Su Cha would never have guessed that the administrator wasn’t just responsible for student safety—but also for public relations.
Then again, thinking about it, there really was no better way. Nothing was as persuasive as that drafted article.
Li Huai said, “The Investigation Department will definitely come looking for you in the next couple of days. Be mentally prepared.”
Su Cha nodded thoughtfully and resumed walking.
The dorm room was too warm, which wasn’t ideal for mixing powders. So he simply took his materials and headed to the study room.
The powder used to promote heat in strange beasts was relatively easy to make—just required enhancing the potency. The poison pouch, however, was more troublesome. It needed a gradual infiltration process: from scent to efficacy, the formula had to be very precise.
Su Cha took out a small protective dome, a little gadget that had been handed out for free during his trip to the mall. After putting it on, he pulled out a vial of reagent and dripped it onto the powder. A strong chemical reaction ensued, releasing a faintly corrosive gas that wafted up to his face.
He patiently waited for the mixture to melt and crystallize, then crushed and repackaged it.
By the time he left the study room, it was well past lunchtime. Su Cha went to find Li Huai again and asked tentatively, “Instructor, is there anywhere on campus equipped for spatial packing?”
Before Li Huai could respond, a broadcast rang out through the school: “Student Su Cha, please report to the Principal’s Office immediately.”
The message repeated three times—there was only one Su Cha on campus.
Li Huai said, “Leave your things. Go.”
Su Cha put down the powder and briefly explained its use before heading out.
…
Inside the principal’s office, aside from the principal, there were three others—all wearing the same uniform. Two were expressionless, while the one in the center, wearing glasses, had a pleasant smile but the strongest presence of them all.
When Su Cha knocked and entered, the atmosphere was tense.
No one in interstellar society had myopia anymore—those glasses served another purpose. They were a high-tech device capable of data analysis. The man stepped toward Su Cha and took the initiative to speak: “I’m Xie Rongjue, head of the Investigation Department.”
His friendly tone made Su Cha instinctively more alert.
Xie Rongjue held up a newspaper. “We’ve already found the journalist who wrote the piece. The photos were sent anonymously to the paper. Our department is preparing to charge him with defamation. What do you think?”
Su Cha didn’t respond.
A high-ranking official asking for his opinion—clearly, things weren’t as simple as they appeared.
Sure enough, the principal spoke up: “But what I heard is that this journalist once dated an employee of Tiansheng Pharmaceuticals during his school days.”
Now Su Cha understood: the Investigation Department wanted to close the case at the journalist level. The principal, on the other hand, was pushing for a deeper investigation.
Xie Rongjue maintained his smile, waiting for Su Cha’s response.
A single thread could unravel the whole fabric. Before His Majesty made a formal decision, there would be no direct confrontation with major conglomerates. Since the higher-ups hadn’t taken a firm stance, the Investigation Department clearly preferred not to stir things up. But Xie Rongjue also knew this wouldn’t end just by punishing a reporter.
Setting the bar low was a strategy to leave room for maneuver. His real goal today was to get the school to back off from digging too deep.
His smiling gaze landed on Su Cha’s shoulder—yet it felt crushingly heavy.
To be the head of the Investigation Department, Xie Rongjue’s true nature was nothing like his approachable facade. Despite being a civilian agency, their hands were often stained with blood. Whether it was dealing with high-risk criminals, space pirates, or spies—their methods were chilling.
The principal showed no emotion and said calmly, “Just speak your mind.” He looked at Su Cha. “This is a military academy. There’s nothing you can’t say here.”
The implication: whatever you say, the school has your back.
Xie Rongjue narrowed his eyes slightly, his gaze suddenly sharp.
Finally, Su Cha opened his mouth. “I want to let the matter drop.”
Xie Rongjue’s smile deepened. At least the kid knew his place. “Very well. We can also guarantee that the reporter will pay for his reckless writing.”
Su Cha quickly waved his hands. “No need to punish the reporter—I haven’t really been affected.” He paused, then added seriously, “Can you let him go? Once he has a criminal record, it’ll be hard to find work.”
The Investigation Department was all about strategy, but that didn’t mean they lacked a sense of justice. The Empire had produced traitors, but never cowards. Anyone who took the dark path went all the way. Su Cha’s words clearly challenged their worldview.
Seeing someone with such a soft, “pushover” personality was honestly frustrating.
Xie Rongjue’s smile faded. His voice turned cold. “Let him go?”
Su Cha nodded.
Was he trying to retreat in order to advance…? Xie Rongjue hated it when people tried to play mind games in front of him. His spiritual power silently spread and enveloped Su Cha.
“Tell me,” he said, “is this really what you want?”
The principal let out a cold laugh and raised his hand, ready to disperse the layer of spiritual power shielding them.
