The new semester arrived as scheduled.
The Omega Association’s daily training resumed, and they even held a gathering over the weekend where they got Zhang Yunli completely drunk—who could’ve imagined that Zhang Yunli couldn’t even handle a few degrees of fruit wine?
When Fu Mingyuan came to pick him up, his face was pitch black.
Tong Xiao and the others didn’t dare approach Fu Mingyuan at all.
Mu Chenxing didn’t count on them to charge at the principal either; he just waited for the various materials to be gathered.
Once the materials were mostly collected, with only the training data left, he grabbed everything and headed straight to the principal’s office.
He knew the school was running the Omega intensive training for enrollment expansion, but broadening recruitment fundamentally clashed with the missions of various Omega protection associations. The school certainly wouldn’t liaise with those groups.
And last semester, he’d already submitted an application to the foundation in the association’s name, listing Zhang Yunli as the project lead.
He had no interest in the prestige or credit; he simply wanted to snag some bonus money for Zhang Yunli—a little was still something, after all. He couldn’t let his family’s Teacher Zhang foot the bill for sponsoring the association for nothing, right?
But now, with the school pushing for expanded enrollment, that project application…
“…I hope the school takes over this project and claims the foundation grant in the school’s name.”
After hearing him out, Fu Mingyuan snorted coldly. “Don’t waste my time on that pittance of a bonus.”
Mu Chenxing: “This isn’t about the bonus.”
He plunked down a thick stack of documents on the desk. “Fine, the bonus isn’t exactly small. If the school doesn’t want it, give it to Teacher Zhang. Or give it to our association, and we’ll pass it to Teacher Zhang.”
Fu Mingyuan: “…Your Teacher Zhang wouldn’t bat an eye at that amount.”
Mu Chenxing pressed on shamelessly: “Come on, that’s your beloved. You wouldn’t even need to do much—just provide a stamped proof.”
Fu Mingyuan was speechless. “Do you know this is the Alliance First Military Academy? You want the school to claim a measly thirty or fifty thousand?”
His face hardened. “Your Teacher Zhang might indulge you, but I won’t. Go back, study hard, and don’t come to the principal’s office for chit-chat.”
Mu Chenxing sighed. “Principal, if you don’t take the project, all the pressure from the Omega enrollment expansion will land right on Teacher Zhang’s head.”
Fu Mingyuan, who had already turned to the Intelligent Brain for work: “?”
He frowned and turned back. “What do you mean?”
Mu Chenxing: “This is the Omega Growth Assistance Foundation, founded just two years ago and backed by the Alliance Government’s development center. I didn’t think much of it at first, but with the school starting intensive training last semester and rushing to release the enrollment announcement before June, I realized this foundation aligns with the school’s student expansion goals—or rather, the school’s expansion is just a pawn in the Alliance Government’s game.”
Fu Mingyuan glanced at the open office door. “You’re just a student. Your job is to study hard.”
The implication: mind your own business.
Mu Chenxing: “Principal Fu, you’ve been on the border for years, only back on Central Star for a little over a year. You don’t play politics much, so you might not get what I mean.”
“You’re pushing enrollment now to send more Omegas to the border battlefield, right?”
Fu Mingyuan said nothing, tacitly agreeing.
“Have you considered that Teacher Zhang is an expert in Pheromones, and he’s involved in related Pheromone research projects? Now, he’s about to lead 54 Omegas in intensive training experiments under the title of advisor to our Omega Growth Association.”
“Oh, and he’s just a Beta.”
Fu Mingyuan’s expression changed.
Mu Chenxing pressed on: “You’re pioneering Omega enrollment expansion at the military academy, and he’s the lead on the Omega experiments.”
“Omegas are frail, Omegas need protection, Omegas’ Heat Periods require isolation from Alpha groups… These ideas have persisted in the Alliance for millennia. Originally, these 54 Omegas in the experiment had nothing to do with Teacher Zhang, but because of my ignorance and your negligence, won’t he become the target of public scorn—a researcher who disregards lives and safety for personal gain?”
“…Withdraw the application.” Fu Mingyuan’s face darkened.
