At 7:50 PM, the entry window for the final preliminary match opened.

Following Song Jin’s absolute insta-kill of Luo Yu, the spectating students grew exponentially more excited for Li Xiao’s upcoming performance. The viewership numbers for the live-stream rooms on the intranet surged dozens of times over, with the chat feeds completely flooded with Li Xiao’s name.

Inside the training hall, Song Jin patted Li Xiao’s head. “Daddy will come pick you up in a bit. There’s a reward if you win.”

Li Xiao: “…What kind of reward?”

Song Jin smiled beautifully. “A milk candy.”

Li Xiao: “…” Might as well do without this reward.

The students participating in the same arena as Li Xiao were a mixture of nervous and excited. Getting matched against Li Xiao effectively guaranteed a first-round exit, but being able to trade blows with the Second Prince was bragging rights that could easily last for half a year.

“Are you the Second Prince, Li Xiao?”

Hearing a voice from behind, Li Xiao turned around. The Alpha speaking wore a standard training uniform; judging from the collar insignia, he was a third-year. He possessed a striking head of coppery-red curls, narrow eyes that flared upward at the outer corners, a scattering of freckles across his cheeks, and a collection of earrings and ear-threads adorning his ears. The gaze he leveled at Li Xiao carried a distinctly unfriendly scrutiny.

09: [This is Liu Jie, Chief of the third-year Mecha Department. A cyborg.]

“Is something the matter?” Li Xiao asked flatly.

Liu Jie laughed, though the mirth failed to reach his eyes. “I’ve heard you’re exceptionally strong. I hope to have the chance to test my skills against yours this match.”

Li Xiao countered, “Are you looking for a first-round exit?”

Not expecting Li Xiao to be so blunt, Liu Jie’s expression stiffened slightly before he quickly adjusted, offering a skin-deep smile. “Your Highness certainly possesses immense confidence.”

“I was joking,” Li Xiao said, walking toward the entrance as the prompt bell rang. “I’m merely an amateur; how could I possibly compare to Chief Liu?”

Though it sounded like a polite formality, Liu Jie found himself unable to smile. For someone of his standing to challenge a first-year meant that winning brought no glory, while losing meant utter humiliation. If he pushed the issue, he would simply end up like Luo Yu. This Second Prince was indeed a hard nut to crack, refusing to let anyone take the slightest advantage of him—no wonder those people previously had all suffered quiet setbacks at his hands.

At 7:00 PM, the virtual displays above the waiting hall unfolded in sequence.

Jiang Hao located the screen tracking Li Xiao’s match and gestured to Song Jin’s group. “Over there.”

By the time they secured their spots, the surrounding area had been cordoned off by a dense wall of spectators. The raucous din of discussions gave Song Jin a slight headache.

“How could it turn out like this?!” someone shouted within the crowd.

Hearing this, Song Jin lifted his eyes toward the virtual display. Li Xiao’s opponent was a first-year Omega who had pre-selected a logistics track—someone who had absolutely nothing to do with mecha piloting.

“What kind of dog-shit luck is Boss Li having?!” Qian Can lamented. “This matchup is practically bullying.”

A group of surrounding students exchanged words and couldn’t help but burst into laughter. This selection trial had attracted numerous Omegas, the vast majority of whom possessed ulterior motives; however, no one took them seriously, viewing them as merely along for the ride.

“To match with the Prince means the capital for bragging is secured.”

“If it were me, I’d absolutely record it to show my sons and grandsons in the future!”

“Hahahahaha, the difficulty level for the Second Prince this round is a bit too low.”

“I genuinely believed the Prince was going to go up against Liu Jie.”

The match commenced. Song Jin watched as the Omega rushed toward Li Xiao, swinging their blade wildly without a shred of technique, looking like someone flailing about with a kitchen cleaver. Li Xiao stood rooted to the spot, blocking horizontally with his blade, seemingly at a bit of a loss as to how to strike down such an opponent.

Song Jin knitted his brows. “Is there something malfunctioning within the matchmaking system?”

Qian Can nodded in agreement. To stage such a pathetic display completely disregarded the audience’s viewing experience.

Song Jin’s tone turned highly impatient. “Why must he be matched against an Omega? Do they not know he’s already a married man?”

Qian Can: “…” Was that really the critical point here?

