Surrounded by a wall of bodies for a full five minutes, the Obstacle Avoidance Speed Run finally began announcing the entrants.
The Alpha classmates around him finally parted, and Mu Chenxing stepped out from the human barrier. He’d only taken two steps when he noticed the two Alphas competing alongside him flanking him once more, one on each side, glaring back at the stares from students of other schools.
He: “…”
Fortunately, it was just a few steps away.
Once in position, the simulator shifted into motion, hovering above his head.
The stadium buzzed with murmurs—everyone’s voices low, but it felt like thousands speaking at once.
Mu Chenxing ignored it, holding his breath as he watched the countdown on the projected holo-screen ahead.
10.
9.
…
1.
0.
Start.
Only 58 military academies from the Central Star System had made it to the finals, three per school, totaling 174 competitors per event. Spread out across the arena, they formed just a few rows, all visible at a glance from the stands.
Military academy students—Alphas or Betas alike—mostly sported buzz cuts, standing over 190 cm tall. Even those shorter were broad-shouldered and burly as bears.
Among the more than a hundred, only one had bangs, and he was both slim and short.
Every eye locked onto that Omega.
The whispers were faint, but with thousands in the stadium, the hum was deafening.
Fu Mingyuan stood at the edge with arms crossed, several obvious teachers leaning on the railing just half a meter behind him.
“Textbook form—no wasted movement.”
“So steady, speed barely fluctuates. At least five years of training.”
“Started in middle school? No way.”
“Heard some rumors—did the First Military Academy get a heads-up years ago?”
“Not just here to make up the numbers. Damn, he’s solid.”
…
The half-hour Obstacle Avoidance Speed Run tested explosive power, endurance, obstacle avoidance accuracy… Nothing too hard for military academy students. The real challenge was maintaining it all for over half an hour.
Those with burst speed slowed noticeably in the back half.
Those with stamina lacked initial punch, falling behind early.
Those accurate couldn’t push the pace.
…
Under everyone’s gaze, time was up.
The holo-screen countdown froze at 00:00, and each competitor’s overhead mini-screen flashed scores and rankings.
The buzzing stadium fell deathly silent as all held their breath.
A few seconds stretched like a century, then the gold, silver, and bronze lights for first, second, and third blazed to life.
The gleaming gold crown icon hung over the short, slim Omega in the center of the field.
The stadium erupted in an instant, every shout laced with disbelief and doubt.
“Holy shit!!”
“No way!”
“Glitch in the Guangqi AI?”
“System cheat!”
“Doped up, right?”
“Drug test! Demand a drug test!”
…
Mu Chenxing glanced up, arched a brow, then swept his gaze over the countless competitors turning to stare. He flashed them a smile.
The other entrants: “!!”
Provocation!
Blatant provocation!!
A pack of tall, strapping young men glared daggers.
His two Alpha teammates from the same school rushed forward, positioning themselves one on each side.
“Let’s go.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll walk you out.”
Mu Chenxing: “…”
Under their “escort,” he followed the signs toward the exit.
The training instructor was waiting there, eyes lighting up at the sight of him. He reached out for a hug—
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.”
Mu Chenxing’s Beta psych teacher yanked him back. “What the hell, you old geezer?!”
The Beta medical teacher immediately pulled Mu Chenxing to their side, glaring. “Pervert!”
The instructor: “…”
He raised his hands awkwardly. “My bad, forgot he’s an Omega.”
Fu Mingyuan approached from behind. “You’re blocking the way. Back to the rest area.”
Everyone glanced back—yep, they were causing a jam.
The group hurried onward.
Leaving the arena, they ducked into the under-stadium corridor—a long detour to their seating area.
The corridor was spacious and brightly lit.
Mu Chenxing was completely surrounded by teachers, safety in numbers.
He glanced around, sidestepped his Beta teacher, and sidled up to one of the Alpha upperclassmen from the race. “Upperclassman, what place did you get?”
