By the end of the day, he’d repeated the same routine seven times.
The Omega Upgrade Association had “raised” a whopping 5,600 Alliance Coins, plus Xia Weizhen’s 200 in sponsorship, for a balance of 5,800.
Mu Chenxing muttered to Tong Xiao and the others, griping that these Alphas were loaded—scammed out of several hundred each, and none had demanded it back or filed complaints. He even wondered if their association’s Omegas were too soft-hearted, setting the amounts too low for these Alphas.
Tong Xiao huffed lightly. “Definitely too low. If these Omegas had that kind of guts, they wouldn’t get bullied in the first place.”
Xia Weizhen chimed in, “I think family background and temperament go hand in hand. These Alphas are more arrogant than the last— their families must be loaded.”
Tao Xirui nodded in agreement.
But Mu Chenxing wagged his finger. “Nah, I think these Alphas come from pretty average families. Truly rich people care about manners.”
Tong Xiao shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. We never run into those polite rich Alphas anyway. If they were really loaded, they wouldn’t join the Military Academy.”
Fair point. Mu Chenxing checked the time. “Alright, time’s up. We gotta go run.”
His three roommates: “…”
Mu Chenxing pressed, “No way? As the association’s leadership, you gonna skip training? How do you face our 28 fragile, pitiful Omegas?”
Tong Xiao said, “…I quit. I’m quitting right now.”
Xia Weizhen yelled, “I didn’t join willingly! I want to file a complaint!”
Tao Xirui protested softly, “I didn’t want to join either.”
Mu Chenxing pretended not to hear, slinging an arm around two of them while grabbing the last one’s collar with his fingers, dragging all three toward the door. “Quit dawdling—running’s good for you!”
“What’s so good about it? I don’t want it!” Tong Xiao protested, collar yanked tight.
Mu Chenxing grinned. “Not giving birth to mighty Alpha kids anymore?”
Xia Weizhen and Tao Xirui: “Pfft.”
Tong Xiao flushed with rage. “No more births!! Whoever wants to can have ’em!”
Mu Chenxing soothed, “Alright, alright, no births. But we’re still running.”
Tong Xiao: “…”
In the end, they got dragged out for the run.
After the night run, the group panted and gasped for breath, but Mu Chenxing stayed perfectly calm, as if he hadn’t run at all. He calmly reported the results to everyone.
The Omegas cheered when they heard seven Alphas had apologized and paid 5,600 in membership fees that day.
Many took turns praising the Omegas who’d accepted the apologies—only they knew how much courage it had taken those Omegas just to stand up.
After the lively commotion died down, Mu Chenxing finally quieted everyone and got to business.
Organization Minister and temporary treasurer Tao Xirui had compiled a procurement list: medicines focused on sports injuries like trauma spray, hemostatic drugs, bone injury meds, and so on. The rest of the funds would go toward custom Courage Badges.
Mu Chenxing tapped a few Omegas who’d studied art to design the Courage Badges, specifying the theme color as vibrant red—the most life-filled hue—and explained the concept behind them.
“Standing up, whether to accept an apology or fight back against bullying, is courage. It deserves a Courage Badge.”
“Collecting Courage Badges is our process of upgrading. One day, when we’ve gathered enough, we’ll have become the best versions of ourselves!”
His rousing pep talk fired up the Omegas, especially the ones assigned to design—they were itching to sketch right then and there.
Mu Chenxing sighed helplessly, set a deadline for them with plenty of time for designs, reviews, and revisions, and told them to take it slow.
Then he started scheduling the next day’s “fundraising” targets based on classes.
Tong Xiao reminded him, “Tomorrow might be tricky—you got called out.”
Mu Chenxing: “?”
Tong Xiao sent the link to the group chat.
Everyone rushed to check it out—
[Blacklist Warning: First-Year Nursing Class E’s Mu Chenxing! ]
The main post featured photos from Mu Chenxing’s afternoon “fundraising” scenes.
The poster detailed his “modus operandi,” warning Alphas to watch out.
The Omegas froze, looking at Mu Chenxing in confusion. Even Tong Xiao and the others looked worried.
Mu Chenxing blinked. “So what if they know the routine?”
Tong Xiao said, “Then they definitely won’t—won’t donate anymore.”
Mu Chenxing countered, “Isn’t our first goal getting them to apologize?”
Everyone: “…”
True.
They’d been blinded by the money and forgotten their original intent.
Tong Xiao eyed the guilty-looking, innocent Omegas and raised a brow. “So we don’t want the money?”
Mu Chenxing snapped, “We want it—why wouldn’t we? Knowing the routine doesn’t stop us from getting it.”
