Chapter 108: Dawn Middle School (Revised)

The commercial ship docked at the spaceport, here on the Federation’s Capital Star.

A vast expanse met the eye, with silver-white high-rise buildings standing tall, layered flight vehicles crisscrossing in the air, and on the ground, vehicles and people flowing ceaselessly.

The little cat gazed through the porthole, his blue eyes wide open, staring unblinkingly at the scenery below.

“Li Ao, time to change clothes and get off the ship.” Little Ke placed the garments on the bed and quickly bustled about, packing scattered items into the luggage.

“Oh, right away.” Li Ao’s gaze of wonder hadn’t yet withdrawn. He responded while fumbling to pull the T-shirt over his head, his hair getting tousled messily by the collar. Once Little Ke finished packing, it hurried over to help him comb his hair and get dressed.

Descending via the sky elevator, the closer they got to the ground, the more the differences between this planet and Delphi became apparent. Delphi was laid-back, savoring a leisurely pace of life. But the Federation’s Capital Star was modern and bustling, with even the air carrying a high-tech vibe.

Li Ao scratched his head and glanced at Little Ke floating beside him, feeling that it actually blended in harmoniously with this environment.

“Where’s Xun?” The teen emerged from the VIP passage, looking around. Not spotting anyone, he immediately grumbled in dissatisfaction, “Bad puppy, did he oversleep and forget to pick me up?”

“I’d never forget to pick you up, even if I forgot to sleep.” A low, magnetic voice sounded from behind. Li Ao’s dark eyes lit up. He spun around on the spot with a bounce and shouted, “Why are you hiding behind!”

The strikingly handsome teen leaned against the passage wall. After several months apart, Xun’s hair had grown a bit longer, with a few stray strands falling over his ruby-like eyes. His skin was coldly pale, his thin lips vividly red like rouged.

He opened his arms to catch the joyfully flying little bird.

Li Ao pounced straight onto him, wrapping his slender legs around Xun’s waist. His voice was crisp, like a merrily flowing stream in spring: “I brought you gifts, and lots of snacks too! How did you grow taller again? So annoying! Can’t you wait for me? Where am I staying? And Little Ke—can Little Ke come to school with me?”

The teen’s youthful vitality drew gazes from passersby. His happiness was so straightforward and fervent that anyone seeing it couldn’t help but curve their lips into a smile: the spirited age of youthful exuberance, what a wonderful time.

Xun, gifted with exceptional talent, had long surpassed 1.8 meters in height—half a head taller than Li Ao. He half-narrowed his eyes, letting the little cat paw at his face, and just like that, carried him outward: “We’re in a double dorm. I’ve packed everything. Little Ke can stay in the dorm, but it can’t follow you to class.”

“Oh, that’s fine too.” Li Ao chattered the whole way, got settled into the passenger seat while being held, his excitement undiminished: “The Federation is so huge, totally different from Delphi. Why are there so many people here? It feels like just this area has more people than all of Delphi combined.”

“Your feeling is spot on.” Xun leaned over to fasten Li Ao’s seatbelt, then pulled a basket of snacks from the back seat and placed it in his lap: “Capital Star’s resident population is nearly ten million. The neighboring First and Second Planets are also densely populated. The entire stellar system accounts for about one-third of the Federation’s total population.”

The more advanced the civilization, the lower humanity’s passion for procreation. Combined with the suppression from Dome disease and xenoids, there weren’t many higher civilizations in the interstellar era to begin with. Most planets were like Delphi, with scattered populations of just tens or hundreds of thousands. A massive gathering like the Federation’s star cluster was terrifying indeed.

Li Ao crunched away at the snacks. After about half an hour, they arrived at the place where he would study from now on.

Federation Dawn Middle School was the most renowned high school in the entire interstellar region, with top-tier faculty. It was the affiliated high school of Federation Dawn Academy. Its top students from key classes invariably entered the galaxy’s most prestigious universities. Even the tail-enders would be top-tier figures in other interstellar schools.

Li Ao stood before the grand gates brimming with modern tech, letting out a little dirt cat’s sigh: “So many people.”

Xun dragged the luggage with one hand and held Li Ao’s hand with the other, leading him into the campus: “Tired? Go back and nap first. After lunch, I’ll take you for a stroll.”

Li Ao was full of novelty, looking around everywhere, and casually replied, “Sure, whatever you say.”

The Federation was in deep autumn at this time, with a temperature difference not much from Delphi’s early spring. Students wore uniform suit-style school uniforms. As they walked along, Li Ao noticed both boys and girls staring their way, faces flushed, expressions agitated. He was used to being watched, but this made him panic a bit as he touched his face, wondering if his disguise mask had slipped.

