Category: The Laws of Resonance (Page 1 of 2)

Faced with Yue Sen’s questioning, the secretary looked troubled. “According to protocols, the Social Administration Bureau is responsible for assessing Dark Guides. But those protocols have never actually been put into practice. This is the first Dark Guide to appear since humanity awakened.”

Yue Sen’s temples throbbed. He could already feel a headache coming on, so he dropped heavily into his office chair and let out a long sigh.

The first Dark Guide to ever appear…

If the Social Administration Bureau had handled the assessment, there might at least have been a chance for Li Feile’s parents to pull some strings.

“Why has the Special Operations Department gotten involved with our military academy?” Yue Sen asked coldly. “Aren’t they supposed to leave everything else alone and devote themselves entirely to dealing with extraterrestrial contamination?”

The Special Operations Department was the group Yue Sen understood the least.

Led by Chi Zhou, every member had an impressive military record, yet they never involved themselves in the political infighting within the Alliance. They were always on the front lines, fighting against extraterrestrial contamination.

Yue Sen had always thought there was something almost saintly about these people. All they ever seemed to care about was saving humanity. Was that really necessary? If extraterrestrial contamination was going to destroy the Alliance, it would take at least several hundred years. Wasn’t it better to enjoy life while they still could?

As for him, he had never believed in those so-called prophecies.

Under the light of his desk lamp, Yue Sen read through the assessment report again and again.

“Does the Special Operations Department even have the authority to issue this?”

The secretary could tell that Yue Sen was deeply dissatisfied with the result. Grimacing, he answered carefully, “Commander, the Special Operations Department is directly under the Alliance and is one level higher than the Social Administration Bureau. They have the authority to bypass the usual procedures and issue their own reports.”

That answer clearly did nothing to satisfy Yue Sen. He tossed the kraft-paper envelope onto the desk, crossed one leg over the other, and glared at the secretary. “Stop spouting nonsense. I’m asking how they made the assessment.”

After humanity awakened, the Social Administration Bureau developed a series of sophisticated instruments to determine the psychic power levels of sentinels and guides.

Once they reached adulthood, all sentinels and guides were required to undergo an assessment at the Social Administration Bureau. Students entering an Alliance military academy were no exception.

For anyone whose abilities exceeded the system’s measurable range, an experienced instructor was supposed to submit a report and wait for the Social Administration Bureau to send a specialist to conduct a manual assessment.

Yet despite the military academy having been established for so many years, this was the first time they had ever had to activate that procedure.

The secretary wiped the sweat from his brow. “Commander, Chi Zhou is a Dark Sentinel. If he says someone is a Dark Guide, who would dare to contradict him?”

His tone had turned somewhat resigned, as though he already knew that nothing he said would satisfy Yue Sen. Having given up on trying to please him, he simply voiced what he really thought.

Yue Sen fell silent.

He knew the secretary was right.

As humanity’s only Dark Sentinel, Chi Zhou was the most qualified person in existence to make such an assessment.

Yue Sen’s hand dropped limply to his side, and the assessment report drifted onto the desk, casting a faint shadow across its surface.

According to the Social Administration Bureau’s research report on sentinel and guide awakenings, only one Dark Sentinel would appear in any given era, destined to become the leader of all sentinels.

The same applied to Dark Guides.

There was nothing to do but blame Li Feile for being born in the wrong era—or for having bet on the wrong person.

Yue Sen lit a cigarette and stood by the window, gazing into the night with a profound sense of melancholy.

Ten minutes later, he returned to his office.

“Prepare to issue the announcement.”

The awakening of a Dark Guide was no trivial matter. It was an event of the highest priority.

As the military academy’s academic affairs officer, Yue Sen was obligated to notify all faculty and students immediately, as well as report the matter to the military and the Alliance.

This might very well be the final task of his career.

—

Half an hour later, the academy’s StarNet group exploded.

“Did everyone get the report?! We have a Dark Guide in our year!!!”

“Holy shit, I haven’t read it yet! Is this the first Dark Guide in the Alliance?!”

“Who is it? Who is it? Is it Qiu Luo?! I heard back in high school that his psychic power was rated S-class!”

“No! It’s Xia Ye! The one from District Twelve!”

“I remember him. Wasn’t he the one who took down Li Feile during the entrance assessment?”

“That’s him! The Special Operations Department just released the assessment report. He’s an SSS-class Dark Guide!”

 

The moment Xia Ye’s name appeared, the StarNet group fell silent.

For many people, the news left them with complicated feelings. Among them were the sentinels who had given Xia Ye love letters, the students Xia Ye had defeated during the entrance assessment, as well as Li Feile and Qiu Luo.

Back in their dormitory, Li Feile and Qiu Luo sat facing each other, both seeing a bitter smile on the other’s face.

They had been groomed since childhood to become the leaders of the next generation of sentinels and guides. Their parents had placed enormous hopes on them, expecting them to lead their families to even greater heights.

Now, it seemed those hopes were about to come crashing down.

After a long silence, Qiu Luo finally asked softly, “What do we do?”

Li Feile clenched his fists so tightly that the veins stood out on the backs of his hands.

“Is he really that strong?”

“Yeah.” Qiu Luo nodded. “I can’t even get close to his Mental Domain. We’re not on the same level.”

Hearing that from his guide, the last bit of strength Li Feile had been forcing himself to maintain finally drained away. He slumped back and muttered, “I don’t know.”

“Feile, listen to me.” Qiu Luo reached out and took his hand. “The only thing we can do now is choose to stand on his side, while no one else has started supporting him yet.”

Li Feile remained silent for a long time before finally nodding, though he was still deeply unwilling to accept it.

With Qiu Luo’s support behind him, a congratulatory message appeared in the academy’s StarNet group, celebrating Xia Ye’s successful assessment as a Dark Guide.

Qiu Luo and Li Feile had spent years building their influence in Upper District Seven, quietly regarding themselves as the leaders of the new generation of sentinels and guides. Even after entering the military academy, they had made no attempt to hide their ambition.

Although losing to Xia Ye twice had been a humiliating blow, they still enjoyed considerable prestige among the new students.

The moment Qiu Luo’s message appeared, the freshmen immediately understood which way the wind was blowing.

The StarNet group, which had been quiet for so long, suddenly came alive with messages congratulating Xia Ye on becoming a Dark Guide.

Lin Kezhi, the resident internet addict, was practically glued to his phone, scrolling through the messages with far more enthusiasm than he had shown when he received his own assessment report.

After the group had been chatting for a while, someone finally noticed that the person everyone was talking about still hadn’t appeared.

“Where’s Xia Ye? I remember he joined the group.”

“I added him.”

Lin Kezhi typed as he glanced over toward Xia Ye.

“He’s asleep.”

—

Xia Ye was curled up on his dormitory bed, but his sleep was far from peaceful.

Lin Kezhi wasn’t the type to pull someone’s blanket off, so he naturally hadn’t noticed that Xia Ye was running a low fever.

The consequences of overexerting his psychic power had finally caught up with him. Every cell in his body seemed to be protesting.

It had been an unbearably long day.

Because Xia Ye had refused to participate in matching, his entrance assessment had been dragged out indefinitely.

After the routine psychic power assessment, the academic affairs officer had arranged three team-combat matches for him, each against a three-person sentinel-guide team that had already successfully bonded.

All three teams consisted of freshmen, but once a sentinel and guide had bonded, their combat ability could increase by two or even three times.

With the guide’s assistance, a sentinel’s five senses became extraordinarily acute. They could even detect the slightest movement of air around them, giving them a tremendous advantage in both close combat and mecha piloting.

Xia Ye could overpower them in the Mental Domain, but physically, he had no advantage whatsoever.

If anything, he was at a disadvantage.

He knew his own weakness all too well. As a guide who had to rely on long-term use of genetic purifying agents just to maintain his health, his only option was to finish every fight as quickly as possible.

Even so, defeating three teams took a significant amount of time.

By the time the free-sparring session began, Xia Ye was already feeling exhausted.

But he refused to give up and continued accepting every challenge.