Mu Chenxing rubbed his nose. “Can’t withdraw it. If I could, I would’ve already—the guidelines say for fairness, all applicant units and groups are publicized, including those that drop out midway.”
Who’d know if a mid-dropout was due to threats or just running interference?
Cough. “But as long as the main group name doesn’t change, other modifications like project leads won’t show in the records.”
Fu Mingyuan: “…”
Mu Chenxing felt guilty as hell and patted the stack of documents. “We’ve prepared all the materials. Just change the association lead to the school, and we dodge the risk.”
Then, shamelessly: “If we snag the bonus, I hope the school can slip some to Teacher Zhang—quietly, under a different name!”
Fu Mingyuan: “…”
Mu Chenxing looked at him pleadingly. “Principal Fu, what do you think?”
Fu Mingyuan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Change the association lead—”
Mu Chenxing beamed: “Yes, exactly—”
“The lead becomes you.”
Mu Chenxing froze.
“You’re a Omega with natural protections. You founded the association, so you’re the perfect rep. Your group’s training activities? The school assigns an unplaced medical expert for safety—totally reasonable.”
This way, Zhang Yunli could fade from the spotlight.
Fu Mingyuan stared at him. “Remove his name, put yours up, claim the bonus, and give it to him.”
Mu Chenxing: “…Principal Fu, I’m just a kid! You want me to face the storm of public opinion alone?”
Fu Mingyuan was ruthless: “What are you afraid of? You’ve got Pei Yao behind you.”
Mu Chenxing glared furiously. “Teacher Zhang has you too—why not protect him?!”
Fu Mingyuan calmly: “My rank’s lower than your man.”
Mu Chenxing: “…”
Heartbroken, he cried out: “Is it appropriate for the principal to say that?!”
Fu Mingyuan: “Heh, when you pushed him out there, did you think about what’s appropriate?”
Mu Chenxing: “I’m just a frail, ordinary, clueless freshman! How was I supposed to know the Alliance’s policy direction?! You didn’t say anything about expansion when I went to the competition.”
Fu Mingyuan snorted coldly, ignoring him. “Redo the lead-change documents.”
Mu Chenxing: “…”
…
He slunk out of the principal’s office, head hanging, and immediately opened his Holo-Screen to vent to Pei Yao, who hadn’t replied in days.
Still no response.
Mu Chenxing stared at the silent Holo-Screen for a long moment, sighed inwardly, and put it away.
Back at the dorm, he updated the association group about changing the project lead.
He’d only finished elementary curriculum over break and hadn’t touched middle school stuff yet, so he wasn’t sure how much the Alliance emphasized politics and history in middle school. To be safe, he broke down all the possibilities for them, terrified these Omegas wouldn’t get it.
“…Our 54-person intensive training might not make history, but this experiment will be recorded. The lead will carry that title—maybe even into the history books someday—but short-term, and maybe for life, it’ll mean getting flak…”
“…The foundation top prize might be thirty thousand. Not much cash, but it should score points for future military-political careers…”
Finally, he asked: “Anyone want to be the project lead?”
The group went quiet for a bit.
Tong Xiao and the other two had been ordered by Mu Chenxing not to guide or speak, so they huddled nearby, waiting.
After a while, Chu Yuan sent a tentative voice message: “Didn’t you found our association? Why ask us?”
The others piled on:
“I was wondering the same.”
“Yeah, why us?”
“Not sure I get it.”
Mu Chenxing: “…I’m asking who wants the credit. Side effect: getting trashed online. Basically, for the mentally tough with ambition.”
Chu Yuan skipped voice this time: If I could handle getting trashed, I never would’ve joined our association.
The others copy-pasted it instantly.
Tong Xiao muttered beside him: “Told you no one’d take it. Had to do the song and dance.”
Mu Chenxing: “…”
Shen Mingshu, now a full association member, jumped in: “You founded the association, you roped us into training, you tricked us into the competition—what, dumping it now?”
“But the bonus can’t go to you. Pool it for anything but your pocket, or my two weeks of training were for nothing.”
The group exploded with hahahaha emojis; everyone raised hands in agreement.