Xun had a classic intense-features handsome look, his expression perpetually aloof. When he looked at the teen beside him, a hint of indulgence appeared, and he lifted a hand to pinch Li Ao’s chin, inspecting it: “It’s not failing. Shen Que’s disguises are unparalleled; they won’t go wrong.”

Li Ao breathed a sigh of relief, then asked in confusion: “Then why are they staring at me? Could it be this mask looks good to them too?” Not that the little cat was narcissistic or arrogant—it was just the radiation from past experiences. It wasn’t until a petite, delicate boy ran over, blushing as he greeted Xun, that the little cat realized they were looking at Xun, not him.

“President Lanxun, good morning.”

Xun’s alias in the Federation was Yi Lanxun, current student council president of Dawn Middle School. His grades, looks, and aura were all top-notch. Even his icy, unapproachable personality came with a high-mountain flower filter in others’ eyes. In short, Xun had plenty of admirers at this school.

The petite boy’s voice was soft and drippy when greeting Xun, but when he tilted his head toward Li Ao, jealousy flickered in his eyes: “Who’s this classmate? A new student this year?”

Li Ao was straightforward and oblivious. He couldn’t spot the jealousy of a pubescent teen but keenly sensed malice directed at him. The teen blinked, inwardly surprised—he’d never experienced being treated like this before…

“Xiaoxiao, let’s go.” Xun ignored the boy, pinching Li Ao’s fingertip to remind him to walk.

Li Ao blanked for a second or two before realizing that Xun was calling him “Xiaoxiao”. Right, he was Yi Fuxiao now: “Oh, oh…” After walking several steps, he reacted: “He was greeting you, and you didn’t even respond!”

Seeing him dawdle absentmindedly, Xun simply scooped him up in one arm: “Irrelevant person. Why bother with him?”

His cold indifference didn’t faze his admirers. Instead, it was his softened expression and indulgence toward this plain-faced teen that felt off to them.

“Lord Lanxun…” The petite boy teared up, unable to imagine such an untouchable person being so gentle to someone else.

But the high-mountain flower in the eyes of pubescent boys and girls locked the dorm door and prepared to trim the cat’s paw fur.

The moment the door locked, Li Ao excitedly shifted into cat form, dragging his fluffy big tail around to inspect everywhere. Land was gold on Capital Star, yet this double dorm had its own kitchen and bathroom—quite spacious, showing just how loaded this school was.

What the hell, he had no idea this was a special backdoor favor: a brand-new double dorm building built just for him.

Every corner—bed legs, table legs, any pillar—was meticulously wrapped in sisal rope. Li Ao stuck his butt out, scratching away on the cat scratcher board on the floor with satisfied chirps, then happily flicked his tail, puffing out his white fluffy chest to mark other spots.

The semi-enclosed balcony wasn’t large, with flowers lining the waist-high ledge. He stood tall, scratching vigorously on the specially made horizontal grating of the balcony wall.

“Li Ao, come here for grooming.” Xun had noticed during their video call a few days ago that the little cat’s paw fur was getting long. Upon reunion, he pulled out the tools, looking ready to sharpen his knife for the piggy.

The Ground-hugging Supercar was used to being pampered by him. It raised its thick fluffy antenna tail and putt-putted toward the destination. Upon reaching his feet, it parked, flopped over with a thud, and stuck up all four paws, awaiting service.

Xun sat cross-legged, cradling the cat in his lap, and got to work.

Dawn Middle School’s most outstanding student council president ever, with a spiritual power index of 99, who had ousted third-year seniors in his freshman year to claim the top spot—the aloof, rigorous, impeccable ice mountain beauty in outsiders’ eyes—was now cradling the little cat’s paw in one hand, scissors in the other, meticulously trimming the stray hairs at the paw pad edges. Where was any sense of distance left?

Li Ao swished his tail, lifted a hind paw, and bloomed his claws at the puppy: “Trim the middle too!”

“Mm, wait while I switch tools.” Xun good-naturedly agreed, swapping to a small clipper, trimming the paw pads to perfect pink Q-ness.

The little cat hadn’t snuggled with the puppy in ages. He purred rumblingly and soon dozed off on the other’s lap. A soft, defenseless ball curled up, belly fully exposed.

Xun placed him on the bed, squatted at the bedside, and stared at the little cat’s signature surrender sleep pose from kittenhood to now for a good while. After a moment, he leaned down and rubbed the side of his face against the little cat’s belly.

