Author: hoenimochi (Page 1 of 95)

Shi Lu nearly sprang off the sofa. He stared at Chi Zhou with his mouth half-open, utterly dumbfounded, as though countless words were caught in his throat and none of them would come out.

Chi Zhou simply waved a hand at the bunny girl. She immediately understood. Cradling a top hat brimming with chips, she swayed gracefully out of the room.

“Sir, what are you doing?!”

The door had barely shut before Shi Lu rushed over, anxious as an ant on a hot pan.

“Shadow Warrior is the strongest underground fighter in District One! Don’t you already have his file?”

“Didn’t I tell you already? Don’t call me ‘Sir’ in here.” Chi Zhou shot him a sidelong glance. “You’ve read Shadow Warrior’s file, but have you read Iron Cavalry’s?”

Shi Lu shook his head in confusion.

“No. Have you?”

Instead of answering, Chi Zhou gestured toward the shadowy figure standing in the arena below.

“Then what are you waiting for? Go look it up.”

Understanding dawned on Shi Lu at once. He hurried into the adjoining room and immediately began rattling away at the keyboard.

In the interstellar era, physical displays had long since become obsolete. All anyone had to do was enter their ID to access every file within their authorisation level.

The underground fighting arena, however, seemed frozen in the age of Ancient Earth. It still ran on an antique system that was over a century old, requiring an actual computer terminal and keyboard just to retrieve information.

Shi Lu had come from the Institute of Historical Studies and was one of the few people in the military who still knew how to use such an outdated system. That was precisely why Chi Zhou had brought him along, despite Shi Lu’s only basic understanding of mecha.

While Shi Lu searched through the archives, Chi Zhou walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window and looked down into the arena.

The match had already begun.

The two mecha stood facing each other across the coliseum. A heavy wind swept through the open arena, making the trees beside the spectator stands shiver violently. Someone’s hat was blown away. Bottle in hand, the man cursed under his breath as he walked down a couple of rows to retrieve it. But the moment he straightened up, his attention was immediately drawn to the battle below.

The wind howled through the arena, forcing spectators to hold down their hats and skirts. Yet the two mecha remained utterly motionless, frozen like a scene from a silent film.

Shadow Warrior and Iron Cavalry stood at opposite ends of the arena, weapons in hand, neither willing to make the first move.

The audience exchanged puzzled glances. They had never seen a match like this before. Underground fights had always been brutal from the very first second—every punch landed hard, every blade drew blood. Nobody ever wasted time sizing up their opponent.

“What are you looking at?” Shi Lu asked as he stepped beside him and peered through the glass. After watching for a moment, he sighed in admiration. “Shadow Warrior really knows what he’s doing. His footwork is impeccable.”

He wasn’t wrong.

Shadow Warrior’s footwork was textbook perfect.

He circled Iron Cavalry cautiously, probing for an opening. Every step he took bore the unmistakable mark of professional training.

Iron Cavalry, on the other hand, seemed to have stalled completely. It never left its original position, merely adjusting its stance now and then in response to Shadow Warrior’s movements.

“Find anything?” Chi Zhou asked.

Shi Lu shook his head.

“Nothing. There’s no record of him in the system. This is Iron Cavalry’s first appearance, and he’s not one of the arena’s contracted fighters.”

“I see,” Chi Zhou replied. “No wonder.”

Shi Lu looked even more confused.

“You know who he is?”

“No.” Chi Zhou kept his eyes fixed on the arena, a hint of amusement surfacing in them. “But choosing Iron Cavalry tells me he knew exactly what he was doing.”

Shi Lu nodded.

“Iron Cavalry may be an old model, but it’s still a proper military combat mecha. It’s nothing like the toy machines the arena usually uses.”

Chi Zhou silently agreed.

If there was any mecha in the underground arena capable of matching Shadow Warrior, Iron Cavalry was the only one.

Whoever had chosen it was almost certainly here for the Scarlet Dawn Lotus—and judging by that choice alone, they were no amateur.

—

Chi Zhou’s expression finally turned serious as he observed the developments in the arena.

After circling Iron Cavalry three times, Shadow Warrior finally lost its patience. Raising the massive blade in its hands high overhead, it brought it crashing down toward Iron Cavalry.

Inside the cramped c0ckpit, Xia Ye watched the attack with icy composure.

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

Xia Ye didn’t move.

The elaborately decorated greatsword split the air as it descended toward the battered, scarred mech, making it look like a one-sided slaughter with no possibility of resistance.

The beast arena fell silent. The solemn atmosphere gripped the audience, leaving no one daring to make a sound for a long while.

Shi Lu’s heart pounded wildly. If this kept up, Iron Cavalry would be cleaved clean in two!

“Don’t worry,” Chi Zhou said calmly. “He’ll be fine.”

Shi Lu asked anxiously, “How can you tell?”

Chi Zhou merely smiled, his expression carrying a hint of mystery.

Shi Lu had never awakened and was just an ordinary person, unable to perceive the Mental Domain permeating the fighting arena. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, Chi Zhou hadn’t expanded his own domain much when he came to the arena today. It only covered the VIP viewing room.

Yet during his routine scan just now, he had unexpectedly discovered that the entire arena had already been enveloped by someone else’s Mental Domain.

That person was obviously not one of the street punks who frequented the arena. Besides, no ordinary sentinel could possess a domain this vast.

There was only one possibility.

A guide had slipped in.

And a remarkably confident one at that—someone convinced they could come out on top among a crowd of Sentinels.

A trace of amusement surfaced in Chi Zhou’s eyes. He was genuinely beginning to take an interest in Iron Cavalry. Once the match was over, he would have to meet its pilot.

Chi Zhou’s gaze remained fixed on Iron Cavalry. Then, after remaining still for so long, the dormant war machine suddenly sprang into motion.

The instant Shadow Warrior’s greatsword was about to touch it, Xia Ye’s fingers twitched. The heavy mech nimbly sidestepped, allowing the blade to graze past its body.

Committed to delivering a killing blow, Shadow Warrior had poured immense force into the strike. The impact was powerful enough to split the ground, driving the greatsword deep into the marble floor.

Xia Ye seized that fleeting opening. Iron Cavalry wheeled around in an instant, its fist slicing through the air with terrifying force as it smashed across Shadow Warrior.

With its greatsword lodged in the ground, Shadow Warrior had temporarily lost its greatest weapon.

The sweeping blow immediately threw its balance off.

Xia Ye had no intention of letting the opportunity slip away. Iron Cavalry suddenly accelerated, reaching a speed so great it dazzled the eye.

Driven by four times the usual amount of black-gold engine oil, Iron Cavalry’s combat capabilities were completely restored, even reaching the level of its absolute prime.

The purely manual mech, which ordinary people were incapable of controlling, unleashed astonishing precision in Xia Ye’s hands. Every movement was flawless, without the slightest error, as it charged straight toward Shadow Warrior.

The mech, powerful enough to tear extraterrestrial lifeforms apart, barreled forward and slammed savagely into Shadow Warrior.

Just as expected, the audience, which had fallen into complete silence moments earlier, was utterly shaken by the sight. Thunderous cheers erupted throughout the stands.

“Charge! Iron Cavalry, rip him apart!”

“Flip him over! Crush his core!”

“This is the first time I’ve ever seen Shadow Warrior beaten like this! Hurry! Crush him! From now on, Iron Cavalry will be the ace!”

Lin Kezhi watched with his heart in his throat.

He had watched Xia Ye pilot a mech during the entrance examination that afternoon, but Xia Ye’s style back then had been nothing like this.

At the time, Xia Ye had been the very model of academy training. Every move had perfectly replicated the illustrations from the textbook, leaving the instructors in constant admiration. They would repeatedly declare that this was exactly the standard a military academy student should have, and that self-taught fighters could never compete with those who had received formal training.

But the Xia Ye before him now was a genuine self-taught fighter.

Every movement was clean and decisive, completely devoid of flashy flourishes. Every attack struck directly at Shadow Warrior’s vital points.

Lin Kezhi had never seen such ruthless ferocity in anyone before. Xia Ye was like a lone wolf from the wilderness, howling as it sought to tear its prey to shreds.

He even found himself wondering whether, inside the c0ckpit, Xia Ye looked at Shadow Warrior as though it were nothing more than a heap of scrap metal.

After crashing into Shadow Warrior’s chest, Xia Ye immediately grabbed one of its arms and gave it a deft twist.

The motion looked almost casual, yet the arm was torn clean off. He tossed the severed arm onto the ground and gave it a contemptuous kick. The arm, forged from refined steel, hit the ground with a long, muffled clang.

It was like a signal that ignited the crowd’s frenzy.

Countless spectators leapt to their feet, chanting Iron Cavalry’s name. They hurled ribbons and flowers into the arena, while gold coins poured down from the stands like a shower of rain.

Standing in the centre of the arena, Xia Ye quietly watched it all.

He knew all too well how to stir people’s passions.

Give them something thrilling. Something exhilarating. A spectacle with the most dramatic reversal imaginable.

And they would go mad for you.

—

“That kid is interesting.”

Chi Zhou exhaled a ring of smoke and reached his verdict.

“The match isn’t over yet, is it?” Shi Lu remained standing before the floor-to-ceiling window, staring tensely at the arena. “He only tore off one arm. What if Shadow Warrior makes a comeback? It’s the latest smart-core mech, after all. Its operational precision is on a completely different level from a purely manual mech.”

The Iron Cavalry Xia Ye was piloting was an older model. It wasn’t equipped with any intelligent systems and relied entirely on manual operation. If Shadow Warrior destroyed its power supply system, the entire mech would lose propulsion and become immobile.

Shadow Warrior, however, was different.

As a newly released model, it was equipped with the latest intelligent computing system, constantly performing high-speed calculations to optimise power distribution, making its movements noticeably more agile than those of ordinary mechs.

Even if its primary power system was damaged, Shadow Warrior’s smart core would immediately switch to a backup plan, drawing power from the mech’s internal electrical reserves. It wouldn’t stop functioning outright—its combat capability would simply be somewhat diminished.

“What use is a smart core?” Chi Zhou let out a derisive snort. “At his level, does he even have a chance of getting close to Iron Cavalry? A smart core will always be an aid, never the whole of it.”

Shi Lu didn’t fully understand what he meant, but neither did he want to appear ignorant.

