Is the aurora beautiful? The contestant from Z804 didn’t know, but he was sure his own expression right now must look fantastic.
Was Ji Tianjin seriously trying to fool him like he was an idiot?
Ji Tianjin, however, remained calm. “Su Cha is injured. What else can he do if not take a break?”
The further he went, the safer he’d be.
That single line made the Z804 contestant’s face twitch. As absurd as it sounded, it oddly made some sense. No matter how capable Su Cha was, he couldn’t control other people’s spirit forms to fight for him.
Setting aside whether Ji Tianjin was telling the truth or not, the Z804 contestant narrowed his eyes and asked the most pressing question: “After all this, how can we be sure you won’t use our spirit forms to force us into surrendering?”
Ji Tianjin let out a cold snort. “No need for that.”
He paused slightly and added, “Otherwise, I could just knock on your door one by one to threaten you. Why even bother with this cooperation?”
Given the choice between one’s spirit form and winning the match, anyone would choose the former.
In truth, Ji Tianjin wasn’t opposed to using violence to counter violence. Most people wouldn’t be. Spirit forms could be forced to awaken under pressure, though it wasn’t a guarantee. A coordinated attack would still do heavy damage.
But Su Cha had always been soft-hearted despite his sharp tongue. Ji Tianjin knew he probably couldn’t bring himself to do it, so he opted for a more subtle approach.
“Someone’s coming,” said the contestant from Craftsman Star abruptly.
This uninvited guest came from the sky—Lien, looking down from above with a mess of red hair flying.
Seeing that no one was fighting, he raised an eyebrow. “Oh? So you’ve teamed up?”
He landed. “Count me in. Let’s split the points evenly.”
Lien had always enjoyed chaos. Wherever the action was, he’d follow.
“I’m just here for a vacation. If the payoff afterward is big enough, I might even consider quitting the competition.”
He’d expected that saying the word vacation would earn him stunned looks, but to his disappointment, no one reacted.
Finding it boring, Lien tilted his head toward Ji Tianjin. “By the way, where’s Su Cha?”
“Traveling.”
“…”
Ji Tianjin didn’t offer further explanation and soon vanished from the spot like a phantom.
Sensing the shift, the contestants from Pritt and Z804 also quickly hid themselves, silently acknowledging the plan to eliminate other teams first.
With his wings, Lien had more freedom of movement. Though outwardly lively, the Zerg race’s innate thirst for violence remained, and he too found a spot to lie in wait.
A few minutes later, the first unfortunate team arrived.
They were desperate to locate their spirit forms. It seemed they weren’t the only ones to suffer losses. Other contestants were in the same boat. Confident that no real fighting would break out under these conditions, they entered without much caution.
Reality hit like a hammer.
The moment they stepped into the area, they were completely surrounded.
Whether it was Ji Tianjin or the others, every strike was deadly. They knew this battle needed to be swift and decisive—dragging it out would jeopardize the larger “cleansing plan.”
Four teams ganged up on one. The result was obvious.
The final blow came from Lien. Since they’d agreed to split the points, no one contested the kill.
As blood sprayed, Lien didn’t even look at the opponent as the protection shield activated. Absentmindedly, he wondered, Really? Su Cha actually went on a trip?
After cleaning up the scene, the group continued using the Craftsman Star contestant as bait. In just one hour, they eliminated six teams. Lien consistently landed the final blow but held off on claiming points to avoid triggering suspicion through the rankings.
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll hog the points?” he asked.
Ji Tianjin: “We can just kill you and take them back.”
“…”
The top ten in the Interstellar Youth Tournament all came with generous rewards. Points were mainly a means to that end. But for the major powers, they only cared about first place.
….
Su Cha’s speed was far beyond what the organizers had predicted.
The closer he got to the boundary, the quieter everything became. The magnolia’s calming scent drifted in the air. Even wild beasts stopped attacking.
With a light breeze brushing his face and dense ancient trees all around, Su Cha was savoring the perfect harmony between man and nature.
Half-dozing with eyes narrowed, his brow suddenly creased. Perhaps it was his injury, but he couldn’t shake a strange feeling about the rainforest. Not exactly dangerous—but something about it felt oddly unreal, like he was slightly detached from reality here.
When he closed his eyes and focused, though, he sensed nothing wrong.
He put aside the unease and quietly raised his guard, continuing on.
….
He was the only one with this feeling.
In the skies above, starships loomed. Even if an army of apex beasts showed up, there’d still be an escape route. No one really worried about safety. Most teams were still hunting for spirit forms.
The more ruthless factions—like Pritt’s—believed that if anything major were really happening, the competition would’ve already been shut down. So rather than wasting time on tracking spirit forms, they lay ambushes and ganged up on weaker teams.
The chase-and-hunt dynamic plunged the live broadcast into chaos and slaughter. At last, the tournament was starting to look like a real competition.
Once a third of the contestant teams had been eliminated, a new broadcast rang out from the sky:
“Attention contestants: the second and final emergency supply drop is about to occur.