At exactly one minute into the match, capitalizing on a vulnerability in the Omega’s erratic offensive, Li Xiao flipped the long blade in his grip and instantly claimed the kill. The AI evaluated Li Xiao’s decisive strike with an $8.8$ score; the Omega’s mecha suffered a critical failure, and Li Xiao won.

Many people merrily watched the conclusion before drifting off to spectate other matches.

“Liu Jie’s match is so intense!”

Hearing someone shout this from the crowd, Qian Can squeezed through curiously to take a look. On the screen, Liu Jie was facing an opponent who was also from the third-year Mecha Department. His tempestuous, hyper-aggressive offensive drove his opponent into a continuous retreat, severing the mecha’s mechanical arms and legs in rapid succession.

Qian Can sucked in a sharp breath. “What kind of vicious fighting style is this? Does he have a blood feud with the guy?”

The tournament regulations dictated that a victory was secured as long as the opponent’s mecha was rendered completely immobile. Ordinary participants would choose to sever the main circuitry directly to finish it in one stroke, yet Liu Jie chose to slowly dismantle and torment his opponent to a standstill. This method was both arrogant and extreme.

Hearing Qian Can’s lament, a nearby student explained, “Liu Jie has always fought with this exact style.”

Qian Can gestured to Song Jin. “Boss, come take a look too! You might end up matching with him later!”

“No interest.” Irritated by the noise, Song Jin rewarded himself with a piece of candy and sauntered off to the rest area to wait for Li Xiao to come out.

By 8:30 PM, everyone from the final preliminary round had exited the arena. Seeing Li Xiao walk out, Song Jin opened his arms wide. “Little darling, come to Daddy.”

Li Xiao: “…”

The surrounding students looked over in utter astonishment. What? Song Jin actually called the Second Prince ‘little darling’?!

As Li Xiao approached, he caught a heavy scent of milk candy. He reached out and smoothed his hand over Song Jin’s waist. Song Jin glanced down and assumed Li Xiao was moving in for an embrace, his lips curving upward involuntarily. The next instant, however, that exact hand dove straight into his upper jacket pocket. By the time he tried to intercept it, it was already too late.

Li Xiao extracted a handful of candies. “I didn’t place any candy inside your pocket.”

Caught red-handed, Song Jin showed no trace of guilt. “Had Qian-San buy them on the way.”

Li Xiao asked, “How many did you eat?”

“Do not interfere in the affairs of adults.” Saying this, Song Jin lunged to snatch them back.

Li Xiao dodged his hand, slipping the candies into his own pocket instead. “Illicit gains; confiscated into the national treasury.”

Song Jin: “…”

“The rankings are out!” The crowd continuous whispered.

Massive displays descended from the upper space of the waiting hall, showing the top three thousand winners of this preliminary round. Simultaneously, every student who successfully advanced received a formal notification. Aside from their preliminary ranking, it contained the schedule, venue, and opponent information for the second round.

Song Jin cast a casual glance; his opponent for the second round was a student from the third-year Mecha Department. He then tilted his head to look at Li Xiao’s screen. “Another first-year Omega. Look at all these trashy romance prospects.”

Li Xiao: “…How does this qualify as a romance prospect?”

Song Jin raised an eyebrow. “If it doesn’t count as a romance prospect, does it count as an end-of-life prospect?”

Li Xiao: “…”

Li Xiao shut down his terminal, wearing a profoundly serious expression as he said, “Whether it’s a romance prospect or an end-of-life prospect, you are the only one I recognize.”

Song Jin: “…”

The students standing nearby who were forced to eavesdrop pressed their lips together, their shoulders shaking as they suppressed their laughter. You two better not be talking dirty!

Qian Can and the other two rushed over from the distance after reviewing their matches. Qian Can asked excitedly, “Who are your opponents? The three of us are entirely matched against top-one-hundred sophomores.”

Song Jin stated flatly, “Mine is a third-year. His is a first-year Omega.”

Jiang Hao’s state of mind was somewhat complex. “Big brother, it would be wonderful if you could share some of this luck with us.”

Qian Can complained under his breath, “I’m starting to suspect the staff gave you a green channel.”

Li Xiao looked thoughtful. Matching with exceptionally weak opponents for two consecutive rounds—was it truly merely a coincidence?

