Chapter Twenty-Nine: Commander Zhang Yi

“Hurry up, or we’ll be late. By the way, do you know anything about the exam?” Li Daoran wrapped an arm around the conflicted Xu Xingxing as they walked, his tone casual.

Xu Xingxing glanced at the others, deciding it was better to explain everything later and simply shook his head. “No idea. I suppose they’ll tell us soon enough.”

The group followed behind the two, making their way toward the grand auditorium. Fights seemed to be so commonplace here that hardly anyone even stopped to watch, despite the commotion just now.

As they reached the entrance, they hadn’t even gone inside when the mohawked gang came panting up, visibly disheveled but, strangely, already healed from their earlier injuries. The purple-haired punk glared at Li Daoran with undisguised malice.

Li Daoran pondered this. It seemed Chen Ming and the others had guessed right—medical technology here was vastly more advanced. If they could develop gene serums that repaired the very building blocks of life, their basic medical system must be far beyond that of Aquamarine Star. If he ever had the chance, he’d have to see whether such advances could be brought back to improve things at home, though the possibility seemed remote.

After so many days, humanity’s initial frenzy had cooled. The research that should have been done was done. Li Daoran had pored over many basic courses, only to find that, while there was much to learn from, there was no hope of direct application. Materials here were different; what looked like steel was far tougher—stronger, harder, infinitely more resistant to corrosion. Even the energy sources for basic machinery were different, so the results diverged wildly. You could build a starship that looked identical to theirs, but it wouldn’t fly—at best, it would be a toy.

So, on Aquamarine Star, many toy mechs identical in appearance to the real thing appeared on the market, but not a single true mech was ever put into production.

The technological explosion they had dreamed of never arrived, but Li Daoran’s importance did not diminish in the least.

The top scientists remained hungry for every scrap of knowledge from Daoran’s world, hoping that one day they could showcase their prowess there. Many of their hypotheses were impossible to test or realize on Aquamarine Star, but in Daoran’s world, such things might be possible.

Chen Ming and the others had told him all this in their idle conversations. Over a million people worldwide were already preparing for this exam, so he needn’t worry. They even hinted, with an air of mystery, that a secret weapon had been prepared for him. He had been reluctant to sign up for over eighty subjects, especially since the time ratio was three to one—120 minutes for the exam here meant only 40 minutes on Aquamarine Star.

Though time would freeze for him when he returned, the thought of having to memorize all the answers was daunting. Eighty-three subjects meant he’d have to go back and forth countless times. Such frequent transitions, and then falling asleep again afterward—who could know what unpredictable consequences might arise?

Lost in thought, Li Daoran didn’t notice that the mohawked gang had already rushed past them into the auditorium. No one dared cause trouble here, and as they passed, the leader muttered, “Xu Xingxing, we have a score to settle.”

Xu Xingxing just grinned indifferently, while the rest of Class Ten responded with scornful looks.

The purple-haired punk glared at Li Daoran, who, in response, glanced meaningfully at his crotch. The punk’s face tightened in pain, and he involuntarily took a step back, provoking a round of raucous laughter.

The punk’s face grew paler still, but the mohawked leader slapped him on the shoulder, and then they all filed inside.

Xu Xingxing eyed Li Daoran with a strange look. “What did you do to him?”

Though they had no idea what the purple-haired punk had actually suffered, it didn’t stop them from mocking his retreat in the face of a mere glance.

Li Daoran shrugged and made a fist, miming the scene for them.

At that, all the boys looked at the punk’s retreating back with a mix of sympathy and amusement. Every man could empathize with that kind of pain.

“You really are something else,” Xu Xingxing said, suppressing a laugh and nudging Li Daoran with his shoulder.

The thirty students lingered at the entrance, joking around, which soon attracted attention.

Bear Mountain appeared, his expression sour. “Follow me. I’ll deal with you all later.”

Xu Xingxing and the others quickly lowered their heads, well aware of Bear Mountain’s reputation. They exchanged worried glances, signaling that they were in trouble.

Only Li Daoran, the homebody, was oblivious to Bear Mountain’s illustrious history. He smiled, “Brother Bear, long time no see.”

“Hmph. Quiet. Don’t talk,” Bear Mountain snapped, making his displeasure known.

Li Daoran obediently fell silent and followed, taking his seat marked with his number.

Before long, everyone was seated—over ten thousand people in all. The auditorium was certainly vast, rivaling any great hall.

After the usual round of official speeches and accolades, the current leader of the White Deer Republic, Zhang Yi, took the stage for the final address.

“Hello, students. I am Zhang Yi. Many of you may not know me, and that’s understandable. The White Deer Republic is vast—even I haven’t visited every corner, a real shame. If I ever get the chance, I’ll make it happen.”

He paused, surveying the sea of faces.

“I’ll keep it brief. All of you here are the elite of the Republic. This is the first time you’ve all gathered since the beginning of term. You stand at the threshold of your first assessment. Pass, and you’ll stay to continue your studies. If you fail, don’t be discouraged—you can still shine in the world beyond these walls.”

“There’s a rumor that someone signed up for eighty-three subjects at once. I think that’s admirable. It doesn’t cost anything to sign up, so why not? If you don’t even have the courage to register, there’s little point in staying here.”

A murmur swept through the crowd but was quickly stilled.

“I think this student has bold ideas. However, cleverness can be overdone. The exam will be completed within three days—no exceptions. Many subjects overlap, so you’ll have to make your own choices.”

“Of course, I personally have high hopes for you. Perhaps you really do have what it takes to succeed. So, I’m granting you a special privilege: you may arrive late, but your finishing time will be the same as everyone else’s.”

Just as Zhang Yi was about to continue, someone emerged from backstage and whispered something in his ear. Maintaining his composure, Zhang Yi gestured for the messenger to leave, then addressed the students again.

“A minor incident has come up. That’s the life of a leader—always some new issue. I wish you all success in your exams. I’ll take my leave now. Your instructors will handle the rest of the arrangements. Farewell, students. I hope that when I next return, you’ll all still be here.”

With that, Zhang Yi turned and strode off the stage, quick yet dignified, not waiting for the applause to die down.

Xu Xingxing’s eyes shone with excitement. He whispered to Li Daoran, “Something big must have happened. Is the Philian Empire invading?”

Li Daoran rolled his eyes, unable to understand Xu Xingxing’s fixation with war. Was war a good thing? On Aquamarine Star, people wished nothing more than for peace, to live quietly and uneventfully.

Sure enough, Bear Mountain glared at Xu Xingxing, who instantly shrank back, not daring to make another sound.