The powerful spiritual pressure made everyone’s breath hitch for a second. By the time they recovered, the principal had already withdrawn his spiritual force and was standing in front of them.
The three of them stood at attention and greeted him in unison.
The Dean, standing behind, shot a glare at the three “brats.”
Su Cha was curious—were his teammates being punished just for being near him?
Rong Shao muttered under his breath, “With absolute spiritual suppression, you can perceive a portion of another person’s emotions.”
He couldn’t deny it—when Su Cha mentioned “saving face,” his gut reaction was: D*mn, that actually makes a lot of sense!
Glancing at Ji Tianjin, who stood tall and silent beside them, Rong Shao clicked his tongue. What was he acting all aloof for? Wasn’t he thinking the same thing?
While his mind wandered, the principal had already passed by. The Dean barked, “Why aren’t you back in training yet?”
“Yes, sir!”
…
Rong Shao’s insider intel turned out to be spot on. That afternoon, the official website published the date of the preliminary round, and the school issued a notice: all freshmen were to gather at the school gates at 9 a.m. the day after tomorrow.
The Ten-School Tournament drew as much public attention as the modern-day college entrance exam. Countless media outlets and the public would be watching closely.
“This is a golden opportunity.”
Inside a private villa, a subordinate respectfully placed a thick stack of photographs on the table—all of them snapshots of Su Cha shopping at the mall, smiling brightly beside Ji Tianjin, whose expression remained cold and aloof. The contrast between them was striking.
Ji Tianjin was known for rarely smiling, which gave those with ulterior motives the perfect angle to exploit.
“The Ji family is cozying up to the military—pairing their golden boy with a useless one. The academy even let Su Cha wander freely, with Ji Tianjin himself accompanying him. Any one of these points can be blown out of proportion.”
First, there was the sponsorship to get into school. Now, there’s preferential treatment. The public will sympathize with an “experiment subject,” but they’ll also grow to resent one who gets too many unearned benefits.
The middle-aged man standing opposite the subordinate looked about forty years old. He was Luan Zheng, former president of the now-collapsed Xilin Group—one of the few who had walked away unscathed.
This was thanks to him resigning from the company years earlier. Outwardly, he was devoted to philanthropy and known for his kindness, earning him a positive public image. At the time, the reason given for his resignation was his unyielding righteousness and inability to play politics, which supposedly led to his being sidelined.
In truth, Luan Zheng’s private life was a mess. He was ruthless and had long since retreated behind the scenes to oversee genetic experiments. Shen Ningze was his illegitimate son, carrying his mother’s surname.
Over the decades, Luan Zheng maintained his polished public persona. Even now, people still claimed that if he hadn’t been forced out, Xilin Group might not have spiraled into ruin.
“You all know what to do. I’m only interested in the results,” Luan Zheng said. He was actually far older than he looked, and his voice carried an eerie softness. “If we can’t kill him at the academy, then dirtying his reputation will do.”
Even if Su Cha appeared in court as a witness one day, a little manipulation would be enough to cast serious doubt on the credibility of his testimony.
…
Thanks to certain people fanning the flames, rumors spread quickly.
The next day, as Su Cha left his room, he clearly felt the weight of strange, lingering stares directed at him.
Today, he was heading out to meet his teammates. They had arranged to meet at Combat Room 5.
As he walked, a conversation between a boy and a girl suddenly reached his ears from the side.
“Keep your distance. He’s so precious—if you bump into him, are you going to take responsibility?”
The boy made an exaggerated detour to avoid Su Cha altogether.
“…” Su Cha was baffled.
Normally, the students didn’t gossip much, but today, quite a few people were whispering when they saw him. Fortunately, the tension eased once he entered the combat room—most of the students here were focused purely on training.
In the lounge area, Su Cha saw Ji Tianjin and Rong Shao, along with a few unfamiliar faces.
Two of them looked very similar—they were siblings. The younger sister, Wu Shui, took the initiative to greet him. “I’m Wu Shui. This is my brother, Wu Zhi.”
Su Cha replied, “Nice to meet you both.”
Another girl with a high ponytail was quieter. She gave a small nod and said, “Liu Xiqin.”
The boy next to her followed up, “I’m Di Yuansi. Don’t mind those reports going around. There’s always a few media outlets trying to ‘get creative’ and stir up a big scoop.”
Su Cha paused for a moment. “What report?”
Di Yuansi was also stunned. “You didn’t know?”
Most students at the military academy were in the habit of reading the news. Su Cha, on the other hand, only had the habit of sleeping in.
His morning routine was very consistent: wake up, water the plants, and look up information about the Desolate Star.
“Cuckoo V40.”
“Please speak.”
“Check the latest reports about Su Cha.”