The second round would transition into actual mecha combat, though the rules would undergo modifications. Every mecha used for the competition would be outfitted with sensory outer plating on the head, chest, abdomen, and back. During combat, if an opponent’s blade touched any of these five areas, the participant would be instantly eliminated. The matches were scheduled for Saturday morning across twenty separate arenas, with everyone competing simultaneously.

On Friday, the Dean’s Office released the findings of the investigation into Restaurant No. 39: a staff member’s improper operation had caused an energy pipeline deflagration. Because the radiation values had not yet subsided to safe parameters, the eight restaurants in that immediate sector would be closed for one month. The conspiracy theories that had trended on the intranet for several days were effectively suppressed.

Friday at 7:00 PM, inside the Room 610 training room.

“It’s been several days and no one has come looking for trouble. It seems they truly didn’t suspect you.” Song Jin missed a strike, spinning to execute a kick while gradually accelerating his offensive speed.

Li Xiao dodged and retreated. “Even if they suspect us, they won’t find a trace.”

Song Jin’s wrist flipped, converting his fist into a palm strike that swept toward Li Xiao’s neck. “The new ferryman should be arriving soon.”

Li Xiao’s heel caught against the equipment behind him. Leaning backward slightly to evade, he suddenly clamped down on Song Jin’s wrist to launch a counter-attack. “I asked Yan Qing. No new teachers have transferred over.”

Song Jin retreated rapidly, vaulting through the air by bracing his hands against Li Xiao’s shoulders. “Want to make a bet?”

Li Xiao spun around and halted his movements. “What’s the wager?”

Having sparred for an hour, Song Jin was drenched in sweat. He grabbed a towel to wipe his face, seating himself casually beside the training equipment to drink water. “Let’s bet on the identity of the new ferryman. If I win, you have to perform a striptease for me—the absolute sluttiest kind from the Sky Bar.”

“…” Li Xiao walked over while wiping his sweat. “Which kind?”

Song Jin returned the water flask, stepping forward to stand directly in front of Li Xiao. Sliding his hand beneath the hem of Li Xiao’s shirt, he whispered into his ear, “Not only do you have to strip, but you also have to interact with the audience.”

Li Xiao asked, “What kind of interaction?”

Song Jin’s gaze swept over Li Xiao’s lips, his smile heavy with ambiguity. “Touch wherever they want, kiss wherever they want, lock stock and barrel—do whatever they feel like doing.”

Li Xiao: “…” Is that how ‘lock, stock, and barrel’ is supposed to be used?

Li Xiao pinned down the kitten claw that had migrated to his chest. “And if I win?”

Song Jin countered, “You name it.”

Li Xiao said, “Take exactly what you want me to do, and perform it yourself.”

Song Jin: “…”

Li Xiao raised an eyebrow. “Afraid to bet?”

Meeting a gaze that bordered on an outright dare, Song Jin gave a soft huff. “A bet it is. I wager that the newly arrived ferryman will still be a teacher.”

Li Xiao countered, “Then I guess he will be a restaurant staff member.”

Song Jin asked, “You think more than one restaurant has been outfitted with a blood supply system?”

Li Xiao nodded. “Restaurants undergo remodeling every few years. Relative to the training halls and academic buildings, the approvals are looser and it’s far easier to tamper with them. Given the possibility of equipment failure, there will likely be a backup system in place.”

A knock echoed at the door, and Jiang Hao hurried inside. “Big brother, breaking news just dropped on the net—His Majesty has been attacked again!”

Li Xiao’s expression shifted slightly, utilizing his thoughts to command 09 to open the network platform. Once the virtual display projected into mid-air and expanded, the top four trending terms occupied a massive tier of their own: #His Majesty Pelted With Eggs#, #His Majesty Attacked Again#, #T241 Tech Industrial Park Strike#, #His Majesty Insulted By Laborers#—all entirely tied to Li Ji’s latest assault.

[FLASH! During his visit to the largest technological industrial park on T241 within the Nanming Constellation, His Majesty was pelted with eggs and insulted by a mob of striking laborers. Hundreds of individuals held banners in protest!]

The news update was accompanied by sixteen photos and video footage. The workers were held back by guards, yet they continued to hurl the eggs in their hands toward Li Ji’s direction, their expressions contorted as they screamed profanities.

