The five-day competition ran from Wednesday straight through to Sunday.
The entire Alliance broadcast it across multiple channels with split screens, each feed focusing on contestants from a single star system.
But no matter the star system’s stream, every channel reserved one hovering camera drone for the competition’s sole Omega, ready to switch feeds at any moment.
So, twelve camera drones hovered above Mu Chenxing’s head like troops arrayed for battle.
—While on the rostrum in the Gymnasium, Admiral Pei Yao, the chief judge, had only two buzzing overhead.
Mu Chenxing sat calmly in the prep area, scanning his surroundings.
Zhang Yunli and the others were in the spectator seats, leaving only Fu Yuefeng and company around him.
He stayed calm, but Fu Yuefeng and the rest couldn’t.
Everyone knew it was live-streamed, so they all sat ramrod straight, staring ahead while exchanging low whispers without moving their lips.
“That’s way too many cameras.”
“Xing-ge’s a total superstar now.”
“This kind of fame? Nah, Xing-ge’s catching so much flak for no reason.”
“Is Xing-ge gonna secretly cry into his pillow at night?”
“Oh god, Xing-ge washes his face with tears every day, numbing himself with training just to pretend he’s strong!”
“At a time like this, Xing-ge needs a strong, reliable Alpha like me as backup! Come on, Xing-ge, throw yourself into my arms~”
“I’m way more dependable—you can’t even satisfy Xing-ge’s needs, so how could he rely on you?”
“You satisfied him?”
“I can at least last three minutes. Unlike you, who can’t even make it two!”
“Hahaha~ Then I’m even better—I can hold out for four!”
Mu Chenxing’s mouth twitched. He couldn’t hold back and muttered a curse under his breath: “Talk normally. Don’t you see the swarm of cameras overhead?”
His lips stayed still too.
“No worries. We’re Military Academy students—if we can’t dodge basic surveillance, we won’t graduate.”
“Some cameras? Pfft, what’s to fear?”
“If they could pick up what we’re saying, we’d be done for anyway.”
Mu Chenxing: “…”
He’d spent too much time at the Medical College and forgotten.
They kept giggling and joking until everyone had finally entered the arena.
This round was far more formal than the previous matches. Government officials overseeing the event gave opening remarks, offering encouragement and praise to all the schools and contestants who had made it to the finals.
They even gave Mu Chenxing a special shoutout.
Mu Chenxing immediately stood up.
The faint whir of the cameras overhead adjusting their lenses reached his ears, and the muttering classmates around him fell instantly silent.
“…As an Omega who made it to the finals, you must have put in tremendous effort. I hope you gain even more from this competition, go even further, and become a role model for more Omegas.”
…Was that it? Mu Chenxing hesitated, then saluted toward the distant rostrum.
The official, barely visible except on the massive screen, continued: “I hear you’re a senior this year. What made you decide to sign up—cough, we’ll save the summaries for after the matches. Just focus on competing well!”
Mu Chenxing saluted again.
“Next, please welcome our chief judge for the finals, Admiral Pei Yao, for a few words.”
The Holo-Screen shifted, revealing a tall Alpha in a crisp military uniform.
High nose, deep eyes, sharp brows, thin lips, and hard-lined features—even through the Holo-Screen, his chilling aura hit like a wave.
His gaze swept the arena casually, and the scattered murmurs in the Gymnasium began to die down. In seconds, the massive venue holding over ten thousand people fell deathly silent, as if the air itself had frozen.
Everyone unconsciously straightened their backs.
Mu Chenxing stared at the screen.
Pei Yao suddenly smiled.
The stern chill melted away in an instant.
The air in the Gymnasium seemed to flow again.
The Alphas around Mu Chenxing let out quiet sighs of relief and resumed their whispers.
“Worth being an Admiral.”
“Such intense pheromone suppression.”
“No scent at all, as expected.”
“Rumor is no one’s ever figured out the Admiral’s pheromone scent.”
Mu Chenxing kept staring at the screen.
