Faced with the blatant shamelessness of the Principal of Benne Military School, the other members of the organizing committee—all prominent figures in their own right—fell into a brief, stunned silence before erupting in a collective verbal assault.
The committee members were furious. They had wondered why the old Principal seemed so invested in the "spirit of friendly competition" this time around. Usually, whenever Benne Military School participated, the unscrupulous institution lived by the motto "Competition First, Friendship Second," ruthlessly crushing other colleges with their overwhelming strength and leaving a trail of psychological trauma in their wake. This time, Benne had broken tradition by sending only two students.
Seeing only two participants in such a chaotic mixed-format match, they had assumed the old Principal had finally turned over a new leaf and was showing the grace of a host. They never expected this.
The Principal wasn't being modest; he had dropped a nuclear-grade player onto the field to execute a dimension-reduction strike. It was simply too much! The old man was nothing but a silver-tongued rogue.
Ignoring the fact that the committee members were practically rolling up their sleeves to brawl with the Principal, the Old Marshal, watching from the sidelines, turned his gaze back to the holographic display. A gratified smile touched his lips. Finally...
The candidates for Benne Military School’s new Chief had appeared. Two of them, no less. Excellent.
The Old Marshal wasn't the only one watching. Many Benne alumni, upon hearing that the quadrennial Interstellar College Joint Competition was being held on Planet Kanta, had found themselves drawn to the live stream. They were moved by a mysterious premonition that, after so many years, Benne would finally have students competing again.
Sure enough, the match did not disappoint.
Among the vast audience across the Star Net, perhaps only these graduates—those who had truly studied at Benne, graduated, and inherited the school’s philosophy—had noticed Team 18 from the very beginning.
Though the names of the thirty teams had been deliberately obscured, the moment they saw that team infiltrating deep behind enemy lines, the Benne alumni felt a powerful, inexplicable intuition: this two-person team came from their school. It was a gut feeling, devoid of scientific basis.
They were the only group whose attention had remained fixed on Team 18 from start to finish. They followed their journey through the surprise raid, the decapitation strike, and the hijacking of the flagship. They watched them carve a path from the enemy’s rear to the front lines. The ease with which they wiped out the student mecha squads was exactly what the alumni had expected.
These Benne graduates were not people to be trifled with. Many had seen real combat; some had even risen to the rank of Captain. They could perform such raids themselves. In fact, they saw Team 18 being randomly dropped into the heart of enemy territory not as a disadvantage, but as a head start for the strong. At that moment, they saw the brilliant future of their juniors.
Then came the final showdown.
In truth, up until that point, almost no one—including the Benne alumni—believed Team 18 would win. They saw the infinite potential in these two young men, but they also saw their youth. They lacked the experience to handle such a staggering disparity in power. Even the graduates with extensive combat experience admitted that, placed in Team 18’s position without external variables, they couldn't have won easily. Some had even considered a suicidal charge, a "jade and stone burned together" tactic. This wasn't a real battlefield, after all; if the commander of Team 18 had chosen a kamikaze play, it would have been understandable.
However, such a move was undesirable on a real battlefield, where the life of every Federation soldier was precious. A commander who relied on desperate, eccentric gambles might be called a Great General, but they would never be a King.
And then, reality delivered a sharp slap to their expectations.
There was no predicted failure. The team won—not with a pyrrhic victory where they barely escaped with their lives, and not through a suicide mission. It was a clean, effortless, and overwhelming triumph that defied all expectations.
The live stream told the world that Team 18 hadn't just won; they had won with absolute honor and indisputable skill. They had created a miracle.
At that moment, a single thought rose in the minds of every Benne graduate watching: these must be their Chiefs—the pre-graduates of the ace Interstellar Combat Command major!
This was the ultimate goal behind the Principal’s decision to use a full-scale live stream. What platform was faster or more efficient than the Star Net to broadcast to all alumni that their Chief had returned?
If Feng Zhixi and his partner wanted to be truly recognized as Chiefs by the graduates, they couldn't rely on their major or their titles. they had to rely on raw strength. The Principal’s method was simple: put the strength of these two pre-graduates on display for the whole world to see.
Thus, while the two subjects were still unaware, Feng Zhixi and Ji Ye-ran had already become Chief candidates in the eyes of Benne’s younger generation, promising stars in the eyes of the middle-aged graduates, and spirited "cubs" in the eyes of the old guard.
This was the Principal’s transparent, undeniable masterstroke. Truly, the older the ginger, the spicier it gets.
At this moment, no one knew that in the previous timeline, neither Feng Zhixi nor Ji Ye-ran had participated in this highly anticipated competition. In that life, the ones who had shone and captured everyone's attention were Ji Wei and Hill. But this time, their light was eclipsed by Feng and Ji like fireflies before the sun. Though Ji Wei’s performance was impressive, it only left a "decent" impression; he failed to become the focus of the Federation’s high society. As for Hill, while his modified mecha were noticed, he himself drew no attention from anyone—except Benjamin.