“Li Ji, step down!”

“Useless piece of trash! Step down!”

“Who cares about your visit? Get the hell out of here!”

“Only the Meng family can transform Danse into a true superpower!”

Clad in the ceremonial regal robes of the Crown, Li Ji stood anchored in the center of a heavy military escort, halting his steps to look in the direction of the laborers. A nearby official continuously bowed and scraped, making guiding gestures in an attempt to get Li Ji to evacuate elsewhere first, but he was completely ignored by the King.

The entire video lasted three minutes; the camera work was highly erratic, yet it clearly recorded every single word bellowed by the workers.

Seeing that several eggs had grazed past Li Ji’s face, Jiang Hao frowned. “Why didn’t His Majesty dodge? Getting pelted by eggs looks far too wretched.”

Song Jin stared at the screen, his voice cold as he said, “As a king, one must possess the composure to remain unfazed even if Mt. Tai collapses before his eyes. Fleeing in a panic over a few thrown eggs—what kind of image would that project? Furthermore, if he could still be struck while under heavy military protection, dodging would have been utterly futile anyway.”

Having grown up in a den of star pirates, Jiang Hao didn’t comprehend these political nuances, asking in perplexity, “Then can’t those workers be dealt with? Assaulting the sovereign is a capital crime, isn’t it?”

“The more situations like this arise, the more difficult they are to handle,” Li Xiao spoke flatly. “Someone is waiting right here to make a political spectacle out of this. They can only disperse the crowd first.”

Song Jin sneered. “That shout for the ‘Meng family’ just now was incredibly loud, as if they were terrified people wouldn’t hear it.”

Li Xiao opened his terminal, pulling up his message log with his brother. Yet, with his finger hovering over the virtual keyboard, he had no idea what to send for a long moment, ultimately withdrawing his hand. Any words of comfort were entirely hollow; only by uprooting the toxic tumor that was the Meng family could the situation be fundamentally altered.

After a moment’s thought, Li Xiao initiated a video call to Yi Yongning. The call connected swiftly, revealing Yi Yongning seated in his personal study, his expression exceptionally grave. “Second Prince.”

Li Xiao asked, “Where does the disciplinary process for the Fifth Legion currently stand?”

Yi Yongning replied, “Everything below the rank of school officer has already been finalized.”

Li Xiao commanded, “Find a way to publicize it under the name of the Military Headquarters immediately. Additionally, the Meng family will be making numerous underhanded moves lately; ensure the personnel under your command elevate their vigilance.”

Sensing a subtle underlying meaning in Li Xiao’s words, Yi Yongning pressed, “Underhanded moves?”

Li Xiao replied, “Exactly what you’re thinking.”

Yi Yongning’s expression grew solemn. “I will consult His Majesty’s intent shortly.”

On T241, Li Ji concluded his itinerary and returned to the royal transport vehicle. Old Liu handed over a hot cup of tea at the appropriate moment, kneeling down to help wipe away the egg residue clinging to Li Ji’s robes. “Your Majesty, please do not take it to heart.”

“Would I truly stoop to bickering with a crowd of laborers?” Li Ji took a sip of tea and set it aside. “Leave the remaining matters for them to process. Help me contact Yi Yongning.”

“Yes.” Just as Old Liu was about to dial, his terminal vibrated first. “Grand General Yi is calling.”

The video call connected, and Li Ji asked directly, “The disciplinary process for the Fifth Legion still hasn’t been finalized?”

Yi Yongning answered, “Everything below the school officer rank has been finalized.”

Li Ji’s face darkened. “Invoke the special protocol. Ensure it is entirely implemented within the day.”

Yi Yongning complied, then added after a moment’s thought, “The Second Prince also inquired about this matter just now.”

Li Ji looked over attentively. “What did he ask?”

Yi Yongning replied, “The disciplinary process for the Fifth Legion. He suggested that I publicize the reprimands for everyone below the school officer rank first.”

The suffocating frustration wedged in Li Ji’s chest suddenly dissipated significantly. Feigning indifference, he murmured, “Mhm, let’s proceed accordingly then.”

Yi Yongning: “Understood.”