Mu Chenxing: “…”
“I request we keep ten thousand for Teacher Zhang. Back when the association started, he helped a ton and even got Principal Fu and them to donate.”
Shen Mingshu: Approved.
Chu Yuan: Approved.
Tong Xiao: Approved.
…
Mu Chenxing: “…”
Fine.
In the end, he put his own name up.
After changing the association lead and organizer, the intra-school finals began.
Mu Chenxing had four events, all done in one day.
Two firsts, one second, one third.
Which meant he’d represent the school at the Alliance Military Academy Games at the end of February.
The Campus Forum blew up again.
A bunch of Alphas lost their minds.
“Is the military academy out of people? Letting a Omega take first?”
“Alphas all dead?”
“Third- and fourth-years didn’t compete.”
“Technique events. Still lags in power and speed.”
…
Some defended him.
“Don’t doubt it—he ran faster than me in training [weary face.jpg]”
“Who’d think his 100m sprint was 2 seconds slower than mine day one, 2 seconds faster two weeks later [facepalm cry.jpg]”
“I suspect he’s not a Omega. A faking O? Demand Pheromone check!”
“For real, I’m suspicious.”
“Drag him for a gender test!”
“Drag him for a gender test!”
…
Tong Xiao and them were dying laughing, forwarding it to Mu Chenxing.
He suspected the Alphas who’d trained with him had gone nuts from losing.
School finals over, just over a week till the end-of-February event.
Mu Chenxing got yanked from classes by the equally manic training instructors, back to the Close Combat Academy daily, stared down by a pack of eager teachers. He couldn’t even join the Omega Association’s routine runs.
Even Luo Chen, who tried visiting two weeks straight, got turned down for weekend training and pushed to post-games.
Luckily, Luo Chen had just transferred and was adjusting; he knew about the competition and didn’t push.
Under the high-intensity grind, days flew by till departure.
The Alliance Military Academy Games were at the Garrison Military District on Central Star. High-speed flight vehicle from school: four hours.
Games lasted three days; they arrived a day early, left the day after closing—five days total.
Even with four events, Mu Chenxing had to stick with the team for all five.
As the sole standout competitor, the school assigned a Beta psych counselor doubling as life coach and a Beta medic for the whole trip.
Fu Mingyuan led the team.
The games weren’t as grand or specialized as the full Alliance military comps, nor many schools—hardly needed a major general like Fu Mingyuan… but he came anyway.
Mu Chenxing got it.
This spotlight was on him.
Sure enough, at the departure rally—over two hundred students, dozens of teachers from their school—there were dozens of reporters with big gear and media badges snapping pics.
That was bad enough.
Then Mu Chenxing got dragged to Fu Mingyuan’s side for photos.
Facing the lenses, Mu Chenxing flashed a smile, lips barely moving: “Principal Fu, you didn’t say it’d be on the news!! You’re forcing the good into vice, putting an Omega in a tough spot! I’m reporting you to the Omega Aid Foundation!”
Cough cough.
Cough cough, cough.
Coughs erupted from teachers and leaders on both sides and behind.
Fu Mingyuan’s mouth twitched. To the cameras, he said quickly: “Shut it! Already cleared with media—they’ll mosaic your face.”
Mu Chenxing fumed, “Then you’re forcing me to sell my body! The esteemed principal, stooping to such sleazy tactics!”
Another string of coughs erupted.
Fu Mingyuan squeezed the words out through gritted teeth. “…What are you trying to say?”
Mu Chenxing shot back, “My body needs a mosaic too.”
Fu Mingyuan: “…You’re afraid others will know?”
Someone in the media photography crew about ten meters away shouted, “That’s good!”
Mu Chenxing let out a breath of relief, rubbed his stiffly smiling face, and said to Fu Mingyuan, “History tells us that low-key people often pull off upsets. Get too high-profile, and you’ll mostly fail. Hitting the news before the competition even starts will jinx my luck.”
The crowd of teachers who overheard the exchange: “…”
Fu Mingyuan: “…”
He shouldn’t have humored this mischievous kid.