He cracked his knuckles with a snap. “As long as they care about face and grades, I’ll get that money for sure.”
Everyone: “…”
The next day.
Mu Chenxing dashed between teaching buildings again, raising over 2,000 more in funds for the association—some buildings were too far for inter-class rushes, so he only hit four that day.
That night’s run, Mu Chenxing offered deep apologies to everyone and vowed to try harder tomorrow.
Everyone: “…”
“No rush.”
“Plenty of time.”
“Tomorrow’s the school celebration,” someone reminded.
Mu Chenxing grinned wide. “School celebration’s perfect— no classes, everyone’s at the Grand Parade Ground.”
Everyone: “…”
This dedicated?
Tong Xiao was speechless. “You can’t seriously plan to shake down—fundraise—in front of the principal and teachers, right?”
Mu Chenxing shot back, “That depends on whether they dare pick a fight with me in front of the principal and teachers.”
Everyone: “…”
Mu Chenxing checked, “You all free from performance duties tomorrow, right?”
None of them were the outgoing type, so he figured no.
Sure enough, heads shook all around.
Mu Chenxing opened his mouth, but someone piped up softly, “School celebration… can we rest a day? My feet hurt so bad these past two days.”
Instant agreement: “M-me too. I want to rest.”
“Mine hurt too.”
“So do mine.”
The murmurs spread, even Tong Xiao and his two reluctant runners giving puppy eyes.
Mu Chenxing: “…”
He thought it over and nodded. “Fine, rest day tomorrow.”
Cheers erupted!
Mu Chenxing added, “But we’ve still got nine Alphas to handle.”
He scanned the room. “Tomorrow at the celebration, classes have fixed spots in the formations—easy to find people. Once performances start and folks can roam, send me coordinates. I’ll hit ’em one by one.”
Nods all around.
Mu Chenxing continued, “One issue, though.”
“I’m famous now. Cornering them in classrooms, they can’t run. But tomorrow’s chaos? They might bolt before I get there.”
“So tomorrow, I need you all to help with one thing…”
He rattled on at length.
The Omegas hesitated.
Mu Chenxing reassured, “No pressure. Do what you can—if they run, no biggie. They can’t outrun the school forever.”
Everyone breathed easier.
…
Saturday, school celebration day—clear skies.
Events kicked off at ten, assembly at nine. By eight-thirty, advisors were spamming emails and class chats with reminders.
Tong Xiao and the others got ready to head out, only to find Mu Chenxing still doing homework. Shocked, they shoved him to change.
Mu Chenxing struggled. “This is the Military Academy! Do we really need an hour and a half early?”
Tong Xiao shot back, “Been here all semester—ever seen us drill or train assemblies?”
Mu Chenxing: “…”
True, never had.
He obediently stowed his books, donned his fitted dress uniform, and followed his roommates out.
The Grand Parade Ground was on the far side of campus—a shuttle ride took fifteen minutes. With the whole dorm district heading over, every shuttle was packed.
By the time they arrived, their crisp uniforms were rumpled.
Xia Weizhen and the other two, along with roadside Omegas, fussed over smoothing and straightening theirs. Mu Chenxing’s looked better—ironed by his own roommates. His Alpha Pheromones had faded some, but up close, you could still catch them.
He suspected the association Omegas’ obedience owed a lot to Pei Yao’s Pheromones.
He tugged at his hem, glancing around.
The Grand Parade Ground was massive; even from afar, the stands looked huge, hinting at the field’s scale.
And the crowds—school was packed.
Mu Chenxing’s department, the Medical College, had felt crowded. Now with every department pouring in, he realized… Alphas were tall.
A sea of Alphas averaging 195 cm, all in Military Academy dress uniforms—heroic, upright, imposing. Tougher builds and stances than even the Medical College Alphas.
Tong Xiao and his two were already starry-eyed, clutching Mu Chenxing’s hem and squealing.
Mu Chenxing was used to guy-heavy scenes, unfazed—maybe even a tad jealous. Compared to them, he was downright petite as an Omega.
He hauled his three deadweights along with the Omega masses toward the entrance.
A few steps in, Alphas kept glancing their way.
He frowned—his wristband buzzed.
Someone in the association group had sent coordinates.
Mu Chenxing’s eyes lit up. He called to his Alpha-filled roommates, “Gonna go collect donations—meet at the coordinates!”
He bolted off.
His three roommates: “…”
Venue too big, people everywhere—Mu Chenxing vanished in a flash.
They checked the group location: somewhere in the field. Problem was, the field spanned tens of thousands of square meters!!
Plus tiered grandstands, and surrounding throngs of identically dressed students…
How would Mu Chenxing find his target in the crowd?
—Wait, how were they supposed to meet up with him?