The price of using so much psychic power was that snow leopard became increasingly violent, almost impossible for him to control.

Even the gene suppressant he had used at the underground fighting arena had only kept it under control temporarily; the snow leopard was still restless, constantly trying to break free.

There was nothing he could do about it.

The snow leopard wasn’t actually his true Spirit Animal. It was the result of a violent transformation brought on by his hormonal imbalance.

Half-conscious, Xia Ye was still thinking about his snow leopard, desperately unwilling to let it slip beyond his control.

But the heat continued spreading through every cell in his body, overwhelming him until even his limbs felt heavy and weak.

Just before Xia Ye lost consciousness, the snow leopard finally broke free of its restraints and shot through the window like a streak of lightning.

—

At the Alliance Special Operations Department, it was already past three in the morning, yet the lights in the office were still on.

Shi Lu was buried beneath a mountain of files, rummaging through them one after another. Every so often, he scratched his head and let out a frustrated groan.

“What the hell? I can’t find anything about him! There’s nothing in the StarNet records or the underground fighting arena’s database. I just went to the Archives Bureau and pulled every file they have from District Twelve, but his file is completely blank.”

Chi Zhou’s voice came from behind the closed door of his private office, carrying a faint trace of sleepiness.

“I told you. You won’t find anything. His file is classified.”

Shi Lu looked sceptical. “Really? I even managed to find his sister’s.”

Chi Zhou opened the door and looked down at him.

“Really. Xia Ye’s file is classified. I sealed it myself.”

Shi Lu froze for a moment before murmuring, “Why?”

As a researcher at the institute, Shi Lu knew exactly what a top-secret Alliance file meant.

It meant that the person in question was hiding a secret that no one else was allowed to know.

Most people with top-secret files were members of the Special Operations Department. In one way or another, they had experienced extraordinary circumstances on the front lines against extraterrestrial contamination—things that could only be reported directly to the Alliance.

“If it’s classified, why are you asking?” Chi Zhou said lazily. “Go home and sleep. And stop making so much noise.”

He turned around and closed the office door.

The instant the door shut, a lithe snow leopard shot through the window and barreled straight into his office.

Chi Zhou leaned back against the sofa and studied the unexpected visitor.

The snow leopard faced him warily, extending its sharp claws and hooking them into the carpet. It looked rather fierce.

Yet every now and then, it would lift its head and let out a soft, rumbling purr.

Rather than a growl, it sounded almost like it was seeking affection.

“Snow leopard, huh… It’s basically just a big cat,” Chi Zhou muttered to himself as he held out a hand. “Come here.”

The snow leopard tilted its head, looking distinctly reluctant.

“I know you’re Xia Ye’s Spirit Animal.”

Chi Zhou walked over and crouched down in front of it, meeting its eyes.

“Good boy.”

—–

Author Notes:
Is there anything wrong with loving to pet cats? No! Humans loving to pet cats is only natural!

 

---

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Beneath the bright, silvery moonlight, Xia Ye stood gazing into the distance, lost in thought.

After that summer, he had read everything he could find about Chi Zhou.

In the Alliance’s publicly released footage, Chi Zhou piloted Prometheus straight toward the extraterrestrial lifeforms. The roaring Black Dragon soared into the sky, cleaving the heavens in two.

In just thirty seconds, the extraterrestrial creatures that had once destroyed countless cities and plunged humanity into terror were reduced to fragments.

Under the sky eclipsed by the Black Dragon, foul blood rained down in torrents. Even the fearless extraterrestrial creatures halted in their tracks, shaken by the sight before them.

Ten minutes later, the monsters retreated like an ebbing tide. The interstellar warships lifted into the air and withdrew.

The Alliance had turned that recording into promotional material, broadcasting it around the clock on every kind of public transport.

Xia Ye had watched it so many times that every single frame had been engraved into his memory.

“What’s wrong?” Lin Kezhi had been chatting enthusiastically. Seeing Xia Ye remain silent for so long, he reached out and patted him on the back. “Why think so much? It’s all in the past.”

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

He didn’t believe those things were all in the past.

In the colonel’s office, Chi Zhou had worn a casual, indifferent expression, as though nothing mattered. Yet he hadn’t responded to the colonel’s complaints.

Xia Ye didn’t think Chi Zhou believed it was all behind him.

After a long silence, he asked, “What time is Chi Zhou coming tomorrow?”

“Ten in the morning, at the Hall of Glory,” Lin Kezhi answered instinctively. “You’re coming?”

“En.”

“Great, then I’ll save you a seat. By the way, aren’t you going to see your sister tomorrow?”

“I’ll go after the lecture.”

Xia Zhi had run into a bit of trouble at school and had called him the day before. Xia Ye had already spoken with one of her teachers over the phone, and they had arranged to meet at the school the next day.

“It’s rare to see you interested in something. I’ll come get you tomorrow,” Lin Kezhi said excitedly. Then something occurred to him. “Wait… Are you and Instructor Chi close?”

Xia Ye lied.

“No.”

He didn’t want anyone to know about his connection with Chi Zhou.

“Really?” Lin Kezhi muttered. “That’s strange. Someone who never attends school events suddenly wants to hear a lecture, and you even called him ‘Chi Zhou’ directly… We all call him Instructor Chi.”

“I’ve seen him in the news too many times,” Xia Ye explained. “It’s become a habit.”

The explanation only made it sound more like he was trying to cover something up.

—

By the time they returned to the academy, there were only fifteen minutes left before midnight.

“Hurry, hurry!” Lin Kezhi dashed toward the school gate. “If we don’t get there now, we’ll miss curfew.”

Xia Ye pointed toward the entrance.

“We’re already too late.”

Standing in the shadows near the imposing iron gates was a lone figure.

Lin Kezhi muttered under his breath, “No way… We sneak out for the first time and immediately get caught…”

The man stepped out of the darkness.

It was Yue Sen, the military academy’s dean of academic affairs.

As dean, Yue Sen detested students breaking the rules. Yet he was far from being an upright and principled man. Instead, he greatly enjoyed using his authority to secure benefits for himself.

With his hands clasped behind his back, Yue Sen stood before them, looking down at them from above.

“Where have you been? Academy regulations forbid students from staying out overnight.”

A fine layer of sweat appeared on Lin Kezhi’s forehead.

He had no idea how to answer. He couldn’t exactly say they’d gone to an underground fighting arena…

Just as he was desperately trying to invent an excuse, Xia Ye spoke.

“Instructor, it’s not twelve o’clock yet,” he said mildly. “So this doesn’t count as staying out overnight.”

Lin Kezhi nearly burst out laughing. He had never expected Xia Ye to expose Yue Sen’s trick so calmly.

The academy’s intranet groups had been talking about Yue Sen for a long time.

Among this year’s faculty, the dean of academic affairs loved making life difficult for students. He constantly preached that ‘military academy students must obey orders absolutely’, yet privately sneered at the military’s own regulations. Behind the scenes, he threatened parents by leveraging their children’s treatment at the academy, demanding money and expensive gifts.

In less than two weeks since enrollment, several students had already fallen into his hands.

Most students at the academy came from District Seven, where the wealthy and influential gathered. They had enrolled mainly to polish their résumés before entering the various government bureaus. Though furious, they dared not speak up and could only swallow the humiliation.

Yue Sen had been throwing his weight around at the academy for years.

This was the first time he had encountered a student like Xia Ye.

His face turned pale with anger.

He still remembered what had happened that afternoon.

Li Feile’s parents had close ties with Yue Sen. Long before admissions began, they had instructed him to make sure Li Feile ranked first in the entrance assessment.

Given Li Feile’s abilities, there should have been no need to interfere. Yue Sen had readily agreed and accepted a hefty payment with a clear conscience.

During the entrance assessment, he had deliberately arranged for Li Feile to suppress Xia Ye’s momentum by sending him onto the field.

He had never expected Xia Ye to be that strong.

The moment Xia Ye expanded his Mental Domain, Li Feile and Qiu Luo hadn’t even been able to get close to him.