Drawing on the same concentration he used for research, he continued standing before the glass window, carefully observing the battle.

Amid the deafening cheers of the audience, Iron Cavalry suddenly released Shadow Warrior, almost as though it were putting on an exhibition match.

A moment ago, its knee had been pinning Shadow Warrior’s leg in place. Now it abruptly withdrew, causing Shadow Warrior to lose its balance and stagger before dropping to one knee.

Xia Ye took a step back at just the right moment. Iron Cavalry tilted its head slightly, leisurely studying its opponent.

The scene was strikingly theatrical.

Iron Cavalry toyed with Shadow Warrior as if it had complete control over it, like a cat playing with a mouse, sending the audience into roaring laughter.

Inside Shadow Warrior’s c0ckpit, Ban Lei’s eyes had turned bloodshot. He had fought in this arena for years, reigning as its undefeated champion.

Yet now, he was actually being humiliated by some newbie.

Ban Lei bit down so hard on his lower lip that he nearly drew blood.

He couldn’t lose. At least, he couldn’t lose this match.

Someone had offered him an enormous sum, demanding that he emerge as the final victor. If he succeeded, he could spend the rest of his life surrounded by luxury cars and beautiful women.

Who could have guessed that after everything had gone so smoothly, a Cheng Yaojin¹It comes from the Tang dynasty general Cheng Yaojin, who in opera and storytelling is famous for suddenly bursting into a fight and turning the situation upside down. would suddenly appear out of nowhere to ruin it all?

Ban Lei took a deep breath and reached over to press a button inside the c0ckpit.

This was the secret behind his undefeated record.

In the entire arena, aside from himself and the administrator, no one knew about it.

In truth, Shadow Warrior’s greatest advantage wasn’t its smart-core system at all. It was the second power system fueled by Bone-Eater, the heart of an extraterrestrial lifeform.

A technology that could never be spoken of, and a practice that unquestionably violated Alliance law.

Shadow Warrior was a modified mech.

The arena had spent a fortune hiring one of the Alliance’s finest mechanical engineers to overhaul its systems, all for one purpose: to make it an unbeatable champion, the audience’s undisputed ace, reaping both their admiration and their money.

In the entire Alliance, there wasn’t a second mech besides Shadow Warrior capable of using Bone-Eater as a power source.

The moment the secondary power system activated, Shadow Warrior immediately regained its balance and charged toward Xia Ye like a hurricane.

Without the slightest hesitation, its greatsword slashed straight at the two manoeuvring conduits on Iron Cavalry’s back, intending to sever them in a single stroke.

The brat on the other side had to be some inexperienced rookie who probably thought that reading a few books made him something special, so he had picked such an outdated mech.

Those two manoeuvring conduits were connected directly to Iron Cavalry’s c0ckpit. Once they were cut, Xia Ye would lose all ability to continue fighting.

—

However, the Shadow Warrior was wrong once again.

Just as its greatsword came within a centimetre of Iron Cavalry’s manoeuvring conduits, Iron Cavalry lightly leapt backwards, leaving Shadow Warrior standing there alone, looking like a complete fool.

Hearing the laughter erupt from the stands, the flames of fury in Ban Lei’s chest burned even hotter. Unable to hold himself back, he charged at Iron Cavalry once more.

This time, however, his luck had run out. The spear in Xia Ye’s hands pierced straight into Shadow Warrior’s armour, and the strike landed with impeccable precision—directly into its smart-core processor.

Shadow Warrior faltered, its movements immediately slowing.

Inside the c0ckpit, Ban Lei let out a cry of disbelief.

How was this possible?!

Iron Cavalry’s first strike had not only destroyed the smart-core processor, but it had also penetrated all the way to its innermost centre, shattering the Bone-Eater that had been powering it in a single blow!

Cold sweat broke out across Ban Lei’s forehead.

As an utterly unique power source, the heart of an extraterrestrial lifeform was something that could only be found by extraordinary luck. The piece of Bone-Eater currently installed in Shadow Warrior had been personally acquired by the Colonel on the black market.

He had only used the Bone-Eater power system a handful of times.

How could Xia Ye possibly know he had been hiding this trump card?

Ban Lei had no time to dwell on the question; Iron Cavalry attacked again.

This time, Xia Ye moved as swiftly as a phantom. He no longer seemed interested in continuing the cat-and-mouse game with Shadow Warrior. The spear shot straight toward Shadow Warrior’s head.

With its smart-core processor destroyed, Shadow Warrior had been reduced to a purely manual mech. Forced to compete with Xia Ye in fine manual control, Ban Lei had no chance whatsoever.

Shadow Warrior clumsily tried to evade.

But like a hornet locking onto nectar, the spear relentlessly pursued its target, driving directly into Shadow Warrior’s core and robbing it of all power.

Ban Lei sat frozen inside the c0ckpit.

As though deliberately mocking him, Iron Cavalry casually flicked its spear upward—

—and actually pried Shadow Warrior’s c0ckpit clean off.

The jet-black c0ckpit slid across the open arena like a lone boat adrift, carving a sharp trail through the ground as a cloud of dust billowed into the air.

Iron Cavalry stood beside it, head lowered, quietly looking down at him.

Everything had begun too quickly.

And ended just as quickly.

So quickly, in fact, that even after Shadow Warrior had completely powered down and remained motionless in the centre of the arena for dozens of seconds, the referee still hadn’t announced the result.

It was the audience who reacted first.

Wave after wave of screams erupted throughout the beast arena as people shouted Iron Cavalry’s name.

No one cared that they had lost money.

The match had been so spectacular that witnessing it alone was worth the price of admission.

Lin Kezhi stared blankly at the scene, still unable to process what had just happened.

They won?

Just… like that?

Everyone around him had already risen to their feet, while he remained seated in a daze.

Only when a bunny girl approached him, bent over respectfully, and said, “Mr Lin, you’re tonight’s winner. Please come with me,” did he finally stand up.

His head was still spinning.

He couldn’t even calculate how much money they had won.

They had taken the entire underground arena’s pot!

Although Lin Kezhi came from a wealthy family, the allowance his parents gave him had always been just enough for everyday spending.

He had never possessed a fortune of this magnitude.

As he passed by the arena, Lin Kezhi glanced inside. At that exact moment, Iron Cavalry’s c0ckpit opened. Xia Ye rose from the cramped pilot’s seat and stretched his arms. Moonlight spilt across his face, making his entire figure seem as cool and flawless as polished jade.

Lin Kezhi had once been fortunate enough to see a piece of fine jade. Its restrained brilliance, cold yet luminous, had left a profound impression on him.

Until now, he had never imagined anything could rival that kind of beauty.

But now he knew.

Bathed in the moonlight, Xia Ye caught sight of him from the corner of his eye and turned his head, raising a finger to his lips in a silent shh.

Only then did Lin Kezhi suddenly realise.

He had placed the bets, while Xia Ye had fought the match.

In a sense…

They had colluded to cheat.

Lin Kezhi hurriedly looked away and followed the bunny girl into the administrator’s office.

—

In the classically styled office, the Colonel was already waiting for them.

As the founder of the underground fighting arena, the Colonel looked nothing like someone in that line of work.

It was as though he had deliberately put on makeup. A few unnaturally deep wrinkles lined his face, two curled moustaches perched above his lip, and he wore a red-and-white striped shirt that looked completely out of place in the otherwise traditional office.

“So today’s winner is this young.”

With a wave of the Colonel’s hand, two bunny girls emerged carrying trays.

The trays were piled high with fried chicken and French fries, complete with ketchup on the side. Paired with the Colonel’s snow-white beard bouncing as he chuckled, the whole scene carried an oddly comedic air.

“Here, young man, have some fried chicken.” The Colonel settled comfortably onto the sofa. “Wait a little longer. There’s another winner coming.”

Lin Kezhi was a little surprised.

Someone else in this arena had actually bet on Xia Ye?

The Colonel didn’t keep him waiting long. Lin Kezhi had only eaten two pieces of fried chicken when there was a knock at the office door.

Catching the aroma in the air, Chi Zhou teased, “Colonel, you’ve got quite the appetite. Eating fried chicken this late at night?”

“It’s for the young folks,” the Colonel replied, taking a bottle of vodka from the liquor cabinet. “An old man like me is fine with a drink.”

Chi Zhou looked mildly surprised.

His gaze shifted to Lin Kezhi.

“And this is…?”

“The other winner today.” The Colonel shrugged. “Chi Zhou, looks like someone’s going to be sharing your winnings.”

Lin Kezhi was completely stunned. He was holding a piece of fried chicken halfway to his mouth, frozen in the act of taking a bite, yet he had forgotten to actually eat it.

There were simply too many things he had never expected. He had never imagined that the Light of the Alliance would appear at an underground fighting arena.

Even less had he imagined that Chi Zhou would bet on Xia Ye.

“I don’t mind splitting the prize money,” Chi Zhou said casually. Judging from how relaxed he was, it was obvious he drank with the Colonel often. “But I do have one small favour to ask.”

The Colonel couldn’t hold his liquor very well. After only a couple of drinks, he was already pleasantly buzzed.

“A favour?” he said with a grin. “Since when did you become so polite?”

Despite the teasing, Chi Zhou remained perfectly at ease.

“I found Iron Cavalry’s pilot rather interesting,” he said. “Would you mind inviting him over?”

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As Ah He was speaking, Xia Ye happened to turn around and glance at them.

Qi Longsheng instinctively shrank back. Then he remembered that he was the boss of this district. He couldn’t show fear in front of his underlings, so he immediately stiffened his neck and shot Xia Ye a vicious glare.

Xia Ye merely smiled, utterly unconcerned.

The iron bars stood cold and imposing behind him, forming a wall that separated him from the gang of hoodlums.

Ah He failed to notice the strange atmosphere and asked in confusion, “Boss, what’s wrong?”

Qi Longsheng shot him a sideways glance and gestured for him to lean in. “When you went to see Blackbeard just now, nobody saw you, right?”

Ah He looked baffled. “No. Everyone was waiting for their turn to fight. Who would’ve paid attention to me?”

Qi Longsheng nodded.

If anyone else had tried to explain the arena’s rules to him, he would’ve thought they were insane.

But Xia Ye was different. Xia Ye made him feel as though those rules really would apply to him.

