Tl: Hua

Chapter 65

There are thirty military academies of various sizes in the First Galaxy, but only Mars and Eagle are located on the capital planet.

Mars, as a traditional powerhouse of the First Galaxy, recruits elite children of the nobility and military-political figures from the capital planet and major core planets, as well as civilian geniuses with exceptional talent or distinguished combat records. Eagle, as a military academy that has risen in the last few decades, mainly caters to the descendants of emerging families in the First Galaxy. Most students are either wealthy or high-status. Combined with the school’s extreme proficiency in using StarNet media for hype and promotion, basically six or seven out of every ten students are “celebrity cadets.”

It could be said that due to the vast differences from top to bottom, the two schools perfectly inherited the fine tradition of “two tigers cannot share one mountain.” Even if they maintained basic decorum on the surface, the private rivalry never ceased. From time to time, one could even see fierce flame wars between students and fans on anonymous StarNet forums.

“If they really are the hosts this year, the events will likely become flashy and gimmicky for the sake of viewership and trending topics,” Pei Yingye said. “I can already sense how many paid commenters they’ll hire on StarNet to manipulate public opinion.”

Ji Xuan expressed great confusion at this.

Pei Yingye gave a snorted laugh and explained patiently, “Because in the last Military Academy League, their sixteenth-ranked student got lucky and took down Mars’ then-third-ranked student in the finals—”

He paused deliberately, as if recalling something hard to swallow.

“As a result, that group acted as if they’d finally caught a once-in-a-millennium marketing opportunity and bragged on StarNet for an entire year. Those who didn’t know better would think they’d single-handedly wiped out an interstellar pirate stronghold and saved the entire galaxy.”

He rolled his eyes as he said, “‘Counter-attack,’ ‘dark horse,’ ‘breaking the Mars monopoly myth’… I’ve almost memorized the buzzwords. Now that it’s their turn to set the stage, they’ll probably seize the chance to put on a massive show.”

Ji Xuan originally didn’t have much interest in the league, but hearing him say this, he felt a bit of a spark.

He flipped through the brochure repeatedly. Judging by the flashy illustrations, there was an eighty or ninety percent chance the host was indeed Eagle Military Academy; after all, the flamboyant style and introduction matched perfectly.

So, after thinking it over, he submitted his application on the system the same day the league notice was issued.

The application process was exceptionally smooth; the system backend approved it almost instantly. Ji Xuan closed the interface and lightly tapped his fingertips twice against the cold screen. Hearing the movement, Mephisto poked its head out from Ji Xuan’s sleeve, flicking its scarlet tongue with a hiss while its beady eyes looked up at him.

Ji Xuan stroked the creature’s head and said softly, “I should be able to take you with me this time.”

Mephisto tilted its head.

Finding the gesture incredibly cute, Ji Xuan gently squeezed the snake’s head to snap a photo and posted it to his StarNet account. However, Pei Yingye, who usually liked, commented, and sent private messages almost immediately, was nowhere to be found today. After waiting a while, Ji Xuan simply tossed his terminal aside and walked out to the balcony to catch the breeze.

–

Inside the Medical Capsule

Pei Yingye had just opened his eyes when the icy blue liquid was rapidly receding from the cabin, leaving only a damp, sticky feeling. He propped himself up, pressing his fingertips against his throbbing temples. His body was feeling weak and aching.

“How do you feel?” A doctor in a white coat stood by the pod, recording physiological data on a light screen.

“Like someone smashed my head open and glued it back together haphazardly…” Pei Yingye shook his wet hair, droplets splashing against the edge of the pod. “It’s been so many years; why is this treatment still so agonizing?”

This was exactly why he hated coming. After the first six months of treatment proved utterly useless, he had steadfastly committed to his plan of “avoiding the doctor.” Had he not been so desperate to know what exactly happened during those days, Pei Yingye might have remained a cowardly ostrich, burying his head in the sand.

After all, this method of memory restoration felt like a power drill buzzing into his skull, churning up the brain tissue and spinal fluid inside.

The doctor was unfazed by his complaining. The eighteen-year-old Pei Yingye was far more prone to arrogant outbursts than he is now. He patiently explained, “Memory repair is delicate work. This reaction is normal.”

He then asked, “Did you see anything this time? Any fragments or flashes?”

Pei Yingye gave a noncommittal “Mm” and took the dry clothes handed to him.

“A snake. A pitch-black snake.” Pei Yingye measured the length with his fingers. “Just about this small, but its bite hurts like hell. It was hiding in the grass and nipped me when I wasn’t looking.”

Blurred memories rushed into his mind following his description—blazing sunlight, delphinium swaying in the wind, and a black snake standing alert in the grass. He had crouched there, staring at it for a long while, feeling a deep inner resistance.

He didn’t want it to be seen; he didn’t want it to stay… Was it panic? No, it felt more like an instinctive, possessive drive. In his heart, he had a faint inkling that this snake would grow very long and very large in the future; it would always stay by a certain person’s side. That person would often lean against the cool body of the snake, and its coiled tail would lift him high, allowing him to look down on everyone else.

And yet, he himself could not stay forever like that.

The doctor mused, “That sounds like a good sign.”

Pei Yingye didn’t respond. He changed into clean clothes and looked for his terminal. “When is the next session?”

“It depends on your mental network. Likely in a week,” the doctor said, adding a reminder, “I checked the schedule; isn’t the League starting soon? Your condition is fine; just participate in fewer events that require high mental strain… like Mecha. Your school is full of talent; it shouldn’t be a problem for someone else to fill in, right?”