After their son had suffered such a humiliating defeat, the Li family naturally came looking for Yue Sen, convinced that he had sabotaged things behind the scenes.

There could only be one first place.

No one remembered second place.

Especially at a military academy, where strength was worshipped above all else. They couldn’t allow anyone to steal their son’s spotlight.

The Li family held extraordinary status within the Alliance. Yue Sen had bowed and apologized repeatedly, assuring them that he would find a way to expel Xia Ye from the academy so he wouldn’t stand in Li Feile’s way.

It had become a tradition for students who enjoyed having fun to leave campus and celebrate after the entrance assessment.

When Yue Sen discovered that Xia Ye wasn’t in his dormitory, he had deliberately come to make trouble for him.

“So, you went out drinking, didn’t you?” Yue Sen sneered. “Academy regulations state that students, as reserve military personnel, must remain clear-headed at all times. Alcohol is strictly forbidden.”

Lin Kezhi looked even more panicked.

He had indeed drunk a little earlier. Although the alcohol had mostly worn off during the walk back, any proper test would definitely show a reading above the limit.

Yue Sen secretly congratulated himself.

Judging by Lin Kezhi’s expression, the two of them had definitely gone out drinking to celebrate.

And Xia Ye was still pretending? A poor kid from District Twelve who had taken first place—how could he not be overjoyed?

There was no way he would resist showing off.

Prepared for exactly this, Yue Sen beckoned to Xia Ye.

“Alcohol test. Come here.”

Xia Ye smiled nonchalantly. “If you insist on testing me, then go ahead.”

He walked over and extended his left hand before the testing device.

Yue Sen stared at his wrist. It was slender, almost delicate, his skin seeming to glow beneath the moonlight. No matter how hard he thought about it, he couldn’t understand how Li Feile had lost to someone like this.

Three seconds later, the machine let out a beep.

“Test complete. Blood alcohol level within the normal range. Entry permitted.”

Yue Sen looked at Xia Ye in disbelief. Lin Kezhi still reeked faintly of alcohol, so how could Xia Ye not have had a single drink?

He couldn’t make things difficult for Lin Kezhi. In District Seven, Lin Kezhi was also considered a young master of considerable standing, and Yue Sen had no intention of offending him.

His expression darkened as he sized Xia Ye up.

“You stay. Lin Kezhi, you can go in first.”

Lin Kezhi was just about to protest when he caught Xia Ye’s look.

Swallowing his words, he glanced back. Xia Ye gave him a slight nod, signaling that everything was fine.

—

After Lin Kezhi left, Yue Sen’s face grew even darker.

“I don’t care what trick you used. If you drank, then you drank,” Yue Sen said sinisterly, glaring at him. “Come to my office.”

Xia Ye shrugged. “Are you sure?”

He knew exactly how to provoke people. His voice remained light and calm, carrying a hint of casual indifference.

As expected, Yue Sen flew into a rage. “When I tell you to come, you come! Why are you talking so much?”

Standing by the academy gates, Xia Ye quietly took two steps toward the surveillance camera, making sure both he and Yue Sen were clearly within its view before replying in an even tone, “Academy regulations state that after midnight, students may not appear anywhere outside their dormitories. Your office is no exception.”

Yue Sen was beginning to lose control. The veins at his temples throbbed violently.

It was the first time he had ever encountered such a troublesome student. Most military academy students feared disciplinary punishment and didn’t dare openly defy an instructor.

But Xia Ye was different.

What gave him confidence wasn’t his family background—

It was his talent.

A Dark Guide, one that appeared perhaps once in a century.

Once the Alliance learned of his existence, they would never leave him on his own. They would undoubtedly recruit him into the military.

“Xia Ye,” Yue Sen snapped as he glared at him, “don’t refuse a toast only to be forced to drink a forfeit. Don’t think taking first place in the entrance assessment makes you somebody. A poor brat from District Twelve like you is nothing in District Seven.”

A snow leopard appeared silently behind Xia Ye.

He crouched down and gently stroked its back before asking once more, “Are you sure?”

Enraged by his attitude, Yue Sen instinctively released his own spirit animal the moment he saw the snow leopard.

In the darkness, a brown bear let out a thunderous roar and charged recklessly at Xia Ye.

Xia Ye remained where he was.

Slowly raising his head, he smiled. “Instructor, I must remind you. Academy regulations state that outside teaching hours, faculty members are forbidden from releasing their spirit animals against students. Any instructor who attacks a student will be dismissed.”

Just one second before reaching Xia Ye, the brown bear stopped.

It huffed heavily, looking almost comically docile. Xia Ye even reached out and patted it on the head.

“Good.”

Yue Sen’s face went deathly white, as though he had suffered a crushing blow. Only then did he understand Xia Ye’s intentions; Xia Ye had done it on purpose.

He had deliberately provoked him.

Deliberately lured his spirit animal into appearing, and deliberately tempted him into attacking.

As a newly enrolled student, Xia Ye could easily explain that he still hadn’t learned to control his spirit animal properly.

Those old fossils in the Disciplinary Department would believe him.

Yue Sen suddenly looked up.

Sure enough, a surveillance camera hung directly overhead.

“You little bastard…” he ground out through clenched teeth.

“Instructor,” Xia Ye said politely, “you have three days to clean out your office. The academy reviews its surveillance footage once a week. The next inspection is in three days.”

There was a smile in his eyes, though it carried no warmth.

“I imagine you have quite a few things that need cleaning up.”

Yue Sen glared at Xia Ye viciously.

He did indeed have many things to clean up. Over the years as dean of academic affairs, he had become entangled with far too many people. He couldn’t afford to let his own downfall drag those influential figures down with him.

Otherwise, his future would be completely ruined. No longer caring about Xia Ye, Yue Sen hurried into the academy.

The office building was brightly lit, completely unlike its usual state.

The moment he pushed open the door, his secretary immediately came over and spoke in a low voice.

“Commander, the application report we submitted today has come back.”

Yue Sen took the file from him, and his expression changed instantly.

“Xia Ye really is a Dark Guide?”

The kraft envelope bore the seal of the Bureau of Social Administration.

Opening it, Yue Sen pulled out a single sheet of paper. It was an assessment report issued by the Alliance’s Special Operations Department, officially classifying Xia Ye as an SSS-rank Dark Guide.

“How did they even assess this? That brat wasn’t even at school this afternoon.” Yue Sen’s face darkened. “And why was the report issued by the Special Operations Department? Shouldn’t the Bureau of Social Administration have sent people to conduct the evaluation?”

The secretary lowered his voice until it was barely audible.

“The Special Operations Department has higher authority than the Bureau of Social Administration.”

He paused.

“And… this report was personally issued by Chi Zhou.”

---

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“Scarlet Dawn Lotus?”

The moment he heard the name, the Colonel burst into raucous laughter.

“The legendary mech. The epoch-making weapon that’s supposed to change humanity’s fate…” He laughed so hard tears welled up in his eyes, eventually collapsing limply onto the sofa. “I’m just the owner of a fighting arena. How would I have any news about something like that?”

Chi Zhou looked at him helplessly.

“I’m being serious.”

The Colonel’s laughter stopped abruptly.

Silence settled over the office, filling the room with an awkward stillness. Only the candles continued to burn, their wicks occasionally snapping with soft crackling pops.

The Colonel looked around as though he had discovered an entirely new continent. After a long pause, he finally asked, “You’re…asking me?”

Chi Zhou took the wineglass away from him.

“That’s enough.”

He really was starting to get a headache.

The military had always been suspicious of the Colonel. Since he had stormed out of the military in anger, they were convinced his loyalty to the Alliance had gone with it.

When the Alliance Strategic Administration bypassed the military entirely and worked directly with the Colonel to establish an underground Sentinel unit, the military had been even less pleased.

And now Scarlet Dawn Lotus had appeared as the grand prize at an underground fighting arena.

The higher-ups were practically furious. Although Chi Zhou had been sent as a negotiator, the military’s orders had been uncompromising:

Recover Scarlet Dawn Lotus by any means necessary.

