The system wasn’t wrong—looking like this was practically a sin.
Ji Tianjin was momentarily dazed. At first glance, those eyes seemed filled with sorrow, but the brightness unique to Su Cha was still the first thing he noticed in them.
After a pause, Ji Tianjin seemed to ask something unnecessary: “You’re awake?”
The two words carried a faint warmth. Su Cha nodded and immediately sat up, intending to walk over.
At that moment, even a single strand of his hair radiated a fragile beauty. As he walked forward, he stumbled again—this time tripped by his own silver hair. Having not walked for so long, he was a bit unsteady.
Seems like staying immobile for too long has its problems too.
Cyril’s telekinesis quickly formed a protective barrier around him, while Ji Tianjin flashed to Su Cha’s side and grabbed his wrist in time to steady him.
Su Cha’s hand was ice cold. Ji Tianjin instinctively tightened his grip.
Su Cha tilted his head up and asked, “Got a knife?”
“Better leave that to a hairdresser.”
His hair was now incredibly tough. To cut it cleanly would require channeling spiritual energy. If he did it himself, he might end up looking like a dog chewed it.
Not dwelling on his hair, Su Cha moved on: “I’ve gotten stronger.”
Coming from someone with that appearance, it was hardly convincing.
But Su Cha could genuinely feel the abundant power within his body.
Cyril thoughtfully said, “Go try it.”
Even at night, the royal palace had excellent visibility. The palace didn’t house too many people—mostly gardeners and laborers, with the rest being the royal guards, kept to around a thousand. After all, with Cyril around, this was the safest place.
The guards on duty all gasped when they saw Su Cha.
Before they could even process the fact that the young prince was finally awake, another question crowded their minds: What happened? Why did His Highness look so utterly wronged?
As Su Cha passed by the lakeside, he finally understood the reason, quietly raising an eyebrow.
He hadn’t seen his own face in a long time. During his years of service, he often had to wear a mask. His face attracted too much attention and was not suitable for missions.
Wait—he suddenly noticed the faint red markings emerging on his forehead, reminding him of something else—
“I’m an adult now?”
Ji Tianjin replied, “If you count the time, probably.”
So that means he’s been asleep for at least four years? Su Cha looked at Ji Tianjin. “You stayed here the whole time?”
“I went back a few times.”
Su Cha was surprised. “Wouldn’t Uncle and Aunt miss you?”
Ji Tianjin: “At military school, they wouldn’t see me anyway.”
The affiliated military school had closed management.
For Su Cha, their last meeting felt like it happened just yesterday. Suddenly realizing that several years had passed was hard to adjust to.
No one asked about the markings on his forehead—probably because any bizarre phenomenon could be considered normal for a pureblood. As for Cyril, after learning about Su Cha’s past, he wouldn’t ask either.
The palace kept some animals similar to golden monkeys—a genetically evolved species, gentle in nature and never harmful.
One of these monkeys, woken by the sound of footsteps, hugged a tree, its eyes suddenly brimming with tears. It even wiped them away in an almost human gesture.
Su Cha’s expression was hard to describe. If he wasn’t mistaken, the monkey was crying at the sight of him.
The butler quietly explained, “Spirit monkeys have intelligence close to humans, and they can appreciate human beauty.”
There was no helping it—His Highness’s face was simply too heartbreakingly beautiful. Even the butler thought they should keep emergency heart medicine on hand in the future.
Su Cha sighed, “Is there a… is there a face mask?”
Any order from him was executed immediately. The butler quickly brought over a black mask. But just as Su Cha put it on, Ji Tianjin shook his head. “No good.”
Wearing it only emphasized his eyes, making him look even more sorrowful.
As Su Cha was about to try something else, Cyril stopped walking. They had arrived at the training grounds. He ordered the guards to release a beast.
It was a strange beast recently captured during a beast tide, much stronger than the one Su Cha used to train his spirit form before his long sleep.
Facing the rampaging beast charging at him, Su Cha took a step forward. His spiritual power gathered in his palm, and he casually hurled it like throwing a shot put. With a deafening boom, the spacious training ground—large enough for horseback riding—immediately collapsed into a giant crater, thousands of meters deep, as if a meteor had struck.
Silence fell.
Even Su Cha himself was stunned.
He just casually tossed it—was it really that powerful? His spiritual power had always been more defensive than offensive.
Cyril walked to the edge of the crater and calmly said, “You just threw your spirit form.”
A flower petal appeared at the edge of the crater, then the entire spirit form crawled back up, so exhausted it couldn’t even float properly in the air.
The magnolia spirit stood in front of Su Cha, radiating the same mournful aura as his eyes.
Su Cha swore to the heavens, “I didn’t throw you.”
A spirit form that big—if he’d thrown it, he should’ve noticed.
“You used spatial force,” Cyril murmured. “You subconsciously treated it like a hidden weapon.”
Su Cha’s eyelid twitched… Oh. Really?
He coughed lightly. “Sorry.”
The spirit form sulked quietly to the side.
When first waking up, the body’s instinctive reactions are always faster than reason. This was unavoidable, even for Cyril. That’s why whenever he woke from deep sleep, there were never too many people around him. But this kind of confusion usually lasted only two or three days.
Setting aside the misunderstanding with the “hidden weapon,” Su Cha had undeniably grown much stronger. Although he hadn’t fully completed his deep awakening, he sensed that day wasn’t far off.
Becoming stronger after a nap—but at the cost of several years—whether it was worth it or not, was hard to say.
After some thought, Su Cha came up with a meaningless answer. If he could live for 500 years, spend 30 years sleeping, and become one of the top ten strongest people in the galaxy at once, he would still be willing.