Pei Yingye nodded and left the infirmary. The moment he opened the door, notification pings chimed one after another, mostly from his special following on StarNet.

He opened Ji Xuan’s update. Although the snake in the photo looked completely different from the one in his memory, both were equally annoying in his eyes.

However, Ji Xuan had apparently been asked for his social media handle by many people recently; the likes were skyrocketing. Pei Yingye hurriedly tapped a “Like” and switched to their private chat.

[Want to go on a date?] (Message Retracted)

[I saw a good movie playing, want me to pick you up?]

After a while, Ji Xuan replied: [1]

Pei Yingye immediately donned his helmet and sped back to Mars Military Academy on his motorcycle. Despite calling the movie “good,” he hadn’t even finished the trailer; he’d simply heard influencers recommending it as a must-watch for couples.

As it turned out, every movie marketed as “must-watch for couples” was just like the celebrity students of Eagle Military Academy—utterly useless despite the flashy exterior.

After receiving Ji Xuan’s skeptical look regarding his taste for the umpteenth time, Pei Yingye finally admitted his mistake. He planned to go onto StarNet, give the trash film a negative rating, and write a scathing review of unprecedented proportions.

Fortunately, the milk tea at the cinema was far better than the school cafeteria’s. The country demon lord, who hadn’t seen much of the world, was quite satisfied and rewarded Pei Yingye with a kiss before returning to the dorms.

Pei Yingye was over the moon.

Ji Xuan, however, tasted the bitter tang of medicine in the kiss. He licked his lips, choosing not to mention that he had smelled an unusual scent on Pei Yingye since getting on the bike, even on his hair. Despite attempts to mask it, the man smelled like he’d been marinated in a pharmacy.

But since Pei Yingye seemed agile and clear-headed and was even turning on his screen while driving the bike, Ji Xuan considerately didn’t pry.

The preliminary notices for the League were soon issued, and intensive special training began. Unsurprisingly, Ji Xuan and Pei Yingye secured two of Mars’ core spots, becoming nearly inseparable during training.

League rules dictated no more than twenty participants per school. Beyond the top-ranking students from the current year’s evaluation, top students from the other three years joined as well. Since training for different departments was held separately, Ji Xuan didn’t meet the full Mars roster until the eve of the preliminaries.

Lai Zhou had tanned significantly at the Blackstone Fortress; at first glance, Ji Xuan almost thought this potato-colored fellow was a new race from the Third Galaxy. Shen Que’s injuries had long since healed. When Ji Xuan boarded the transport, Shen Que was discussing mecha repair plans with a teammate. Hearing the noise, Shen Que looked up; his gaze went from indifferent to filled with an indescribable emotion.

It’s only been half a month since he last saw Ji Xuan on Planet Belheim, yet it felt as if he hadn’t seen Ji Xuan in an eternity.

Shen Que stood up, hesitated for a long time, and finally settled on a nod as a greeting. “Good morning. I am the team leader for this event.”

As the top student, his appointment as leader was expected, given his seniority, his rank in the Mecha Department, and his family background.

Ji Xuan gave a cold greeting and walked toward the back. Shaikh, sitting in the very last row, tracked Ji Xuan with his eyes until the latter sat next to Pei Yingye. Only then did Shaikh slowly lower his eyelids. A smile remained on his face as his fingers tapped rhythmically against his knee, his thoughts unreadable.

The aircraft carried the group across most of the capital planet, finally arriving before sunset at the luxury hotel Eagle Military Academy had arranged for the visiting teams.

As the hatch slid open, air heavily laden with a cloying, sweet fragrance rushed in. Several scent-sensitive Alphas in the group sneezed repeatedly.

Pei Yingye rubbed his nose, his expression sour. He leaned toward Ji Xuan to catch a breath of air and grumbled, “They’re so desperate to show off how much money they have to burn.”

Ji Xuan didn’t respond, his calm gaze scanning their surroundings. The magnificent lobby, the dazzling crystal chandeliers refracting piercing light, floors so polished they mirrored every shadow, and drone cameras were everywhere.

A few students in Eagle uniforms stood at the front desk. Seeing them enter, they donned impeccable smiles.

“Welcome, Mars Military Academy.” The leader of the group stepped forward, a hint of arrogance hidden beneath his polite tone. “Your accommodations are ready; here are the key cards. If you need anything, feel free to contact the staff.”

As the leader, Shen Que took the key cards expressionlessly and said curtly, “Thanks.”

The Eagle student’s gaze swept over the team behind Shen Que, the curve of his lips deepening subtly. “We hope you have a pleasant time at Eagle. We also look forward to a wonderful… exchange in the upcoming league.”

The words were polite, but the emphasis on “exchange” was a blatant provocation.

Pei Yingye sneered, “Don’t worry, we’ll make it unforgettable.”

The Eagle student’s face stiffened for a split second before returning to normal as he stepped aside.

Their rooms were on a high floor with an excellent view, overlooking Eagle Military Academy’s meticulously crafted artificial lake and training grounds. The interiors were equally lavish: smart controls, entertainment systems, and even a small bar.

However, there is no such thing as a free lunch.

“We explicitly stated during registration that we have an Omega student participating. But now you’ve deliberately placed him in a suite with several Alphas—” Shen Que held the room key and contacted the lobby through the robot in the corridor, coldly questioning, “Do you really think we don’t know what you’re playing at?”

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