Qi Longsheng didn’t have time to dwell on it. A tremendous boom sounded ahead, and the towering iron gates slowly swung open. Blue sky flooded in together with the sunlight, illuminating the dim fighters’ waiting room.

Wearing a crimson cape, the host leapt onto the centre stage with a microphone in hand and shouted with infectious excitement, “Ladies and gentlemen, you’re in for a real treat today!”

He pointed toward the waiting room, his face animated with theatrical mystery.

“Today, we welcome an incredibly daring newcomer! He’s about to challenge the Shadow Warrior! Everyone here knows that the Shadow Warrior is the undefeated legend of our fighting arena, the man who once achieved an incredible fifty-two consecutive victories! Let’s see who dares issue a fight-to-the-death challenge to our reigning champion!”

Before the host had even finished speaking, the audience had already erupted into cheers.

The roar of the crowd rose higher and higher. Several drunken gamblers clutching liquor bottles stood up from their seats and screamed at the top of their lungs, “Impossible! The Shadow Warrior is the strongest!”

The wind carried their voices straight to Xia Ye’s ears.

His fingers twitched slightly as he looked at Blackbeard beside him.

“Can I go out now?”

Blackbeard sized him up before replying, “Go ahead. Be careful.”

He didn’t know the newcomer, but he knew exactly how brutal the Shadow Warrior was.

Just as the audience had said, the Shadow Warrior was the strongest.

There had once been a hotheaded youngster from District Eight who claimed to be the strongest fighter in the Lower Four Districts. He had even brought his own mech to challenge the Shadow Warrior.

The result?

He was flipped onto the ground in the very first round and couldn’t even get back up.

But the Shadow Warrior’s strength didn’t lie in his techniques; it lay in his heart.

His heart was far too ruthless. After spending so many years in the underground fighting circuit, Blackbeard had never encountered anyone so cold-blooded.

After knocking his opponent to the ground, the Shadow Warrior mercilessly crushed the mech’s core beneath his foot.

Black smoke billowed from the machine, accompanied by agonised screams, sending waves of exhilaration through the audience.

Coins rained into the arena as people chanted the Shadow Warrior’s name. From that day onward, the Shadow Warrior became the crowd’s favourite.

Xia Ye didn’t look like someone who could fight.

At least, that’s what Blackbeard thought.

The young man’s shoulders were slender, his white shirt spotless and neatly pressed. His expression was detached and indifferent. He didn’t look like someone who belonged in the arena at all—he looked more like a pampered young master sitting among the spectators.

Blackbeard couldn’t help worrying for him.

Standing in the centre of the arena, the Shadow Warrior let out a series of ferocious roars. From time to time, he raised the massive blade in his hand and pointed it toward Xia Ye in blatant provocation.

Xia Ye’s expression didn’t change in the slightest; he simply nodded to Blackbeard before walking straight toward the arena.

With the sunlight behind him, his figure looked especially small.

Watching from afar, Qi Longsheng spat viciously onto the ground.

“Damn it! If he gets beaten to death, do you think he’ll come looking for us in the middle of the night?”

—

As Xia Ye stepped out of the waiting room, a chorus of jeers broke out from the audience.

This newcomer was nothing like what they had imagined.

In their minds, anyone bold enough to challenge the Shadow Warrior should at least have been a towering giant—a Sentinel with muscles bulging all over his body.

But Xia Ye looked so thin.

“That’s it?” murmurs spread through the crowd. “This guy thinks he can challenge the Shadow Warrior?”

“He’s asking to die. The Shadow Warrior could knock him over with one finger.”

“This brat’s really a sentinel? He looks like an ordinary person. He’s probably just here hoping someone’ll collect the death compensation.”

Clearly, before the match had even begun, everyone had already decided Xia Ye was going to lose.

Lin Kezhi sat among the spectators, nervously watching Xia Ye’s every move. Listening to the audience recount the Shadow Warrior’s exploits made the heart he had only just calmed down leap back into his throat.

Xia Ye stood in the preparation area. Behind him stood rows upon rows of mechs forged from refined steel.

In recent years, extraterrestrial contamination incidents beyond the Alliance had become increasingly frequent, causing the depreciation rate of military mechs to reach an almost unbelievable level.

Most mechs retired after fighting in contaminated zones eventually found their way onto the black market, where they began a second career in underground fighting arenas.

The quality of these machines was poor. Their paint was chipped and peeling, their joints heavily worn. The worst of them even had its c0ckpit completely exposed.

It wasn’t difficult to imagine what it had endured.

Most likely, an extraterrestrial creature’s claws had ripped open its armour, dragging both the pilot and the optical brain out together, leaving behind nothing but a shattered c0ckpit.

Even after imagining the story behind it, Xia Ye’s expression remained unchanged. He simply stood there calmly, examining one mech after another.

“New guy, what about this one?”

Blackbeard pointed to the mech on the far left.

“It just arrived. Brand new, just like you. Those little punks haven’t had a chance to ruin it yet.”

The mech Blackbeard was referring to was the latest model.

Its entire body was snow white, armed with a dagger, and engraved with sharp, elegant characters:

Snow Eagle.

It was obvious the arena had spent a fortune acquiring it.

If Qi Longsheng had been there, he would’ve picked this one without hesitation. It looked far more formidable than all the battered old machines.

But Xia Ye didn’t even need a closer look to know it wouldn’t do.

The Snow Eagle was a military academy training mech. Although it was fully equipped and looked almost identical to an active-duty combat model, its destructive capability was only fifty percent of a standard military mech. There was absolutely no way something like that could defeat the Shadow Warrior.

Xia Ye shook his head. “I’ll take this one. I’ll tune it myself.”

He pointed toward a dilapidated machine. Its entire body bore the unique sheen of polished refined steel. It had obviously been used for many years, with every trace of paint worn away.

“That’s an old relic.” Blackbeard looked sceptical. “You sure?”

“Yes.” Xia Ye nodded.

Of course he knew it was an old relic.

In fact, no one knew its history better than he did.

Iron Cavalry.

One of the Human Alliance’s very first mechs. It had once created a miracle during the extraterrestrial contamination crisis. Back then, Chi Zhou had piloted the prototype of the Iron Cavalry to repel an extraterrestrial invasion for the very first time.

That battle had earned its place in history. It was also because of the Iron Cavalry’s extraordinary performance against extraterrestrial contamination that humanity embarked upon the path of mech development, abandoning the practice of fighting extraterrestrial races with flesh and blood alone.

This plain, unremarkable machine…

…was the true weapon of war.

As Xia Ye approached it, a faint scent of blood slowly seeped from its frame, like the smell of rust.

“This one.” His voice was firm. “Prepare quadruple-purity black-gold engine oil.”

Blackbeard spread his fingers and swept a stack of paper bills from Xia Ye’s hand. Paper money wasn’t worth much in today’s world anymore, but it was still valuable on the black market and in underground fighting arenas. There was no reason for Blackbeard to refuse it.

He tossed Xia Ye a ring of keys.

“You’re a madman.”

Xia Ye didn’t feel offended in the slightest. On the contrary, he was in an exceptionally good mood.

He laid a hand on the Iron Cavalry. The instant his skin touched it, the mech forged from refined steel actually trembled ever so slightly. If anyone else had witnessed the scene, they would’ve cried out in shock.

But Xia Ye was long accustomed to it.

He merely patted the Iron Cavalry’s arm lightly before picking up his toolbox and beginning the inspection.

When his father was still alive, he had once told Xia Ye, “Mechs have souls.”

Very few people believed those words, but Xia Ye did.

Whenever he stood beside Scarlet Dawn Lotus, admiring its graceful, streamlined body, he could always feel something impossible to describe calling out from within it.

Xia Ye believed he could hear Scarlet Dawn Lotus’s heartbeat, but apart from his father, no one had ever believed him.

After his father passed away, Xia Ye found correspondence between him and one of his friends while sorting through his room.

Only then did he learn that ‘awakening’ did not simply mean becoming a sentinel or a guide.

True awakening meant being able to establish a connection with a mech through psychic power.

Becoming a Sentinel or a Guide merely earned someone an admission ticket.

The military academy’s entrance examination was never simply a test of combat ability, as most people believed. The Alliance’s real objective was to use those examinations to identify the individuals with the strongest psychic power and cultivate them into true mech warriors.

His father had always said that Xia Ye had been able to resonate with mechs ever since he was a child.

One day, he would definitely awaken.

From that moment on, Xia Ye had found his life’s purpose. He would pilot a mech, tear every extraterrestrial creature apart, and protect the Human Alliance. Under Xia Ye’s adjustments, the Iron Cavalry quickly revealed the form it was meant to have.

Ten minutes later, Blackbeard returned.

“You really want quadruple purity?” He dragged over a hose, swinging it casually in one hand. “I’m warning you—we don’t have anyone here who uses four times the concentration. If you can’t control it, it’ll cost you your life.”

Although it was called engine oil, black-gold engine oil was actually extracted from the blood of extraterrestrial creatures.

To power these steel giants, the research institutes had poured in unimaginable effort. No energy source known to humanity had been capable of driving the mechs. Not until they began studying extraterrestrial life and extracted from its blood an energy source even more volatile than petroleum or electricity. No one knew what consequences using such power would ultimately bring.

Humanity, like desperate lambs, had no choice but to cling to this final straw.

Xia Ye connected the hose to the mech. “Thanks for the warning.”

Blackbeard had never met such an impossibly stubborn young man. He stood there glaring at him for quite a while. Seeing that Xia Ye had absolutely no intention of changing his mind and was wholeheartedly focused on filling the mech with engine oil, he could only shake his head and leave.

—

When the Iron Cavalry appeared in the arena, the audience immediately erupted into an uproar.

“What kind of junk is that? The paint’s completely gone! He’s seriously going to use that thing against the Shadow Warrior?”

A pot-bellied middle-aged man stood up and shouted toward the arena.

“You little brat! If you’re gonna scam people out of their money, at least put in some effort!”

Everyone knew that the Shadow Warrior piloted the strongest mech in the arena. It was equipped with the Alliance’s latest optical-drive intelligent computer. Its tremendous computational power enabled it to maximise the mech’s performance, allowing it to unleash three times the destructive force of an ordinary mech.

Compared to that, Xia Ye’s mech looked as though it had just been hauled out of a scrapyard. Two flexible conduits protruded from outside the c0ckpit, making it obvious that it was an obsolete antique. In an era where intelligent computers had become the standard core system for mechs, this entirely manual machine looked like nothing more than a joke.