Green packs (5): contain energy fluid.
Red packs (10): contain gas masks.
Orange pack (1): contains an invisibility cloak.
Drop time: 6:00 PM.”
The invisibility cloak could temporarily erase traces of the user—perfect for assassination. With the drop scheduled for 6 PM and only announced at 5:40, and with the items placed in the center of the rainforest, contestants had no time to hesitate.
Anyone even slightly interested was already rushing to the same location:
The arena.
The commentator could finally say: At last, this is what we’ve been waiting for.
Earlier alliances and schemes didn’t offer much commentary value. Once Ji Tianjin started teaming up with contestants from other planets, it turned into a bloodbath of ambushes. Exciting at first, yes, but there wasn’t much space for colorful commentary. Plus, with Su Cha slacking off as a contrast, the audience’s attention kept drifting.
“That’s a nice photo.”
“Yeah, impressive. The comms device takes shots just as good as a real camera.”
Su Cha, acting like a travel influencer, would occasionally pose for the drone, showcasing his “masterpieces.” And to be fair, they often looked like art, sparking real viewer discussion.
Forcing himself to ignore the noise, the commentator smiled stiffly. “The upcoming supply drop will no doubt be hotly contested.”
To stay in the top ten, it was enough to hold out in a safe zone while others fought. But to win the championship, you had to go for the invisibility cloak. Whoever got it would take a huge leap toward first place.
“Almost every team is now converging on the drop zone. Let’s see the battle that’s about to erupt.”
The commentator raised his voice.“Final five minutes—one minute… Drop incoming!”
Audience area—
“Whoa, that angle is insane!”
Even though the fighting was intense, the audience still chose to follow Su Cha’s camera feed. After all, no matter how fierce the battle, it couldn’t compare to that one night when the strange beast went into heat.
The Fog Star viewers’ gaze was completely frozen on Su Cha.
Their little prince was the best!
In the live feed, Su Cha was sitting on the lotus magnolia, head slightly tilted back, a small flower petal between his lips as he quietly looked at the sky.
So beautiful—it could easily make it into the top ten most stunning photos of all time.
The commentator: “…”
Since no one was paying attention to him, was this his chance to mutter a curse into the mic?
“Ahem…” The ruler of Giant Origin Planet coughed and asked Cyril, “Have you considered making merchandise?”
Their planet specialized in this kind of thing—done right, it could rake in a fortune.
The Federal President, coldly: “Please show some respect to the match and the participants.”
At the same time, the completely ignored commentator dryly added, “When the players rewatch the footage after the match, they’ll definitely feel… a lot.”
Fighting their hearts out only to be ignored, while Su Cha was busy taking selfies even when injured—anyone would feel bad. Offending an entire group of people in one match—only Fog Star could pull that off.
…
The sky had darkened completely. After relentless effort, Su Cha finally reached the edge of the rainforest.
Di Yuansi emerged from the shadows, breathing a long sigh of relief. He’d rather fight wild beasts than take on the endless task of protecting Su Cha—better leave that to Ji Tianjin.
While sipping nutrient fluid to regain energy, Di Yuansi saw Su Cha standing at the boundary between the rainforest and the outside world.
“So beautiful.”
Di Yuansi was exhausted and hadn’t noticed anything. When Su Cha spoke, he looked up—and was immediately stunned by the spectacular scene ahead.
It was his first time seeing the aurora so close. The vibrant colors swirled together in a mysterious, majestic display. Even the spirit forms were sitting in rows, watching intently.
Snapping out of it, Di Yuansi was about to ask Su Cha if he wanted a photo taken, but then saw Su Cha raise a hand, his fingers moving as if he were playing a piano in the air.
No one knew how long it lasted. Su Cha eventually lowered his head, muttered something, then placed his hand on the lotus magnolia, as though performing some kind of ritual.
Di Yuansi asked curiously, “What are you doing?”
Su Cha had heard the broadcast earlier. Smiling, he replied, “Spreading love.” Then casually sat cross-legged. “It wouldn’t be fair if only we got to see something so beautiful.”
The lotus magnolia drifted back toward the center of the battlefield.
After Su Cha’s deep awakening, he gained space abilities. Though he couldn’t enter the space himself, his spirit creatures and Spiritual energy could. On the return trip, the lotus magnolia took less than half the time.
Meanwhile, the fight over the emergency kit was still raging. The sound of labored breathing mixed with blades slicing through flesh. Everyone was injured to varying degrees.
Ji Tianjin and his group were the main targets, with the other players teaming up against them while still guarding against each other. The result was a grueling war of attrition that had lasted for hours.
The captain from Pritt Star was fighting the Giant Origin Empire team while mentally calculating post-battle strategies.
The Galan Empire had spirit forms, giving them a significant combat advantage. If it came down to it, they might not win.
So instead of waiting, it was better to take the risk—when Ji Tianjin went for the emergency kit, they’d ambush him with players from Z804 and the Jialu Empire.
