Chapter 81

Feeling great, he slept soundly, and the next day, Mu Chenxing felt refreshed as he clinched another victory in the match.

The hot search topic he’d dropped from last night climbed back up.

Mu Chenxing thought of the message and photos Pei Yao had sent yesterday. Once the event wrapped up, he couldn’t resist pulling up Douyin on the way back.

A barrage of vibrations shook his phone so hard that Zhang Yunli next to him turned to look.

Mu Chenxing: “…Forgot to mute notifications.”

He opened settings and turned off all the alerts for new follows, comments, and reposts.

Zhang Yunli glanced over, spotted the row of 999+ red dots, and teased, “You’ve become a celebrity, huh.”

“Fame’s useless. Money’s the real deal.”

The money Pei Yao had paid to buy him out covered his tuition for the next few years. Starting from the second semester of his sophomore year, he’d also been getting scholarships, plus Luo Chen’s subsidies. He hadn’t suffered much poverty these past few years, but he wasn’t exactly well-off either.

Especially with Luo Chen’s condition—he’d looked into treatments that could improve it, but they required better meds. The expensive kind.

All in all, money was a wonderful thing.

Mu Chenxing switched to his one and only post, and the comments immediately flooded his screen.

He tsked. “Looks like everyone’s pretty worked up.”

He’d just played a match. Why were these people so pissed?

Zhang Yunli frowned and leaned over.

Mu Chenxing shifted the Holo-Screen away. “Don’t look. You’ll just get mad.”

Just then, Fu Yuefeng poked his head from the back. “Xing-ge, why’d you come online?”

Mu Chenxing: “…How’d you know?”

“I follow you, duh. Oh, right—unfollow me quick! I changed my Douyin handle yesterday. Just search my name.”

“Oh.”

Mu Chenxing searched “Fu Yuefeng” and hit follow.

“Got it. I just posted a match photo of us. Repost it for me.” Fu Yuefeng grinned. “You’ve got massive traffic now. Help me gain some followers.”

Mu Chenxing: “…”

He casually reposted the group match photo. “It’s all hate-traffic. You sure you want it?”

“What’re you scared of? Online curses don’t hurt. No skin off my back.” Fu Yuefeng beamed. “Getting hate means sympathy follows, and I can play pitiful to Duoduo. He’ll definitely agree to dinner over winter break.”

Mu Chenxing: “…”

Sly Alpha!

He immediately snitched to Li Duoduo.

A few seconds later, Fu Yuefeng let out a wail from the back: “Mu Chenxing!!”

Mu Chenxing flashed a yeah sign at Zhang Yunli.

The interruption made Zhang Yunli completely forget what he’d been about to say, dissolving into laughter instead.

Only after did he remember the repost and ask, “Didn’t you post a Preliminary Selection group photo before? Wanna do another?”

Mu Chenxing blinked in surprise. “The matches have been live-streamed these past couple days. That group photo I posted already broke two million reposts. Tomorrow’s event will push it even higher. Do we need another? I’m the only Omega here.”

Zhang Yunli: “Doesn’t have to be fancy. You reaching this stage as an Omega is the best promo. Snap whatever. The group photo’s just icing on the cake—a memento of training and competing together with your classmates. Nothing to do with outsiders.”

Mu Chenxing gave a thumbs up. “No wonder you’re the professor. You see right through it!”

Zhang Yunli couldn’t help laughing. “That mouth of yours… You really know how to talk. No surprise Principal Fu calls you a flatterer.”

Mu Chenxing pouted. “He also called me a tattletale.”

Zhang Yunli: “Hahaha~”

Mu Chenxing opened the camera, stood up, and hollered to the back: “Brothers, group photo!”

The chattering Alphas turned around, striking poses and yeah signs. Fu Yuefeng and another Alpha from the back row leaned over his head, pulling goofy faces.

Mu Chenxing snapped a few shots and nodded in satisfaction. “Thanks~”

He sent the photos to the group chat and asked if everyone was cool with posting to Douyin.

No objections.

So he posted:

@Milky Way Xingxing: Group photo [happy.jpg]

Reposts flooded in immediately.

Mu Chenxing skimmed them, picked out his teammates, and followed each one.

Just as he finished a bunch of follows, a message from Pei Yao popped up.

Pei Yao: pitiful.jpg

Mu Chenxing: ?

Pei Yao: We haven’t taken a photo together.

I bet he’s jealous, Mu Chenxing thought.

He replied: Normal. I was only 18 back then—had to keep everything hush-hush. Group photos leave evidence.

Pei Yao: ?

Mu Chenxing: ?

Pei Yao: Never thought of no photo because you were 18.

Mu Chenxing: …

Mu Chenxing: Forgot how you got photographed and trended?

Pei Yao: Oh, that’s normal.

Pei Yao: Some folks don’t want me transferring back to lead at the Border. Tried splashing me with dirt. Too bad, their boss couldn’t hold out.

The “boss” he meant was probably that fallen Admiral.

Mu Chenxing went quiet for a bit, then sighed: With enemies at the gates, these people are still fighting over power.

Pei Yao: Some folks just can’t keep their eyes on the prize.

Mu Chenxing: Meaning you can?

Pei Yao: Of course.

Mu Chenxing: Doubt it.

Pei Yao: ?

Mu Chenxing shut off the Holo-Screen, ignoring further messages—they’d arrived at the station. Time for food.

Lunch, nap, then training… By evening, he’d steered the topic elsewhere—during the match that day, he’d spotted a few strong contenders and discussed them with Pei Yao.

Not that he didn’t want to chat about the so-called “prize.”

But debating over nets and distance was pointless. Pei Yao would be at the finals in a few days. They could talk then.