Chi Zhou trusted the Colonel’s loyalty. If Scarlet Dawn Lotus truly were in the Colonel’s possession, he would unquestionably return it to the Alliance.

The fact that he hadn’t done so meant there was only one possibility.

It was still missing.

Chi Zhou carried the whiskey back to the liquor cabinet.

He had no desire to quarrel with an old friend; he simply disliked talking to drunkards.

“You won’t let me drink, but I still can’t tell you anything.” The Colonel looked utterly shameless, as if nothing could faze him. “That thing really isn’t with me.”

Chi Zhou frowned slightly.

“Then why use it as the prize?”

The underground arena had announced the previous year that Scarlet Dawn Lotus would be the championship reward for the current season.

At the time, Chi Zhou had been away on a mission in another star system and had only recently returned to the Alliance. Otherwise, he would have come much sooner.

“Someone asked me to,” the Colonel replied mysteriously. “That person told me to spread the word. Once a champion is crowned, Scarlet Dawn Lotus will be delivered.”

Chi Zhou was momentarily speechless.

“…And you actually believed that?” The Colonel collapsed back onto the sofa with a long sigh.

“What else was I supposed to do? Might as well treat a dead horse like it was still alive. Who knows? Maybe it’ll really show up.”

Chi Zhou folded his arms.

“And can you guarantee the champion will be one of your people?”

“I can…” The Colonel paused dramatically. “…not!”

He suddenly leapt to his feet and staggered drunkenly toward the door.

“Ban Lei!!! I spent three years training him, and then he got beaten just like that!”

Under the arena’s rules, anyone who lost in the first round was eliminated immediately.

Ban Lei was the Colonel’s ace. Originally, the Colonel had intended to keep him hidden for another two years before unveiling him to draw crowds and fill the arena’s coffers.

But for the sake of Scarlet Dawn Lotus, he had decided to take the gamble early. He had never expected ‘Fang Qi’ to appear out of nowhere and completely derail his plans.

“That kid’s definitely no ordinary fighter!” the Colonel shouted as he stumbled toward the exit. “There aren’t even three people in the entire Alliance’s underground circuit who could beat Ban Lei. There’s no way he came out of some backwater arena!”

“He did,” Chi Zhou lied with a perfectly straight face. “I’ve seen him in District Ten.”

Then he asked, “Where are you going?”

“Really? With skills like that? Doesn’t seem like something you had develop in an underground pit…” The Colonel stopped in his tracks and eyed him suspiciously. “I’ve got to bring him back. Otherwise, who’s going to win Scarlet Dawn Lotus for me?”

Chi Zhou pressed him back onto the sofa.

“I’ll go.”

The Colonel blinked. “You’re helping me chase him down?”

“In your dreams.”

Chi Zhou casually shut the office door. “Stop worrying about things you shouldn’t.”

There was no way he was going to look for Xia Ye now.

Chi Zhou could accept Xia Ye appearing in the arena for the sake of Scarlet Dawn Lotus.

After all, it had been Dr. Xia’s life’s work. It was only natural that it held special meaning for him.

But what Chi Zhou couldn’t accept was Xia Ye following the Colonel into underground fixed matches.

He deserved a bright future.

In the span of a few moments, a plan had already taken shape in Chi Zhou’s mind. One that would allow Xia Ye to obtain Scarlet Dawn Lotus without becoming a target of the mysterious person the Colonel had mentioned.

—

Bright moonlight bathed the spotless asphalt road, giving it a pearlescent sheen.

Once they had left the arena, Lin Kezhi finally let out a long breath.

“I was scared to death back there.” He looked back at the underground fighting arena.

Beneath the pitch-black night sky, the ancient Roman-style structure resembled a slumbering beast, as though it could swallow anyone who ventured too close.

“I honestly thought the Colonel had figured out we cheated.”

Opening his star credit account, Lin Kezhi admired the balance with unconcealed delight.

“I’ve never seen this much money before.” As he spoke, he tapped a few buttons and transferred the winnings into Xia Ye’s account.

“What a shame,” he sighed. “None of it’s actually mine.”

“Some of it is.”

Lin Kezhi jumped when his communicator erupted with notification chimes.

Opening his account, he stared in surprise.

“Why did you send me so much? All I did was sit there and place a bet.”

“Not everyone is willing to trust a friend.”

For once, Xia Ye’s voice carried a trace of warmth instead of its usual cool detachment.

“Thank you.”

Lin Kezhi scratched his head awkwardly. “I can’t possibly accept this for nothing. After tomorrow’s lecture, pizza’s on me.”

“What lecture?” Xia Ye asked.

At the start of the semester, he had carefully memorised every class on the schedule along with every major school event.

Outside those hours, he had personal matters to attend to. For example, visiting his younger sister at the neighbouring school.

Xia Zhi had lost her eyesight during the extraterrestrial contamination.

She had often been bullied at the orphanage before, and now that she had been placed in an unfamiliar environment, Xia Ye worried she might have trouble adjusting.

“Instructor Chi’s lecture, of course,” Lin Kezhi replied casually. “The notice went out in the group chat a few days ago.”

Xia Ye fell silent for a moment.

“I’m not in the group.”

Only then did it occur to him that he had been excluded. The military academy was merely a reflection of society. The wealthy students from the Upper Seven Districts naturally formed their own circles and left him outside them.

Meanwhile, students from the Lower Four Districts generally performed poorly and assumed that someone like Xia Ye—who had taken first place several times in a row—didn’t belong with them either.

Every spare moment of Xia Ye’s time was already consumed by the library and looking after his sister.

Now he had added another commitment: regularly competing in underground fighting arenas.

He had neither the time nor the inclination to browse StarNet, so he hadn’t even understood Chi Zhou’s joke earlier.

Naturally, he knew even less about the class group chat.

“You’re not?” Lin Kezhi looked genuinely surprised. “Oh… You never come to any of the gatherings. They probably just forgot about you. I’ll add you.”

Before Xia Ye could stop him, Lin Kezhi had already pulled him into the military academy’s StarNet discussion group.

The chat had been lively moments before, everyone discussing tomorrow’s lecture.

[Is it really Instructor Chi tomorrow? I thought he was just an honorary name on the faculty list. They say he hasn’t shown up at the academy in ten years.]

[The situation’s getting serious this year. Signs of contamination have already been detected in three nearby star systems. The prophecy might actually come true.]

[Does that mean our class will be heading straight to the battlefield after graduation? No wonder they’re bringing Instructor Chi in as soon as the semester starts.]

The moment Xia Ye joined, a simple notification appeared in the chat announcing his arrival.

Almost immediately, the lively conversation died away.

The silence was telling that these people didn’t welcome him.

Without drawing attention to it, Xia Ye glanced at Lin Kezhi.

Lin Kezhi hadn’t noticed a thing. He was still enthusiastically introducing Xia Ye to everyone. When no one responded, he merely muttered, “They’ve probably all gone to bed.”

Still holding his communicator, he continued chatting with Xia Ye. “They’re really interested in Instructor Chi.”

“Instructor Chi?”

Before enrolling, Xia Ye had looked up information about the military academy. With his level of clearance, he could only access publicly available files.

Chi Zhou’s name had never appeared among them.

“Yeah, the guy we met in the Colonel’s office.” Lin Kezhi explained, “You’ve seen him on TV, right? Chi Zhou—the Light of the Alliance. The one who piloted Prometheus and tore extraterrestrial lifeforms apart. He’s an honorary professor here.”

Then, remembering Xia Ye came from District Twelve, where people probably weren’t familiar with Upper Seven District gossip, he added, “It’s… kind of a long story.”

Xia Ye spoke softly. “You can take your time.”

“You’re actually interested?” Lin Kezhi brightened immediately. He had always struggled to find common topics with his friends.

“Should’ve said so earlier! I know all the gossip from the Upper Seven Districts.”

Xia Ye nodded quietly, allowing Lin Kezhi to continue.

