Eighteen eighteen

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Another weekend, and the Black Street Fighting Arena was packed with people. Although it was always crowded on days off, today’s turnout was at least three times the usual, and even the live broadcast’s online viewers soared steadily.

“Let’s congratulate SpongeBob on his successful promotion!”

As the last opposing talent collapsed, losing the ability to fight, the host, beaming with excitement, stood up and announced loudly: “Tonight, he becomes the first Diamond-ranked fighter on Planet 1999!”

Applause and cheers erupted instantly.

For a remote planet like 1999, the birth of a Diamond-ranked fighter was a cause for great celebration—especially one who achieved it at the early fourth tier. It was almost unheard of. Having such a formidable figure was a tremendous honor for the local Black Street, a source of immense pride.

At least eighty percent of Black Street’s residents had come to witness the spectacle, each feeling a sense of shared glory.

As if responding to the applause, the tall figure on the central arena bowed slightly to the crowd.

Black Street valued individuals highly. Thanks to molecular reconstitution sunglasses and advanced holographic technology, battles here blurred opponents’ details, concealing even their height and weight behind shimmering shadows.

After stepping off the arena, the cheers continued.

Passing through a corridor forged from cold steel, they finally reached the backstage of the fighting arena.

The manager approached, radiant with pride: “SpongeBob, congratulations!”

Having produced a Diamond-ranked fighter in the jurisdiction—and one personally mentored as the resident fighter—he took every chance to boast of his keen eye.

After the usual flattery, he casually asked, “Do you know when your next match will be? We’d like to prepare in advance.”

Once a fighter reached Diamond rank in the arena, they could start holographic live broadcasts, allowing matches to be viewed and bet on at any Black Street arena across the galaxy. Compared to ordinary matches, which were only viewable in person, this method promised far greater revenue for the arena.

The manager knew SpongeBob’s fighting style was highly entertaining and saw great potential, intending to invest his own money to secure a prime spot on the Galactic Network for the next match, aiming to turn him into the arena’s cash cow.

“No need.”

Unexpectedly, the fighter behind the dark glasses refused outright: “I won’t be competing on Planet 1999 for the next few years.”

The manager’s expression faltered: “Which arena? We can offer double the pay!”

“You misunderstand. No arena is recruiting me.” SpongeBob paused, then smiled wryly. “My university entrance exam results just came out. Unless things go awry, I’ll be boarding a starship tomorrow to study in the Central Star Cluster.”

If it had been for any other reason, they might have tried to persuade him to stay. But obstructing education was akin to killing one’s own parents. Even a seasoned manager from the fighting world was helpless. Reluctantly, he could only watch him leave.

Once the figure disappeared behind the metal door, the manager shook his head in regret: “Ah, how did I not realize? SpongeBob’s fighting style is so mature and refined that people always forget his age.”

He clicked his tongue thoughtfully: “A seventeen-year-old Diamond-ranked fighter—what can Planet 1999 do to keep him?”

Such a prodigy was destined to venture into the Central Star Cluster.

Perhaps one day, when he became famous, their remote little planet might bask in the reflected glory.

Comforted by this thought, the manager relaxed.

After leaving the arena, SpongeBob returned to her residence on Black Street.

The light screen displayed her current appearance. Compared to five years ago when she had fully matured, the youthful softness of her jawline had sharpened into a sleek, defined contour. The only difference was her jet-black hair, as dark as the night.

Driven by an instinctive caution toward danger, over these five years she had completely changed her appearance and discarded her past identity. She neither returned to the police station to reactivate her canceled account nor went back to the resettlement community, instead moving straight to live on Black Street.

Black Street was full of undocumented residents; as long as one paid, they could obtain a new identity card.

When registering for her new ID, SpongeBob had deliberately bought hair dye to cover her conspicuous golden hair, restoring the hue she was most familiar with from her previous life—enough to conceal her identity.

“Ding, facial recognition passed.”

Her apartment was not small, a carefully chosen two-bedroom suite, considerably pricier than a single room.

She pressed the button to pack her belongings, then took a final look around the home she had lived in for the past five years before slowly pressing the lease termination key on the screen.

For five whole years, she had waited in vain for her father’s return.

Not only was he nowhere to be found, but not a single clue surfaced.

It was as if an invisible hand wielded an eraser, casually wiping away all traces of a person, making anyone connected to him shrouded in silence—either vanished or leaving no trace.

—Such power could only be wielded by a state apparatus.

At first, SpongeBob had tried to comfort herself, blaming the inefficiency of the imperial department. But after five years of painstakingly unraveling the matter thread by thread, she finally arrived at the most absurd yet seemingly impossible conclusion.

Upon deducing her father’s identity, she had countless times been thankful she did not seek help at the Bright Sanctuary contact point after awakening at the bottom of the ruins, and that she had keenly sensed the danger upon her return, choosing not to restore her death account at the police station.

