The air in Jiang Gui's laboratory hummed with the faint whine of machinery, a sterile symphony punctuated by the occasional clank of metal. Bai Sha gripped the controls of a robotic arm, her brow furrowed in concentration as she mimicked Jiang Gui's earlier demonstration. The Red-Feather Sparrow Queen's remains lay before her, its gleaming bones and iridescent wings a stark contrast to the utilitarian tools at her disposal. Jiang Gui's techniques were audacious, bordering on reckless—methods Bai Sha hadn't dared imagine, yet he executed them with a precision that left her both awestruck and intimidated.
"Try it," Jiang Gui had said, tossing her the controls with a casual flick. Now, as she fumbled through the process, sweat beaded on her forehead. Jiang Gui lounged nearby, his gloves discarded, a yawn escaping as he offered languid critiques. "Too slow. You're overthinking it. Angle the blade sharper—there, like that."
Bai Sha paused, her hands hovering over the controls, and shot him a glare. "Teacher, must we practice with materials of this caliber? A Queen's bones? Couldn't we start with something less… irreplaceable?"
Jiang Gui raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of amusement and disdain. "What do you know? If you can handle a Queen's materials, lesser grades will be child's play. I won't need to waste time teaching you the basics." He leaned back, crossing his arms. "You're doing decently—steady mindset, but your pace is glacial, and you're too clean. In a real battlefield, you won't have the luxury of scrubbing every speck of impurity. Later refining will burn off most contaminants; their impact is negligible. Don't obsess over minutiae."
Bai Sha gestured to a pile of pristine, ivory-like bones on the table, their surfaces gleaming as if polished. "But you processed these so cleanly!"
Jiang Gui's lips twitched. "You comparing yourself to me?"
Bai Sha opened her mouth, then closed it, her retort dying under his withering gaze. She muttered under her breath, but Jiang Gui pressed on, undeterred. "Those impurities I mentioned? Their effect is minimal, not nonexistent. I can balance speed and precision. You can't—not yet." He pointed to the bones. "Next, mental tempering. Purge the Starbug's residual aura from those remains."
He'd demonstrated the technique once, his mental energy unfurling like a tidal wave, enveloping the materials in a cleansing surge. It was as if he'd plunged them into a vat of industrial deodorizer, stripping away the Starbug's lingering essence in minutes. The bones emerged pristine, their surfaces almost luminous.
Bai Sha's approach was different—less refined, more ferocious. Her mental energy, a blazing inferno, crashed against the Starbug's aura with unrelenting force. The two forces clashed, tendrils of alien energy writhing in defiance before succumbing to her dominance. Stray wisps of the bug's aura attempted to flee or counterattack, only to be dragged back and obliterated in a heartbeat. The process was less purification than annihilation, her mental strength a voracious predator consuming its prey.
Jiang Gui inspected her work, his brow creasing. "Why's your tempering so fast?"
Bai Sha forced a laugh, her heart racing. "Ha, maybe my mental energy's just… ridiculously strong?"
He shot her a skeptical glance but didn't press. Bai Sha exhaled silently, relief mingling with guilt. She hadn't purified the aura—she'd devoured it. Her mental energy hadn't hesitated, gorging on the Starbug's remnants with a speed that startled even her. With Jiang Gui's piercing gaze on her, she couldn't risk revealing her secret. She pivoted quickly. "Teacher, it's mostly done. What's next?"
Jiang Gui nodded, his focus shifting. "What do you plan to make with these?"
Bai Sha opened her design software, her fingers dancing across the holographic interface. "The wings and claws are exceptional. I'm thinking a pair of mech wings and maybe a weapon to test."
Jiang Gui clapped her shoulder, a rare gesture of approval. "Good eye. Those are the prize parts."
"No special training for the crafting phase, right?" Bai Sha said, half-pleading. "If I'm stranded in the wild, I won't know what resources or tools I'll have. You can't train for that."
"Fair point," Jiang Gui conceded, turning toward a mobile manufacturing bay. "But we'll limit your tools. Basic, cheap ones only. That's what I used for my first creation. We're short on materials, so I'm not expecting a legendary mech—just a single component. That's not too hard, is it?"
Bai Sha's jaw dropped. "…"
She felt like she'd walked into a trap. Luxury was easy to embrace, but austerity was torture. Her workshops on Youdu Star and at the academy were state-of-the-art, stocked with cutting-edge equipment. Even the standard labs provided by Jiang Gui or the school were leagues above this. The mobile bay was a relic, its console a patchwork of outdated tech. The laser cutter was a decade-old model, the metal chisels looked barely capable of scratching a Queen's bone, and the cooling fluid—Bai Sha lifted the canister, her expression flat—was on the verge of expiration.