“You know about the extraterrestrial contamination in District Twelve, right? After that happened, both the Colonel and Instructor Chi were investigated by the military. It was a huge deal. Pretty much everyone in the Upper Seven Districts knew about it.”

“The military claimed the District Twelve disaster was their responsibility. My dad said the Colonel left the military after that and opened his underground fighting arena. He even went to the opening.”

“As for Instructor Chi…” Lin Kezhi continued, “his military record was too outstanding. The military couldn’t really do anything to him, so they tried transferring him to the academy instead. But he was so popular that before the transfer order was even issued, people across the Alliance protested.”

“In the end, the Alliance stepped in. Instructor Chi was reassigned to the Strategic Command Bureau, reporting directly to the Alliance itself. That finally settled everything.”

Shaking his head, Lin Kezhi clicked his tongue.

“The military really got slapped in the face over that one.”

Xia Ye simply murmured, “…Mm.”

He had lived through the District Twelve contamination himself.

He had met Chi Zhou there, and he had always assumed Chi Zhou had left without saying goodbye.

He hadn’t realised there had been so much more behind it.

Investigated…

Chi Zhou had been seriously wounded. Yet before he had even recovered, he had been recalled to face questioning.

The thought filled Xia Ye with anger.

“How could they…” he said quietly. “…treat him like that?”

“Pretty normal, honestly.” Lin Kezhi shrugged, looking entirely unsurprised. “People in power taking advantage of the situation. Instructor Chi’s always been the symbol of the Alliance. They’ve disliked him for ages.”

“Then this latest recruitment drive serves the same purpose.”

Thinking back to the conversation in the Colonel’s office and the wistful look in the Colonel’s eyes, Xia Ye connected the pieces one by one.

“They want to build a stronger military force, one that overshadows Chi Zhou.”

Lin Kezhi stared at him in surprise. “My dad mentioned something like that before. How did you know?”

“I guessed.” Xia Ye answered calmly.

He didn’t believe such a foolish plan would ever succeed.

---

T/N:
Since September is my month, let me try to add up more release this month lol
Also I hope you guys don’t mind because usually I used indents for the start of paragraph right.. but this novel.. have too many short convo? That I feel all the indents gonna make it kinda not good looking..

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Even as he spoke to the Colonel, Chi Zhou’s gaze remained fixed on this ‘Fang Qi’, studying every minute detail.

The young man’s eyes were slightly upturned at the corners, his irises a striking shade of dark brown, with a tiny beauty mark beneath the outer corner of one eye. His features carried a faint air of delicacy, yet his gaze was unnervingly cold.

Those cat-like eyes held no emotion at all, as though everything around him was beneath his notice.

And yet there was the slightest smile on his face. Sitting obediently beside the Colonel with a plate piled high with fried chicken in his hands, he looked almost innocent, almost guileless.

Whenever Chi Zhou looked at him, he simply allowed himself to be observed, treating the scrutiny as though it didn’t exist.

It was as if he was trying too hard to appear natural.

The smile in Chi Zhou’s eyes deepened.

He was almost certain now.

This was Xia Ye.

Five years had passed, and Xia Ye had changed considerably.

As a teenager, he had been little more than skin and bones. His wrists had been so slender they looked as though they could snap at any moment. Only the light in his eyes had been vivid, revealing an ambition he had never bothered to hide.

There had been a desperate, almost reckless determination buried in that gaze, driving him to climb upward at any cost. It had made Chi Zhou want to reach out and pull him along.

The Xia Ye before him now was far more restrained.

It was difficult for anyone to read a single emotion from his face. It was as though he had sealed away every thought and feeling, needing no one to understand them.

Even here, seated in the administrator’s office of an underground fighting arena while being scrutinized by both him and the Colonel, Xia Ye remained completely unhurried. Every probing question was deftly sidestepped, leaving the Colonel without a single opening to exploit.

He was far too composed for someone his age.

Chi Zhou finally shifted his gaze to Lin Kezhi.

The moment Lin Kezhi sensed someone looking at him, he shrank his neck like a startled quail. Even the way he bit into his fried chicken turned stiff and awkward.

Now that was how someone his age ought to react.

Xia Ye was simply too calm—calm enough to become suspicious.

Very few people reacted to Chi Zhou that way.

Unless they had met him before.

Or had shared some kind of history with him.

—

Chi Zhou didn’t expose him.

Instead, he leisurely continued watching until Xia Ye’s movements finally became ever so slightly unnatural. Only then did he look away.

“Colonel, you weren’t very prepared today.” He pointed lazily at the dipping sauces on the coffee table, sounding almost casual. “There isn’t enough sauce.”

Xia Ye’s hand paused.

Instead of drenching his fried chicken in garlic butter as he had before, he only dipped it lightly.

The Colonel glanced over and realised the garlic butter sauce was already more than half gone. “Is this stuff really that good?” he muttered. “It used to be the one nobody touched.”

“It is,” Chi Zhou replied absentmindedly. “It’s a rather distinctive flavour.”

“Oh, quit talking in riddles with me.”

The Colonel waved over a nearby bunny girl.

“Bring us more garlic butter sauce.” He pointed toward the people on the sofa. “They all like it.”

Then he pointed at himself. “I don’t. Get me ketchup.”

“You’re old-fashioned,” Chi Zhou teased with a smile. “I’m different. I have things in common with young people.”

The Colonel snorted through his nose again, clearly unable to stand Chi Zhou’s insistence on hanging around people decades younger than himself.

As far as he was concerned, people ought to behave according to their age. Even if sentinels kept the same appearance for centuries, surely they should mature psychologically.

Chi Zhou neither agreed nor argued, completely ignoring the Colonel’s attitude.

Instead, he picked up a piece of fried chicken and suggested to Lin Kezhi and Fang Qi, “How about a toast? I saw young people doing this on StarNet.”

The Colonel stared at him as though he were an idiot.

As a diehard Ancient Earth enthusiast, the Colonel still refused to use StarNet. He stubbornly browsed archived websites from Old Earth on a desktop computer and had absolutely no idea what was trending online these days.

Xia Ye tensed.

Things were developing in a direction he had never anticipated; he had no idea Chi Zhou enjoyed making jokes like this.

Chi Zhou held up his piece of fried chicken with a perfectly serious expression.

Lin Kezhi looked around. Seeing that neither the Colonel nor Xia Ye moved, he reluctantly raised his own piece, too nervous to let the Alliance’s Light be left hanging.

He lightly tapped his fried chicken against Chi Zhou’s, imitating a popular StarNet video.

“Cheers!”

Chi Zhou merely nodded, then he continued looking at Xia Ye.

Lin Kezhi looked from one to the other, completely baffled.

Wasn’t the toast already over? Hadn’t he gone along with it? Why was Chi Zhou still staring at Xia Ye?

Xia Ye secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Between school and his part-time jobs, his life revolved around two destinations and little else. He simply didn’t have time to watch StarNet trends.

When Chi Zhou had suggested the toast, he hadn’t even understood what he meant. He had worried it was some kind of test, and that failing to respond correctly would expose him. Now it seemed Chi Zhou had only been trying to liven up the atmosphere.

Copying what Lin Kezhi had done, Xia Ye gently tapped his piece of fried chicken against Chi Zhou’s.

“Cheers.”

He wasn’t accustomed to expressing himself that way, but if it was something Chi Zhou enjoyed, he didn’t mind playing along.

“Cheers.” Chi Zhou smiled warmly. “It’s nice to meet you, Fang Qi.”

—

Xia Ye couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, though he couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

When filling out the registration form for the fighting arena, he hadn’t hesitated for even a moment before writing down a fake name. There were no rules against competing under an alias. Every year, military academy students short on tuition disguised themselves and entered underground arenas to earn money. He was merely one of them.

The only difference was that his goal was clearer than most.

Yet now, sitting in the Colonel’s office beneath the warm glow of candlelight, listening to Chi Zhou casually call him ‘Fang Qi’, an inexplicable sense of discomfort crept over him.

He shouldn’t have felt this way. By now, he should have been accustomed to using aliases in underground arenas.

