The mechanical gloves could be voice-controlled, and after Su Cha clearly laid out his instructions, they finally quieted down again.
It was the height of summer. Su Cha poked his head out from under the blanket, his hair a tangled bird’s nest. When he used to be a flower demon, the fragrance he emitted had certain healing properties. Now, it seemed to have transformed into some kind of awakened ability.
Su Cha continued studying the mechanical gloves.
Around 3 a.m., he finally got a rough idea of how they worked. The gloves had two modes: combat and daily use. When he tried to switch to combat mode, he felt a sharp pain shoot through his brain.
[Spiritual power insufficient. Forced activation may cause irreversible damage. Proceed anyway?]
“No.” He gritted his teeth and forced out the word.
Right after speaking, his headache worsened, likely a lingering effect of the earlier pain. It didn’t ease until he was drenched in sweat.
“How can I increase my spiritual power?”
[Searching… Spiritual power is used to control—]
Su Cha couldn’t be bothered to listen to the long explanation. He rubbed his eyes and read the information himself. A person’s spiritual power was mostly determined by talent. Currently, the only widely accepted method to improve it was through holographic combat simulation.
By entering a virtual battlefield via a neural interface, the brain could be developed through countless real-time simulations.
“Isn’t that basically a holographic game?” Su Cha read the precautions and realized that death in the simulation could lead to brain death in reality.
“…” Yeah, no thanks.
Su Cha found a side button, and the display disappeared. The mechanical gloves returned to their original form. He placed them on his bedside table and fell asleep.
The next morning, his dorm door was knocked on. When Su Cha opened it, a man he didn’t recognize was standing there, muttering, “This is just ridiculous.”
When the door opened, the man stopped complaining and sternly warned, “Mechanical gloves are not to be used recklessly, and absolutely not in fights…”
Halfway through, he stopped talking. Looking at the paper-thin Su Cha—with a few strands of his hair still standing up from static—it was clear that “perpetrator” was a label that could never apply to him.
He dropped the usual long-winded lecture and simply said, “Don’t use combat mode lightly. You should know this even without me saying it.”
Su Cha nodded. The gloves gave intelligent alerts whenever he attempted risky operations.
“Logging the record. Model?”
“Cuckoo V40.”
The man visibly relaxed. The V40 series didn’t have high offensive power. Luckily, that guy named Li hadn’t gone too far. After carefully recording the date and method of acquisition, the man quickly left.
For the next two days, no more sudden assemblies were called.
Three days later, the final elimination round ended, and all new students had arrived by noon.
Including Su Cha as a special case, the total number of new students this year was 1,001—the academy’s usual fixed quota was 1,000. Normally, at this point, placement tests would be conducted, and class assignments determined based on entry scores. But this year, no such thing had been announced yet.
At 4 p.m., all freshmen were notified to head to the auditorium.
There were two doors. Everyone entered in an orderly manner. Compared to the tall figures around him, Su Cha looked like a lamb that had wandered into a pack of wolves. Although no one said anything, the glances he received held a hint of hostility.
Su Cha understood—after all, he had gotten in through special means—so he just kept smiling.
As the saying goes, no one hits a smiling face. And besides, his smile was genuinely charming. Gradually, those unfriendly stares faded.
No one chose their seats. Everyone sat in order of arrival, starting from the first row and filling in from the edges. Rows of students sat upright, posture uniform and proper. Su Cha instinctively straightened his back as well.
He sat at the very edge. A slight breeze brushed past as someone walked by. Su Cha looked up and first noticed the graying temples. The person walking onto the stage wore formal attire, black hair neatly combed, each button fastened meticulously—he looked to be in his early forties.
However, since the average lifespan in the Galan Empire was around two to three hundred years, he was likely much older than he appeared.
Some people are naturally imposing. The principal of the affiliated high school also held high-ranking positions within the Empire. The air of authority he carried made even the brashest of new students fall silent.
The microphone gave a bit of feedback. The principal adjusted it and, raising his head, scanned the room.
“First of all, welcome to the affiliated high school. You are now a part of this place. I don’t need to elaborate on your talents and excellence. The reason we’ve called you here today is to announce something.”
His voice was gravelly but clear. There was no dramatic rise and fall in tone, yet he effortlessly held everyone’s attention: “As you all know, every July, there is an interschool tournament involving ten schools. Normally, freshmen are excluded since they’ve just entered.”
Each school had its own admissions criteria, but they all began around the same time. There were no summer or winter breaks—just a fixed 60-day vacation each year.
“However, many believe that freshmen should also have the right to participate.”
As if they already knew what he was going to say next, everyone held their breath. Many of them had a faint look of excitement in their eyes—this was the age when they were desperate to prove themselves.
“In recent years, the activity zones of strange beasts and space pirates have not been limited to interstellar battlefields. Many have infiltrated the Empire. Our lives are not as peaceful as they appear.” The principal spoke slowly, “After unanimous discussion, to help you grow as quickly as possible, this year’s Ten-School Tournament will be fully open.”
