The Undying Mecha Emperor

"What? I get to pick a mecha from this mecha throne room?" I whispered back much louder than I had wanted to and earned an instant SHHH from Jeanette Wen.

"Why are we whispering?" I whispered to her.

"Because I dislike loud noises." An aged voice sounded softly but impossibly clearly. He must have used a sound technique of some sort for me to be able to hear him.

I turned my head to peer into the distance, trying to ascertain where the voice came from.

"Ancestor." Bruce Pang and Jeanette Wen bowed low and greeted the voice at the same time.

"Ancestor." I immediately copied their action and bowed as well.

"Come closer." The aged voice said tiredly.

We quickly made our way forward and walked down the enormous central walkway with the mechas staring down at us from our left and right.

It was such a huge room that even with our near-run walking speed, it still took us nearly three minutes to reach the front of the "throne room".

But apparently I was wrong in calling it a throne room. It was more like a meditation room, as there was no throne in that room. The only thing that greeted us at the very front of the massive room was an old man sitting quietly on a meditation mat.

A very regular looking old man with a slender physique, long white beard and basically white everything.

The thing about meeting new people and making first impressions is that we very often go by whatever we sense about the other person in the first few seconds. And for people with experience, 6th sense or sharp instincts, they would also depend on input from those sources.

For a long time, I had depended on my instincts to form accurate first impressions. It was crucial in my line of work - accurate first impressions on whether or not a person is a spy from a gang member or truly another street rat like me would determine which set of actions I would take, and which would lead to either life or death.

Judging from the fact that I am still alive, I consider myself a pretty good judge of character.

More recently, I had used my sharper than normal senses to read a person much more accurately than they probably had thought possible.

However, this old man was different.

I could not sense anything from him.

My 6th sense and instincts were silent, and my experiences were drawing a complete blank.

There was no sense of danger, no sense of warmth, or anything at all.

It was like he wasn't there.

A little bit of my surprise must have shown somehow, because the old man suddenly smiled and said, "You've gotten used to depending on your instincts for input. It's a bottleneck to your growth. Oh, it is an excellent achievement for a little boy like you, thousands would kill to be in your enviable position. But regardless of how enviable your situation is, it is a bottleneck nonetheless."

I could only nod dumbly and silently at his sudden words.

"You've brought me a good seed this time, Bruce. I assume he has met my minimum requirement of 95 RPL?" The old man glanced at Bruce.

"Yes, Ancestor." Bruce replied respectfully.

"Finally. The test starts in fifteen minutes. Prep him." The old man's eyes twinkled slightly as he looked at me for a second before closing his eyes once more with a smile on his lips.

Bruce grabbed my hand and pulled me to one side to explain the situation to me.

"What is this, big bro? Are you making me into a sacrificial lamb for some sort of cannibalistic mecha cult?" I whispered loudly while looking at the old man.

I could clearly see the old man's lip twitch slightly.

"Haha! Great minds truly think alike! I thought of the same thing as well when I was brought here many long years ago!" Bruce couldn't help but laugh.

"Great minds think alike, yes. But fools seldom differ." Jeanette Wen snorted. "I wonder which of the two categories you two fall under.

"This isn't a cult, little brother. This is a highly prestigious group of exceptional people entrusted with great power and the fulfilment of a great and secret mission!" Bruce explained without explaining anything.

"That sounds exactly like what a cult recruiter would tell his new recruits." I muttered.

"Uhhh. Now that you mention it. It does sound like a low class cult's recruitment speech." Bruce Pang frowned lightly and muttered as well.

"We only have 14 minutes before Justin has to take the test. I suggest we drop the cult topic and focus on the main issue at hand." Jeanette Wen said impatiently.

"Right, right. Justin, pay attention now." Bruce Pang quickly turned serious.

I nodded and focused on him and his words.

"You've just completed the entrance test for the National Mecha Pilot Academy, and now you're officially a student here. What you're about to do can also be viewed as an entrance test, but into a secret and powerful organization within the National Mecha Pilot Academy.

Both Jeanette and I are senior members within this organization, while Grand Elder Shella whom you have just met is a junior member.

We are called the Blood Moon, and we are the Academy's secret force." Bruce Pang explained.

"There are and can only be thirty six Blood Moons in the National Mecha Pilot Academy at any given time, and these are their mechas." Bruce pointed to the thirty six mechas in the giant room.

"However, after the previous war which saw many of our senior and junior members die horribly in battle, the old man here had decided to raise the bar for recruitment into the Blood Moon, and for many long years, our number had stagnated at 10 seniors and 17 juniors. If you pass today's test, you will be our 18th junior, and will be given one of the remaining eight Mecha Disciples."

"Huh?" I was totally confused. "But if this is a secret organization, why were ALL the elders so ecstatic? Do they all know?"