Quietly, Xia Ye glanced at Chi Zhou, searching for the source of that unease. But Chi Zhou had apparently spoken without any deeper meaning. Reclining lazily against the sofa, he had already turned to chat with the others.

“Xiao Lin, first time at an underground arena?” he asked cheerfully. “Pretty impressive. You won this much money on your very first try.”

Lin Kezhi nodded stiffly, unsure what to do with either his hands or his feet.

“Why are you so tense?” The Colonel chuckled as he opened the liquor cabinet and took out a bottle of whiskey. “We’re not going to eat you.”

Lin Kezhi let out an awkward laugh.

“Just luck. Pure luck.”

“Forget luck. I didn’t see today’s result coming either.” The Colonel lined up four crystal glasses before pouring amber whiskey into each one. “Ha! One-hit knockout! Our champion’s gone just like that. Xiao Fang, where did you learn to fight?”

He slid a glass toward each of them, the whiskey shimmering softly in the candlelight.

Holding his own glass, Lin Kezhi looked from one person to another. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the Colonel was asking about far more than fighting.

Xia Ye, however, had expected this question from the very beginning.

A teenage prodigy who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, fought his way to victory, and claimed Scarlet Dawn Lotus as the prize was bound to end up in the Colonel’s office sooner or later. Before coming here, he had already prepared answers to every question he could think of.

“I never learned formally,” he replied evenly. “I used to fight in District Ten.”

The Colonel smiled in understanding. “So you learned through real fights.”

He tapped the whiskey in front of Xia Ye.

“Want to try it? Good whiskey from District Eleven. You can’t buy this outside.”

Xia Ye’s gaze settled silently on the glass, irritation flickering beneath his calm expression.

Earlier, he had injected himself with a genetic suppressor, and right now, drinking alcohol was a bad idea.

Alcohol reacted with the suppressor. At best, it caused side effects like dizziness or allergic rashes. At worst, it could render the suppressor completely ineffective, sending his psychic power into another uncontrollable rampage.

This was a trick underground arenas often used to expose competitors who had taken drugs before a match.

Xia Ye had considered the possibility beforehand.

But according to his calculations, the Colonel shouldn’t have invited him to his office until at least halfway through the tournament.

He hadn’t expected it to happen this quickly.

If his psychic power spiralled out of control here, the Colonel would immediately discover that he was actually a guide.

“What’s wrong?” The Colonel’s expression darkened. “Don’t you like whiskey?”

After a brief moment of deliberation, Xia Ye reached for the glass.

The severity of the side effects depended on luck, but if he refused outright, the Colonel would certainly realise something was wrong.

“I like whiskey,” Chi Zhou suddenly cut in.

“But I want mine with ice. Half a glass. Did you forget?”

Without waiting for a response, he shoved his own glass into the Colonel’s hand and asked with practised innocence, “Where’s the freezer again? I forgot.”

The interruption immediately eased the tension. The Colonel sighed, took the glass, and got up to fetch some ice.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Xia Ye spoke quietly. “Thank you.”

“What for?” Chi Zhou smiled as though nothing had happened. “He just likes picking on kids.”

“I’m not…”

A kid.

The words nearly escaped before Xia Ye caught himself and swallowed the rest.

“I don’t drink.”

“Mhm. I know.”

The reply came so naturally that Xia Ye frowned. Looking at Chi Zhou’s easy smile, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was answering an entirely different question.

“Since you don’t drink…”

Chi Zhou reached over as naturally as breathing and claimed the untouched whiskey from in front of him.

“…then yours is mine.”

He swirled the golden liquor, letting it catch the candlelight in dazzling flashes.

“It really is fine whiskey from District Eleven,” he remarked casually. “The Colonel would never pour me another glass of something this good.”

Only then did Xia Ye finally relax; he understood the implication.

The Colonel was a man with principles. He wouldn’t force alcohol on a competitor. Since Chi Zhou had taken this glass in his place, there wouldn’t be another.

For the briefest moment, Xia Ye found himself thinking back to an afternoon many years ago.

In their shabby apartment, Chi Zhou had lounged against the sofa, holding the battered cup Xia Ye had brought back from the orphanage. He had sipped the cheapest barley beer one mouthful at a time, as though it were the finest vintage.

Back then, Chi Zhou had said with complete indifference,

“As long as it has alcohol in it, it’ll get you drunk. Does it really matter what kind it is?”

Does it really matter what kind it is?

Xia Ye hadn’t understood those words then.

Now he did.

To Chi Zhou, premium whiskey and cheap barley beer were no different.

He was simply helping him.

Just as he had quietly given him a dose of genetic purifier all those years ago.

—

“When did you drink xiao Fang’s whiskey?” the Colonel complained as he returned with the iced whiskey and set it in front of Chi Zhou. “You insisted on having ice, but weren’t you drinking it just fine without it?”

Chi Zhou shrugged lazily.

“I never said I wouldn’t.”

The Colonel was so stunned by his shamelessness that he couldn’t speak for several seconds.

“All right.” Chi Zhou set down his glass and gestured toward Xia Ye and Lin Kezhi. “Let the youngsters get back and get some sleep. We have serious business to discuss.”

The Colonel looked reluctant.

“They’re leaving already? I still have a few things I’d like to ask xiao Fang…”

“What could you possibly have to talk to him about?” Chi Zhou cut in bluntly. “You just want to rope Fang Qi into fighting fixed matches for your arena.”

Without waiting for a reply, he stood up, walked over to Lin Kezhi, and patted him on the shoulder.

“Stop sitting there. Get up already. It’ll be midnight if you don’t head back now.”

Lin Kezhi snapped back to reality, grabbed the whiskey on the table, and downed it in one gulp.

Everything that had happened tonight was so surreal that he was afraid he would lose his mind without a little alcohol.

“Fang Qi.”

Resting one hand properly on the back of the sofa, Chi Zhou smiled gently.

“See you again sometime.”

Watching Chi Zhou pat Lin Kezhi on the shoulder like a caring older brother before turning to bid him such a calm farewell left Xia Ye with an inexplicable sense of dissatisfaction.

Back then, he had been the one who found Chi Zhou a place to stay.

He had been the one who found him food, dressed his wounds, and secretly bought him alcohol.

Not Lin Kezhi.

Avoiding Chi Zhou’s eyes, Xia Ye replied evenly, “Goodbye.”

There probably wouldn’t be another chance to meet.

Not unless Chi Zhou personally entered the competition for Scarlet Dawn Lotus.

“Mhm. Be careful on your way back.”

Completely unfazed by Xia Ye’s cool attitude, Chi Zhou escorted the two of them all the way to the arena entrance before adding thoughtfully, “Fang Qi, whatever the Colonel tells you, don’t believe him. Good kids shouldn’t fight fixed matches.”

The moment Chi Zhou called him a good kid, Xia Ye almost stopped walking just to argue with him.

For some reason…

He especially disliked hearing Chi Zhou describe him that way.

—

After seeing Xia Ye and Lin Kezhi off, Chi Zhou returned to the office.

“So attentive today, weren’t you?” The Colonel was already half drunk, sprawled across the sofa as he sneered. “Trying that hard to steal my recruit? Give it a rest, Chi Zhou. Look at him. Does he seem like the type who would join the military with you?”

With Xia Ye gone, Chi Zhou’s warm demeanour disappeared completely.

His expression turned cold, carrying the sharpness of someone accustomed to killing.

Folding his arms, he warned, “Don’t get any ideas about him. He’ll be mine soon enough.”

The Colonel knew nothing about Xia Ye’s background and genuinely believed he was a self-taught Sentinel who had fought his way up from District Ten.

Chi Zhou, however, knew perfectly well.

Xia Ye had entered the academy as the top-ranked student.

Sooner or later, he would join the military and become one of the Alliance’s pillars.

“You’re that sure?” The Colonel eyed him sceptically. “I wouldn’t bet on it. Didn’t you see his eyes? Like a wolf cub’s. Doesn’t look like the obedient type. Someone like that’s going to work under you? The military’s full of rules—you need approval for everything…”

He continued grumbling for quite a while.