Onscreen, Pei Yao smiled amiably: “This isn’t my first time as chief judge. The rules are set, everything’s live-streamed, so I’ll just sit here like a prop, watch the matches, and hand out awards at the end. Nothing much to say—give it your all… Now, switch the feed to the matches.”
The last words came like an order.
The massive Holo-Screen immediately shifted, overlooking the entire Gymnasium before zooming to the ground, gliding over the demarcated competition zones equipped for the event.
The regulating AI Brain quickly recapped the rules in a few sentences, and the matches began.
…
In the row of streams for the University Arena Competition, the Central Star System channel’s viewer count kept climbing, dominating the traffic peak.
“It’s starting!”
“Opponents from West Rock Military Academy—Border star system Military Academy. To emerge from the Border, they must be top-tier!”
“Oh god, that’s our school’s best Mecha senior! Our school’s championship favorite!!”
“No way? The AI matches by strength—Mu Chenxing’s that good?”
“West Rock Military Academy wouldn’t throw the match, right?”
“It’s on, it’s on!”
“Let me see—holy shit!”
“Holy shit!”
“…Mu Chenxing punches that big guy back two steps?”
“So fast—is that even reasonable?”
“I don’t believe it—hiss!”
“Damn, Mu Chenxing’s face swelled up instantly!”
“Oh my god, they’re really fighting?! Not just for show?!”
“Despicable—how can they hit an Omega?! Right in the face!!”
“…Front row, this is a match!”
“Omegas should just be proper Omegas and not come whining onto the field.”
“He’s on the stage—expecting others to go easy?”
“Mu Chenxing’s still fighting back—getting fiercer!!”
“This Omega’s so ferocious!”
“How’s an Omega like this gonna get married?”
“Scary—give me an Omega like that and I’d pass!”
…
After taking a few punches, Mu Chenxing finally found an opening to kick his opponent flat. First match: victory.
Seeing the small screen above his zone flash his win, he saluted his ashen-faced opponent and headed to the medical station.
It was an arena competition, after all, so doctors waited nearby—especially orthopedics for external injuries.
Matches didn’t allow treatment for minor wounds, but fractures, cracks, heavy bleeding, or internal damage warranted on-site medical aid.
As Mu Chenxing left the zone, the camera drones circling the equipment dropped altitude to follow.
He pretended not to notice and walked on calmly.
Before he reached the station, the doctors all stood up.
The lead one even stepped forward cautiously: “Classmate Mu, are you feeling unwell anywhere?”
Mu Chenxing didn’t bother asking how they knew his name. He just nodded politely: “Hello, teachers. Do you have any bone injury meds approved for use during matches?”
He recalled Zhang Yunli mentioning the special meds for competitions—no hormones or stimulants, nothing banned.
Two more doctors approached:
“Are you injured?”
“Our meds are all match-approved, but no guarantees on speed or efficacy.”
They began inspecting him.
Mu Chenxing touched the right side of his ribs and admitted honestly: “Probably fractured. Need to spray something on it.”
The doctors: “!!”
They immediately pulled him to the equipment, handing him a scanner to press inside his clothes.
Seconds later, the imaging showed: fractured, indeed.
One doctor urged: “Withdraw now. Fractured in the first round—what about the rest—”
“Not the first round.” Mu Chenxing handed back the device, straightened his clothes, and said flatly, “I fought my way here from the Preliminary Selection, match by match.”
The doctor: “But you’re fractured now.”
“So I’m here, aren’t I?” Mu Chenxing replied. “I just need a patch—enough to not affect my matches.”
The doctor: “…”
The other doctors: “…”
Viewers in the streams: “…”
Keep competing?!
The doctor tried persuading him: “You’ve already done amazingly—don’t push it—”
“What’s going on?” A deep voice approached from afar. Before the words finished, a towering Alpha stood before Mu Chenxing, scrutinizing him closely.
The man who had smiled amiably on the big screen now frowned slightly, his intimidating aura pressing down again, suffocating.
The doctors fell silent instantly.
Mu Chenxing paused, raising a hand to stand—
But a gentle press sat him back down.
Pei Yao turned to the speaking doctor: “How bad is his injury?”
The doctor flinched: “Minor fracture in the seventh rib on the lower right side. Recommend withdrawal.”