***
Back at the committee headquarters, the Old Marshal, having seen enough of the show, finally spoke up to stop the members who were about to mob the Principal. Watching these men, all of whom were at least a century old, bickering like children, the Old Marshal gave a light cough. He signaled for them to stop; what he wanted to know most was the identity of these two children.
Two photos and two brief profiles appeared before the committee. These photos had been automatically scanned and generated by the system when the contestants entered the arena. They showed two handsome young men, each with his own distinct charm, both tall, spirited, and brimming with youthful vigor.
"Wait... why do they look so familiar?" One of the committee members, the Executive Director of Administrative Affairs for the Lanli Research Institute, rubbed his eyes in disbelief. Wasn't that their own Chief, Feng Zhixi?
Recognizing the youth who had just thrashed his own students, the old Dean of the Lanli Research Institute nearly turned blue with rage. He had given the brat a vacation, not permission to go represent another school and beat up his own people!
Another member was equally stunned: Patriarch Ji, Ji Ye-ran’s grandfather and the Vice Principal of the First Military Academy. Patriarch Ji was shocked. Hadn't the most rebellious brat in his family requested a transfer to the prison? Was the job of a Prison Warden now to help other schools bully his own kin?!
*You little brat, just you wait!*
The Principal, beaming with joy, simply remarked, "My apologies, but they are both students of our Benne Military School~"
"They're~ mine~"
Only then did the other committee members truly witness the limit of the Principal’s shamelessness. Using the Chief of the Lanli Research Institute and a young Interstellar Prison Warden to play in a college competition wasn't just being thick-skinned—it was utterly unscrupulous! It was outrageous!
Faced with their accusations, the Principal still felt he was in the right. After all, both his students were only twenty years old, younger than many of the other contestants—Ji Wei, for instance, was already twenty-five. Besides, the two "cubs" hadn't graduated yet, so how could it be a foul? They were just being sore losers!
"Enough." Seeing the old men about to square off again, the Old Marshal waved a hand, settling the matter. "The youth are to be feared; their futures are limitless." In other words: stop arguing.
Meanwhile, the two "fear-inspiring" youths with "limitless futures" were engaged in their own version of petty bickering. The cause of the dispute was the stunning final battle they had just concluded.
Leaving the holographic pods, Ji Ye-ran pressed a hand to his still-aching forehead while using his other arm to block Feng Zhixi’s path. His expression was grim. "Don't you think you owe me an explanation?"
Feng Zhixi, despite their grand victory, didn't look particularly happy either. He countered, "I installed an escape device on your mecha. Why didn't you use it?"
It was a modified, simplified miniature directional jump device. The jump coordinates were set to his flagship. Yet, until the very end, Ji Ye-ran hadn't used it. Instead, he had allowed himself to be caught in the explosion of the enemy starship, sacrificing himself "gloriously." *How impressive, a hero!*
The man was clearly out of his mind.
Faced with Feng Zhixi’s interrogation, Ji Ye-ran’s temper flared. Massaging his throbbing temples, he asked with forced patience, "Do you even know what kind of device you installed?"
"A miniature directional jump device." Feng Zhixi shot him a look. Was it that strange? Hadn't someone just seen the larger version?
Seeing Feng Zhixi’s self-righteousness, Ji Ye-ran almost laughed from anger. "You *know* it's a miniature jump device?" In a competition like this, under the watchful eyes of the entire world, could he really use such a thing?
Was he supposed to ignore the massive energy blast from two colliding behemoth flagships and just casually reappear on the rear flagship so they could win with a full squad? Did he want to blind everyone with his brilliance? Was he trying to draw every dangerous eye in the galaxy to them?!
In the future, even when Hill stood at the pinnacle of Federation technology with General Ji Wei backing him, he had nearly been assassinated because of such inventions. What about the current Feng Zhixi, who had nothing?
The wind destroys the tallest tree.
Thinking of Feng Zhixi’s future, Ji Ye-ran suddenly realized he needed to give this "little brat" a serious lesson—a lesson titled "How Not to Flaunt Your Claws."
*I must grow stronger as quickly as possible,* Ji Ye-ran thought silently as he looked at the defiant, prickly Omega.
*Oh?* Feng Zhixi raised a brow lazily, his gaze full of scrutiny. Ji Ye-ran was acting like he was some paragon of humble gentlemanly virtue, when in reality, he was just an arrogant brat with a hero complex.
Sensing the provocation in the Omega’s eyes, Ji Ye-ran narrowed his own. *Looking for trouble?*
Feng Zhixi sneered. *Who's afraid of who?*
And so, their petty bickering began to escalate, fueled by the refusal of either side to back down.
