Chapter 79

The Stellar System Tournament was on Olin Star, and the finals on Changhong Star.

From the school to the spaceport, including time for queuing and security checks, took nearly six or seven hours. Then, the flight from Central Star to Olin Star required another twenty-plus hours.

Space flights weren’t long because of vast distances—it was because Olin Star was the aviation hub of the Central Star System. With so many flight routes, ships couldn’t set their warp points near the planet, which extended the journey.

But these were minor issues.

The real problem was that after thirty-plus hours of flight, they only had a few hours to rest before the matches began.

On interstellar ships, accommodations were mixed dorms. Only age-appropriate Omegas who might enter their Heat Period at any time, or Alphas and Omegas on the verge, got special cabins. Everyone else—Alphas, Betas, Omegas—mixed together.

The cabins were capsule-style in rows: eight per row, upper and lower bunks. Each cabin had two rows, so 32 spots total.

With 31 competing students, it filled the space perfectly with room to spare.

But Mu Chenxing was assigned to the neighboring cabin with Fu Mingyuan, Zhang Yunli, and others. To be safe, two medics from their side were swapped over.

Fu Mingyuan and the rest dumped their luggage and headed to the restaurant to pre-order dinner, leaving for now.

Mu Chenxing pulled out the small items he’d need en route. Seeing Zhang Yunli and the others still unpacking, he greeted them and headed to the adjacent Alpha cabin.

Everyone was sorting luggage and chatting.

Most were visiting Olin Star for the first time, excitedly discussing local specialties and sights.

One guy grumbled, “When do we have time to play? We’ll land, crash for a bit, then it’s match time. No jet lag adjustment, nothing. We had days off—why not come early? Is the school too stingy for a little lodging fee? We’re exhausted; how are we supposed to compete?”

A bit of griping was normal, and Mu Chenxing hadn’t planned to engage. But when some students started comforting the complainer…

“Don’t comfort him,” Mu Chenxing said with a frown, cutting them off. “A proper Military Academy student, wanting to compete in comfort? I suggest you withdraw from the team.”

Pei Yao’s messages over the years had come at all hours—sometimes daytime, sometimes deep night. No pattern to his schedule.

If it was just time zones, they’d be more consistent.

This meant Pei Yao’s Military District had an unstable routine. Maybe Star Beast Tides, maybe training.

Either way, it wasn’t comfortable.

The two comforters shut their mouths.

The complaining Alpha gave a dry laugh. “We haven’t hit the Military District yet. Just this last stretch—can’t we at least be comfy?”

Fu Yuefeng quickly smoothed things over. “It’s still early. Take it slow.”

Mu Chenxing said no more and turned to Fu Yuefeng. “Got time?”

Fu Yuefeng casually replied, “What’s up?”

Mu Chenxing jerked his chin. “This spot’s decent size. Spar with me.”

Fu Yuefeng: “…We’re on a ship! It’s about to launch!”

Mu Chenxing: “Yeah, and it’s four-plus hours to the warp point outside the star domain. You wanna just sit and wait?”

Fu Yuefeng: “…Can’t we chat or sleep?”

Mu Chenxing: “Nothing to chat about with you. It’s not even five yet—you won’t sleep. Besides, matches in two days. You gonna skip training on the ship and go straight from a thirty-hour grind?”

“…”

Mu Chenxing scanned the others. “You all too. No training today, right? Get up and move.”

Everyone: “…”

No wonder this one Omega took out a whole wave from the Mecha Department. That seize-every-second drive—who could match it?

By the time Fu Mingyuan and the others settled in and came over from the next cabin, they found their students in the central clearing and corridors: rows doing high knees in place, push-ups, even sparring pairs.

The leaders: “…”

Fu Mingyuan cleared his throat, interrupting. “No need to be that tense… Dinner time.”

The students cheered and stopped instantly.

The group tromped en masse to the restaurant for dinner. Afterward, back for prep and rest.

Fu Mingyuan and crew had office work; Zhang Yunli finished some papers, looked up, and saw Mu Chenxing gone again. Frowning, he checked the next cabin—

And silently returned.

Fu Mingyuan noticed and whispered, “What?”

Zhang Yunli shook his head, face complex. “Don’t you think Chenxing’s kid is too hardworking?”

Fu Mingyuan: “…Maintaining training state is good. The Border’s the same—new recruits cry and wail, but we drill ’em hard. He’ll adapt fastest there like this. The Alphas following him? Way easier.”

Zhang Yunli: “Alphas are Alphas. He’s an Omega—no need to push so hard.”

Fu Mingyuan: “He signed the enlistment agreement.”

