There was no time to think about how the other party had gotten into the affiliated high school—within a split second, the students’ thoughts raced. What should they do next? Pretend to be calm and try to stabilize the situation?
That definitely wouldn’t work. Coming to a military school to commit murder—regardless of success—meant there was no chance of leaving alive. A killer only had one viable path: strike swiftly and unexpectedly.
Any attempt at fearless negotiation would only accelerate their own death. Besides, the other party was clearly already alert—there was even less chance of success now.
Someone took a deep breath and said, “Don’t just stand there.”
Before the words even finished, under the streetlight, everyone took off running. Some even abandoned their shower baskets and hurled them at the killer like weapons.
“Principal! Administrator! Help—!”
Su Cha ran in the crowd of students fleeing like panicked birds and beasts, glancing around and swallowing hard. Everyone was running so fast.
His wrist was suddenly grabbed. Ji Tianjin frowned. “What are you spacing out for?”
He pulled Su Cha along as they ran.
Calling it running was an understatement—it was more like leaping through the air, speed pushed to the extreme.
The killer’s eyes turned fierce, and without hesitation, he began indiscriminate slaughter. As the bullets were fired, he leapt forward, aiming for the students in the front.
But just as the deadly bullets were about to hit their targets, they twisted midair. Waves of powerful spiritual pressure surged from all directions like a rising tide. The students could barely breathe from the pressure—let alone the assassin, who immediately sensed the threat. Two of the spiritual forces were on par with his own, which was manageable—but one was completely overwhelming.
“Impossible.” His face went pale.
Before coming, he had confirmed the affiliated school’s principal had left that afternoon, and Marshal Fog Star had returned directly to the embassy. The boss’s orders came suddenly, but this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
The killer’s spiritual strength was already ranked 3S. Yet he now had to accept the reality—besides the principal, there was someone at the school whose power exceeded known classifications.
Like the previous death soldier, this assassin had been brainwashed. His mind held only the goal of completing the mission. He desperately closed in on Su Cha’s escape route, attempting to self-destruct and take the boy with him.
This near-mad devotion to his mission let him break free from the spiritual suppression for a moment. But just as he was about to detonate, he was surrounded.
Several shadows darted past Su Cha. He stopped and turned to see the killer completely encircled. A dozen teachers had arrived, along with some unfamiliar faces. The guards had sealed the perimeter. There was no escape.
“Trying to commit an assassination at the school—you’ve got guts.” Li Huai actually smiled, though the smile was chilling.
Spiritual pressure crushed in from all sides, suppressing even the killer’s heartbeat—let alone his detonation.
His heart slowed, his lips turned white. The strongest spiritual pressure came from Li Huai, who, despite looking like a mere administrator, possessed greater power than him.
Interrogation wasn’t Li Huai’s specialty, so he didn’t withdraw the pressure, keeping the killer restrained. He glanced at a teacher beside him, who nodded and said, “The Investigation Department has been notified.”
It didn’t sound like a threat.
The killer wasn’t afraid of an investigation. Over a decade ago, he had worked in a shady security division of a corporation. If anyone was suspected, it would be the conglomerates. But this mission had only been half-successful and failed to stall as long as intended.
…
There was a secret tunnel at the resort. Built years ago, it was lit underground and equipped with a car. Before the assassin even set out, Luan Zheng and his people had already used it to reach a relatively safe location.
All his top men were gathered here, including Lieutenant Mike, a defector from the military, and a former student expelled from the First Military Academy.
Luan Zheng put on a finely crafted human-skin mask, ready to use a fake identity to flee. All that was left was for the Imperial Capital to fully descend into chaos.
After half an hour, the news finally aired—but only briefly mentioned someone attempting to sneak into the school. Nothing more. At that moment, a squeaking sound came from the tunnel—a rat crawled up one man’s leg to his shoulder and chattered.
Luan Zheng asked, “What’s the situation?”
Cheng Qing pressed his lips together without answering.
That reaction spoke volumes. Luan Zheng’s eyes flickered. “Forget it. Su Cha’s already made a name for himself—it won’t be easy to kill him inside the school. Was he injured?”