The guy turned, cleared his throat under the leaders’ watchful eyes. “Scraped a podium spot—third.”
The other Alpha leaned over with a grin. “I bombed—fifth.”
“Hmph.” The instructor up front turned. “Yeah, not good enough. Even Chenxing beat you. Extra training when we get back.”
The pair groaned.
Mu Chenxing felt guilty. “Sorry, I’ll ask privately next time.”
The two Alphas waved frantically:
“No, no—don’t ask privately!”
“Inappropriate, super inappropriate!”
Mu Chenxing: “…”
The instructor twisted back with reassurance. “Not on you. They gotta know their level, or they get cocky as hell back at school just for a front-row finish.”
The two Alphas scratched heads or stared at the ceiling sheepishly.
Mu Chenxing said no more.
Back at their rest area, a horde of Alphas eyed him with complicated looks.
Mu Chenxing spotted several hovering camera drones suddenly overhead, swallowed his words, and sat quietly to watch the rest of the events.
Over an hour later, in Precision Strike, Mu Chenxing took first again.
Of their school’s trio, only he podiumed.
Just past 11, Flight Piloting—Mu Chenxing first again.
One teammate snagged second.
The stadium was in chaos. After his Flight Piloting win, protests erupted, demanding drug checks.
The shouts and doubts merged into one chant—
“Rigged champion!”
“Rigged champion!”
“Rigged champion!”
The instructors ahead of Mu Chenxing darkened their faces; even his Beta teacher clenched a fist.
But his Alpha classmates and upperclassmen couldn’t hold back, roaring rebuttals.
The scene teetered on the brink of chaos.
Mu Chenxing frowned, glancing at Fu Mingyuan, who stood stone-faced with arms crossed.
Right then, the gray-templed middle-aged man in the judge’s chair slammed the table. Stadium speakers boomed.
The noise died down.
The gray-templed man spoke: “Guangqi AI, stand by.”
【Voice recognition successful. Guangqi AI standing by.】 A cold, mechanical neutral voice replied.
“Announce the Flight Piloting finals scores for all participants.”
【Affirmative. Displaying detailed scores for the 3579th Central Star System Military Academy Games Flight Piloting finals.】
As the AI spoke, the four massive screens encircling the stadium flashed with the 174 entrants’ results, ranked from fastest to slowest.
Each name listed time, obstacle clearances, flight vehicle damage, deceleration instances, turn speeds… even estimated fuel use.
A number in parentheses flanked every metric.
Behind Mu Chenxing’s name, a string of 1s filled the brackets.
From second to tenth, each had some 1s amid worse scores—but only Mu Chenxing was perfect 1s across the board.
He’d aced every Flight Piloting category.
Stunned murmurs rose as people compared their own students’ data.
The gray-templed man spoke again: “Announce the Precision Strike finals scores.”
【Affirmative. Displaying detailed scores for the 3579th Central Star System Military Academy Games Precision Strike finals.】
Screens switched. Mu Chenxing’s line was another string of 1s—except one:
Strike Force 98 (2)
Mu Chenxing inwardly tsked. Still not enough power.
Pei Yao had said Alphas post-Heat Period surged in strength and speed. If he couldn’t dominate now, in a games dominated by third- and fourth-years, it’d only get harder.
The stadium murmurs faded.
The gray-templed man checked his tablet. “Announce the Obstacle Avoidance Speed Run finals scores.”
Screens updated.
Mu Chenxing: all 1s.
Dead silence.
The gray-templed man: “Any questions?”
No one spoke.
The gray-templed man: “I do—Principal Fu, mind sharing what this young Omega of yours excels at most?”
Fu Mingyuan paused, looking to Mu Chenxing.
All eyes swiveled to him.
Mu Chenxing: “…Right now, probably Shooting.”
Right now.
Fu Mingyuan nodded, took a mic from a uniformed staffer. “Shooting.”
