The contrast between Land’s drive and the students’ collective laziness was stark and shocking.
Watching the numbers steadily climb, for the first time, Su Cha felt that hard work was meaningless—because even if he didn’t work hard, the results would be the same. Even Ji Tianjin had withdrawn from the battlefield, leaving only his spirit form to fight alone.
Su Cha, conflicted, asked, “How do you feel?”
Ji Tianjin replied calmly, “Turns out he’s the real guardian angel.”
“……”
Large snowflakes drifted down on the icy plains. Land’s continuous “slip-ups” clashed wildly with his elegant demeanor—so outrageous it was almost funny.
Su Cha suddenly stood still and asked, “Why is he so good to me?”
It sounded like a redundant question. They were from the same planet, and it was only natural to care for a child of their own country. Not to mention, Su Cha knew better than anyone how much value was placed on young ones in Fog Star.
But Ji Tianjin gave a different answer: “Because you respect them.”
He gave an example: “If he were in mortal danger right now, you’d risk your life to save him.”
Ji Tianjin understood Su Cha’s principles—if others gave him three parts, he’d return three parts in kind.
Su Cha’s gaze shifted, but he didn’t refute it.
Ji Tianjin smiled slightly. “Human relationships are mutual.”
Su Cha looked down at the pure white snow, feeling a strange lightness in his chest. “Yeah, you’re right.”
Their quiet exchange was swallowed by the wind and snow—so subtle even the drones couldn’t catch it. But Land, who had been paying close attention to Su Cha with absolute focus, heard every word. A warm current surged through his hardened heart. He slightly turned his head, meeting Ji Tianjin’s gaze.
Su Cha’s eyes had a kind of innate magic—no matter how much dust tried to cloud them, the brilliance always shone through. Ji Tianjin was the opposite: prematurely mature, and devoid of that carefree brightness.
The earlier metaphor had been deliberately said for Land to hear, and Ji Tianjin hadn’t tried to hide it.
They were all smart—no need for excess words. Land casually tossed a half-defeated beast to the white tiger.
The outcome of the match was no surprise: the students won.
But this was a match with no true winner. Fog Star people came away thinking Galan Star folks were barbaric—treating their spirit forms like pigs. Galan Star students, meanwhile, were left wondering whether Fog Star’s people always put enemies through such tormenting “ups and downs.”
Only Su Cha maintained his dignity from start to finish—made a dazzling entrance and exited without injury.
Once aboard the spaceship, Zhao Shi downloaded The Little Mermaid play from the interstellar network and deliberately spoke louder: “Watching it now, Su Cha’s performance in this play was actually pretty good.”
It was a cliché move, but effective. Land instantly appeared beside him just as the play was beginning.
Many turned to watch, curious to see Land’s reaction.
As soon as Su Cha’s mermaid version appeared, Land’s eyes visibly brightened. The fish tail and the wide stage made Su Cha look even smaller, and even a single strand of hair glowed with beauty.
Unexpectedly, Land made a sharp distinction between reality and virtual worlds—his attention wasn’t on the plot at all.
“Wearing that fish tail must’ve made walking really hard.”
“The lights are too bright. His Highness is blinking more often—it’s torture.”
His muttering stopped abruptly when the “princess” appeared on screen. Land’s tone turned cold: “All imposters should die.”
If Su Cha hadn’t shown signs of returning to ancestor, they really might’ve been fooled by Shen Ningze. After all, not every Fog Star person had a natural resonance with others of their kind—it also depended on blood purity.
At that moment, the ship’s broadcast came on:
“A passenger’s excessive power leakage is affecting flight operations. Please calm down.”
“Please calm down.”
The announcement repeated multiple times. Land barely managed to suppress his urge to kill Shen Ningze on the spot. But the cruelty flickering in his eyes was enough to make anyone uneasy.
Clearly, the impersonation incident had hit a nerve—more precisely, it had crossed a red line for all Fog Star people.
Students who had originally wanted to watch the drama started edging away, their expressions shifting from amused to stunned, and finally whispering among themselves. They had no idea about the impersonation—they just assumed Land’s anger came from earlier mutterings about the hardships of performing.
“Are Fog Star people always this protective of their kids?”
“Looks like it. Didn’t you see how the mutated beast wasn’t affected by the tiger pelt grass, but when it disrespected Su Cha, Instructor Land got mad? When the beast got affected, he hated that it had sullied Su Cha’s eyes.”
“That’s not all—there hasn’t been rain in the forecast for a week, but the only rain in the capital fell near the school. One night, I even saw a plane divert its course.”
“Chief Xie’s adoptive father status is getting more and more suspicious.”