The soldiers were called by the housekeeper to fill the deep pit with soil. Su Cha’s previous big move consumed a lot of energy and had an amazing effect. The strange beast was directly crushed into meat paste at the bottom of the pit.
Cyril wanted to call him over to chat with him more, as they didn’t spend much time together. But in the end, he just patted Su Cha’s shoulder. Over the past four years, the boy had grown a lot taller. Cyril knew that he needed a more relaxed environment to regain his sense of reality.
“Go back and rest first.” His eyes swept past some dust-covered hair on the floor, and he added, “A hairdresser will be coming tomorrow morning.”
Though his aura had changed, Su Cha’s obedient nod remained the same: “Okay.”
As he left, he secretly hooked a finger at Ji Tianjin, clearly wanting to talk in private.
At that moment, Cyril was still in the training field, deep in thought about how to precisely locate the planet where the soul-summoning was taking place. The super-intelligent brain he had been building for this purpose was nearly complete—it should be of use soon.
There was much to consider. He didn’t head back until the ground had been completely filled and leveled.
…
A dormitory-style room.
Su Cha lounged lazily in a chair, hugging a cushion. “I knew you’d choose this room.”
His gaze swept Ji Tianjin up and down. Now that they were adults, Ji Tianjin was still a head taller—had he grown for nothing?
Ji Tianjin pulled out a box of letters, all sent by Rong Shao and the others while Su Cha was unconscious.
Most had already been opened. The recipients were listed as both him and Su Cha.
“Anything important?”
Su Cha sat cross-legged and upright, casually picking up one letter to read as he asked.
“They changed the team name again.”
From he came, to he left, and now they’re gone.
As Ji Tianjin spoke, Su Cha had already noticed—the letter had a photo carefully printed onto it. It was hard to believe that over the past few years, Rong Shao and the others had competed everywhere under that team name, and every time they stood on the podium, they’d take photos holding pictures of him and Ji Tianjin.
Su Cha fell silent for a moment, then squeezed out a comment: “They’re thoughtful.”
Maybe he had slept too long, but Su Cha wasn’t tired at all tonight. Though the letters were absurd and touching in turns, he still read through them all carefully, occasionally chatting idly with Ji Tianjin.
As the sun rose again, Su Cha was about to go out and bask in the long-missed sunlight when he was told the hairdresser had arrived.
Just the thought of being able to personally cut the young prince’s hair made the hairdresser feel spiritually elevated, like a drifting cloud in the sky. But upon seeing Su Cha’s youthful face, with its faint aura of fragility, his heart tightened.
The butler, now somewhat desensitized, passed on a message: “His Majesty asked me to tell you to schedule a short livestream sometime soon—nothing long, just enough to let the people know you’ve woken up.”
Cyril had already left before dawn to continue working in the control room of the super-intelligent brain, focused on planetary location research.
“Let’s do it today.”
He didn’t have anything else going on—just a livestream.
The hairdresser was still calming his nerves, pondering what hairstyle to choose.
Meanwhile, Su Cha had breakfast with Ji Tianjin first. Seeing the hairdresser still in a dilemma and hearing that the equipment was ready, he decided to go ahead and start the livestream.
Before that, though, he recorded a video to send to the Galan Empire. After so many years without contact, it would at least reassure his old friends that he was okay.
Su Cha thoughtfully made several copies, intending to mail one to each acquaintance.
Ji Tianjin suddenly said, “Don’t forget to send a copy to the Deputy Chief of Investigation.”
Su Cha paused, and they exchanged a glance. Ji Tianjin’s expression was, as always, calm. Su Cha, however, broke into a smile, and lightly poked him in the waist with a slender finger. “Not bad, you really know how to play.”
Ji Tianjin’s waist flinched involuntarily, and a trace of unease crossed his face.
Su Cha didn’t notice. He was too busy imagining how the Deputy Chief, who had been falsely accused several times, would react—probably have nightmares, screaming “Stay away from me!”
The mental image amused him, and he cheerfully headed off to start the livestream.
The livestream was set in the palace garden.
The announcement only went out ten minutes in advance, but it swept across the empire like a tornado. It also happened to be a holiday, so the sudden surge in traffic crashed the platform on the spot.
“…” You really couldn’t blame the platform—Fog Star’s usual livestreams were science-focused and didn’t draw heavy traffic. Su Cha had decided on a whim to go live today, and the platform hadn’t had time to prepare.
The stream had audio but no video.
“Please be patient, everyone. Sending you all a heart.”
Time hadn’t dulled Su Cha’s ability to gracefully appease the crowd.
No one could see the heart gesture, but just hearing the prince’s voice was already healing enough—even if it came through broken and choppy.
While the programmers scrambled to fix things, Su Cha spoke with calm confidence: “First, thank you to everyone who still cares about me. I’m doing well since waking up—my strength has improved a lot too…”
The butler whispered beside him that the system had been restored.
At that very moment, the citizens were suddenly met with the sight of their long-awaited little prince—his beautiful, sorrowful expression hit them hard. Their hearts almost exploded, just like the livestream platform had moments before.
Below the stream, there was a real-time comment feed. Seeing it completely blank surprised Su Cha.
There should’ve been tons of messages.
The easiest way to do a livestream was to interact with the audience. No comments meant he couldn’t do that—he couldn’t just talk to himself the whole time.
Where was he?
Ah, right—he’d just said his strength had improved a lot.
Su Cha glanced around and walked toward the artificial rock garden behind him.
“Next, I’ll demonstrate punching through this fake mountain.”
Beside him stood a huge willow tree. The slender youth looked like just one of its branches, swaying gently in the wind.
Su Cha rolled up his sleeves and gathered his strength.
The viewers finally snapped out of their daze.
“…”
What?! Smash a fake mountain?
That’s not a demo, that’s a death sentence for us! Stop right now, ahhh!!!