Cheng Qing: “Not a hair.”
“…”
The rat, though genetically enhanced and trained, had limited intelligence—it couldn’t relay more detailed information. As capable as Luan Zheng was, it was impossible to orchestrate a third attempt.
After repeated failures, even someone like Luan Zheng—who had no faith in anything—began to feel cursed by bad luck.
But he couldn’t show weakness. As the backbone of his operation, if he lost composure, his followers would panic even more.
“Big noise, small splash—but thunder is still thunder,” Luan Zheng said darkly. “The Investigation Department won’t miss a chance to use this incident. They’ll definitely send people to strike at the corporation.”
His Majesty had long needed a trigger to move against them. Xie Rongjue might seize the opportunity and pin the whole thing on the conglomerate.
“Evacuate immediately.” Luan Zheng didn’t change the plan. If they didn’t leave before dawn, it would be nearly impossible.
His core followers were gripped by unprecedented panic—they had a bad feeling that this escape would not go smoothly.
…
While Luan Zheng was fleeing in disgrace, the school was ablaze with lights.
The Investigation Department arrived quickly. With Su Cha now linked to interstellar diplomatic relations, the assassination attempt was extremely serious.
When the people of Fog Star heard the news, they were furious. Arriving at the gate, they ran into the principal just getting off his aircraft. Land’s voice was so cold it blended into the night: “Your school’s security measures are truly eye-opening.”
The guards were about to verify his identity, but the principal waved them off. The killer’s poor disguise may have fooled students, but there was no hiding it from professionals.
Under a streetlamp, Su Cha was giving his statement, describing what had happened in detail. Suddenly, he felt a gust of wind behind him. Before he could turn, Land was already standing in front of him.
“Your Highness, what a fright you’ve had.” Land scanned him from head to toe. Confirming that Su Cha hadn’t been injured, he still felt a lingering fear and guilt. “From the beginning, I never should have agreed to let Your Highness stay at the school alone.”
Su Cha was calm: “It was just a minor accident. The assassin didn’t even get within ten meters of me.”
The fury in Land’s heart was still like a fire doused with oil, boiling over instantly. Fearing that his killing intent might disturb Su Cha, he lowered his voice as much as possible: “I’ll go check on the assassin’s situation.”
Each casual word in that sentence dripped with murderous intent.
“Check on” clearly meant he was going to skin the assassin alive.
Su Cha wanted to say a few more words, but in the next second, he was completely surrounded by other Fog Star soldiers.
Once a full-scale investigation began, the matter couldn’t be kept quiet. To calm the Fog Star people, the Investigation Department had been sharing updates with them in real time.
A soldier lowered his head in pain: “I’ve already been told. The assassin disguised himself as me.”
Su Cha froze, not understanding why he looked so guilty.
“Why did he pick me out of everyone? It must be because there’s something lacking in me.”
“…?” In all his life, Su Cha had never seen someone blame themselves for being a victim. He tried to comfort him: “It’s not your fault.”
The soldier still didn’t lift his head, his voice filled with despair: “I’m no longer worthy of appearing in front of the young highness.”
The moment he saw his face, His Highness would definitely be reminded of tonight’s unpleasant events.
Su Cha said earnestly, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
The soldier became even more upset: “No, I did.”
This face itself was a sin.
Su Cha secretly glanced at Ji Tianjin—not far away, the two had been giving their statements together earlier.
He blinked hard: Help me. Save me.
Nearby classmates nodded in relief—yes, now this was a real Fog Star soldier, nothing like that fake one earlier.
Seeing no rescue coming, Su Cha gently patted the soldier’s arm in comfort: “But I recognized right away he wasn’t you.”
The soldier froze.
Su Cha gave a sincere smile: “I can recognize you. I can recognize each one of you.”
Classmates around them instinctively nodded—yes, they could recognize him too.
But Fog Star soldiers only had eyes for their prince. They automatically interpreted his words to mean that Su Cha could recognize them by instinct alone. In his eyes, they were all one of a kind.