Harnessing the intelligence network on Black Street, she had begun a step-by-step investigation using all accessible information. Finally, some leads emerged, though mere leads were far from enough.

Fortunately, she had another route.

Leaving Black Street, SpongeBob squinted at the sun overhead and boarded the sky rail to the starport.

Naturally, the starport offered starship service to the Central Star Cluster.

However, traveling there required approval—much like applying for a visa in her previous life.

The ticket clerk politely stopped her: “Hello. The Central Star Cluster includes the Federation’s homeworld and the Empire’s capital. It’s a major military and political hub. You must verify your ID and state your reason for travel before purchasing tickets.”

SpongeBob was well prepared, opening her lightbrain screen to show her newly obtained ID and transcript.

“I’m a graduating student this year, preparing to study in the Central Star Cluster.”

“Congratulations on your graduation.” The clerk nodded and began registration without further questions.

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However, just as the clerk finished recording her ID and was about to verify the number, his eyes were momentarily dazzled by the psychic talent level on the transcript.

“A-class Mimicry?!”

At this moment, many prospective university students in line overheard and gasped.

A-class Mimicry was exceedingly rare across the galaxy, let alone appearing on such a remote, backwater planet.

“Hiss—our planet actually has an A-class graduate this year?”

“How come we never heard of this big shot before?”

“Probably a noble—nobles usually receive home schooling. I’m curious about his cultivation level. A-class talent cultivates much faster than us, at least several times faster.”

SpongeBob pretended not to hear, but inwardly she was thrilled.

Over the past five years, she had never slackened in her cultivation, continuing her relentless grind.

Although the koi spirit had not directly advanced to Mythic Mimicry, after continuous intake of crystal cores, its mimicry level had slowly grown, finally reaching A-class a month ago.

The interstellar university entrance exam was no challenge for her, given her previous life’s experience with exam-oriented education. With A-class Mimicry, all green lights were granted, plus additional points for being from a remote planet and an orphan.

Orphan bonus points—an amusing touch.

Basking in the admiration of onlookers, she successfully boarded the starship.

This trip was much farther than her previous journey to the Pollution Planet, requiring high-tech space folding and other methods for rapid spatial transit. Even so, it took a full three days to travel from Planet 1999 to the Central Star Cluster.

During the long journey, the ship naturally provided free meals.

After boarding, SpongeBob did nothing but scout out the location of the nutritional liquid self-service cafeteria, helped herself heartily, then wiped her mouth with satisfaction.

Although ordinary nutritional liquid barely satisfied her current appetite, she reasoned that every little bit counted. Leaving free resources unclaimed felt wasteful. Besides, the ship had not yet launched, so consuming three-quarters of the ship’s nutritional stock would allow the crew to replenish in time.

“Look how considerate I am!” SpongeBob thought happily as she returned to her cabin.

With no important matters during the journey, she slumped in her cabin, enduring the misery of space sickness.

When it became unbearable, she punched herself into unconsciousness, making the three days fly by.

Disembarking, she vaguely overheard sailors discussing the mysterious disappearance of vast quantities of nutritional liquid before the ship’s departure. She smiled faintly, keeping her deed a secret.

The Central Star Region’s port was dozens of times larger than Planet 1999’s, bustling with countless shuttle vessels.

After boarding a shuttle and traveling for over ten minutes, she finally reached the starport exit.

“This is the Central Star Region,” she murmured, looking up amid the bustling crowd.

Years ago, when the Zerg invaded fiercely, the Empire and Federation were forced into a ceasefire and cooperation. To demonstrate goodwill, both dispatched Saint-level experts to jointly relocate their homeworld and capital star into a single star cluster, becoming neighbors bound to live and die together.

As the joint galactic powerhouse of both sides, the Central Star Cluster naturally carried tremendous prestige.

Looking around, the sprawling city was layered, with neon lights and multicolored star rails weaving through, bustling commercial streets, and massive light-screen advertisements—a scene of opulence and extravagance.

Although SpongeBob was indifferent to such high-end consumption, she lingered for some time.

Then she keenly spotted a blind spot.

True to its status, even hovercars here started at twenty star coins.

To save money, she decisively entered the star rail station.

“Ah, ten stops—that’s far.”

The Central Star Cluster housed two advanced academies, both located in the Central University City.

After arriving, SpongeBob’s goal remained fixed: the Federation Military Academy at #7 and the Empire’s First Military Academy.

For talented youth from impoverished backgrounds, military academies were the top choice. The Federation had powerful financial clans supporting students, and the Empire was even wealthier, granting monthly star coin subsidies to enrolled students.

Moreover, admission to the Empire’s First Military Academy allowed access to the military archives on campus, invaluable for her search for her father.

The only drawback was the high admission standards—equivalent to the top-tier universities in her previous life.