The most amusing part was that they weren’t the only ones who felt this way—during the earlier live broadcast, the comment section was full of people sneakily tagging Xie Rongjue. Although no one mentioned his full name, everyone who knew, knew.
The collective voice of thousands of netizens: Chief Xie, someone is about to break your guardian angel’s wings.
But Xie Rongjue didn’t hear their call—he hadn’t watched the broadcast at all. Even the deputy chief, who had initially tuned in for entertainment, was called away halfway through for an emergency meeting.
Over twenty elite officers sat in a sealed room, all in similar upright postures. In front of each of them was a file.
Xie Rongjue stood at the head: “The recent plan was a success.”
Starting from the Wolenson incident, a series of “accidents” had quickly produced results. One person, fearing assassination, turned himself in. He claimed to work for Tiansheng Pharmaceuticals—which wasn’t surprising. The Xilin Group had long-standing ties with Tiansheng, and after its bankruptcy, was acquired by them. Unfortunately, this person wasn’t high-ranking—his role had been acquiring contraband drugs from the black market.
“But he provided a very interesting piece of information. Five years ago, the black market’s biggest trafficker, Weina, was arrested. After that, he barely operated.”
“Weina?” One team member recognized the name. “I remember she was involved in a major smuggling case, but it kind of fizzled out, didn’t it?”
As he spoke, he flipped through the documents in front of him and suddenly spotted a name that surprised him: “Luan Zheng?”
The file contained newly uncovered facts that sharply contradicted the previous glossed-over case report. It detailed bribery arrangements. That very afternoon, several officers involved in the case had already been taken into custody.
Luan Zheng had always kept a low profile, but the case back then had been huge. If someone had wanted Weina pulled out of custody, it would’ve taken someone of his rank to smooth things over.
The Deputy Chief sneered, “If Luan Zheng was involved, then he really played the long game.”
He had been forced to step down under joint pressure from several of the company’s elder executives, and most of his shares had been diluted. All of that was true.
Internal power struggles in Xilin Group had always been fierce. Everyone who was forced out had ended up on the Investigation Department’s watchlist. But with Luan Zheng, apart from rumors of a playboy lifestyle, nothing solid had turned up.
“One thing is odd,” the team member continued, “If Shen Ningze is problematic, but his identity as an exerimental subject is real, why would he help Luan Zheng? Stockholm syndrome?”
Someone speculated, “Maybe he was brainwashed.”
Some people raise death warriors precisely using that tactic.
Xie Rongjue suddenly pulled a page from Luan Zheng’s file, his eyes locking on the line: “chaotic private life.” Such things weren’t rare in high society, but others didn’t understand why Xie was so fixated on it.
Then, he stared at a photo of Shen Ningze for a full minute. He turned to a nearby officer and instructed, “Take a doctor to the royal palace. Check if Shen Ningze has had any cosmetic surgery.”
The officer didn’t dare delay and left at once.
Xie Rongjue tossed the file back onto the table. “Luan Zheng has 3S-level spiritual power, yet both of his sons are only B-rank.”
The Deputy Chief caught on: “So it’s possible Luan Zheng took some kind of special drug?”
Xie Rongjue said cryptically, “Defective genes.”
And such genes could very well produce a genetically flawed child.
With modern medical technology, most genetic issues could be detected in advance. But many illegitimate children—especially ones not meant to be publicly acknowledged—were never screened at hospitals. To avoid leaving a trace, they were often born through the most primitive methods.
Then, once the child was born in secret, they could be used as bargaining chips to extort money.
“What time is it now?”
The sudden change in topic caught the Deputy Chief off guard, but he quickly replied, “9:40.”
Xie Rongjue adjusted his glasses. “The match should be over.”
The Deputy Chief blinked, thinking—Wait, is he talking about the match between the freshmen and the Fog Star marshal?
But then came the shocker—Xie Rongjue called Su Cha.
“Congratulations on your victory.”
He hadn’t watched the match. But someone who could make it rain artificially in the middle of the night definitely wasn’t the type to chase after first place.
“Thanks.” Su Cha sounded sleepy, his voice a little lazy and unfocused.
Xie Rongjue abruptly changed the subject: “Has Shen Ningze ever mentioned his parents to you?”
Su Cha thought for a moment and said, “Once, he asked me if I longed for a father’s love.”
“How did you answer?”
Su Cha was very honest: “I read him my guardian application list, then pretended not to hear and made him repeat the question.”
“……”
The signal on the spaceship was poor, so Su Cha’s words were a bit broken, but he explained clearly, including how he and Shen Ningze struggled over which father to choose and agonized over which family business to inherit.