“Really?” The soldier—who didn’t blink when killing beasts—asked cautiously.
At that moment, Ji Tianjin also walked over and flatly testified, “It’s true. I was stunned at the time.”
There was zero emotion in his voice, but to the soldier, it sounded like the voice of heaven.
Seeing that things were finally smoothed over, Su Cha breathed a sigh of relief, feeling like he was the adult in charge. Just as he began to relax, Land unexpectedly returned instead of joining the interrogation. A single glance from him told Su Cha that he wanted to talk.
The two walked off to a distance, Land’s spiritual power forming a barrier so no one else could hear.
Wu Shui released her spirit form to observe from above. Su Cha leaned against a lamppost, his brows occasionally furrowing slightly. Judging from lip movements, it was mostly Land doing the talking.
She stood beside Ji Tianjin, her voice tinged with sorrow: “Is Su Cha really going to leave?”
All their life-and-death battles and shared honors felt like they had just happened yesterday.
Rong Shao overheard and shrugged: “All good things come to an end. With his status in Fog Star, he’s definitely going back.”
Though his words were matter-of-fact, his tone betrayed a trace of sadness.
He was probably leaving after his deep awakening—likely in just a few days. Rong Shao considered throwing a farewell party and preparing some gifts.
Ji Tianjin never spoke a word. After finishing his statement, he turned and walked calmly back to the dormitory, though his steps were slower than usual, as if lost in thought.
….
Fog Star.
The long-haired man had a paler complexion than most. His eyes were sharp and penetrating—anyone who saw them wouldn’t dare associate the word “sickly” with him. His frame was thin, but far from bony. The cut of his clothing revealed that every joint seemed primed for explosive strength.
He was like the most perfect ice sculpture, currently reclining sideways on a throne.
“They—are they dead?”
The man spoke slowly, with a voice almost unnaturally perfect. This was the supreme King of Fog Star.
Reinforcements had been sent, and many warships deployed, but the one person he wished to see had still not been returned.
His inner guard couldn’t find a good explanation.
Star networks weren’t interconnected, so sending messages was troublesome—but not impossible. Warships were equipped for long-range comms if they moved a bit away.
Just then, the emergency communicator finally rang again after reinforcements had been dispatched.
The real-time video call made it feel like a face-to-face conversation. Land knelt on one knee and first reported Su Cha’s awakening condition. Then he added, “Perhaps due to fledgling attachment, the young highness seems reluctant to leave Galan Star.”
Despite having never met the child, the King was filled with kindness and understanding: “That’s only human.”
“I’ve already persuaded Galan officials to open the energy chamber the day after tomorrow. The young highness has agreed as well, and should be ready to depart soon.”
After using the chamber, he would complete his deep awakening—and then leave for Fog Star immediately.
“Oh?” The King stepped down from the throne. “How did you convince them?”
Land replied respectfully, “I told him, Your Majesty was about to close your eyes.”
“…”
Strictly speaking, it wasn’t a lie.
To counter the backlash of his bloodline, the Fog Star King had to enter periodic sleep, sometimes for years.
Land told Su Cha that the King wished to see him before resting—this was true.
Moreover, the King hadn’t attended the envoy visit, claiming poor health. Everything aligned perfectly.
The King was silent for a moment before scolding with a frown: “If you had this idea, why didn’t you say so earlier?”
So much time, wasted in vain.
….
By the time Land gave his report, Fog Star’s internal unrest had been quelled, and everyone returned to their dorms.
The first half of the night, Su Cha laid wide awake, staring at the ceiling.
He’d once seen the Fog Star King in a vague dream—couldn’t see clearly, but the figure felt weak.
Land’s words had successfully haunted him into a nightmare. In it, Su Cha arrived at Fog Star, and as soon as he stepped off the warship, he was surrounded. Someone placed a heavy crown on his head.
“You little b*stard. Be king.”
Su Cha jolted awake from the nightmare and prayed to the moonlight: “Please bless the Fog Star King with a long, long life.”