Pei Yao didn’t respond, turning to Mu Chenxing instead: “What’s your plan?”
Mu Chenxing lowered his head slightly, bangs falling over his eyes: “Just a minor fracture. Some spray will fix it.”
He’d faced a tough opponent right off, taking two hits to the face. But he wasn’t afraid of embarrassment—he just didn’t want to let any uncontrolled expression slip on the live stream.
Pei Yao stared at him: “But you’re injured. If you face stronger opponents later, it could worsen—not something spray can handle.”
Mu Chenxing gazed at the floor marked with the medical emblem, calm: “Just make sure they can’t touch it.”
Pei Yao: “…”
The doctors: “…”
The streams filled with strings of ellipses, mixed with “So cocky” and “What arrogance.”
Mu Chenxing waited, no one speaking, then lifted his gaze to meet the tall Alpha’s: “It’s my match. Don’t I get a say? The rules say this level of injury doesn’t require withdrawal—or does the Admiral’s order override them?”
The doctors gasped.
The doctor who’d advised him whispered quickly: “The Admiral doesn’t mean that—don’t get worked up—”
“Fine.” Pei Yao frowned, staring coldly. “Continue the competition. But if the bone takes another hit and shifts, withdraw per the rules.”
“Got it.”
Pei Yao: “Give him the meds.”
The doctors: “…Yes, sir.”
Someone tremblingly brought the spray.
But Pei Yao snatched it and tossed it to a white-haired old man with a yellow badge: “Verify compliance.”
“…Yes.”
Only after inspection could it enter the zone—and under full Alliance live stream, who would dare smuggle bans?
Still, Pei Yao was chief judge and an Admiral; they didn’t argue. Under a dozen camera drones, they rechecked the meds meticulously.
Finally, Pei Yao took it back and beckoned to the hovering drones.
The drones: “?”
Pei Yao: “Two or three of you, down for a close-up.”
The doctors: “…”
The backstage operators: “…”
The streams: “…”
Once the drones finished and flew off, Pei Yao handed the spray to Mu Chenxing.
Mu Chenxing tugged at his hem—
His hand was pressed down again.
Pei Yao frowned at the doctors: “Where’s the privacy screen? This is an Omega!!”
The doctors: “!”
One doctor frantically rummaged through boxes, finally pulling out a roll. He tore off a sheet.
A dark, thin film like a preservative bag stretched open, hung on a curved frame, and draped over Mu Chenxing.
Mu Chenxing’s world went dark.
He: “…”
Fine.
Using the light filtering from below, he lifted his clothes and sprayed.
Done, he pulled off the film and handed back the bottle.
Pei Yao checked the event timer: “Back to prep for your next match.”
“Yes, sir.” Mu Chenxing saluted him, then the doctors, and left.
Pei Yao watched his back for two seconds, glanced at the trailing drones, and returned to the rostrum.
The streams exploded:
“Admiral Pei’s so responsible! Love him!”
“Did the Admiral come check because he’s the first Omega in arena finals?”
“Jealous! I wanna talk to Admiral Pei too.”
“If I entered the comp, would Admiral Pei talk to me?”
“…First, make finals.”
“And do you think Admiral Pei would like this Omega?”
“Two billion Alphas in this stream—do you see them liking this Omega?”
“Not even Betas would like an Alpha like that!”
“With a face all bruised and battered, who’d fall for him?”
“He’s bruised from the match, but that Omega’s actually pretty good-looking.”
“Maybe Admiral Pei’s into that type?”
“Come on, Pei’s seen countless top-tier Omegas and he’s still single. He wouldn’t touch a rough, terrifying one like that.”
“I heard Admiral Pei’s against marriage altogether. Doesn’t like Omegas.”
“What about Betas?”
“The Omegas and Betas chasing the Admiral could circle Central Star twice. Two years ago at an event, he publicly said he was single.”
“Maybe he’s gotten hitched in the last couple years?”
“No way!”
“With all those people in the Military District, if he wanted to settle down, he would’ve by now. No news means he’s still single!”
