filings drawn to a magnet, surged toward the helmet in his lap.

VMMMM—

The Rune Array inscribed on the helmet’s surface flared to life, activating the trace of Soul-Burning Sword Aura Han Feng had implanted beforehand. It greedily devoured the surging Qi Blood.

Zhao Tianlan’s face turned deathly pale in an instant. His body swayed, and he nearly collapsed.

The sensation was like someone had hooked a pump to his veins and forcibly siphoned away a massive portion of his Essence, Qi, and Spirit.

It felt as if he would be completely hollowed out at any moment.

A military doctor waiting on standby immediately rushed over, injecting one priceless vial of Tier Three Nutrient Liquid after another into his body as if they were free.

This stabilized his bodily functions, which were on the verge of collapse, and calmed his frantic heartbeat.

Han Feng stood to the side, his Spiritual Power spread out like a vast net, constantly monitoring each person’s condition.

He could feel the powerful Will contained within the bodies of these Mortals. Despite the agony of utter depletion, not one of them made a sound.

Only the sound of heavy, ragged gasps, rising and falling, was jarringly clear in the silent training hall.

Ten minutes passed. When the final Rune faded from view, the helmet in Zhao Tianlan’s lap had transformed.

Its cold, metallic texture had been replaced by a warm, gentle luster. Faintly, streams of crimson light could be seen flowing within, giving it an eerie, captivating beauty.

As Zhao Tianlan held the helmet, a marvelous sensation of a blood connection washed over him.

Without even putting it on, he could "feel" the rhythmic pulse of the array inside. It was like an extension of his own arm, full of infinite possibilities.

This strange connection filled him with unprecedented satisfaction and excitement, despite his physical weakness.

It was as if he had found his other half.

"Alright, stop grinning like an idiot." Han Feng tossed over a bottle of Qi Replenishing Pills. "You have half an hour to recover, then you’re getting in the cockpits. I want to see results."

...

「Forty minutes later.」

On the runway, seven brand-new "Ghost" X-02 mass-production fighters were lined up in a row.

Engines roared and heat washed over the tarmac, distorting the very air. They looked like great beasts of steel, lying in wait.

Zhao Tianlan sat in the cockpit of the lead jet and put on the helmet that had cost him so much blood.

CLICK.

The moment the faceplate locked into place, his world changed.

There was none of the Tearing dizziness Wang Rui had described, nor the throbbing pain of a massive data influx overwhelming his brain.

His perspective instantly zoomed out and up. His senses stretched out, seemingly without limit, and the entire fighter jet felt as if it had fused with his very nerve endings. The wings were his arms, the engine his heart. Every minute command was met with instantaneous, direct feedback.

The sluggish, disconnected sensation vanished without a trace, replaced by an exhilarating freedom and a sense of absolute control.

It was as if he’d been born part of this aircraft, able to clearly feel the currents of air gliding over the wings, every pulse of the engine as strong and steady as his own heart.

’Coordination... 72%!’

Staring at the data flashing across his retinal display, Zhao Tianlan was so excited he almost yelled.

After all, he had trained himself to death in the simulators, and his best score had barely scraped 45%.

And now, just by giving a little blood, it had skyrocketed past the combat-ready standard. It was nothing short of a miracle!

"All callsigns, this is Zero-One."

Zhao Tianlan issued the command with his thoughts, his mental "voice" trembling with irrepressible excitement. "Take off!"

No need to push the stick, no need to touch the rudders.

It took nothing more than a thought.

All seven fighters reacted in unison, their engine nozzles erupting with ghostly blue afterburns.

Like seven Sharp Swords, they tore through the air, launching vertically and rocketing straight into the clouds.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Sonic boom clouds bloomed in succession above the runway.

The ground crew clapped their hands over their ears, staring dumbfounded as the seven black streaks of light performed one unbelievable maneuver after another in the sky.

The Cobra Maneuver, the Falling Leaves, the Extreme Speed Herbst Maneuver.

These were maneuvers that, in the past, only the ace of aces could perform, and only when in peak condition.