Beneath the trending keywords regarding the King’s assault, a vast army of paid internet trolls deployed by the Meng family was steering public opinion, unleashing all manner of cold cynicism and mockery against the Royal Family. Simultaneously, various marketing accounts resurrected the historical battle achievements of the Meng family, rehashing tales of how they had braved immense risks to defy the flawed directives of the Crown to rescue citizens from dire straits—practically praising the Meng family to high heaven.

Through this dual tactic of tearing down the Crown while boosting the clan, the Royal Family was once again reduced to political scapegoats. Quite a few ordinary netizens stepped up to defend the Crown, only to be utterly lambasted by the paid trolls. Several figures with significant social influence gradually entered the fray to battle the trolls, leading both sides into an absolute internet war.

Two hours after the news broke, someone noticed that the Military Headquarters had published a fresh update, offering congratulations to the Third Legion for their triumphant return.

On the third day after the Fifth Legion had marched out, the Third Legion led by Yi Lian had also deployed toward T6534 to eliminate a beast tide. Coincidentally, the beast tide faced by T6534 was also classified as a B2-tier event; however, they had successfully contained the beasts at the very edge of the residential sector. The damage inflicted upon the residential zone was a mere one-fifth of what occurred on S80, and the material consumption was less than one-tenth of S80’s expenditures.

Many people dug up the historical records of the Fifth Legion, discovering that for beast tides of the exact same tier in previous years, the Fifth Legion routinely required the deployment of two to three additional legions for reinforcement, causing military expenditures to multiply several times over. This juxtaposition reduced the Fifth Legion’s performance to absolute garbage.

The release of this announcement instantly triggered Li Xiao’s entire fanbase, who began frantically tagging the military authorities, demanding the release of the official investigation results regarding the self-destruction of Li Xiao’s rescue vehicle. Various pieces of negative press targeting the Fifth Legion surged back onto the trending lists, ironically pinning themselves directly above the #Meng Family's Glorious Achievements# keyword.

While the internet was locked in a chaotic battle, the Military Headquarters released another dynamic update—this time, it was the formal disciplinary public notice regarding the Fifth Legion. The document itemized dozens of illegal and non-compliant maneuvers—including delayed rescue response, passive combat engagements, and chaotic resource distribution—alongside a disciplinary listing comprising over a thousand individuals, which featured General Commander Qi Sen.

The release of this public notice pushed the already explosive public discourse to its absolute zenith. The commentary beneath the update read:

[The military authorities stepping in personally to deliver a face-slap—epic!]

[Fun fact: Meng and Qi are practically family. These ‘glorious achievements’ are truly unparalleled.]

[They barely behaved for a few days before stirring up trouble again. Truly exhausting.]

[So the transport vehicle’s self-destruction was orchestrated by insiders after all?]

[Call me a conspiracy theorist, but I get the distinct feeling His Majesty’s assault isn’t that simple.]

Late into the night, Li Xiao reviewed the trajectory of public opinion on the net. Once he verified there were no issues, he pushed the screen away, extracting a data storage drive from his drawer to connect it to his terminal. This was the compilation of data organized by Yan Qing.

It meticulously cataloged the names of sixty-three distinct ethnic minorities, their planetary origins, ancestral homelands, and racial characteristics. Furthermore, it specified the timelines during which their populations experienced precipitous declines, as well as the planets where they had taken up residence in recent decades.

Movement echoed from the balcony, and the sliding glass door was pushed open shortly after. Li Xiao didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. Song Jin wrapped his arms around Li Xiao from behind, his chin resting atop Li Xiao’s head as he gazed at the screen. “As expected of a history teacher; this compilation is exceptionally rigorous and meticulous.”

“So cold,” Li Xiao caught the hand that had pressed against his cheek.

Song Jin broke free, sliding his hand straight past Li Xiao’s collar. “Then help me warm it up.”

Li Xiao: “…” Where on earth did he pick up these terrible lines?

Li Xiao pulled the claw out. “Go to the kitchen and pour yourself a cup of hot water to hold.”

Song Jin murmured, “I prefer your body temperature.”

Li Xiao countered, “Hot water bottle services incur an extra fee.”

“…” Song Jin turned Li Xiao’s face around to look at him. “Giving you one chance to re-answer.”

Gazing at the excessively beautiful face before him, Li Xiao asked, “Did you sneakily eat candy again?”