Seeing the audience growing increasingly agitated, the host hurried back onto the stage and shouted, “Ladies and gentlemen, the death match is about to begin! Don’t hold back your enthusiasm—cast your vote for the victor you believe in!”

Normally, he would ramble on for quite a while during this segment, giving the bunny girls collecting wagers enough time to make their rounds.

Today, however, he said only a few brief sentences before stepping off the stage.

The reason was obvious.

No one believed Xia Ye stood a chance.

Without a second thought, the spectators tossed their betting chips into the box representing the Shadow Warrior.

Lin Kezhi looked around.

Not a single person had placed a bet on Xia Ye.

He hesitated.

Before entering the arena, Xia Ye had specifically instructed him to bet everything on him. But looking at the frenzied crowd, Lin Kezhi couldn’t help wondering whether this was really a good idea.

If he didn’t bet and Xia Ye lost, he would still have enough money to send him to the hospital.

If he did bet and Xia Ye lost…

…they wouldn’t even have enough money left to return to school.

“Hurry up. You’re the only one left,” the uncle beside him urged impatiently. “What’s there to hesitate about? Obviously you pick the Shadow Warrior. That… Iron Cavalry thing doesn’t look reliable at all.”

Stretching his neck for a better look, Lin Kezhi saw that the box representing Xia Ye was completely empty.

“I’ll bet on the Iron Cavalry.” He gritted his teeth. “All in.”

He couldn’t bear to see his friend go completely unsupported.

At the same time, in the VIP viewing room—

“Instructor Chi, who are you betting on?”

Shi Lu awkwardly accepted the betting hat from a bunny girl and carried it over to Chi Zhou.

He stumbled over his words four or five times before finally swallowing the word ‘Sir’ and replacing it with the more appropriate form of address.

Chi Zhou shot him a sidelong glance.

“Why are you so nervous?”

Leaning back comfortably against the soft sofa, Chi Zhou looked completely at ease. Every so often, he took a leisurely puff from the cigar in his hand, forming a stark contrast with Shi Lu, who looked as though he were about to face a mortal enemy.

He took the hat from Shi Lu, swept all the chips from the coffee table into it in one motion until it was overflowing, then stuffed it back into the bunny girl’s hands.

“Iron Cavalry. ALL IN.” Chi Zhou said.

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Beneath the lingering glow of the setting sun, Xia Ye narrowed his eyes.

“What is it?” Lin Kezhi jogged a few steps to catch up from behind. “Is the light bothering your eyes? It shouldn’t. The sun’s practically set already.”

“It’s nothing.” Xia Ye shook his head. “Let’s go inside.”

Lin Kezhi was curious. Following Xia Ye’s line of sight, he looked in the same direction and happened to catch sight of the hem of someone’s clothing. It was a sharply tailored black wool suit of exceptional quality. Whoever it belonged to had to be an important figure.

“Are you afraid of being recognised?” Lin Kezhi asked, convinced he had figured it out. “Don’t worry. Anyone who can get into the VIP lounge is someone important in the Alliance. They won’t bother with people like us.”

Having grown up in the Upper Seven Districts, he was intimately familiar with the unspoken rules that governed society there.

Xia Ye neither confirmed nor denied it. His lips were pressed into a thin line, his expression weighed down with concern.

He had come here for the Scarlet Dawn Lotus. He had never expected to run into Chi Zhou here.

The underground fighting arena was a place where all kinds of people gathered—a melting pot of every walk of life, one of the shadiest corners of the Upper Seven Districts.

Given Chi Zhou’s status, he shouldn’t have been here.

Unless something significant was about to happen.

Xia Ye became alert in an instant. Over the past few years, he had devoured every kind of Alliance newspaper there was, and Chi Zhou only ever appeared on the most important occasions.

He reached a conclusion almost immediately.

Chi Zhou was here for the Scarlet Dawn Lotus.

The purpose that had brought Chi Zhou here was the same as his own.

Xia Ye’s blood began to boil once more. The snow leopard within him let out a thunderous roar, eager to burst free from its cage.

He was determined to obtain the Scarlet Dawn Lotus. Not even Chi Zhou could stop him.

Before his father died, he left him with only two instructions. One was, “Take good care of your little sister.” The other was, “Find the Scarlet Dawn Lotus.”

The Scarlet Dawn Lotus embodied his father’s life’s work. Xia Ye could never give it up.

He had no time to hesitate. Just as he was calculating how much of a chance he would have if he really ended up facing Chi Zhou, Blackbeard approached.

Blackbeard was one of the arena’s managers. Black hat, black trench coat, black leather shoes—everything he wore was black from head to toe.

“What are you loitering around for?” Blackbeard snorted at them. “The matches are about to start.”

Xia Ye had entered through the competitors’ passageway. He had expected something like this.

He lowered his head so Blackbeard couldn’t get a clear look at his face. “I’m new. Got lost.”

Blackbeard was drunk out of his mind. He looked Xia Ye up and down but still couldn’t remember who the kid was. Youngsters of this age came and went through the underground arena every day. There was no way he could keep track of them all.

“You don’t even know your way around, and you’re wandering all over the place! What a pain in the ass, you little brat.” Blackbeard cursed under his breath as he pointed toward a corridor. “Guides can’t compete. You’ll stay behind later.”

He pointed at Lin Kezhi. After tossing out that remark, he staggered away.

Watching his retreating figure, Lin Kezhi asked in surprise, “But aren’t you also—”

Before the word “guide” could leave his mouth, Xia Ye silenced him with a warning look.

Lin Kezhi had never seen eyes like that before. They were as cold as a blade, and he obediently shut his mouth.

There were many ways in this world for a guide to disguise themselves as a sentinel.

Xia Ye had merely used the simplest one.

—

Fifteen minutes earlier, after slipping away from Lin Kezhi, Xia Ye had injected a dose of genetic suppressant into his vein.

His complexion was pale enough to seem almost sickly. Beneath the fair skin on the back of his slender hand, bluish veins faintly showed through, making it effortless for him to administer the injection himself.

The high-purity drug quickly took effect. The torrent-like psychic power surging within him was compressed into a gentle stream, transforming instead into senses several times sharper than normal.

He had found the drug on the black market. It was intended to suppress hormonal disorders in sentinels and guides, making it perfect for someone like him, whose psychic power frequently went berserk.

Once the genetic suppressant converted his rampaging psychic power into heightened senses, everyone else perceived Xia Ye as no different from a sentinel.

Lin Kezhi had been with Xia Ye the whole time and hadn’t noticed the change.

As for Blackbeard, he was dead drunk and meeting Xia Ye for the first time. Guided by first impressions, he subconsciously accepted that Xia Ye was a sentinel here to compete.

“I’ll head in by myself later.” Xia Ye pointed toward the competitors’ waiting room ahead. “Go wait for me in the spectator stands.”

Lin Kezhi had assumed they were only here to watch the fights. It had never crossed his mind that Xia Ye was actually here to compete, and he immediately panicked.

“You’re going to fight? Xia Ye, they’re all sentinels!”

A sentinel’s physical abilities far surpassed those of ordinary people. They were genuine war machines.

On the battlefield, everyone took it for granted that guides existed to support sentinels. They enhanced a sentinel’s senses even further, soothed the chaos within a sentinel’s mental world, and trained them into even deadlier weapons.

Very few guides fought alone.

“Don’t worry. I’m used to it.”

Xia Ye rarely explained himself to others, but seeing how anxious Lin Kezhi looked, he added a few more words.

“Back where I came from, if someone bullied you, the only way to make them stop was to beat them until they admitted defeat.”

In other words, he got into fights often.

“You saw it during the entrance assessment,” Xia Ye added. “I’ll be fine.”

Lin Kezhi knew little about life in District Twelve, but remembering Xia Ye’s performance during the entrance assessment, the knot in his chest loosened slightly. Li Feile and Qiu Luo had been the strongest sentinel-guide pair in their class. Every child in the Upper Seven Districts had grown up hearing their names.

Yet when they had faced Xia Ye, they had cowered like two quails, not even daring to step into his Mental Domain.

No matter how formidable the Sentinels in this underground arena were, they couldn’t possibly surpass Li Feile.

Seeing that Lin Kezhi had finally relaxed, Xia Ye said, “There’s betting in the spectator stands. Put all your money on me.”

His gaze was unwavering as he spoke.

“I’ll win.”

—

Xia Ye turned and entered the competitors’ waiting room.

Calling it a ‘waiting room’ was generous. There wasn’t even a sofa inside. The walls were nothing but bare cement, left in their most unadorned state.

Compared to the magnificent ancient Roman-style spectator stands outside, it was like stepping into a completely different world.

The room was filled with shirtless youths. Sweat-soaked bangs clung to their faces, hiding their eyes. Yet whenever they lifted their heads, their gazes proved as sharp as hawks’, filled with despair.

Xia Ye found a seat in the corner and stared absentmindedly through the iron bars at the ongoing match outside.

A battle where technology intertwined with primitive combat was unfolding in the arena.

The mecha, forged from refined steel, stood a full three meters tall in the centre of the arena, like a small building come to life.

Representing the blue side was the arena’s undefeated champion, ‘Shadow Warrior’. Wielding a two-meter-long greatblade, it fought like an ancient gladiator, seizing every opening to charge at its opponent.

Its opponent on the red side looked far more battered.

‘Hermit’ was a newcomer who had only recently made a name for itself in the arena. It hoped to establish its reputation by defeating Shadow Warrior.

Unfortunately, although Hermit’s long spear had an impressive attack range, it couldn’t get close enough to land a meaningful blow.

Xia Ye closed his eyes and felt the vibrations in the air.

The breeze generated by the clash between the two mecha had become exceedingly faint by the time it reached the waiting room, yet Xia Ye could still reconstruct every movement and every exchange between Shadow Warrior and Hermit through those subtle currents.

The genetic suppressant did not strengthen his five senses by weakening his psychic power.

Rather, it calmed his rampaging psychic power and further expanded his Mental Domain.

At that moment, his domain enveloped the entire arena.

Except for the VIP viewing area.

He couldn’t detect even the slightest trace of Chi Zhou there. It was as though that section had been cut away from the rest of the arena, sealed behind a unique barrier.

