Verdant branches intertwined overhead, casting dancing shadows in mottled patterns. Unlike the main planet with its regulated seasons, this small island followed nature’s raw laws: long sunlight hours, and under the warm sun, students—flying parachutes, racing across the terrain, or searching intently—began to feel the heat.
The combat uniform was never designed to be breathable. With every button fastened and the zipper pulled up, Chi Zhan—who usually ran cold—only now belatedly felt the heat’s effect.
In fact, he’d begun to notice it some time ago. After sprinting a long stretch and finally coming to rest, warmth crept up his spine, beads of sweat surfaced, and his undershirt was now soaked through.
Chi Zhan remained on high alert, scanning the surroundings, ears straining for any sign of pursuit. A few minutes passed with no trace, and he realized Xiao Xing truly hadn’t caught up.
He exhaled silently.
For some reason, a faint sense of guilt settled in his chest.
He pressed his back against a tree trunk and stared up at the sky, using the dappled light to gauge the time. Their wristwatches were gone, and with no artificial network on the island, there was no access to light-brains. He had to judge by the sun’s course—the oldest method.
It was already noon.
He’d just eaten, so neither hunger nor thirst bothered him. He sighed, reaching into the pocket on his left chest to adjust the placement of his name tag. But as his fingers entered, he felt something unfamiliar and hard—metallic.
Two metal plates.
One was his own. The other bore Xiao Xing’s name.
Why was Xiao Xing’s name tag in his pocket?
Chi Zhan couldn’t remember when Xiao Xing had put it there.
Despite how unbelievable it seemed, the only conclusion made sense:
Xiao Xing must have put it in himself.
He had no clue what was going on in the other’s mind.
Chi Zhan fell silent for a moment, the beginnings of a headache pulsing behind his eyes.
He couldn’t just pocket Xiao Xing’s tag without conscience. But if he returned it, he’d have to turn around and look for him—something he didn’t want.
Did Xiao Xing anticipate his escape and plant the tag on him intentionally? If so, Chi Zhan grudgingly admired the other’s foresight.
But as he tried to retrace his path, he realized he didn’t remember which way he’d come.
In the forest, there were no landmarks—only endless trees and uneven ground. Away from the water’s edge, the soil was hard, leaving no footprints. The very route he’d taken to evade Xiao Xing now disoriented him.
He wandered, confused, growing increasingly lost.
The heat intensified.
A subtle flame ignited from within him, slowly creeping to his limbs and seeping through exposed skin, evaporating into the air.
A faint, unique scent blended with the forest’s humid tang. Chi Zhan didn’t notice it—but every Alpha in the area caught it in unison.
A strange yet intoxicating aroma.
It was pheromones.
High-quality Omega pheromones.
Not overpowering, but enough for sensitive Alpha sense to be drawn as wolves to prey.
Though all military academy students were trained to resist pheromone influence, this was like catnip to a feline. Even aware of possible danger, feet moved instinctively toward the scent.
Chi Zhan stopped dead.
He peered around tensely, and heard faint rustling—broken branches and soft steps—coming closer toward him.
Betas, physiologically less acute than Alphas, were at a clear disadvantage here, and Chi Zhan felt it.
He held his breath, blending into the shadow of overlapping branches. But the searchers didn’t back off. Their steps sped, honing in on him.
Before he could react, the first Alpha pinpointed his hiding spot. Chi Zhan struck instantly—an elbow to the face—and his attacker, clearly surprised at an Omega’s strength, paused without countering. That gave Chi Zhan his opening.
As he pummeled the first Alpha, two more crashed in beside him. Chi Zhan quickly sidestepped, using the fallen Alpha as a human shield as a blow came his way.
He lunged for his particle sword—he’d taken only weapons and medicine when fleeing Xiao Xing—but another Alpha tackled him before he could reach it. Sensing danger, Chi Zhan abandoned reaching and focused on the fight.
Skilled in martial arts class, he handled two Alphas easily. But when a third joined, fatigue set in. Most students would’ve given up by then—but Chi Zhan was the opposite: the harder it got, the more he refused to back down. He poured every ounce of strength into the fight and knocked all three Alphas flat.
By then he was near exhaustion. One hand cuffed an Alpha by the neck as a warning—don’t move, or regret it—while the other two lay unconscious.
Thankfully, their combat training had been mediocre. If they’d been better, he might not have managed to hold off all three at once.
“How did you find me?” Chi Zhan asked in a low voice.
His arm trembled from exertion, though he fought to steady it. The tremor was barely perceptible—but not to the sharp eyes of the Alpha pinned under his arm.