The gray-templed man smiled. “Excellent. Looking forward to this afternoon’s Shooting then.”
Everyone: “…”
…
Due to the morning drama, lunch was shifted to another cafeteria in the Military District.
Under his school’s affectionate gazes, Mu Chenxing calmly polished off three bowls of rice.
Everyone: “…”
The leader teachers relaxed a bit, huddling to discuss quietly.
A lanky guy sidled up cautiously, envious. “How are you so chill? I was dying of nerves.”
Mu Chenxing eyed him—remembered, this was his Moving Target Shooting upperclassman. “Get nervous, and your medal’s gone.”
Shooting was the ultimate mentality test.
The upperclassman: “…You’re right.”
Then: “What if you lose this afternoon after talking big?”
Mu Chenxing smiled. “I never say what I can’t back up. Worst case, it’s a tie for first.”
Years handling guns—even blindfolded, I don’t miss. Lose to these greenhorns who haven’t seen real combat?
The upperclassman: “…”
So cocky.
…
…
…
Cocky? Fair enough. The upperclassman stared at the big screen’s scores from Mu Chenxing’s Shooting. Convinced.
No arguments from the stands either.
The gray-templed man who’d ordered the score reveal spoke again: “Additionally, announcing a fresh directive from the Alliance Chairman.”
“Finals footage banned—no photos, no videos released externally. Violators: expulsion.”
Everyone: “？!”
The gray-templed man: “Directive arrived half an hour ago. Some morning photos and videos are already out—delete within the half-hour. Post-scan by Guangqi AI, same penalty.”
Everyone: “!!!”
Holo-screens of every color bloomed across the stands.
Even from the Alliance First Military Academy.
Mu Chenxing: “…”
He sidled quietly to the calmly arms-crossed Fu Mingyuan, whispering hotly, “Principal, weren’t we supposed to promote this? Why no videos or photos?”
He just didn’t want media circus-level exposure. But mysterious Omega? Not the plan.
Fu Mingyuan: “Ask him—see if he’s got time.”
Mu Chenxing’s eyes widened. “He’s free for this?”
Border’s got a Star Beast Tide—ain’t they fighting tooth and nail?
Fu Mingyuan faltered.
Mu Chenxing saw through it, teasing: “Guess I’ll ask him then?”
Fu Mingyuan: “…”
Scanning around—all friendlies—he grumbled, “You’re Medical College. Screws our recruitment pitch… Unless you wanna switch to a combat academy?”
Mu Chenxing: “…”
He mimed zipping his lips, bowed to Fu Mingyuan, and bolted.
Fu Mingyuan: “…”
A nearby vice dean who’d overheard leaned in. “Kid’s got real talent. Transfer him over? Wasted in Medical with those dogshit grades.”
Fu Mingyuan shot him a look. “Mind your business. He doesn’t wanna move, no one’s forcing him.”
The vice dean: “Got connections?”
Fu Mingyuan furrowed his brow. “No, that’s not right. His father isn’t anyone significant on Galaxy Star—how could he possibly reach into our Military Academy?”
Fu Mingyuan’s voice turned slightly cold. “Dean Chen, we’re a Military Academy, but this isn’t a war zone. We have no authority to dictate others’ choices.”
The vice dean looked embarrassed. “I was just talking, just talking.”
Fu Mingyuan withdrew his gaze.
The vice dean stroked his chin with an ambiguous smile. “That said, I didn’t expect you to protect him so fiercely, Principal Fu…”
Fu Mingyuan shot him a meaningful glance. “Put away those filthy thoughts of yours. I really can’t afford to provoke him—and neither can you.”
He paused for two seconds, then frowned. “This little Omega’s a real tattletale with a silver tongue. He’s already got my spouse completely bewitched, to the point where they’re one step away from making me his personal bodyguard… I hear your spouse teaches at the Medical College. I’d advise you to watch out too.”
The vice dean: “…”
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