Sneaking a glance, the Z804 player gave a subtle nod—clearly having the same idea.
The Pritt captain gave a hand signal, and several fighters abruptly turned and charged at Ji Tianjin.
Just as the captain focused all his attention on Ji Tianjin, a sudden gust struck from behind. He tried to dodge but was too slow—half his arm went limp as its nerves were severed.
The attacker was from the Jialu Empire.
Liu Xiqin had threatened them with a spirit form the night before and cut a deal: betray Pritt at a critical moment.
Blood ran down the Pritt captain’s sleeve—he hadn’t expected the betrayal.
He wasn’t the only one. Other alliances had also crumbled, and half the teams eliminated during the chaos had fallen due to betrayal.
“So dirty,” he said calmly—not as an insult, but just a statement of fact. After all, their own strategies weren’t clean either.
The organizers creating an invisibility cloak? Even dirtier.
Who wouldn’t want to bring home some foreign tech to study? Even teams who didn’t want to get dragged into bloodshed had no choice. Players were forced to reveal their trump cards, giving the Federation a full glimpse of other empires’ younger generations’ capabilities.
Just then, Lien suddenly launched a second wave against a Giant Origin player. During a flurry of attacks, he dove and swung his wing at the perfect moment.
The player shot off like a kite with a broken string.
D*mn—did he learn that wing slap from Su Cha?
Zerg wings weren’t made of paper. Near-invisible barbs coated them, and the natural toxins made the bleeding unstoppable. A minor wound became serious, forcing the protective gear to activate.
Lien’s move broke the stalemate.
After witnessing betrayal after betrayal, the remaining trust among players disintegrated. When they attacked again, it turned into a chaotic brawl—everyone trying to finish off whoever was nearby as brutally as possible.
“Captain, should we retreat?” asked a player from a mid-tier planet. They had only sent two people and were running on fumes.
“No.” The captain’s voice was grim. “Even if we don’t win, we have to take that invisibility cloak.”
The Federation’s cloak tech was coveted by all. No one wanted to leave empty-handed.
Most players had the same goal.
The chaos made it hard for rescue aircraft to land. Disqualified players, weak and wounded, still urged their teammates, “While we haven’t been pulled out yet, try one last time.”
They knew what the Federation was doing—but they had no choice. Like moths to a flame, they burned through their last reserves to seize that cloak.
As time ticked by, the players fought more frantically. Even if they were eliminated, they were hellbent on achieving something.
“Flower.” Someone suddenly switched from attack to defense, on high alert.
Overhead, a single pure flower appeared, blooming in the air without warning.
The lotus magnolia bowed gracefully.
Fighting paused. On edge, the players below frowned, unsure what was going on.
The flower trembled slightly, releasing what looked like shimmering powder—closer inspection revealed it was like glittering diamond dust. For the first time, the night revealed its advantage: the view was breathtaking.
As the players extended their spirit power in caution, the lotus magnolia suddenly exploded into bloom.
Countless petals drifted down like willow fluff. Ji Tianjin and Liu Xiqin had seen Su Cha unleash his spirit energy before—but this time felt different.
Ji Tianjin reached out. A flower landed in his palm.
No aggression, no strong energy—just a gentle force. Others caught them too.
It felt good, like all the ugliness in the world had been wiped away. In that moment, the flowers conveyed genuine kindness.
…The blessing of the Flower Deity.
Su Cha had once used this move to bless Cyril, but Cyril’s soul was too strong—it had barely one percent effect.
Now that Su Cha’s soul had recovered significantly in sleep, using it again was effortless.
His mood during the spell was tender, and that softness was carried within the magic.
The system had once classified the Flower Deity’s blessing as an attack spell, not a blessing—because in its full release, it could touch the softest part of a person’s soul.
Some of the petals didn’t fall right away. Instead, they arranged themselves midair into a message:
You’ve already done very well.
In the end, they were all under twenty—living under enormous pressure. This unexpected comfort hit hard. No one knew what they were going through. The pressure of a four-year war through wormholes now rested on their shoulders. More than fearing defeat, they feared the disappointed stares afterward.
Many were blaming themselves for not doing better. In this moment, the healing energy brought rare peace. No one could walk away from the Flower Deity’s blessing unaffected.
Even the system feared this spell when Su Cha was at full power—it could trigger memories that might destroy it. Let alone these players, who lacked both the system’s strength and Cyril’s soul—they were bound to be deeply moved.
“I tried… I really tried…” one player pushed away the medics, half-kneeling on the stretcher, cradling his face and shaking his head.
The scent of the flowers felt like a mother’s warmth, soothing everything.
Outsiders who hadn’t experienced it could only chalk the players’ tears up to sentimentality.
In the arena—
The audience was dead silent.
After a long pause, one of the planetary leaders sighed softly, “I knew it.”
First he stole people, then spirit forms. Now that he was done with those… it was time to steal hearts.