—

“Where did this pampered young master come from? What’s with the brooding act?”

A hoarse, rough voice interrupted Xia Ye’s thoughts.

Opening his eyes, he found several youths with insolent expressions standing before him.

Qi Longsheng was the leader of the group. With thick sword-like eyebrows and muscles bulging all over his body, he swaggered as he waved a fist at Xia Ye.

They were all toughs who had clawed their way up from Districts Eight and Nine, each one an experienced street fighter. After hearing that the underground arena in District One was a gold mine, they had gathered their friends and come together.

Qi Longsheng had made a habit of bullying newcomers.

Partly for the prize money. Once he beat a newcomer into submission, he could extort protection fees from them.

The other reason was simply personal enjoyment.

Watching arrogant hotshots kneel down and beg for mercy was Qi Longsheng’s greatest source of entertainment.

The moment Xia Ye walked in, Qi Longsheng had set his sights on him.

Fair-skinned, clean-cut, neatly dressed—he looked like some wealthy family’s young master, here to dabble in underground fighting for fun.

Qi Longsheng hated people like that more than anything.

Born with a silver spoon in their mouths, they should have just enjoyed their privileged lives. Why come here and steal food from people like them?

On top of that, after entering, Xia Ye hadn’t greeted anyone. He carried himself with an air of aloof detachment that rubbed people the wrong way.

“Who do you think you’re looking down on?” Qi Longsheng shouted. “If you’ve got guts, get up and fight me.”

Xia Ye lifted his eyelids to glance at him and replied flatly, “Why don’t you just go register and request me as your opponent? Wouldn’t that solve it?”

Qi Longsheng’s anger flared even higher.

‘Registering’ was underground arena slang. It meant going to Blackbeard, claiming you had run into an enemy, and specifically requesting them as your opponent for the next match.

The audience loved grudge matches, and the arena paid double prize money for them.

The reward was tempting, but very few people signed up.

The reason was simple.

By default, a registered grudge match was a fight to the death. The match wouldn’t end until one side was dead or permanently crippled.

People came here to make money fighting—not to throw away their lives.

“You?” Qi Longsheng kicked a pebble. “You’re just some soft-skinned rich brat. I could cripple you with one finger! Ah He, go register him.”

He shot one of his lackeys a look. The subordinate immediately understood and hurried off toward Blackbeard. Watching their little scheme unfold, Xia Ye said coolly, “If you register the wrong opponent, you’ll be thrown out of the arena.”

Cold sweat instantly broke out across Qi Longsheng’s back. He hurriedly waved, trying to call A He back.

How had he figured it out? He had indeed been playing tricks. He had claimed he was registering Xia Ye, but what he had actually told Ah He to do was ask Blackbeard to register Xia Ye against Shadow Warrior.

Shadow Warrior was the strongest sentinel in the entire arena.

He had intended to send Xia Ye to his death.

And Xia Ye had seen right through it.

This man was obviously nothing like the pampered rich kid Qi Longsheng had imagined.

He knew the arena’s rules inside and out, even their dirty tricks. Chances were, he had already fought countless matches in other underground arenas.

Still trying to save face, Qi Longsheng scoffed, “You think so little of me? I’ve been in this arena for ages. You think I’d make a rookie mistake like that?”

Xia Ye stood up with a half-smile that wasn’t quite a smile. “You had better not.”

He couldn’t even be bothered to spare Qi Longsheng another glance as he walked straight toward the waiting area. Ah He came running back in a hurry and whispered into Qi Longsheng’s ear.

“Boss, it’s all taken care of. Next match is a registered death match. He’s facing Shadow Warrior.”

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After knowing Xia Ye for two weeks, Lin Kezhi had come to realise that while his friend appeared aloof on the surface, there was a ruthless streak beneath that calm exterior.

True to his word, Xia Ye skipped the compatibility mixer held before the entrance assessment.

The two of them shared a dorm room, and when Lin Kezhi returned from the event, he sighed dramatically.

“There were actually a few pretty impressive sentinels there today—really strong ones. Everyone kept asking me why you didn’t show up, so I told them you weren’t interested in the matching.”

He pulled out a stack of cards and placed them on Xia Ye’s desk.

“I delivered them. Whether you read them or not is up to you.”

Xia Ye closed the book in his hands. “What are these?”

“Love letters from those sentinels.” Lin Kezhi grinned knowingly. “What a shame. It looks like you’re more interested in ‘A Study of Sentinels and Guides in the 21st Century’.”

Xia Ye had been reading a hefty history volume that he had borrowed from the library earlier that morning.

Lin Kezhi continued gossiping for quite a while, while Xia Ye simply nodded from time to time to show he was listening.

After living together for so long, Lin Kezhi had gotten used to it. He knew Xia Ye had no interest in campus gossip, but he never minded listening. As for his occasionally distant friend, Lin Kezhi had adapted surprisingly well.

Sometimes, he was even rather proud of it.

The legendary guide everyone talked about—the mysterious genius no one could ever seem to find. Other people couldn’t even get a glimpse of Xia Ye, yet Lin Kezhi could lounge around with his legs crossed, sharing a pizza with him.

The pizza had been bought off campus. Pineapple and ham.

A perfect recreation of an ancient Earth classic.

Holding a slice in one hand, Lin Kezhi mumbled through a mouthful of pizza, “Still, the instructor said you don’t have to participate in the compatibility matching, but you do have to pass the entrance assessment.”

That was the polite version; the instructor’s actual words had been far cruder, dripping with contempt for Xia Ye.

Lin Kezhi looked at him worriedly, but Xia Ye simply continued eating his pizza as though the matter wasn’t worth dwelling on.

He ate with remarkable concentration, taking one bite of pineapple, then one bite of ham, never allowing the two to overlap. The whole thing was so methodical that he looked like a textbook perfectionist. 

“Why do you keep looking at me?” Xia Ye asked after swallowing the last bite.

Lin Kezhi laughed awkwardly. “Uh… I’ve just never seen anyone eat pizza like that before.”

“Really?” Xia Ye took a carton of milk from the cabinet. A faint white moustache lingered on his upper lip after he took a sip.

“I’ve always eaten it this way.”

“Where did you get the milk?” Lin Kezhi asked in confusion. “I don’t remember the school providing milk.”

“I bought it.” Cradling the carton in both hands, Xia Ye replied matter-of-factly, “Milk helps with insomnia.”

Lin Kezhi stared at him, dumbfounded.

He had never known Xia Ye had a side like this.

—

It didn’t take long for Lin Kezhi to understand why Xia Ye hadn’t been worried.

During the entrance assessment, Xia Ye single-handedly defeated every sentinel present.

Standing alone in the centre of the arena, his psychic power cascaded outward like a roaring waterfall, engulfing the entire venue.

Almost no one could withstand an assault of that magnitude.

At that moment, every sentinel present realised that Xia Ye’s Mental Domain was unlike any ordinary guide’s.

It wasn’t meant for guiding.

It was meant for attack.

A snow leopard stood before him, glaring at the crowd with predatory intensity, daring no one to cross the invisible boundary it guarded.

The instructors huddled together with their score sheets in hand, eyeing Xia Ye suspiciously as they whispered among themselves.

“Is he a Dark guide? Someone take him for testing.”

“We don’t have the authority. Should we submit a request to the principal?”

“Let’s not rush it. We should confirm it first. The Alliance has never had a Dark guide before…” The rest of the sentence was little more than a murmur, but Xia Ye still caught it. “A Dark guide from District Twelve? As if.”

He had no intention of provoking the instructors, but a cold smile tugged at the corner of his lips all the same.

To these lofty elites from the Upper Seventh District, District Twelve was nothing more than a dumping ground for trash and failures. Even with Xia Ye standing right before them—living proof that their assumptions were wrong—they still refused to believe it.

Watching the expression on Xia Ye’s face, Lin Kezhi felt a shiver run through him.

In all the time he had known Xia Ye, he had never seen that look before.

Except… On the train. When Li Feile and Qiu Luo had provoked him. It seemed Xia Ye had a particular intolerance for those who looked down on him.

The gale sweeping through the arena intensified, and the snow leopard let out a thunderous roar. Rather than weakening over time, Xia Ye’s Mental Domain continued expanding, growing broader and more overwhelming with every passing second.

Standing alone in the middle of the arena, he asked in a voice even colder than his expression, “Who’s next?”

His attitude thoroughly infuriated the instructors. Setting down their score sheets, one of them pointed toward the corner where the participants were resting.

“Li Feile. Take your guide and give it a try.”

Li Feile stiffly got to his feet.

Moments earlier, he had been secretly congratulating himself for avoiding Xia Ye during the draw. Who could have guessed he would be called up anyway? As he passed the instructors’ table, one of the instructors who knew him quietly reminded him, “Teach him a lesson—but don’t hurt him too badly.”

Li Feile wanted to cry.

This wasn’t him teaching Xia Ye a lesson. This was him walking straight into another beating.

Sure enough, before they had even stepped into Xia Ye’s Mental Domain, Qiu Luo’s face had already gone deathly pale.

“I can’t,” he gasped. “I can’t get any closer.”

Xia Ye remained motionless in the centre of the arena. It was as though he didn’t need to advance a single step or make a single move to control everything around him.

Qiu Luo’s admission left the instructors exchanging bewildered looks. Seizing the opportunity, Lin Kezhi recounted what had happened on the train. Even after everything was settled, Xia Ye never uttered another word.

The snow leopard stood faithfully at his side, leaving everyone with the unwavering conviction that the moment they crossed into its territory, they would be torn to pieces.

In the end, the instructors reluctantly announced, “First place in this year’s entrance assessment… Xia Ye.”

Lin Kezhi was the first to cheer.

But when he turned to look at Xia Ye, he found him staring intently at the stadium’s domed ceiling, as though he could see something beyond the coffee-colored glass that no one else could.

—

“What were you looking at just now?” Lin Kezhi asked as they left the stadium.

Xia Ye shook his head. “Nothing.”

Back in the dorm, Xia Ye pulled a silver coin from his drawer.

Its surface was worn with age, though its craftsmanship remained remarkably exquisite. It was clearly not something that had originated in District Twelve.

“What is that?” Lin Kezhi asked curiously.

He reached out to pick up the coin, but Xia Ye subtly moved it out of reach.

It was an unusual reaction.

Lin Kezhi wasn’t the type to pry. He immediately understood that it must be something important.