“…” Song Jin’s smile turned somewhat ferocious. “Are you truly pursuing me, brat?”

Seeing that he had successfully riled up the kitten, Li Xiao tilted his head to plant a gentle nip on his lips. “I’m still waiting for your answer.”

Song Jin chased after him to bite back. “I offered it to you last time and you refused it. What exactly do you want?”

Li Xiao intentionally evaded him. “I don’t desire a flippant answer.”

Song Jin narrowed his eyes slightly. “You are deliberately stringing me along—giving me a taste but refusing to let me eat my fill, hooking me along so I step into the pit you dug piece by piece.”

Li Xiao let out a soft laugh. “Knowing full well it’s a pit, yet you still jump?”

Song Jin spoke with complete disregard, “Who asked you to suit my tastes so perfectly? High returns are accompanied by high risks; I can afford to bear it.”

Li Xiao: “…” You had better be able to bear it.

“With this much data, we won’t finish parsing it in a single night.” Song Jin looked toward the screen.

Li Xiao asked, “Aren’t you here to help me?”

Song Jin tapped his own lips, smiling beautifully. “Overtime pay.”

Li Xiao’s eyes darkened. This appearance was vastly more alluring than when Song Jin rubbed his thigh. His cat addiction flared; lifting Song Jin’s chin, he licked across his lower lip before deepening the entry. The little lion had moved past his clumsy, biting phase, gradually learning how to adapt to a proper kiss.

Swept up in the buoyancy of Song Jin’s response, Li Xiao unconsciously deepened the kiss further. Song Jin’s grip on the back of the chair tightened, his breathing turning rapid. He had assumed it would be like their usual exchanges, not expecting Li Xiao to press so deep this time, which caused him a flash of panic.

Amidst the entanglement of lips and teeth, Li Xiao was suddenly bitten hard. Snapping back to his senses, he silently cursed his own impatience. Haste would not win over the kitten. The person truly being strung along by the neck was actually himself, wasn’t it?

Seeing Li Xiao pull away, Song Jin moved in to pry his mouth apart. “It didn’t break, did it? Open up and let me look.”

Li Xiao: “…”

Verifying that there was no bleeding, Song Jin breathed a sigh of relief. “The sensation was decent. Let’s do it again tomorrow.”

Li Xiao: “…” Massive appetite, terrible execution.

The racial data provided by Yan Qing was comprehensive, but the evidence regarding the atrocities the Meng family committed against these groups was fragmented. Many entries possessed nothing more than eyewitness testimonies, and three specific races contained nothing but hearsay gathered from secondary sources, entirely lacking substantive evidence.

Song Jin scanned through it rapidly. “It appears gathering evidence is profoundly difficult. Otherwise, given Yan Qing’s meticulous style, he would have assembled the entire chain of custody.”

“And when gathering evidence, he couldn’t allow the Meng family to sense it. This might very well be the fruits of over a decade of painstaking accumulation on his part.” Saying this, Li Xiao first reviewed the data concerning the Bique race; however, to his surprise, the content regarding them wasn’t substantial.

Seventy-three years ago, a group of the Bique race residing in the N9369 sector of the Nanming Constellation migrated en masse. En route, they were ambushed and scattered by star pirates; the five hundred-plus survivors fled to the S4161 sector of the Xuyang Constellation to settle down.

Li Xiao looked it up. S4161 was currently a third-class planet, but over seventy years ago, it was a fourth-class star. The vast majority of immigrants who moved there were refugees who couldn’t survive elsewhere, pinning their hopes on policy incentives to improve their quality of life. During the early phases of such planets, the entry threshold was exceptionally low; authorities turned a blind eye to unregistered residents, and there were even numerous registration reward initiatives.

Li Xiao opened an image file, spotting a photograph of a star pirate vessel. Judging from the markings, it was the exact same Youlong vessel that had orchestrated the massacre games in the Z2781 sector. From this angle, a correlation with the Meng family definitely existed, but attempting to indict them using this evidence alone was completely inadequate. Furthermore, what exactly made Yan Qing so absolutely certain that the star pirates were connected to the Meng family?

“Look at this.” Song Jin stared at the screen, beckoning to Li Xiao.

Li Xiao walked over, seating himself alongside Song Jin on the carpet. Song Jin expanded the screen. “This group called the Gaofeng race—their homeworld is in the Z152 sector of the Zifu Constellation. What a massive coincidence.”