After hearing everything, Xie Rongjue suddenly felt the Deputy Chief had done the right thing—he had actively helped expose Shen Ningze’s impersonation early, so he was caught sooner. Otherwise, with more time, the suspect might have been driven to death by frustration.
The doctor who went to the palace quickly sent back the examination results: Shen Ningze had indeed had plastic surgery, probably because he was very young at the time and had a slight deformation on his cheek that was hard to notice without close inspection.
Xie Rongjue looked at the Deputy Chief: “Take some people to find Luan Zheng and collect a sample for DNA comparison.”
“What if he refuses?”
Without clear evidence, Luan Zheng had the right to refuse.
Xie Rongjue waved his hand, indicating it didn’t matter—he just wanted to see how the other side would react.
Before ten o’clock, the investigation team had already arrived at Luan Zheng’s residence.
The butler answered: “No one’s home now. Sir won’t return for three days, but the eldest young master will be back tomorrow night. Getting a sample from him is the same.”
The answer was airtight, as if they were not afraid of the DNA test at all.
After the investigators left, the butler immediately reported to Luan Zheng. Luan Zheng mostly lived in a mountain villa under his name during the summer and indeed wasn’t home. After hanging up, his expression changed. He called a subordinate over: “Why haven’t the people moved yet?”
The subordinate replied, “Still waiting for the right moment.”
“Act immediately. Injure Su Cha and frame the group. Both must be done, and it’s best if they kill him outright.”
He paced the room, hands behind his back. After a moment of hardening his resolve, he said, “Evacuate.”
The subordinate was stunned: “Boss, now?”
Luan Zheng nodded solemnly.
“But only part of the materials have been transferred so far…”
“Can’t worry about that anymore.” Luan Zheng decided immediately. “Take advantage of the chaos tonight—we sneak out illegally.”
After a pause, he added: “Don’t we have informants in the major groups? After the incident, let them hint to the investigation team that they are coming, to create an atmosphere of panic.”
If something happened to Su Cha, they would be the prime suspects. These group leaders had plenty of dirty secrets that wouldn’t stand up to investigation—they might run faster than rabbits.
No matter how capable the investigation team was, manpower was limited, and they couldn’t guard every place perfectly.
……
Night had fallen. Su Cha had just stepped off the spaceship, exhausted after using his spiritual power heavily all day.
Everyone was eager to return to the dorm to shower, their clothes stained with sweat or beast blood.
“What’s going on?” Many had just undressed and found no water from the shower, trying several times to confirm it was really cut off.
At that moment, the broadcast announced: “The apartment’s pipes were probably chewed through by rats. The problem is being investigated. Please don’t worry.”
Many students couldn’t stand it and decided to go to the public bathhouse.
The school had a public bathhouse near the underground supermarket, though it was rarely used. However, it had a separate water pipe and wasn’t affected.
In the stuffy heat, a group of students carrying bathing baskets and wearing slippers formed a rare scene at the affiliated high school.
Su Cha was now living on the same floor as Ji Tianjin. They came out together. Ahead, Rong Shao and Di Yuansi were discussing a new type of spaceship soon to be released. Spotting them, they waved.
“What the heck, how could rats chew through the pipes?” Rong Shao complained.
Seeing Su Cha, he laughed: “Why haven’t you grown taller?”
Compared to before, Su Cha had grown stronger but still looked very thin, giving the impression he struggled even to carry a basket.
Streetlights shone on both sides, and many moths fluttered nearby. Su Cha didn’t bother to shatter them with spiritual power and calmly said, “I’ll definitely be taller than you someday.”
Just look at the Fog Star people.
While they were talking, Su Cha suddenly froze.
“Your Highness.” A voice unexpectedly called from under a distant tree. The person’s tone held restrained excitement: “Your performance today was absolutely perfect.”
The surrounding students, chatting and laughing moments before, all fell silent.
The scene was eerie, as if time had stopped.
The assassin’s inner alarm rang loudly, but he was sure he could not be recognized at a glance—he had carefully altered his appearance and manner of speaking. This assassin had been carefully selected by Luan Zheng and physically resembled the Fog Star soldiers in height and build.
Besides, Fog Star people appeared frequently at the school; it wouldn’t be strange for them to visit.
Nearby students exchanged glances. Having witnessed Land’s style of doing things, many questions arose in their minds:
Why hadn’t the Fog Star person immediately questioned how Your Highness could carry such a heavy basket?
Why hadn’t the Fog Star person instantly shattered the small moths that were bothering Your Highness?
Why hadn’t the Fog Star person dramatically scolded Your Highness for going to the public bathhouse?
This is a fake Fog Star person!
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