Closing his fingers around the coin, Xia Ye said, “I’m going out.”

“At this hour?” Lin Kezhi sprang to his feet. “I’ll come with you.”

This time, Xia Ye didn’t refuse. He really did need someone with him. His psychic power had started going out of control during the entrance assessment.

The snow leopard’s appearance was proof enough.

He had a secret.

Ever since awakening as a Guide, Xia Ye had been carrying a secret. Every book he’d read insisted that a Guide could possess only one Spirit Animal—a manifestation of their inner world. He, however, had two.

Xia Ye had discovered it long ago.

The first time he tried using his psychic power to suppress a group of hoodlums bullying Xia Zhi, the snow leopard had appeared beside him and crushed them with overwhelming, unstoppable force.

As punishment, the orphanage locked him in solitary confinement for three days.

Strangely enough, Xia Ye hadn’t been upset. If anything, those three days had been the happiest he had ever experienced.

He had been punished because of his power.

That same power could protect both him and his sister, and it had even opened the door for him to enter the Alliance Military Academy.

On the third day, the snow leopard disappeared.

At first, Xia Ye assumed this was what the books meant by ‘learning to control your spirit animal’.

But two hours after the snow leopard vanished, a tiny snow ferret emerged from behind him.

It affectionately rubbed against his knees, clung to his fingers for attention, then rolled onto its fluffy back, exposing its belly.

The moment Xia Ye saw the little snow ferret, he experienced what the books called psychic resonance.

It was completely different from the snow leopard.

The snow leopard filled him with a fierce, boiling exhilaration, as though the two of them were destined to challenge and tame one another. The little snow ferret, on the other hand, felt unquestionably right.

It was the true reflection of his mind and soul. After searching through countless books, Xia Ye finally found an explanation in an ancient text.

The two spirit animals were two sides of the same coin, each reflecting a different facet of him—one his outward self, the other his inner nature.

In a sense, it was considered a mutation.

Since most people who possessed two spirit animals turned out to be Dark guides, some scholars argued that it was, in fact, an evolution.

Xia Ye didn’t care what they called it.

He only wanted to keep the secret to himself.

No one could ever know that his true spirit animal was a tiny, utterly harmless snow ferret.

—

The place Xia Ye intended to visit was the underground fighting arena.

It was a form of entertainment unique to the Upper Seventh District. Sentinels born into poverty fought one another in mechs like caged beasts, amusing wealthy spectators in exchange for meager prize money.

When Lin Kezhi realized where they were headed, he was thoroughly taken aback.

Studying Xia Ye’s expression carefully until he was certain he genuinely intended to enter the matches, Lin Kezhi couldn’t help saying, “Xia Ye, if you’re short on money, just ask me. Why come somewhere this dangerous?”

Even after Xia Ye subtly hinted that he should leave, Lin Kezhi refused to abandon him in a place like this.

Xia Ye shook his head. “I’m not short on money.”

The Alliance Military Academy covered both his and Xia Zhi’s tuition, as well as meals and accommodation.

In truth, he wasn’t struggling financially. The reason he had to enter the underground arena was the Scarlet Dawn Lotus. It was the last mech his father had ever designed.

To Xia Ye, it was an irreplaceable keepsake.

After the extraterrestrial contamination devastated District Twelve, the Scarlet Dawn Lotus had disappeared without a trace.

He had searched for it ever since. Only recently had he finally uncovered its whereabouts; it had become the grand prize of the underground arena.

The winner would claim it.

Coming to the underground fighting arena while his psychic power was unstable was undeniably dangerous.

That was why Xia Ye had allowed Lin Kezhi to accompany him. Even so, he didn’t want his friend risking expulsion by following him inside.

After a moment’s hesitation, Xia Ye said, “Lin Kezhi… Could I trouble you to wait at a nearby café?”

Lin Kezhi laughed in exasperation.

“So your plan is for me to sit outside, and if something happens to you, I can call an ambulance?”

For the first time, Xia Ye looked embarrassed.

That really had been his plan.

But hearing it put that way, he suddenly realised something about it felt…wrong.

He frowned.

“Wouldn’t that work?”

Hearing the genuine confusion in his voice, Lin Kezhi finally remembered that his roommate had absolutely no grasp of ordinary social conventions.

Xia Ye hadn’t been trying to brush him off. He had sincerely believed that was the most reasonable arrangement.

Lin Kezhi rubbed his nose helplessly. “Forget it. I’m going in with you.”

A match had just ended inside the underground arena. The crowd’s cheers rose in wave after wave, making Lin Kezhi’s heart pound, yet he still reached out and gripped the brass door handle.

“If anything happens to you, the instructors are going to come after me anyway.”

That finally convinced Xia Ye.

He took the silver coin his father had left him from his pocket, gently ran his thumb across its surface one last time, then decisively dropped it into the slot beneath the door handle.

There was no question about it.

It was one of the arena’s cruel little jokes.

As a genius in mech engineering, Dr. Xia had developed the first-generation combat mech, Iron Cavalry. Constructed from high-density nanomaterials, the two-meter-tall mech featured a built-in c0ckpit and communication system, allowing its pilot to remain in constant contact with headquarters while giving physically fragile humans the ability to fight extraterrestrial lifeforms head-on.

To honour Dr. Xia’s outstanding contributions to mech research, the Alliance Bank had issued a commemorative silver coin bearing his likeness.

Forged from refined steel and plated with silver, each coin featured Dr. Xia’s wise smile engraved at its centre.

The commemorative coins had become an instant sensation among collectors across the Alliance and quickly rose to become one of the most sought-after collectables in recent years.

The coin in Xia Ye’s hand, however, was different.

It was one of the original coins, struck from solid silver, and its commemorative value was immeasurable.

As one of Dr. Xia’s personal belongings, it had once fetched an astronomical price on the black market.

For this tournament, however, the arena had produced imitation Dr. Xia commemorative coins to use as admission tickets—as though mocking everything Dr. Xia had ever contributed to the Alliance.

The massive brass doors rumbled open, and a wave of scorching air rushed out to meet them, revealing a dazzling, chaotic world beyond.

Just before stepping inside, Xia Ye glanced back by chance.

His eyes landed on a familiar figure entering the VIP lounge, surrounded by a squad of plainclothes security guards.

T/N:
It’s me, hi. Long time no see ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭*
Due to a lot of things happening in real life, I was unable to translate properly and was in quite a slump for the longest time, but I’m glad that bean gave me a sentinel and guide story recommendation that I ended up liking it
Hope you guys like it too~!
The update will be once a week like before until I have enough stockpile to increase the release without creating some sort of pressure for myself
So I hope you guys can wait patiently for each updates ^^

While Lin Kezhi was speaking, Xia Ye gazed out the window. Beyond it stretched a vast expanse of golden wheat fields, steadily receding as the train sped onward.

“So, let’s chat,” Lin Kezhi said. Ever the social butterfly, he nudged Xia Ye with his elbow. “What’s your ideal type? I’ll help you find one.”

Xia Ye turned to him.

“I’ve never thought about it.”

“You’ve never thought about it? No way.” Lin Kezhi looked utterly disappointed. “Xia Ye, let me tell you—you’ve become a celebrity on this train. After what just happened, everyone knows who you are. On my way here, I don’t even know how many sentinels were asking about you.”

Naturally outgoing, he was never short on words.

“Don’t worry. I know about half the people on this train. If you’ve got your eye on someone, just tell me. I’ll help you vet them.”

Xia Ye shifted his gaze to Lin Kezhi’s face. The coldness from earlier had faded, replaced by a touch of warmth.

“Thank you, but I really don’t need to.”

Faced with such a clear rejection, Lin Kezhi deflated like a punctured balloon.

“Then what are you going to do for the entrance assessment? You’ll need a partner, won’t you?”

Xia Ye suddenly smiled. His eyes flicked toward the seat beside him, the implication unmistakable.

“I’ll be fine on my own.”

Following his gaze, Lin Kezhi glanced over before breaking into laughter, clearly enjoying someone else’s misfortune.

“True enough. The two of them together couldn’t even beat you. Why bother finding a sentinel just to drag you down?”

His cheerful tone lightened the atmosphere, drawing a faint smile from Xia Zhi as well.

The tense mood that had filled the carriage earlier quickly dissipated.

“So, Xia Ye,” Lin Kezhi said with a grin, “does that make me your first friend at school? You’ll have to look out for me from now on.”

Xia Ye nodded.

He didn’t mind calling Lin Kezhi a friend. If anything, the thought brought him a measure of comfort.

Lin Kezhi was right; He really was his first friend at school.

And the first friend of his life.

Selfishly, Xia Ye would rather acknowledge Lin Kezhi as his first friend than call that other person one.

He wanted that person to occupy a place that was even more special.

—

In truth, Xia Ye had only met that person once.

He was a sentinel with an air of perpetual indifference, always wearing a cigarette tucked behind one ear, looking as though nothing in the world could concern him.

When Xia Ye first saw him, he was gravely injured.

A horrifying wound slashed across his back, so deep it had nearly torn him apart. Bright red blood seeped through the bandages, vivid and shocking to behold.

Xia Ye had seen a wound like that before.

During the extraterrestrial contamination that had nearly destroyed his entire life, a mantis-like extraterrestrial creature had ripped open his mother’s back in exactly the same way.

She hadn’t survived even fifteen minutes after being wounded.

The injury had been too severe, and no medicine could stop the endless flow of blood.

By the time the bed sheets had been soaked crimson, his mother had stopped breathing.

Seeing such a wound again made Xia Ye’s heart skip a beat.

But the man merely glanced at him nonchalantly.

“Scared?”

Xia Ye shook his head. He wasn’t afraid. Nor was he willing to admit that he was.

Driven by an impulse he couldn’t explain, he stared fixedly at the man before him.

“You’ve got guts for a kid,” Chi Zhou said absentmindedly with a faint smile. “Is there a medical station around here?”

Xia Ye shook his head again.

The medical station in District Twelve had been shut down three years ago.

Now, only underground clinics remained.

“I’m not a kid,” he said. “I’m fourteen.”

Only then did Chi Zhou give him a proper look.

At fourteen, Xia Ye had already begun to shoot up. Standing amid the refuse scattered across the contaminated district, he resembled a young poplar tree bursting with spring vitality.

He was simply too thin.