She thrust the fluid toward Jiang Gui, her silence a protest. He shrugged. "It's fine. This brand's reliable, even past its date. Everything here's bargain-bin, but you can find equivalents on any Empire planet, or substitutes in the Federation. Master these, and no challenge will stop you."
Bai Sha muttered, "This feels like a disaster survival drill."
"Call it foresight," Jiang Gui said, his tone sharpening. "Haven't you noticed? Your 'accidents' are piling up."
From the Four Schools Selection to the joint exercises, trouble shadowed her like a curse. Bai Sha paused, her mind flashing to Lancelot, the Federation planet where her misfortunes began. "It's been nonstop since then," she admitted, then narrowed her eyes. "You think someone's orchestrating this? We already suspect the Silver Nexus."
"The Nexus is bound by AI protocols—it can't act directly against humans," Jiang Gui said. "It's always been a puppeteer. The real culprits are people, or some organization. You're too prominent now; you're a target. Stay sharp."
Bai Sha nodded. "Understood."
"Training resumes," Jiang Gui said, yawning again. "I'm napping. I'll be in Lab Three East later. Questions? Find me."
"I have one now," Bai Sha said, tapping the dusty console. "Where's the manual for these antiques? I'd rather not blow up your lab."
"Manuals? Long gone," Jiang Gui said, adjusting his collar as he headed out. "Don't worry—the bay's blast-proofed. You could turn yourself into fireworks, and my house would be fine."
Bai Sha's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Thanks for the thorough prep."
Meanwhile, the Federation's training complex buzzed with revelry, its halls transformed into a carnival of triumph. The gloom that had clung to the team since their string of losses was banished, replaced by raucous cheers and clinking glasses. Their victory in the joint exercise, though achieved through cunning rather than valor, was a salve to their wounded pride. As the adage went, all was fair in war—history was littered with dirtier tactics, and none were held to account. For the Federation team, victory trumped decorum.
"We owe this to Janice!" a voice shouted, sparking a chorus of agreement. "She's our hero! Her plan clinched the win!"
"To Janice!"
The crowd surged around Janice, their adulation a tide she navigated with cool detachment. Her responses were polished, her words measured, but her disinterest was palpable. No one minded; her brilliance had secured their triumph, and that was enough.
Ya Ning watched from the sidelines, his expression sour as Janice delivered another platitude, her speech as hollow as a rehearsed script. He turned to Zhou Ying, who was nursing a drink with a grimace. "Didn't you complain to Commander Ning about her social skills?" Ya Ning said. "Look at her now. Doesn't it grate?"
"What's the point?" Zhou Ying replied, setting his glass down with a scowl. "Would you prefer the old Janice, who'd kick you off the team and brawl with Yan Jingyi over it?" He glanced at the banquet's garish decor, his distaste deepening. "Who planned this? It's tasteless."
His gaze drifted to Zhou Wei and Yan Jingyi, standing quietly against a wall, their heads bowed like wilting flowers. "Why are they still moping?" Zhou Ying asked.
"They're ashamed of winning this way," Ya Ning said, biting into a stale roll and wincing. "They think they'll lose face seeing Sha Sha again. Leave them be—they'll snap out of it."
Zhou Ying sighed. "What's Sha Sha saying?"
Ya Ning shrugged. "What you'd expect. The Empire won't lose next time. Otherwise, she's her usual self. You talked to her, didn't you? You didn't tell her it wasn't your idea?"
"I'm the commander," Zhou Ying said, his eyes narrowing. "Does it matter whose idea it was? I approved it."
Victory was non-negotiable. His instincts warned that without a win, the team's morale would crumble. Unlike the Empire's cohesive unit, the Federation team was a fractured mosaic, its spirit fraying under rotating leadership. Zhou Ying saw this victory as an anchor, a chance to unify his squad.
"I don't think Sha Sha's petty about it," Ya Ning said quietly. "We're not promoting dirty play. Janice's plan had merit."
"I know," Zhou Ying said. "But the chaos went beyond my predictions. If I'd mishandled it, students could've died."
Bypassing the rescue system was a gamble, a razor's edge between brilliance and catastrophe. Zhou Ying and Janice had planned meticulously, but plans couldn't account for every variable. A single misstep, and this celebration would've been a wake.