…

The third round of the Stellar System Tournament ended. The Alliance First Military Academy sent 31 to compete; after three matches, 24 advanced to the finals, Mu Chenxing included.

Everyone was relaxed—at least more than during the Planetary Tournament.

The few who’d unfortunately lost were even more chill. No shot at the championship anyway; they got to experience the event, then pure fun in the latter half. Bliss.

While Mu Chenxing and the others crammed training during breaks and transit, those guys goofed off the whole time, spectating and snapping videos and photos of the hardworking ones.

Mu Chenxing was a prime target.

Sprint races against XX, arm-wrestling with XX, grappling matches with XXX… Even him scarfing two plates of food got posted online.

From the third match’s end to the three-day journey to the finals on Changhong Star, those idle guys posted over a hundred videos and photos—16 featuring Mu Chenxing alone.

Out of 24 competitors, one guy hogged 16 posts.

Zhang Yunli told him the stats.

Having infiltrated the senior Alphas’ circle, Zhang Yunli had seen everything. As they disembarked the ship and waited at the spaceport for the shuttle flight vehicle to the surface, he remarked, “All good kids.”

Mu Chenxing turned from the starry view outside the window. “What’s up?”

Zhang Yunli eyed the Alphas dashing to the spaceport convenience store for snacks and smiled. “You’ve been getting trashed online these days. They posted videos vouching for you—your strength’s all from daily training grind.”

“I know.” Mu Chenxing shrugged it off. “The hate started with the live streams, right? They’re just too wound up.”

Zhang Yunli shook his head. “More than that.”

He explained, “This was just the Stellar System Tournament. Live audience was mostly Central Star locals, and they’ve been pushing Omega enlistment for years—stream traffic’s hate was light. But post-tourney, they clipped the three matches into a highlight reel, blasted it across all-Alliance platforms. Way more viewers now—”

He checked the Holo-Screen. “That clip’s at over three hundred million views.”

Mu Chenxing: “…Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

Zhang Yunli: “No wonder other systems can’t recruit Omegas. Can’t blame the regional bias—internet’s everywhere. Can’t they broaden their horizons?”

Mu Chenxing: “Everyone’s online for fun, sticking to what they like. Shove something they hate in their faces? Instant rage.”

Zhang Yunli: “Just ignore it—hey!?”

“Won’t bother me. Let’s see what they’re saying.” Mu Chenxing opened Douyin and scrolled his buddies’ posts.

@Zhan Nongxin: Here we go again. Xing-ge’s ruthless—trains non-stop except eating and sleeping T_T What can I do? Risk my life to keep up with the gentleman.

…

@Fu Yuefeng: Who’d guess Xing-ge keeps improving mid-tourney? Terrifying Omega!!

Then Fu Yuefeng got roasted in reposts.

“Calling him terrifying? If you’re weak, just admit it!”

“Why didn’t you improve? Don’t like it?”

“Two weeks ago you were pinning him down. Now mid-matches and flights, you’re barely hanging on? Self-reflect much?”

…

Mu Chenxing smiled faintly, liking them one by one.

After, he dove into the comment sections.

Same old crap: Omegas shouldn’t be doing this, or the tourney’s a rich-kid privilege fest, or he’d slept his way up through these opponent Alphas.

…Live-streamed matches, and still that guesswork. Humanity’s IQ varied wildly.

No wonder no one told him.

Mu Chenxing closed the Holo-Screen.

Zhang Yunli was buried in his professional journal, dense data hurting the eyes.

…Looked like Zhang Yunli hadn’t even skimmed the comments.

Remembering how Zhang Yunli had only reposted that one Douyin of his in months, Mu Chenxing said nothing, pulled his cap low, crossed his arms, and feigned sleep.

…

The Alliance University Arena Competition finals were at the city Gymnasium, five straight days.

Rapid promotion format.

AI grouped players by Stellar System Tournament data, pitting similar strengths together for progressive elimination.

Win a round, advance.

Losers kept competing for better rankings.

More losses meant fewer future matches, lower rank.

Finals tested not just skill, but stamina and condition.

The government went big: booked a luxury hotel for all teams. flight vehicle from hotel to Gymnasium? Twenty minutes.

Lodging and schedule sorted.

All systems’ tourneys timed perfectly—every school arrived on Changhong Star within two days via starships.

Then at least a day and night to rest, adjust jet lag, or train. Their call. But handling the high-intensity finals? On them.

Mu Chenxing skipped intense training this time. Once there, he ate, slept, reset his clock, and did light warm-ups to maintain stamina.

The head judge for these finals: Pei Yao.

He figured Pei Yao would sneak a meetup, but even as matches started, no sign.

He interacted with buddies on Douyin, reposting group photos and videos—no peep from Pei Yao.

If nothing else, Pei Yao nailed priorities here.

—Alliance-wide live University Arena Competition right in front of them. As head judge, keeping distance was truly for his own good.

…But a message would’ve been nice.

You could feel the love—or lack.

Mu Chenxing closed the chat with no new pings, gritted his teeth, shadowboxed the air, schooled his face, and stepped out.

Zhang Yunli waiting outside grabbed him. “Don’t stress. Making it here’s victory. Alliance’ll reward you. Fight if you can; forfeit if not.”

Mu Chenxing: “…Teacher, why not tell me to quit earlier?”

Zhang Yunli: “You cleared Central Star; Stellar System was fine. But those Border systems’ Military Academies are beasts…”

“I know. Don’t worry. I’m here to compete, not die.” Mu Chenxing flashed a grin. “But I’ll see just how strong the Border’s Mecha Department really is!”

His flirty mute boyfriend might not be reliable, but the guy’s strength was Alliance-top-tier.

He couldn’t beat that freak level, but a regular Alpha? He had confidence.