Zhang Yunli rolled his eyes. “That’s for logistics and medical in the Military District. What’s that got to do with this training?”

Fu Mingyuan was stumped.

Zhang Yunli waved it off. “Forget it. Useless talking to you. Chenxing’s just too damn diligent.”

Fu Mingyuan: “…”

So, worry or praise?

A few hours of eating and rest, then the announcement: enter sleep pods for warp.

Warp plus sleep—one night gone.

Next morning, everyone grabbed breakfast, returned, and Mu Chenxing rallied them for training again.

The Alphas: “…”

Over twenty flight hours, Mu Chenxing dragged them through eight or nine hours of training.

They landed at Olin Star’s spaceport. Fu Mingyuan and the others hustled the students straight to the tournament dorms—no time to unpack, straight to chow. Massive workout had them starving.

They’d timed it perfectly for dinner at the port, then queued for clearance and landing—no meal break.

A bunch of young guys who normally chowed down three to five plates each, suddenly starved two hours? It was brutal.

Anyway, at the dorm cafeteria, they devoured like starved ghosts reincarnated, clanging plates. One adult Beta serving was plenty—but they polished off one, ordered another. Plates piled high.

Onlookers stared slack-jawed.

Tons of competing schools; they’d commandeered university dorm cafeterias.

Winter break meant only early-arriving teams ate here. Seeing this crew drag in luggage and demolish plate after plate… disdain dripped from their expressions.

“Which backwater planet? Never eaten before?”

“Alphas eat big, sure—but this savage? Starved to show up for free government grub?”

“Probably just here for the spectacle. Ignore trash schools.”

…

An Alpha half-stood to retort but got yanked down.

“You wanna what? Tell ’em Central Star sends starved ghosts?”

The guy: “…”

Sat silently.

Mu Chenxing finished his second plate, wiped his mouth with a napkin, calm as ever. “Ignore ’em. Beat ’em into submission tomorrow. We’re not here to compete at eating.”

He eyed the plate graveyard. “Though we’d win that too.”

The teachers burst laughing—even Fu Mingyuan’s lips twitched.

Mood lightened. Then… more eating.

Bellies full, they headed to dorms for showers and crash.

Next day.

Early breakfast done, organizers herded everyone to the Gymnasium for entry.

Same routine: students scanned wristbands to check in and enter; coaches watched from outside the barriers.

Schools queued by arrival order, filing in smoothly.

Mu Chenxing noted the security arches differed from Central Star’s—the screens showed colors.

Mostly green, some yellow. No clue what.

Their school’s turn neared.

Fu Mingyuan from behind: “Chenxing, go first.”

Heads turned. Mu Chenxing, puzzled, nodded and stepped ahead of classmates to the front.

Beep. “Central Star, Alliance First Military Academy, Mu Chenxing checking in.”

Gasps from nearby queues.

Mu Chenxing looked up: red.

…Oh. Colors meant gender—like their school’s training grounds. Standard scheme.

Behind him loomed Fu Yuefeng and Mecha Department giants over two meters. He didn’t need to look to feel eyes from all sides.

“So short.”

“How’s he gonna fight like that?”

“Heard Omegas this tourney. Not this one…?”

“That’s an Omega—the gate lit red!”

“Hiss, a real Omega!”

“I could flatten him with one punch.”

“Shh, quiet—it’s live.”

…

Mu Chenxing’s interest piqued. He looked up.

Three hovering cam-drones bobbed overhead, red lights blinking, lenses locked on him.

Three.

Red: Competitor is Omega.

Stream cut from entry, multi-angle tracking the Omega: check-in to seats, lingering seconds before splitting.

Dead silence broke.

“Damn, not seeing things.”

“Some N-gen celeb stunt?”

“Idiot—Stellar System Tournament ain’t for noobs.”

“So tiny—how’s he fight?”

“God, he looks half the weight of the giant next to him. For real?”

…

An hour and a half later—

Under Mu Chenxing’s relentless kicks, the opposing Alpha blocked frantically, retreating. At the edge, he pivoted—Mu Chenxing slammed a fist. Thud. Alpha clutched gut, stumbled two steps over the line.

Red light over their arena: Alliance First Military Academy, Mu Chenxing wins.

He won.

He calmly high-fived, fist-bumped surrounding Alphas. Stream still mute. No barrage.

Three full minutes of silence—then avalanche. Screen choked with text.

“This an Omega?”

“Impossible!”

“Too savage!”

“What kind of Omega can pull off something like that?”

“My god, he punched that two-meter-tall brute flying with one fist!”

“How can an Omega do this? It’s terrifying.”