Chi Zhou couldn’t even be bothered to respond. Only after the Colonel finally ran out of complaints did Chi Zhou speak.

“Finished?”

He stepped past the row of candles, stopped beside the Colonel, and lowered his voice.

“I’m asking you this. Do you have news about Scarlet Dawn Lotus?”

The fighting arena had used Scarlet Dawn Lotus as the grand prize, drawing people from every corner.

Xia Ye was only one of them.

Chi Zhou had come for exactly the same reason.

—

Author’s Note: Instructor Chi’s schemes are practically mille-feuille at this point. (shakes head.jpg)

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“You’re interested in him too?” The Colonel set down his wineglass and narrowed his eyes as he studied Chi Zhou, looking genuinely surprised. “Chi Zhou, haven’t you already attained enlightenment and transcended worldly attachments? And now you’re trying to steal my recruit?”

The Colonel was a devoted fan of Ancient Earth culture and would occasionally blurt out expressions that people of this era couldn’t understand.

Chi Zhou, however, had long since gotten used to it.

“How can you say I’ve ascended?” he said. “That’s bad luck.”

“So you care about that sort of thing?” the Colonel muttered. “Give me a break. After awakening, living for five hundred years isn’t even a challenge. If anything, I think that life is too long.”

He picked up his glass and drained it in one gulp. The expensive golden liquor slid down his throat, bringing with it a strangely icy burn.

Chi Zhou smiled unconcernedly.

“What’s wrong with living a long life? You might even get to attend your great-grandchild’s wedding.”

Like Chi Zhou, the Colonel had been among humanity’s first generation of awakened Sentinels.

The difference was that Chi Zhou had remained on the front lines fighting the alien contamination, while the Colonel had long since walked away.

After the District Twelve contamination incident, the Colonel had become utterly disheartened and drunk himself senseless for an entire night.

That night, with bloodshot eyes, he had stubbornly repeated the same question over and over.

“Chi Zhou… Does anything we’re doing even matter?”

Chi Zhou hadn’t been able to answer him.

No one could.

Ever since the day the extraterrestrial contamination first appeared, countless people had been asking themselves that very question.

Did anything they did matter? Where exactly did humanity’s future lie? After giving everything they had to resist, would they still be unable to defeat those monsters in the end?

It wasn’t until sentinels and guides began to differentiate that the Alliance finally saw hope again.

The awakening of sentinels and guides was like the first spacecraft humanity had launched when it left the Solar System, unfolding an entirely new horizon before mankind.

Everything changed.

After sentinels and guides appeared, the alien contamination no longer spread unchecked, and areas that had once been death zones became significantly safer.

Districts like Twelve, which had nearly been reduced to extraterrestrial colonies, regained their autonomy.

That peace lasted only a hundred years.

Then District Twelve was struck by another large-scale extraterrestrial contamination.

The forgotten impoverished district instantly became the Alliance’s focal point as news flooded in like a tidal wave:

The extraterrestrial lifeforms had evolved once again…

The battle mechs were being torn apart with bare hands…

The person in charge of the Alliance’s top-secret project had disappeared…

Every report strained the public’s already fragile nerves.

The Alliance dispatched reinforcements to District Twelve overnight, with the Colonel placed in command.

Chi Zhou accompanied the operation, though he had a different mission.

The Alliance’s super mech, Scarlet Dawn Lotus, which was still under development, had suddenly gone off the grid, and its project leader had vanished without a trace. Chi Zhou’s mission was to recover it.

It was the only mission he had ever failed.

The operation’s records were sealed away in the highest-classified archives, where no one had been permitted to access them ever since.

The Colonel’s squad met an equally tragic fate; his entire team was wiped out, their bodies reduced to ash under ultra-high-temperature attacks.

Only the Colonel survived, and he returned with news that sent tremors through the Alliance’s highest ranks.

The alien lifeforms had declared—within one hundred years, humanity would be wiped out.

To overturn that prophecy, the Alliance had spent years making countless preparations. It expanded its military academies, built a stronger army, and trained sentinels and guides into cold, ruthless weapons of war.

It searched for Scarlet Dawn Lotus and its destined pilot, hoping they would lead the next generation of sentinels and guides in defending the Alliance.

The Colonel, however, felt nothing but sorrow toward the plan.

To him, it signified the end of an era.

It meant that he and his comrades—even Chi Zhou, the man hailed as the Light of the Alliance—were about to become relics of the past.

In the dim office, the Colonel stared at the flickering candlelight and remarked out of nowhere, “Attend my great-grandchild’s wedding? Who would still want anything to do with a bunch of old fossils like us?”

Chi Zhou fell silent. He understood what the Colonel was really trying to say.

Only after a long pause did he answer quietly, “If you truly believed that, you wouldn’t have opened the fighting arenas.”

The Colonel let out a few snorts through his nose that sounded more like sobs than laughter.

“Then call me a damn fool.”

After the District Twelve contamination incident, the Colonel retired from the military despite repeated attempts to persuade him to stay.

The following year, Chi Zhou approached him and asked whether he would be willing to participate in one of the Alliance’s classified projects.

From then on, several underground fighting arenas appeared throughout District Twelve.

Sentinels from impoverished backgrounds poured their sweat and youth into those arenas, earning prize money just to survive. Only the very best were invited to the Colonel’s office for fried chicken.

That was the Alliance’s classified project.

Outside the prestigious military academies that symbolised honour, the Colonel quietly built an underground army for the Alliance, raising a pack of untamed hounds in the hope that one day they would achieve an unexpected victory against the alien contamination.

A competitor like Xia Ye, who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, had always been exactly the kind of person the Colonel wanted.

“If you want to meet him, then have him come over.” Steering the conversation back on track, the Colonel casually beckoned a bunny girl over. “Go bring me the pilot of Iron Cavalry.”

—

While the Colonel and Chi Zhou spoke in riddles, Lin Kezhi had buried his head in the fried chicken, listening all the while. By now, he was about half full.

The moment he heard them summon Xia Ye, his nerves immediately returned.

Without drawing attention to himself, Lin Kezhi glanced at the money pouch on the sofa.

It was an old-fashioned leather pouch, stuffed full of chips from the underground fighting arena.

It contained no small amount. Converted into star credits, it was enough for an entire family to eat, drink, and enjoy themselves comfortably for a whole year.

Lin Kezhi guessed that Xia Ye probably needed the money.

Xia Ye had been born in District Twelve and likely struggled to afford the exorbitant cost of living in District One. His younger sister had injured her eyes during the District Twelve contamination incident and required expensive, regular treatment.

If he didn’t need the money, why would he have come here?

Lin Kezhi couldn’t think of any other reason.

If the Colonel discovered that he and Xia Ye had known each other from the start and had colluded to place the bet, they might not only lose the prize money but also jeopardise their places at the academy.

Alliance Military Academy regulations strictly forbade students from entering unauthorised establishments, including, but not limited to, black markets and underground fighting arenas.

Lin Kezhi had heard that although the Colonel appeared easygoing, he was anything but soft-hearted.

Anyone who caused trouble in his arena paid a heavy price. The people who disappeared in District One late at night were proof enough.

“Colonel, do you like fried chicken?” Lin Kezhi asked abruptly. “You should try the garlic butter sauce. The young lady over there said it’s their newest flavour.”

He pointed toward the bunny girl nearby, a faint tremor barely detectable in his voice.

“You’re pretty nervous, aren’t you, young man?” The Colonel laughed heartily, the gloom from moments ago disappearing completely. “First time at an underground arena?”

Lin Kezhi nodded.

“Yes.”

The Colonel looked him over before saying meaningfully, “Oh… So there are still kids from Upper District Seven who don’t spend all their time fooling around.”

Lin Kezhi felt somewhat awkward.

He had certainly heard of underground fighting arenas before. Plenty of wealthy young masters at his private school loved excitement and often snuck out on weekends looking for entertainment.

He had simply never been one of them.