Li Ao slept for an hour, twitching his nose at the aroma of food.

“Awake? Perfect, time to eat.” Xun emerged carrying dishes, set the plates on the table, and hung up his apron.

Li Ao felt lazy, cracking one eye open and flicking his tail, still unwilling to move. He whined, flipping onto his back and raising his front paws skyward with that just-woke-up clinginess: “Carry me.”

Xun’s lip curved. He went to the bed, scooped up the cat, and moved him to the table. Once near the food, Li Ao perked up and dove in.

Xun was eating alone, too lazy to cook or eat proper meals in the Federation, always drinking Nutrient Fluid instead. Now, watching the little cat smack his lips and eat heartily, he actually got a bit of an appetite and joined him for some food. Just a little, though. With his current caloric needs, even eating eighteen meals a day wouldn’t satisfy his hunger. The most practical and convenient option was still Nutrient Fluid.

Li Ao licked the corner of his mouth, eyeing curiously as Xun poured something into his mouth. Having grown to fourteen or fifteen, he’d never encountered this stuff before. The little foodie was curious about the taste of Nutrient Fluid, pawing at Xun’s wrist—what he meant was obvious.

Xun hesitated a bit. Nutrient Fluid wasn’t bad, but it sure wasn’t as tasty as real food. He didn’t really want the little cat eating this synthetic crap. But Li Ao was puffing up his stubborn fur, dead set on trying it, so Xun fed him just a tiny bit.

The first sip was small, and the little cat smacked his lips, not quite getting it. He pawed at Xun’s hand again, signaling for another. This time it was a bigger sip. Li Ao rolled his tongue, not even getting a word out before he suddenly went “Urp!”, neck shrinking as he started retching.

The little cat’s queasy look startled Xun. He scooped up the cat and rushed to the bathroom to induce vomiting.

Gently scratching inside the mouth with his fingers—this felt weird, making the cat’s fur stand on end. Li Ao “urped” a few more times, puking up everything he’d just eaten. Then he drooped his ears like a sad basset hound, looking utterly dejected.

Xun cleaned up Li Ao, his face a bit grim. The scanner confirmed the little cat’s body was fine—just purely grossed out. High-concentration Nutrient Fluid had a sticky mouthfeel, like okra soaked in water and fermented all day.

Li Ao hooked his claws into Xun’s clothes, belly pressed against Xun’s abs, all downcast: “That stuff tastes awful. Why do you eat it? Short on cash for groceries? Why not use my card? Little Ke, is Xun’s sub-card not activated? Or did the money run out? If you’re broke, why not say so?” The wealthy Fierce Cat immediately wanted to top up his little dog’s account.

“No, it’s not that.” Xun carried the little cat back to bed like a kangaroo mom: “My caloric needs are huge now, and I can’t get enough from food. Nutrient Fluid is just more convenient.”

Once he understood, the little cat felt bad for the little dog instead. He rested his head on Xun’s thigh at the bedside, gazing up at him with wet eyes: “You eat this nasty stuff every day? Must suck so bad.”

Xun furrowed his brows, all soft and pitiful: “Li Ao cares about me.”

“You’re the one Li Ao is raising!” The little cat was still wilted himself, but hearing the little dog act weak made him perk up: “I’ll go ask Grandpa Doctor if there’s anything else you can eat.”

“Thanks, Li Ao, but can we rest first? That’s not urgent.”

It really wasn’t a big deal, but Li Ao lost his appetite, his mopey mood dragging all the way to the next day’s division ceremony.

Dawn Middle School’s academy divisions were purely based on Spiritual Power values. Over 50 went to Caelum House, 25-49 to Terra House, and below 25 to Mortalis House.

Dawn Middle School’s highest Spiritual Power record holder since its founding—Yi Lanxun—was leading a young teen to the division ceremony site.

“The three academies have the same cultural classes, but different educational focuses. Caelum and Terra emphasize Spiritual Power cultivation, while Mortalis focuses on physical training.” To put it bluntly, Caelum trained officials, Terra produced high-ranking officers, and Mortalis churned out rank-and-file soldiers with great physiques.

The Federation’s massive tree started its class sorting from the roots. Spiritual Power determined human limits—getting into Caelum put you a cut above.

Li Ao hadn’t eaten much that morning either. After hearing all that, he just “oh”-ed, still lacking energy.

“There are nearly a thousand first-year enrollees; testing will take a while. Eat some candy if you get hungry.” Xun stuffed some snacks into Li Ao’s pocket, eyes downcast. Seeing the little cat so listless, his face showed no expression, but his lips were pressed tight.