“Here is the latest from City News: <Revealed: A Tug-of-War Centered Around a Victim.> When it comes to Su Cha, surely everyone is familiar—he was the test subject recently rescued. However, ever since returning to a normal life, things have slowly begun to take a different turn…
…The First Military Academy Affiliated High School has lost its principles, giving Su Cha special treatment and allowing him to freely roam the city during school hours—with the Ji family’s heir accompanying and paying for everything. According to an anonymous source, Ji Tianjin even took the initiative to partner up with Su Cha for the competition…”
The mechanical voice recited evenly as Su Cha sat down and listened with great interest. While enjoying the report, he casually remarked, “Missing a logic link.”
The part about why people would go out of their way to please him.
“…General Yise personally sponsored Su Cha’s admission. The Ji family’s actions likely weren’t without an intent to curry favor with the military.”
Su Cha raised an eyebrow. “There it is—the logic.”
It was Di Yuansi’s first time seeing someone listen to negative press about themselves with such relish. He deliberately studied Su Cha’s expression—no signs of pretending.
“But how come no one’s come up with a conspiracy theory about why General Yise sponsored me in the first place?”
Di Yuansi cleared his throat. “A lot of comments say you’re just pretending to be weak and pitiful to deceive the general’s empathy.”
Even if he hadn’t said it, Su Cha could see that clearly.
If it were some other victim, even if a scandal broke, the reaction wouldn’t have been this intense. Most true citizens of the Empire don’t really care about this kind of news. The reason Su Cha drew so much attention was because he got into the school without taking the entrance exam.
“This storm will be suppressed soon.” The one who spoke was none other than Ji Tianjin.
At his words, everyone looked over. Su Cha asked in confusion, “The admin’s getting involved?”
“Someone’s clearly trying to stir up public hostility against you with this report. They’re not here with good intentions. The administrator is responsible for ensuring the safety of everyone in the dormitory building—of course he’ll step in.”
As soon as he spoke, the others realized the situation was more serious than they thought. Even Rong Shao’s usual carefree expression faded.
On closer thought, this article was really hitting where it hurt.
It dragged down the Ji family, General Yise, and the affiliated high school. There were quite a few Yise supporters within the military; it was hard to say whether some might redirect their anger toward Su Cha. And then there were the honor-bound military students who might easily be misled into thinking Su Cha was a stain on the school’s reputation.
Su Cha lowered his gaze. A moment later, he seemed to brush it off and smiled. “The preliminaries are in two days. Let’s focus on strategy for now.”
As for what he was really thinking inside, no one could tell.
In a secluded space with no one else around, Ji Tianjin spoke: “If the difficulty level is low, we’ll split into two teams. Liu Xiqin and I will take the front, Rong Shao will support, the remaining four form the second group.”
To rack up points fast, it made sense to split into two squads.
What was surprising was Ji Tianjin’s arrangement—he invited Su Cha to join the team, but didn’t take him into his own group.
Wu Shui didn’t question it and simply asked, “Why?”
“He’s using a pharmaceutical attack strategy.”
One team would directly engage the beasts. The other would take a stealthier approach.
Wu Shui’s spirit form was a nightingale—good at sonic attacks, excellent at pathfinding and treasure hunting. She and Wu Zhi had a subtle psychic link, allowing for coordinated attacks with doubled effectiveness.
Not only could they protect Su Cha, but they could also help locate useful plants when needed.
No one would treat the tournament lightly. Since Ji Tianjin had spoken, it meant Su Cha’s pharmaceuticals were actually useful.
The group moved on to combat training. Su Cha didn’t stay; he went back to prepare his medicinal powders.
On the way, he kept searching for reports related to the Xilin Group. He’d already read most of them before, but he came across some hot forum threads this time. While most confirmed that Xilin was the main culprit, other companies like Taiwei and Tiansheng Pharmaceuticals were also implicated. After Xilin went bankrupt, it was acquired by Tiansheng and had already resumed operations.
Both Xilin and Tiansheng specialized in producing medications that controlled spiritual power volatility.
This was also why the Empire tolerated their existence. The core formulas and secrets were tightly held within the group, and they used them to win over many powerful figures.
“Tch—”
Su Cha pulled back from his drifting thoughts and began forming a plan.
The dorm building wasn’t very well lit during the day, and today was particularly overcast. In the admin’s office, Li Huai had a small light on and was working at his desk.
Through the glass window, Su Cha saw the corner of a photo on the desk that looked like it featured him. Just as he was about to head upstairs, he paused.
It was a surveillance image, capturing him wandering through the mall in awe. One still shot perfectly froze the moment he first saw the sales assistant pull out a flying device like magic: the teen looking up, mouth slightly open—though the image lacked detail, his expression radiated one thing—pupil quake.
Caption: Lacking even the most basic societal knowledge, the poor child didn’t know what spatial folding technology was.
Su Cha: “…”
This time, his pupils really did quake.
The article was long, not a single typo, and incredibly provocative. If it hadn’t been about him, Su Cha might have been moved.
“Stop loitering here.” Li Huai frowned. “Go do what you need to do. The whitewash article will be published later.”