But Su Cha spoke first. His expression was devout, the sunlight from outside casting a gentle glow across him. “I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of this idea: Love your enemies.”
Bathed in light, he looked like a pilgrim, and spoke solemnly, word by word: “Do not resist an evildoer. If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to them the other side also.”
“……”
There was no mistaking the perception of spiritual power—Su Cha showed no emotional fluctuations the entire time. He was genuinely sincere. Xie Rongjue’s glasses, continuously analyzing his facial expressions, confirmed that he wasn’t lying.
Su Cha truly meant what he said—except for the second half, which he was quoting. Whether he personally agreed with it was another matter.
Pharmaceuticals were a bargaining chip for the major conglomerates. Su Cha believed that crops activated by spiritual power would be far more effective than any of their concocted drugs. But this plan required careful strategy. If executed well, not only could he topple the pharmaceutical giants, he could also effortlessly seize a multi-billion-credit starship.
Until then, even if he insisted on a full investigation, the outcome would be thunderous noise and little rain.
Of course, he also had another motive—to deliberately disgust the Investigation Department.
They wanted him to take a step back? Then he might as well retreat all the way to the start.
“Please pass along a message for me,” Su Cha said. “I don’t blame him. After all, everyone makes mistakes.”
Su Cha had an uncanny sense of how to provoke the imperial temperament. Xie Rongjue’s smile vanished completely, and the other two men looked as if they’d just swallowed a fly. A man with no spine or dignity—it was maddening just to look at him.
And yet, they couldn’t say anything.
Seeing their shifting expressions, Su Cha quietly sighed that he was still too innocent. If someday he were to stage an old-fashioned melodrama, where the suffering lead forgave all their enemies in the final episode and lived happily ever after with them… he wondered if that would make these people explode with rage.
Su Cha spaced out a little—maybe it was worth considering.
By the time he came back to himself, the usually smooth-talking Xie Rongjue hadn’t even bothered with a polite farewell. He simply turned and left.
Su Cha chased after him, following all the way to the school gate, panting, “If I submit a letter of forgiveness, can the journalist be released?”
Xie Rongjue and his subordinates had already boarded their craft. The school guards stopped Su Cha at the gate—he couldn’t leave without authorization. He watched the craft take off and disappear into the sky. Then he dropped the pleading act and strolled casually back toward the dorm.
Meanwhile, Li Huai had just sent out the PR article. When he looked up and saw Su Cha, he asked, “So, came to an agreement?”
Su Cha nodded. “The Investigation Department asked how I wanted to handle it.”
“Oh? And what did you say?”
“Of course, I chose to forgive the criminal.”
“……”
After a brief moment of shock, Li Huai burst out laughing. “Well said.”
He would’ve paid to see those guys’ faces in that moment. From the drawer, he tossed over a brooch embedded with several small crystals. Su Cha caught it and immediately recognized it was a compressed dose of medication.
But instead of heading straight back to the dorm, Su Cha borrowed some paper and a pen, and went to the cooler study room to write a letter.
…
Evening.
A phone call came into the principal’s office. The principal answered and leaned back in his chair slightly. “Yes, the Investigation Department came by, but they didn’t get their way.”
He was holding a letter that Su Cha had sent not long ago. “Yise, your judgment is as sharp as ever. This kid is interesting.”
It was Su Cha’s handwritten letter of forgiveness.
In minor cases, such a letter met the legal requirements to reduce punishment. But if the Investigation Department really did release the journalist, outsiders would only assume Su Cha had been threatened into submission.
Once the PR piece went public, the pressure would land squarely on the Investigation Department.
Mental power at the 3S level had tiers too—and the principal was at the very top, technically already in the realm of beyond 3S. He walked to the window, letting his vast spiritual energy surge outward, easily enveloping the entire school. Yet none of the students noticed—only a few teachers occasionally glanced up in puzzlement.
“Everyone thinks His Majesty wants to keep things quiet,” the principal murmured. “Just wait—I’ve got a feeling. The Empire is headed for a major purge.”
His power spread through the warm summer breeze, touching every corner of the campus, dorms included. He could sense every subtle emotional shift. The moment anyone harbored dark intent, he could end them with a single thought—no matter how far.
Outside, cicadas sang. Inside the dorms, soft music played from the communicator. Su Cha was seated at his desk, carefully listing out his upcoming plans.
- Work with his team to make it to the finals;
- Afterward, cultivate another Overlord Flower to gift to the instructor;
- Create something more effective than the current reagents to help others deal with spiritual power risks—and drag the guilty to h*ll;
- Buy a starship.
A few petals drifted in on the breeze. Su Cha put down his pen and stepped onto the balcony, leaning on the railing and tilting his head up. White clouds billowed across the sky.
He savored the rare moment of peace, narrowed his eyes in contentment, and said: “Tomorrow is definitely going to be a beautiful day.”
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