His shoulders looked as fragile as paper. It was obvious that this was a child who had grown up in the contaminated zone. Years of extraterrestrial contamination had inflicted irreversible damage on the health of District Twelve’s residents.

Fortunately, Xia Ye was still young.

The black market carried certain rare treatments capable of repairing genes damaged by extraterrestrial contamination.

Chi Zhou looked him up and down before flashing a roguish grin.

“How about a deal? Find me a place to stay, and I’ll take you somewhere interesting.”

Xia Ye immediately judged it to be a losing bargain.

District Twelve wasn’t that big. He had lived there for over a decade, so there couldn’t possibly be anywhere he hadn’t already been.

Even so…

He agreed.

“At least tell me your name.”

Staring at the ground, Xia Ye unconsciously nudged a pebble with the tip of his shoe.

“Chi Zhou.” He scratched his hair, looking oddly embarrassed. “You’ve probably heard of me.”

Xia Ye’s eyes widened.

Of course he had heard that name.

There was probably no one in the entire Human Alliance who hadn’t.

“So…you’re a sentinel?” Without realizing it, a hint of anticipation crept into Xia Ye’s voice.

Chi Zhou nodded. “Yeah.”

It was an obvious fact.

He couldn’t understand why Xia Ye felt the need to ask. Perhaps children from District Twelve were simply more cautious about such things.

Xia Ye’s steps immediately grew lighter.

He had never imagined he would actually meet the Chi Zhou.

The first Dark Sentinel in human history.

A century earlier, during the extraterrestrial contamination crisis, it had been Chi Zhou who single-handedly held back the extraterrestrial invasion, buying the Human Alliance precious time to recover.

His name existed in history textbooks.

It appeared in the Alliance’s annual New Year’s Gala.

It lived on in countless legends.

But it had never existed in Xia Ye’s life.

District Twelve lay on the outermost fringes of the Alliance.

It was a place where vermin thrived and darkness flourished.

He had no idea why Chi Zhou had come here.

—

Xia Ye brought Chi Zhou back to his home.

It was an old, dilapidated apartment. One of the windowpanes had shattered long ago, and Xia Ye had patched the hole with old newspapers to keep out the howling winter wind.

“It’s a little shabby,” Xia Ye said bluntly as he opened the door. “But no one will find you here.”

Chi Zhou pulled out one of the dining chairs and gestured for Xia Ye to sit before taking the chair opposite him. “No one lives here?”

“How did you know?” Xia Ye asked.

Whenever Xia Ye managed to sneak out of the orphanage, he would come here. He always kept the apartment spotless because couldn’t bear to let his memories gather dust.

“It doesn’t smell lived in,” Chi Zhou said with a shrug. “You don’t live here?”

Somehow, he produced a roll of bandages and set it on the wooden dining table.

Then he turned sideways and peeled away the blood-soaked bandages wrapped around his back. The movement was practiced, as though he had done it countless times before.

The gruesome wound came into view. Part of his ribs was faintly visible through the gash. Against the backdrop of his well-defined muscles, it looked even more terrifying.

After hesitating briefly, Xia Ye walked over and picked up the bandages. He was extraordinarily careful.

Chi Zhou barely felt any tug on the wound before the bandaging was finished.

“You’re pretty good at this,” Chi Zhou remarked.

Keeping his head lowered, Xia Ye remained silent for a moment.

He didn’t know much about medicine.

But during the contamination disaster, he had dressed wounds like this more times than he could count.

Standing behind Chi Zhou, he finally answered the earlier question.

“They said it’s not safe for minors to live alone.”

Understanding dawned on Chi Zhou.

Xia Ye owned an apartment but wasn’t allowed to live in it.

The conclusion was obvious.

Something had happened to his parents.

According to regulations, he could only stay at the orphanage operated by the Public Safety Bureau.

Xia Ye must have thought long and hard before deciding to tell him the truth.

Chi Zhou didn’t press the subject.

Instead, he stood up. “I’ll walk you back.”

—

Half a month later, Xia Ye keenly noticed that life at the orphanage had become noticeably better. Breakfast portions were no longer skimpy, and the bedding was thicker and warmer.

Whenever the other children mocked Xia Zhi, a teacher would mysteriously appear out of nowhere, drag the troublemakers away, and give them a thorough scolding.

With no more need to fight the children who bullied his sister, Xia Ye gladly devoted all of his time to studying sentinels, guides, and the Alliance Military Academy.

Through Chi Zhou’s stories, he discovered another world—a world that didn’t exist in District Twelve. Perhaps he had once had a chance to enter it, but the extraterrestrial contamination that had taken everything from him had erased that possibility.

Then Chi Zhou gave that opportunity back to him.

Chi Zhou had long since left; he had stayed in the apartment for only three days.

But he had kept his promise to take Xia Ye somewhere special.

The black market.

Xia Ye had always believed there was nowhere in District Twelve he didn’t know.

Yet as Chi Zhou led him through twisting alleys, across abandoned ruins and underground basements, Xia Ye realized once again just how small his world had been.

Chi Zhou told him many things.

About sentinels and guides.

About awakening and psychic power.

About the Alliance Military Academy.

About extraterrestrial contamination.

Finally, Chi Zhou brought him to the far end of the black market, where someone dressed in a white lab coat was waiting.

Chi Zhou nudged Xia Ye forward.

“Two Grade-A Purification Agents. Use them immediately. After that, one dose every week. Deliver them to…”

He looked at Xia Ye.

Xia Ye gave the apartment’s address before explaining, “Where I live isn’t convenient.”

“Grade-A Purification Agents are currently out of stock. The optimal alternative is four Grade-C Purification Agents,” the figure in the white coat replied in a mechanical voice. “Your order has been received. It will be delivered to the specified address. Thank you for your patronage.”

A stack of invoices rustled out of the lab coat’s pocket.

Chi Zhou stuffed them into his own pocket, uncapped one of the Purification Agents, and pressed it into Xia Ye’s hand.

Xia Ye shook his head. “I can’t afford this.”

He had caught a glimpse of the invoice. The total was an astronomical figure beyond anything he could possibly pay.

“It’s your payment,” Chi Zhou said. “You saved my life. You deserve it.”

Xia Ye knew it was only an excuse. When he had found Chi Zhou, the man hadn’t seemed weak at all.

“Xia Ye.”

Chi Zhou suddenly called his name, his tone growing more serious. “The Purification Agents can repair the damage caused by extraterrestrial contamination. Take better care of yourself. Your body can’t take much more abuse.”

He could tell that Xia Ye had once suffered severe injuries during the contamination disaster. Although he had survived, his lungs had sustained irreversible damage. He coughed from time to time, and his body was far too thin. After a long silence, Xia Ye tilted his head back and drank the Purification Agent.

The medicine took effect almost immediately. Like a stream of clear spring water, it flowed through his battered bloodstream.

His head grew light. Yet more than dizziness, he felt relief. It was as though something murky had been washed out of his body.

“I’ll pay you back someday,” Xia Ye said stubbornly.

“Sure,” Chi Zhou replied casually. “I’ll be waiting.”

Xia Ye had always wondered whether those words had been a promise…

…or merely a joke.

After Chi Zhou left, Xia Ye came down with a high fever. The temperature frightened the orphanage teachers so badly that they even began discussing whether they should prepare a cemetery plot and flowers for him.

A week later, Xia Ye recovered without taking any medicine. The moment he opened his eyes, he realized the world had changed.

He could see the path of every wisp of wind.

He could hear the teachers whispering beside the fireplace.

He could feel the texture of the woven fabric beneath him.

This was the world of sentinels and guides.

It was also Chi Zhou’s world.

After awakening, Xia Ye became convinced that it had been a promise. No matter what Chi Zhou himself had intended, Xia Ye believed he was duty-bound to repay the kindness he had received.

“Xia Ye, this isn’t a place we should be,” Lin Kezhi said, looking around. He was clearly startled by the scene before him. “An underground fighting arena… If the disciplinary officer finds out, we’ll be expelled.”

It was Lin Kezhi’s first time in a place like this. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, he was the young master of a wealthy family from the Upper Seventh District, someone whose life had never intersected with the chaotic, blood-soaked world of underground fighting rings.

A hoarse, piercing roar erupted from inside the arena. Despite its harshness, the excitement of the spectators was unmistakable.

Xia Ye had already placed his hand on the brass door. Noticing his companion’s unease, he paused.

“I know,” Xia Ye said, his voice carrying a hint of distance. “Lin Kezhi, thank you for coming with me. But you know this is risky…”

His words were polite and impeccable, but the implication was clear: he was asking Lin Kezhi to leave.

Lin Kezhi scratched his head, feeling a little embarrassed instead.

The truth was, he wasn’t particularly close to Xia Ye.

He had only met Xia Ye two weeks ago, when the Alliance Military Academy’s train made its circuit through all twelve districts to pick up the incoming freshmen.

—

Before meeting Xia Ye, Lin Kezhi had already heard plenty about him.

Xia Ye lived in District Twelve, the most chaotic district in the Alliance. Poverty was everywhere there, extraterrestrial contamination ran rampant, and to the residents of the Upper Seventh District, it was a lawless land. Some radical social Darwinists even openly claimed that the people living in the Lower Five Districts were no better than animals.

The fact that someone from District Twelve had been admitted to the Alliance Military Academy was news in itself.

Everyone knew that the military academy was an exclusive playground reserved for the Upper Seventh District.

After humanity left the Solar System and established the Human Alliance in a galaxy twenty million light-years away, admission to the military academy became a symbol of honor. The residents of the Upper Seventh District took immense pride in attending it, while the Lower Five Districts had all but disappeared from the Alliance’s consciousness, remembered only when the Upper Seventh District offered its hypocritical condolences during major holidays.

The moment Xia Ye boarded the train, he felt countless gazes filled with complicated emotions settle on him.

The malicious whispers were even more incessant.

“A Guide from District Twelve? Awakening as a Guide requires psychic power. Do those illiterates in District Twelve even understand what that is?”

“He’s bringing his little sister with him to military school. Someone so soft-hearted can’t possibly be strong.”

“I’ve got to admit, though. His little sister is pretty…”

Xia Ye withdrew his gaze from the scenery outside the window and swept a cold glance across the carriage.

By nature, he was aloof. He had never cared about idle gossip.

But talking about his little sister like that was unacceptable.