"You did your best," Ya Ning said. "Commanders can only do so much. To beat a stronger foe, you need their team to blunder or their tactics to falter. The Empire rarely slips, and their strength…" He trailed off, reluctant to admit their rival's superiority.
The Empire team was a juggernaut, forged for battle, their unity unshakable under Bai Sha's banner. Even a loss barely dented their confidence—a luxury born of raw power. Ya Ning sometimes envied their cohesion, a fleeting wish that he and Jingyi were Empire-born. The thought felt like a betrayal to their adoptive father, Holman, and he banished it quickly. Dwelling on such things bred despair, sapping the will to move forward.
"Speaking of," Ya Ning said, changing tack, "your and Zhou Wei's birthdays are coming up. At home, or like last year, somewhere else?"
The Zhou family had been a maelstrom of conflict for over a year. As heirs, Zhou Wei and Zhou Ying rarely returned, dodging their grandfather's attempts to rein them in. Ning Hongxue, their uncle, deftly shielded them, but the family's vast enterprise—Kanheng Life Sciences, partially reclaimed by Zhou Ying—remained entangled. Zhou Ying watched his relatives vie for influence, knowing he'd need to make an appearance, however grudgingly, to secure his and his brother's legacy.
It was their parents' inheritance, too valuable to forsake. They were no longer powerless children. Ning Hongxue's ambiguous support was a tool, a lever to wield against their enemies. Zhou Ying's motives were clear: no compromise, only strategy. Relinquishing power meant vulnerability, and he'd protect his brother at all costs.
"We'll celebrate at home," Zhou Ying said, his tone neutral. "Come along."
"Deal," Ya Ning said, sighing. "If it comes to blows, we're on your side."
"It's just a birthday," Zhou Ying said, a rare laugh escaping. "Why would it turn into a brawl?"
Ya Ning grinned. "Want a sneak peek at your gift?"
"I'm more curious about Sha Sha's," Zhou Ying said, his voice softening. "She's celebrated Wei's birthday so many times, but mine only once. She owes me."
Ya Ning shivered at his melodramatic tone, like a scorned lover's lament. "Don't say that around Wei. I'm done mediating your sibling spats. Are you serious about her? Federation and Empire genes don't mix."
"Gene incompatibility doesn't bar a relationship," Zhou Ying said, unfazed.
"So you are serious," Ya Ning pressed. "Then confess already! You've seen the wolves circling her. Your looks won't win her over forever."
They were whispering in a corner when Zhou Wei and Yan Jingyi, alerted by some unheard cue, glided silently behind them. "What're you talking about?" Jingyi's voice was a soft accusation.
Ya Ning jumped. "How do you move so quietly?"
Zhou Wei's eyes narrowed. "I heard Sha Sha's name."
Zhou Ying's smile was impeccable. "We're debating whether to invite her to our birthday."
Zhou Wei hesitated, then shook his head. "Better not."
The Zhou family's gatherings were a minefield, and Bai Sha's schedule was packed. Zhou Ying nodded. "Fine, no invite."
Though Bai Sha couldn't attend, her gifts arrived the day before—two massive crates, too large for their dorm. The brothers, with Ya Ning and Jingyi in tow, hauled them to the training room. Peeling away layers of packaging revealed a pair of shimmering mech wings, their intricate frames adorned with razor-sharp metal blades, versatile enough to serve as weapons.
"They're stunning," Ya Ning said, puzzled, "but why only one pair for both of you?"
He spotted two cards at the crate's bottom, inscribed with Bai Sha's birthday wishes. She apologized for her hectic schedule, explaining the wings were her latest creation, crafted from the Queen's radius bones—a memento of their shared encounter. Each brother got one wing, a playful nod to their rivalry.
Zhou Wei and Zhou Ying exchanged glances, speechless. Jingyi stifled a laugh. "Classic Sha Sha. With the exercises ongoing, she wouldn't gift equipment outright. One wing each—hilarious!"
Neither brother would yield their share. Zhou Wei swiftly claimed his, guarding it possessively. Zhou Ying, however, studied his wing with a mix of awe and obsession. "Her design's evolved—bold yet precise, different from her old style. This joint… it's molded, not handcrafted, but the precision rivals manual work. How'd she do it? I need to ask."
Zhou Wei and Jingyi shared a look. Zhou Ying's mech engineering passion clearly resonated with Bai Sha's. He messaged her, eager for answers, but her reply was cryptic: Don't ask. I was forced.