That look in Cen Chi’s eyes wasn’t particularly meaningful, but Chi Zhan still instinctively shoved the clothes behind his back, trying to cover things up with a guilty tone.
“Cen Chi, you… haven’t left yet?”
Cen Chi was usually out early and back late. Chi Zhan already considered himself an early riser, but Cen Chi was always gone before him. At night, Cen Chi returned after they were all in bed. The few of them hardly ever crossed paths in the dorm—this was the first time Chi Zhan had run into him in the morning.
“Isn’t everyone heading out for field training today?” Cen Chi smiled, his gaze landing on the tips of Chi Zhan’s ears, now flushed scarlet. “Mind going together?”
“Not at all,” Chi Zhan replied, barely aware of what he was even saying. Right now, he only wanted to deal with the thing in his hand before anyone saw it. “I’m gonna go wash up first.”
“Mn.”
Chi Zhan bolted out of the room.
Cen Chi was left standing there, seemingly lost in thought.
Even though Chi Zhan had moved fast, it wasn’t nearly fast enough to hide what he was holding from Cen Chi’s sharp eyes.
Was he that affected by last night’s pheromones?
Even though Betas weren’t particularly sensitive to pheromones, an Alpha’s scent was inherently provocative. Even if the effect was minimal, that kind of influence could still subtly shift a person’s behavior over time.
Even the barest possibility was enough to stir something darkly delightful in Cen Chi’s chest.
He curved his lips into a faint smile, eyes fixed on Chi Zhan’s panicked, fleeing back. A wicked thought took root.
Next time… should I try it again?
It might be even more fun if he were fully conscious.
Chi Zhan had no idea what dangerous thoughts were brewing in Cen Chi’s mind. He quickly scrubbed his underwear clean, hung them out to dry, then began his morning routine, silently lecturing himself:
Today’s field exercise is crucial. No screw-ups allowed!
Fortunately, Tao Ran had woken up early today too, sparing them the usual chaos and last-minute panic.
Chi Zhan pulled his combat uniform out of the closet just as Cen Chi was putting his on. He tried to keep his tone casual.
“Did you have a nightmare last night?”
“Why do you ask?” Chi Zhan glanced at him curiously.
Chi Zhan tugged on the last of his uniform. At the Imperial Military Academy, every aspect of student life—from food to clothing to housing—was top-tier. The all-black combat gear hugged his frame perfectly, made from high-grade materials that clung just right in all the right places. When he fastened his belt, it cinched around a slender waist that seemed barely a handful wide. His long, lean legs completed the picture—an absolute visual treat.
Cen Chi let his gaze linger for a moment before speaking slowly, almost lazily.
“When I got back last night, I heard you saying ‘no’ over and over. Figured you must’ve run into something you couldn’t handle.”
Chi Zhan froze mid-motion.
It took him a few seconds to register what Cen Chi meant. Then his entire body went stiff.
This time, it wasn’t just his ears—his neck and face flushed with a telltale pink.
***
The assembly point was at the starport. Most of the students had already arrived, all dressed in their combat uniforms, forming a sea of black. Every face bore some measure of tension.
The announcement played out across both the broadcast system and the sky-screen in clear, methodical tones:
All third-year students, regardless of gender or department, would be split up and reassigned randomly. Ten students per starship, each group dispatched to an unknown location for the exercise.
Each student would be issued a tag bearing ten initial points. The mission was to capture others’ tags—each one worth another ten points. The field exercise would last for two days. To pass, a student needed at least 100 points. Any means of acquisition were allowed.
The moment that rule dropped, it was like tossing everyone into a vat of boiling oil—murmurs broke out all over the crowd.
Tao Ran sucked in a breath.
“These rules are like, hundreds of times harsher than before?!”
Even Chi Zhan couldn’t help showing a hint of surprise.
To pass, you’d need to steal at least nine other tags. If you lost your own tag, you’d have to grab ten more just to make up for it. Everyone only had one initial tag, and that didn’t even count the people who’d be eliminated for not reaching the required total. The passing rate was terrifyingly low.
Comparison was the thief of comfort. Last year’s third-years had it way easier.
Only Cen Chi remained calm, wearing the same composed expression he always did. Surrounded by anxious faces, he stood out all the more.
Chi Zhan glanced at him.
“You look like you already knew the rules ahead of time.”
Cen Chi smiled.
“I didn’t. But survival of the fittest is the natural order. And since this exercise directly affects our graduation prospects, it makes sense for the rules to be this brutal.”
His tone was so matter-of-fact that even Tao Ran couldn’t help commenting, “Don’t students from the medical division have a disadvantage in this sort of thing?”
In their minds, the medical students spent their days dissecting dummies or conducting experiments. Judging by the bizarre jars and containers on Cen Chi’s desk, it all seemed mysterious but not particularly lethal.
Cen Chi gave another small smile. There was something faintly mocking in it, but before he could respond, Chi Zhan spoke calmly.
“Not necessarily. In fact, if anything, the medical division might be the group we should be most wary of.”
Students from the Command Academy specialized in strategy. Their intellects were sharp, their minds adept at scheming and big-picture planning. Many high-born nobles—including the Crown Prince himself—chose this department, and they were experts at pulling strings from behind the scenes.
Students from the Mecha Academy had their own personal mechas, giving them a massive edge in terms of power and defense. Fighting while cocooned in a reinforced metal shell was a huge advantage, though it made stealth difficult.
The Etiquette Division, by contrast, was practically a moving target. Only Omegas were admitted, and their curriculum revolved around performance arts like singing and dancing. In battle terms, they were basically zero threat. The only downside for would-be attackers was their scarcity—less than ten percent of students came from that department, which meant there weren’t many points to steal.
Then there was the Intelligence Academy—arguably the most well-rounded of all. Students there trained in combat, disguise, toxins, and even floral arrangement. Most of their time was spent honing their fighting skills, while secondary disciplines like poisoncraft weren’t introduced until the third year.