As soon as the words fell, the auditorium erupted in cheers.
The principal raised his hand slightly to signal for quiet: “Specific details will be announced on the official website. I wish you all the best in bringing honor to the school.”
His speech was brief. The Dean, who had been sitting in the front row, then listed a few rules freshmen needed to follow, and instructed everyone to exit in order from the back rows. He and the principal remained seated.
Watching the excited backs of the freshmen as they left, the Dean sighed, “Truly fearless like newborn calves—the Ten-School Tournament isn’t completely safe.”
The principal turned off the microphone and said in the end, “The preliminaries will be held through the military’s holographic simulation network. Once they make it to the finals, they’ll be on their own.”
…
News of the Ten-School Tournament spread quickly throughout the school.
That night, the school’s official website updated with detailed participation requirements.
Since this was the first time freshmen were allowed to participate, Li Huai specially gathered all freshmen eligible for the tournament. He said, “Each team must have between seven and nine members. You may form your own teams for now. The preliminaries will be against Jero Academy, and the top ten teams in total points will advance.”
Two schools competing for ten spots in the finals—instantly, the atmosphere grew tense, and many clenched their fists in silence.
“I know a lot of you were dissatisfied with the entrance exam rankings—this is your chance,” Li Huai added. “Combat rooms, martial arts tournaments, and various association challenges—the school provides many ways to showcase your abilities. Only by finding the best teammates can you stand out.”
His speech got everyone’s blood pumping.
“Submit your team rosters to me in twenty days. Those who haven’t formed a team by then will be randomly assigned into new ones.”
There was an unwritten rule at the affiliated high school: every student must participate in any competition-style event.
After he finished, Li Huai asked in a firm tone, “Understood?”
“Understood!”
“Dismissed.”
He said “dismissed”, but the students only gathered more closely. Before Su Cha could react, a crowd had already formed around him. Everyone seemed to be targeting the same person:
“Hey, I’m Ding Wen, first to qualify in the elimination round.”
“Hi, Han Caifeng, I won the gold medal in the martial arts tournament.”
Ji Tianjin had successfully hunted several strange beasts on the interstellar battlefield and was admitted without needing to test—his strength required no proof.
Li Huai caught sight of Su Cha struggling to squeeze out of the crowd, only to end up awkwardly standing off to the side. He couldn’t help but shake his head.
He had barely walked a few steps when he received a message to head to the principal’s office.
Passing through shaded paths, he arrived at the grandest building on campus and pushed the door open with a calm face.
“I’m not changing my stance on the mechanical gloves—” As soon as he stepped in, his pupils contracted slightly. “Yise?”
Yise was standing by the window, bathed in overly bright sunlight that cast deep shadows around him. The principal, as usual, sat at his desk and paused his work upon hearing the door.
Yise turned his head and was the first to speak: “Long time no see, Li Huai.”
Li Huai fell silent for a moment. “If you’re here to persuade me to return to the legion, I have no intention of doing so.”
But Yise had come for something else: “I heard the Ten-School Tournament will be open to freshmen this year.”
“You’re really bored enough to care about such trivial matters…” Li Huai trailed off, suddenly recalling the matter of the sponsored student. “Because of Su Cha?”
He gave a short laugh. “That little weakling actually caught your eye?”
Yise ignored the sarcasm. “How about a bet? If he qualifies to represent the school in the tournament, you’ll report back to the legion at the end of next year.”
“Him?” It seemed like Li Huai had more to say, but in the end, he couldn’t be bothered.
Yise took a step forward and tapped his fingers on the desk, seemingly casually, waiting for an answer.
The principal’s office fell into a heavy silence.
After a long pause, Li Huai replied expressionlessly, “Fine. I’ll bet with you. But if he fails, don’t ever bother me about this again.”
Without another word, he turned and strode out of the room.
The principal didn’t take offense at his rudeness. He resumed his work and said calmly, “You have high hopes for that kid.”
“An awakened one from the mystic-type class is strong enough to earn a spot. With internal instability in the Empire, I’ll be staying to hold the fort domestically for a while. Someone has to be in charge of the interstellar battlefield.”
Yise didn’t stay long. Before leaving, he contacted Su Cha through his communicator and told him to come to the school gate.
Usually, entering or leaving the campus required a valid reason, but this time, the gatekeeper let Su Cha through immediately. Yise had been the first person Su Cha met when he arrived on this planet, and seeing him, Su Cha happily waved.
Seeing he was still as energetic as ever, Yise pulled out a bag.
Inside the transparent plastic bag lay some quiet brown seeds, each edge reflecting a dazzling light under the sun.
“These are…”
“Rose seeds.”
Su Cha could instantly tell what variety they were—he was just surprised that something he had randomly said at the hospital had been remembered.
Yise’s aircraft was waiting nearby. He ruffled Su Cha’s hair and was ready to leave. “Do your best.”
Su Cha felt a warmth in his heart. “Okay.”
Yise looked at him and said again, “I’ll be waiting for you on the future interstellar battlefield.”