“I’ll wait for you in the visitor seats at the entrance. After, we’ll go get food.”

Li Ao nodded, tiptoeing to hug Xun’s neck and swing a bit: “Alright, I’m heading in.”

Xun’s wrist barred across Li Ao’s waist, locking him into his embrace, nuzzling the teen’s cheek before letting go: “Go on. Anywhere you want.”

Once inside, Li Ao noticed tons of eyes on him. From the field, the stands—everyone staring. He half-lidded his eyes, yawned, too drained to wonder why.

“That’s the guy? Doesn’t look like much. Why’s Lord Lanxun so sweet on him?!” Someone’s face twisted, fuming at the thought of Yi Lanxun hugging and holding this teen: “Did you find the info? What’s this new kid’s deal?”

His lackey looked aggrieved: “We can’t check new student files until the division ceremony. I’m looking… ah, got it! Name’s Yi Fuxiao, from some backwater rural planet.”

“Yi?” The guy blinked: “No way he’s related to Yi Lanxun?” That’d explain it! No wonder Lord Lanxun was so gentle—that was his little brother! Lord Lanxun’s brother was basically his own. His eyes lit up; no more hostility toward the teen on the field.

New student files weren’t available before division, but upperclassmen—especially the student council president—were household names. Who didn’t know Yi Lanxun’s face? Seeing the president personally escort this newbie, someone got ideas, sidling up to Li Ao: “Hey, you here for the division ceremony too?”

Li Ao blinked blankly: “Uh…” What else?

The freckled face said: “I’m Lynch. I’ll definitely get into Terra House. What’s your name?”

“Yi Fuxiao.”

“You too? Are you Yi Lanxun’s little brother? …I saw your brother drop you off…” The guy yammered on, then probed: “What’s your Spiritual Power? Which house you think you’ll get?”

Names and Spiritual Power values echoed through the venue now and then. Li Ao stayed listless, scratching his head: “Dunno.” How much was his Spiritual Power? Good question—probably only a god would know. “I’ll go to Mortalis.” Houses didn’t allow upward jumps, but you could downgrade if you wanted.

Li Ao’s thinking was straightforward: No need to boost his Spiritual Power; better to train physique to match it. But to others, that screamed low Spiritual Power, no big future.

Lynch’s networking enthusiasm cooled. His superior attitude slipped: “Oh, well, if you need help later, apply to visit me in Terra.” But then he reconsidered—if this was Yi Lanxun’s brother, even without prospects, big bro had his back. Eyes twinkling: “You look kinda down. Feeling off?”

Li Ao was sensitive to good or ill intent, not wanting to chat, but politely replied: “I got a bad stomach from Nutrient Fluid.”

Lynch’s eyes flashed with disdain. Nutrient Fluid didn’t cause stomach issues—just discomfort from undigested energy. This plain-faced newbie must’ve had such low Spiritual Power he tried high-concentration stuff and got sick: “Low-grade wouldn’t bother you. Or if you’ve got money, eat fruits and veggies.” Tone bragging: “You ever had fresh fruit? My family gets it almost daily. Next time home, I could bring some for you.”

Li Ao was too pure-hearted and polite—or maybe, as the robot said, cat ears grew donkey hair and he just didn’t get the boasting and shade. He wilted further, yawning.

Until their row for testing. Li Ao stepped onto the scanner.

Lynch was next, arms crossed, right heel hooked back, tapping smugly, bragging to others: “With his Spiritual Power, he’s Mortalis-bound for sure.”

Before the words settled, the AI announced to the whole venue: [Yi Fuxiao, Spiritual Power 100+]

Lynch’s tapping foot froze. Everyone testing, watching, supervising, interviewing—stunned.

“How much? 100+? Scanner broken? No human hits 100, let alone +?”

Xun leaned on the spectator rail, elbow lazily propped, a mocking smirk tugging his lips.

Foolish humans, your scores cap at 100 because that’s all you can manage. Little cat’s 100 is just the max score. 100 is your ceiling—his floor.

“Machine’s busted! Cap’s 100—what’s this + crap?”

AI broadcast again: [Repeated scans confirmed. Yi Fuxiao’s Spiritual Power result accurate. Capacity exceeds measurable range, displayed as 100+ for now.]

What did this mean? It meant this wilted, listless teen had higher Spiritual Power than Delphi’s founding emperor, Regalis I!

Lynch was totally dumbfounded. Reporters in the stands covering freshman orientation were too: “Isn’t that the kid who played hero before?!”