What’s more, while they gossiped about them, they were quietly releasing their psychic power.

An undercurrent surged through the carriage. The sentinel seated nearby stared at him with a provocative grin. Beside him, the guide curled his fingers slightly into the unmistakable posture of someone preparing to deploy a Mental Domain.

Another fool.

Another fool trying to pry into his sister, hoping to overwhelm him with psychic power and force him into submission.

The corners of Xia Ye’s lips curved upward. A faint sneer appeared on his usually expressionless face.

“So eager to die?”

His voice was even colder than his smile. Yet it was so indifferent that it carried no trace of emotion, as though he were merely stating a fact instead of issuing a threat.

Li Feile suddenly felt something was wrong.

He came from one of the elite families of the Upper Seventh District. His parents were a sentinelxguide pair—the textbook example of a privileged upbringing.

After awakening as a sentinel at sixteen, his parents introduced him to Qiu Luo. Once they proved to be a compatible match, Qiu Luo became his guide.

By the time they boarded this train, they had already trained together for two years.

According to his parents’ calculations, they should have been the strongest pair aboard this train, destined to stand above all their classmates.

And yet…

The guide from District Twelve standing before them was nothing like they had imagined.

In most people’s minds, guides were rational, gentle, like a spring breeze that soothed the turbulent minds of Sentinels.

Xia Ye was different.

Li Feile couldn’t sense that calming presence from him.

Instead, he felt the oppressive stillness before an approaching storm.

—

Xia Ye rose from his seat. He was tall and slender, his shoulders almost too thin, giving him a frailty that didn’t belong on a boy his age.

His skin was very pale. Bluish veins faintly showed beneath the skin on the backs of his hands, lending him an unhealthy appearance.

Seeing him like this, Li Feile completely forgot the unease he had felt moments ago, replacing it with irritation.

It was obvious that Xia Ye wasn’t good at hand-to-hand combat.

In fact…he even looked weak.

As one of the Upper Seventh District’s renowned prodigy Sentinels, Li Feile couldn’t tolerate having been intimidated by someone like this.

He let out a scornful laugh.

“Sickly bastard.”

Xia Ye acted as though he hadn’t heard him. He merely looked at him, his gaze as sharp as a blade.

The girl sitting across from him seemed to sense something. Uneasily, she reached out and tugged gently at the hem of Xia Ye’s shirt. The boiling blood in Xia Ye’s veins cooled for an instant.

The snow leopard that had been on the verge of springing out was forcibly restrained.

Holding his younger sister’s hand, Xia Ye’s voice softened. “Don’t be afraid.”

Xia Zhi responded timidly. As she looked up, half of her face came into view, revealing a pair of eyes as lifeless as inorganic glass.

Li Feile stared at the siblings before suddenly bursting into laughter.

“Hahaha! A sickly bastard with a blind little sister… Such a pretty little blind girl. Come over here and let this big brother get a better look.”

His voice rang loudly enough for the entire carriage to hear. Even passengers from the neighbouring carriages poked their heads in to see what was happening.

Xia Ye lowered his eyes.

This wasn’t the first time he had heard such mockery. Over the past decade and more, he and his younger sister had grown up in an orphanage. They had heard these kinds of words from countless people.

Many told him he should get used to it, but he could never get used to it.

Extraterrestrial contamination had taken their parents’ lives, stolen his sister’s eyesight, and robbed him of his health.

None of that mattered to anyone.

People only saw what they wanted to see.

The piercing laughter pounded against Xia Ye’s eardrums. It felt as though he had been caught in a vortex.

Centred on Xia Ye, an overwhelming surge of psychic power burst forth uncontrollably and swept through the entire carriage.

Xia Zhi’s slender fingers slipped from the hem of her brother’s shirt.

She shrank back into her seat like a frightened kitten.

—

Two minutes later, Xia Ye looked up.

A fierce gust of wind swept through the jet-black train carriage, carrying with it the scorching breath of a midsummer desert.

Li Feile couldn’t help shivering. He had never experienced such overwhelming pressure from someone his own age.

To prevent untrained sentinels and guides from coming into conflict during the journey, this train had been specially built to transport them. It was equipped with a barrier that suppressed psychic power.

Under normal circumstances, none of them should have been able to release their psychic power on a large scale, nor summon their spirit animals. At most, they could have gotten into minor scuffles.

But Xia Ye seemed completely unaffected by those ‘rules’.

Simply standing there, the psychic power he released was enough to make everyone in the carriage tremble.

“Damn it!” Li Feile spat on the floor despite the crushing pressure. “If you’ve got the guts, fight me!”

At that moment, Xia Ye actually smiled—a smile devoid of warmth.

There was no mirth in his eyes. Only a cold curve at the corners of his lips.

“I don’t mind,” he said. “But are you sure you can handle it?”

As he spoke, his gaze swept past Li Feile’s shoulder with faint mockery.

Li Feile froze.

Only then did he turn around and realise that Qiu Luo had already collapsed limply into his seat, completely subdued by Xia Ye’s psychic pressure.

The sight pushed Li Feile over the edge.

He lunged forward, reaching for Xia Ye’s collar without the slightest restraint.

But Xia Ye moved like a nimble fish. He shifted slightly to the side, effortlessly evading the grab.

Li Feile grasped nothing but air. Planting his right foot, he pivoted on the spot and charged at Xia Ye like a predatory beast.

The carriage fell deathly silent; no one had expected them to actually come to blows.

Someone shouted, “Stop fighting! The instructor’s coming!”

Li Feile couldn’t hear it. Consumed by rage, he had forgotten everything else.

He only wanted Xia Ye dead.

Xia Ye had remained standing the entire time, quietly. The instant Li Feile reached him, Xia Ye suddenly moved. He caught Li Feile’s wrist.

In the blink of an eye, Li Feile was hurled to the floor.

No one had even seen how he had done it.

—

It was at that moment that Lin Kezhi first met Xia Ye.

The journey had been so long that he had been bored enough to practically start picking at his toes in his seat when a commotion suddenly broke out in the carriage behind him.

Several girls came running over in a panic.

“Someone’s hurt! Where’s the instructor?”

Lin Kezhi had always loved excitement. Hearing that, he stopped one of them. “What happened? I’ll take you to the instructor.”

He led the way with practised ease while listening to the whole story.

Fifteen minutes later, Lin Kezhi returned to the carriage with the instructor. Li Feile lay on the floor, all his previous arrogance gone, glaring furiously at Xia Ye.

Qiu Luo knelt beside him, weakly holding his hand. His eyes were dim and lifeless.

The instructor frowned. “Your sentinel is injured. Why aren’t you giving him mental guiding?”

Li Feile’s injuries weren’t serious. Xia Ye had merely thrown him to the ground, spraining his ankle.

Lin Kezhi secretly clicked his tongue.

Sentinels possessed extraordinary physiques. Their muscle density and bone density were several times greater than those of ordinary people. Injuring a Sentinel was no easy feat.

“I…” Hearing the instructor’s question, Qiu Luo stammered for a long time before finally giving up in defeat. “I can’t.”

The instructor was momentarily speechless.

Only then did he notice the faint but unmistakable psychic power still emanating from Xia Ye.

It seemed Xia Ye was still suppressing them.

“Xia Ye, remember the school rules,” the instructor said with a light cough. “Withdraw it.”

At last, a trace of emotion appeared in Xia Ye’s indifferent eyes.

He stared directly at the person on the floor.

“Apologise.”

Displeasure crossed the instructor’s face.

He remembered Xia Ye—the only student from District Twelve on the entire train, and one who had even brought his younger sister along. It was impossible not to notice him.

The instructor had always believed that boys from poor families should keep their heads down.

Who would have thought that before even enrolling, Xia Ye would get into a fight with one of the Upper Seventh District’s prodigy sentinels?

The instructor was about to reprimand Xia Ye when Lin Kezhi stopped him.

Giving the instructor a meaningful look, Lin Kezhi grinned as he helped the fallen sentinel to his feet.

“We’re all classmates here. Let’s not damage our relationship, okay?”

The instructor shuddered.

He suddenly understood the situation.

A prodigy Sentinel from the Upper Seventh District…

And a Guide capable of beating that prodigy Sentinel into this state…

Neither was someone he could afford to offend.

The students aboard this train had all passed layer upon layer of rigorous selection. They were the elite chosen to fight against extraterrestrial contamination.

They were the hope and future of the Human Alliance.

Even if Xia Ye came from District Twelve, he was not someone the instructor had the authority to interfere with.

“Lin Kezhi is right,” the instructor said, instantly changing his attitude. “If there’s been some misunderstanding, everyone should just sit down and talk it out.”

The moment those words left his mouth, Li Feile felt the mental pressure weighing on him intensify again, nearly suffocating him.

Qiu Luo’s fingers went limp.

His voice trembled.

“I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have spoken about you and your little sister like that. I promise it won’t happen again.”

Xia Ye looked toward his sister. Seeing Xia Zhi smiling at last, he gave a slight nod and let the matter rest.

After the instructor left, Lin Kezhi plopped down beside Xia Ye and asked eagerly, “Xia Ye, before the entrance assessment there’s going to be a compatibility exchange meeting. What kind of sentinel are you hoping to find?”

Author’s Note:

It’s my first time writing a danmei novel, so I’m a little nervous.

Feel free to leave a comment if you stop by!

—

Setting Notes

The setting of this novel generally follows the standard “Sentinel & Guide” lore as described in the fandom encyclopedia. Any original settings unique to this story will be explained throughout the text.

Sentinels: Sentinels possess senses, physical abilities, and psychic power that far surpass those of ordinary humans, making them natural-born combat specialists. However, because their heightened senses are excessively acute, they frequently fall into berserk states and require a Guide’s mental guidance to stabilise them.

Guides: Guides possess psychic resonance and Mental Domains, allowing them to soothe and guide a sentinel’s emotions. Because of their exceptionally strong psychic power, they are easily affected by the emotions of others and can likewise influence those around them.

Dark Sentinel: The strongest class of sentinel and a born leader. The only type of sentinel capable of remaining calm without requiring a guide’s mental guidance.

Dark Guide: The strongest class of guide and a born beast tamer. They are capable of using their Mental Domains as offensive weapons against others.

Spirit Animal: The physical manifestation of a sentinel’s or guide’s psychic power, most commonly appearing in the form of an animal.