“Exactly. Look at how long he’s been single—I’m starting to think he doesn’t date because he’s impotent!”
“…”
…
Mu Chenxing returned to his seat, and Fu Yuefeng, who’d finished his match early, hurried over to help him sit down. He asked quietly about the situation.
The other classmates crowded around too.
Mu Chenxing gave a quick rundown in a couple sentences.
Everyone:
“There’s nothing you can do about it.”
“Omegas have natural physical limits. You did your best.”
Fu Yuefeng: “If you can’t hold out later, just withdraw. Principal Fu and the others are already thrilled you made it this far.”
Mu Chenxing shook his head and said no more. Instead, he asked, “Do you know the guy I just fought?”
Fu Yuefeng nodded. “Yeah, we ran into him during an exchange match with the Mecha Department before. He’s tough—you only ended up with a fracture against him. That’s already impressive.”
Mu Chenxing pondered. My next opponents probably won’t be easy either.
Fu Yuefeng patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry. We talked about this—we only have two or three guys better than me, and the day before yesterday you—”
He glanced at the camera and clamped his mouth shut.
Mu Chenxing mused. So I might face you next.
Fu Yuefeng: “Don’t jinx it. I’m gunning for the championship—at least top three!”
Mu Chenxing: “Oh.”
Fu Yuefeng tensed up. “You don’t think I’ll even make top three, do you?”
He glared at the scoreboard displaying the results and started scrolling through the competition.
Mu Chenxing ignored him and turned toward the podium.
Pei Yao just now… was that him playing it safe for me?
Hmph. Still treating me like a kid.
After the round, there was a twenty-minute break. Everyone hit the restrooms, grabbed water, warmed up—whatever they needed.
Twenty minutes later, the Intelligent Brain announced the next matchups.
Fu Yuefeng checked the number on his Holo-Screen, then peeked at Mu Chenxing’s. He let out a wail: “Damn! Mu Chenxing, you jinx!”
Mu Chenxing: “…”
They really did match up.
The classmates shot him sympathetic looks:
“Time for the infighting to start.”
“Fight fair!”
“Don’t hold back.”
Livestream:
“Looks like the show’s about to begin.”
“These guys are all from the same school, right? Telling each other to fight hard.”
“They must all know the inside story. They can’t stand that Omega, huh?”
“Are you sure? They seem pretty chummy.”
“If they were really tight, they wouldn’t let an injured Omega keep competing.”
“True that.”
…
The countdown ended.
Mu Chenxing planted his feet—one forward, one back—clenched his fists, and called out to the conflicted Fu Yuefeng across from him: “Come on.”
Fu Yuefeng clawed at his hair frantically. “You’re injured!”
Mu Chenxing: “How many injuries have I taken before? Quit yapping—take this!”
He charged with fists raised.
Fu Yuefeng: “Aaaah—!”
He squeezed his eyes shut and bolted.
“What the—Fu Yuefeng!!”
Fu Yuefeng leaped out of the match zone boundary and crouched down. “I forfeit.”
Mu Chenxing went to drag him back. “Bullshit, get in—”
A ding chimed, and the Intelligent Brain’s mechanical voice rang out: “Zone B168: Alliance First Military Academy’s Mu Chenxing wins.”
The crowd erupted in shock.
The livestream flooded with exclamation marks.
Mu Chenxing: “…”
Fuming, he swung a fist at Fu Yuefeng’s head.
Fu Yuefeng hugged his head. “It’s not like losing means I’m out. We’ve still got five days—I can snag a medal at least.”
Mu Chenxing: “You— what if I’d lost?”
Fu Yuefeng: “Doesn’t matter. It’s livestreamed. If he… sees me beat you while you’re hurt, he’ll be pissed.”
Mu Chenxing: “.”
Hopeless love-struck idiot. No saving him.
He stormed off.
Livestream:
“I knew it!”
“That Fu guy—I remember he’s supposed to be badass!! What a shame.”
“Insider dealing for sure!”
“Who’s ‘he’?!”
“That’s the big money behind the scenes!”
“So Mu Chenxing really is just here to gild his resume!”
“Even his own school won’t fight him!”