Although he enjoyed lively company and got along well with everyone at school, he had always stayed away from activities that carried this kind of risk.

The Colonel smiled. “So what made you decide to come today?”

He pointed at the money pouch beside Lin Kezhi. “For your first visit, you had the nerve to bet everything. That’s quite bold.”

A fine sheen of sweat broke out across Lin Kezhi’s forehead as he fought the overwhelming urge to run.

The Colonel was a sentinel veteran on the battlefield. He appeared warm and approachable, but in reality he was scrutinising him.

Lin Kezhi found himself glancing repeatedly toward the door, desperately hoping Xia Ye wouldn’t arrive so soon.

They hadn’t even coordinated their stories yet. If their lies didn’t match, they would be in serious trouble.

Unfortunately, his silent prayer went unanswered.

Three polite knocks sounded at the office door.

Xia Ye’s voice came from outside. “I’m the pilot of Iron Cavalry. May I come in now?”

The Colonel set down his wineglass and stood to answer the door. “You’ve got good manners.”

Chi Zhou paused halfway through taking a drink and looked toward the door. There was something remarkable about the voice on the other side.

It was light and clear, making its owner sound quite young, yet the calmness with which he spoke inspired an unusual sense of composure. He had just defeated the arena’s reigning champion, yet there wasn’t the slightest trace of pride or excitement in his voice, as though it had been nothing more than an ordinary occurrence not worth dwelling on.

The feeling reminded Chi Zhou of someone.

—

The child of an old friend.

Bright, mature beyond his years, and exceptionally perceptive—to the point that he hardly seemed like a child his age.

After the Alliance received word of the alien contamination, Chi Zhou had been ordered to travel to District Twelve.

Dr. Xia, the scientist leading the Scarlet Dawn Lotus development project, had already disappeared without a trace.

Even more troublesome, the District Twelve Research Institute and the Bureau of Social Administration had both been destroyed, along with all of their classified records.

It had taken Chi Zhou some time to find Xia Ye.

By then, two years had already passed since the large-scale contamination.

But the extraterrestrial lifeforms had gone to great lengths to lure Chi Zhou to District Twelve, so naturally they had no intention of letting him leave alive.

Through wave after wave of pursuit, Chi Zhou painstakingly uncovered several clues.

According to the Alliance’s classified project protocols, Dr. Xia’s identity had been one of District Twelve’s highest-level secrets.

Only the head of the Security Division within the Bureau of Social Administration knew who he really was.

Everyone else believed Dr. Xia was merely an ordinary researcher.

Yet during the contamination, the extraterrestrial lifeforms first destroyed the records kept by both the Research Institute and the Bureau of Social Administration before targeting Dr. Xia and the head of the Security Division.

As a result, the secret surrounding Dr. Xia was buried beneath the ruins of District Twelve, known to no one.

Xia Ye and Xia Zhi were sent to a social welfare orphanage, where they lived under closed management.

Their files contained only one word: [Orphan], without any further explanation.

By the time Chi Zhou met Xia Ye, the boy had already spent two years there. His eyes were as wary as a hedgehog’s.

Years of malnutrition had left him so thin he seemed as fragile as paper.

The extraterrestrial contamination had also destroyed some of his cells, leaving several of his organs damaged to varying degrees.

His stomach and lungs appeared to have suffered the worst. In the span of only fifteen minutes, Chi Zhou heard him cough several times.

As they walked toward Xia Ye’s apartment, Chi Zhou struggled to suppress his anger. He had never imagined Xia Ye would be living under such conditions.

Alliance law required social welfare orphanages to treat every child equally, providing adequate food and a decent living environment.

To that end, the Alliance allocated billions of star credits every year. Clearly, the orphanage in District Twelve had fallen far short of that standard.

Xia Ye wasn’t someone who complained. If anything, he was unusually quiet.

Yet Chi Zhou noticed faint bruises around his wrists. They weren’t marks that could have been caused by ordinary bumps and scr4p3s.

They were signs of deliberate violence. The boy’s skin was so pale it was almost translucent, making the purple finger-shaped bruises stand out all the more vividly.

There were injuries scattered across his knees and shins as well. Some had already scabbed over, yet it was still obvious how severe they had once been.

Someone had been bullying him.

Chi Zhou knew all too well what life in an orphanage was like for someone as isolated and physically frail as Xia Ye, burdened with caring for a younger sister.

His food and blankets would be stolen.

Older, stronger children would beat him.

He would be forced to do work that wasn’t his.

Chi Zhou knew that environment better than anyone, because he had grown up in one just like it.

He had considered taking Xia Ye to District One, where he could receive a better education.

Chi Zhou owned several apartments. He could let the siblings live in one close to a school so they would never have to worry about food or shelter again.

But when he cautiously tested the idea, Xia Ye refused. Chi Zhou understood the stubborn determination in the boy’s eyes.

A teenager who had just lost his parents could never abandon the last place that still held memories of them.

He wanted to protect the house that preserved his childhood until the day he could truly call it his own.

Chi Zhou didn’t force the issue.

Instead, he quietly looked after the siblings from the shadows.

Fortunately, Xia Ye didn’t refuse that much.

It was, at least, a small consolation—a way for Chi Zhou to honour the friendship he had once shared with the boy’s parents.

—

When the military academy held its spring admissions, Chi Zhou heard that Xia Ye had taken part in the selection process and entered the academy with the highest score.

After the entrance examinations, the academy had invited Chi Zhou to give a lecture.

He had planned to meet Xia Ye then.

Instead, he unexpectedly encountered someone in the underground fighting arena who gave him an eerily familiar feeling.

The Colonel had already opened the door. “Come in, come in! Our new champion! Have some fried chicken.”

Xia Ye stepped into the office without betraying a single emotion. He had long heard the rumors that the Colonel often invited the day’s winners to his office for fried chicken, so he remained perfectly calm.

After entering, aside from bumping into that drunken Blackbeard, he didn’t exchange a single word with Lin Kezhi.

There was no way the Colonel could know they were acquainted.

“Hmm… let’s see. Fang Qi, right?” The Colonel glanced through the dossier. “The young really are formidable. You beat our champion in three moves. Bright future ahead of you. So, what flavour of fried chicken do you like?”

From his seat in the corner, Chi Zhou quietly examined ‘Fang Qi’.

He looked to be around twenty years old, somewhat slender, quite unlike the Sentinels who usually appeared in underground fighting arenas.

There was a refined, scholarly air about him.

Yet his gaze was razor-sharp, like an eagle taking its first flight into the open sky.

He resembled Xia Ye.

But not quite.

Under Chi Zhou’s unwavering gaze, Xia Ye remained completely composed, without the slightest sign of nervousness.

“Garlic butter,” Xia Ye replied seriously as he chose his dipping sauce. “Thank you, Colonel.”

“Oh, you like garlic butter too?” The Colonel pushed the small dish toward him with a grin. “Xiao Lin likes it too. Do you two know each other?”

Lin Kezhi’s heart leapt into his throat. Ever since Xia Ye had entered, he had kept his head lowered, staring straight ahead, terrified that the Colonel might notice even the slightest flaw.

“Really?” Xia Ye picked up a piece of fried chicken, coated it generously with garlic butter sauce, and sighed. “Not many people like this flavour, but I’ve loved it ever since I was little.”

Chi Zhou chuckled softly. “I like garlic butter too.”

He picked up his first piece of fried chicken that day, covered it with garlic butter sauce, and leisurely took a bite.

“It’s quite a distinctive flavour,” Chi Zhou said meaningfully. “It’s not easy to gather this many people who all like garlic butter. Don’t you think… Fang Qi?”

He deliberately emphasised the name.

For the first time, a tiny crack appeared in Xia Ye’s flawless mask.

His hand paused for just a moment as he ate the fried chicken.

“…En.”

“I don’t see what’s so special about it.” The Colonel rolled his eyes and grumbled. “Chi Zhou, since when did you start liking that flavour? How come I never knew?”

—

Author’s Note: Take a guess—did Chi Zhou recognise xiao Xia despite the alias?

---

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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.