They had previously uncovered a decommissioned underground base in Z152, where they discovered the personnel of the Golden-Feathered Sparrow Legion pinned to stone pillars, alongside Wei Feng’s DNA data.

Li Xiao read through it carefully. The defining characteristics of the Gaofeng race included greyish-green irises, a hyper-retentive memory capacity shared by most members, and exceptionally robust physiques with a slightly elevated cellular tissue regeneration rate compared to ordinary humans. Based on Yan Qing’s compiled data, this race’s population plummeted precipitously around seventy-five years ago. Today, less than a thousand identifiable survivors remained, living on a fourth-class fringe planet of the Zifu Constellation after altering their racial registration data.

The sole piece of evidence Yan Qing had gathered was a verbal deposition stating that someone had witnessed military forces firebombing civilian residences, lacking even the identity or lineage of said military force.

“The Gaofeng race?” Li Xiao murmured thoughtfully. “I seem to have seen that somewhere before.”

Song Jin asked, “Where?”

Carrying the memories of two lifetimes made parsing through his mental archives somewhat disorganized. “Wind… The Hurricane Legion?”

Song Jin asked, “You remember?”

Li Xiao knitted his brows. “I saw it within the Royal Archives. Commander Zhan Qiming of the Hurricane Legion belonged to the Gaofeng race. Eighty years ago, he suffered a sudden cerebral hemorrhage and died on the battlefield.”

Having reached this point, the two exchanged a look, both arriving at a highly plausible speculation.

Li Xiao murmured, “This individual might not have died from illness.”

Song Jin added, “He was assassinated.”

Li Xiao decided, “I’ll consult Yi Yongning later. His father should know a thing or two about events from eighty years ago.”

Once they immersed themselves in the investigation, the two completely lost track of time. By the time they snapped out of it, dawn had already broken. With the second round of matches scheduled for the morning, there was absolutely no time to rest.

The five of them were assigned to entirely different arenas.

Li Xiao’s opponent for the second round was yet another first-year Omega. After conceding a full minute at the start of the match, he eliminated the opponent effortlessly. Following a thirty-minute wait, the system prompted him to proceed to a designated zone for his second bout. The opponent matched to him was a first-year Beta from the Mecha Department whose name Li Xiao had never heard; the individual’s strength was merely a fraction better than the previous Omega.

Securing two victories effectively guaranteed advancement into the third round, which was scheduled for two o’clock in the afternoon. Li Xiao took the campus shuttle back to the living quarters, where Song Jin was already waiting for him.

“Did it go smoothly?”

Song Jin scoffed, “A total joke. Dealing with those two third-years was easier than chopping vegetables.”

Li Xiao: “…” To you, chopping vegetables is admittedly the harder task.

Shortly after, Qin Le, Jiang Hao, and the others returned one by one.

“The opponents I matched with were so powerful,” Qin Le recalled with lingering trepidation. “My second match pinned me against a top-one-hundred third-year. I almost bit the dust.”

Jiang Hao added, “My second match was also against a top-one-hundred third-year.”

Qian Can was the last to return, venting his grievances from far down the path. “Is this matchmaking system out of its mind?! Matching me against a third-year powerhouse—it caused me to lose a match!”

Song Jin asked, “Then are you eliminated?”

“Not quite.” Qian Can displayed his advancement notification. “My accumulated points were sufficient, but my opponent for this afternoon is also a third-year!”

Song Jin knitted his brows slightly. Realizing something, he looked toward Li Xiao. “What about your opponent for this afternoon?”

“A sophomore Beta, no ranking displayed,” Li Xiao replied, having also sensed the anomaly. For so many consecutive rounds, his opponents had been exceptionally weak, while the opponents assigned to Song Jin and the others had been exceptionally powerful.

Qian Can wore a miserable expression. “They can’t possibly be targeting us like this, ugh…”

Li Xiao stated, “They aren’t targeting you guys. They are targeting me.”

Qian Can was perplexed. “What do you mean?”

Song Jin sneered. “What else could it mean? Certain individuals are pulling out all the stops to isolate and push him through to the final stages alone.”

As for what they intended to do once he was isolated, Song Jin could easily deduce it with his bare toes.