Of course, none of this was a problem for SpongeBob.

—An A-class talent at age seventeen with fourth-tier cultivation could do as she pleased!

“Central University City arrived. Passengers disembarking here, please prepare your belongings.”

About half an hour later, the star rail reached its destination.

Compared to the outside’s dazzling opulence, the Central University City, home to the two advanced academies, felt surprisingly modest, like moving from an international metropolis to a medium-sized city.

Along the way out of the station, a mechanical voice warmly introduced the two schools.

“The Empire’s First Military Academy, the top of the seven advanced academies, adheres to a strict educational philosophy and ideological style, consistently ranking first in academy competitions, and supplying outstanding talents to the Empire sector.”

Compared to the rigorous Empire academy, the neighboring Silver Star Academy’s recruitment brochure revealed a hint of resignation.

“Silver Star Academy upholds the concept of freedom, cultivating well-rounded talents with no weaknesses or strengths—comprehensive development. The school’s top leader was arrested last year for various reasons, and the academy is currently in a laissez-faire state. Prospective students yearning for freedom are welcome to apply.”

“Pfft—”

Many passersby, including SpongeBob, couldn’t help but chuckle, though they kept walking toward the Empire’s First Military Academy at the fork.

Funny as it was, one shouldn’t joke about one’s future.

The Empire academy had never ranked below second on the #7 list, maintaining top overall strength. Compared to the perpetually mediocre, leadership-imprisoned Silver Star Academy, it clearly offered better prospects.

These two academies’ campuses were adjacent, sharing some facilities to maximize teaching resources.

During enrollment, both had long tables side by side.

From afar, the Empire academy’s line was at least ten times longer than Silver Star’s.

Besides admissions staff, many senior students in Silver Star uniforms lingered near the Empire academy’s queue, seizing chances to chat and mingle.

Just as SpongeBob reached the back of the line, she saw a prospective student rejected by the Empire academy looking dejected. A Silver Star senior comforted him; after some exchange, the youth’s face lit up with excitement, and he immediately joined the Silver Star line.

Such scenes were common in the square.

As she walked, SpongeBob overheard Silver Star students whispering: “Professor Zuo’s idea was brilliant—picking up Empire academy’s rejects. The quality of our applicants is way better than before. Profit, profit.”

“Exactly. In previous years, those students would have gone to Qingbei Academy or at worst Lanxiang. No way they’d consider us Silver Star.”

They sighed and rallied: “Come on! Half the leadership got arrested this year, even the admissions director went down. If we don’t work hard, we’ll bottom out in next year’s rankings.”

“Our academy chair leads the brokerage efforts. What excuse do we have not to act? You work hard, I work hard, today we can snatch great talents right under the Empire’s nose! Isn’t that thrilling?”

“Right! All for Silver Star’s future! Oh yeah!”

SpongeBob remained silent.

This recruitment style was a bit too rough.

But considering Silver Star had lived in Empire academy’s shadow for years, they had to resort to extraordinary means to show their strengths.

As the saying goes, even broth tastes better with meat. Finding this alternative source of students was no small feat.

Sure enough, after about ten minutes in line, a Silver Star senior approached with a smile.

“Hello, junior. Planning to apply to the Empire’s First Military Academy?”

“Yep.”

SpongeBob nodded casually.

She opened her lightbrain, carefully filling out her resume.

Military academies required rigorous physical examinations even if one met the score threshold. Any disqualifying condition could bar admission.

Her cold response to the approach did not daunt the senior, who was surprisingly friendly: “Silver Star and the Empire academy are good neighbors, classmates even. If you have questions, feel free to ask me.”

He glanced at SpongeBob’s university entrance transcript on the screen.

For a moment, he thought he was seeing things.

[A-class, Low Fourth Tier]

A-class talents in intermediate academies were treasured like gems by teachers.

But among the top-tier academies, where prodigies abounded, this was merely above average. Silver Star wasn’t lacking in A-class talents despite its poor student quality.

The real issue was the cultivation tier.

Freshmen were mostly seventeen or eighteen, having just awakened psychic powers and trained diligently. They were limited by age and time, usually hovering from low to mid-third tier.

Among such averages, a high third tier was rare, let alone leaping to fourth tier.

Such terrifying cultivation speed—were this year’s graduates really that strong? The senior swallowed nervously.

“Yeah.” SpongeBob replied nonchalantly, then pulled down the screen and suddenly froze, staring intently at a section of the resume with a frown: “Political/Security Review?”

“Y-yes.” The senior, still dazed from the cultivation shock, responded reflexively. “The Empire academy’s new rule this year requires background checks on the last three generations. They use the latest system. If your direct relatives have criminal records, it might affect admission.”

“Of course! This kind of policy is blatant discrimination against talented students from backward planets, ignoring their own efforts! Silver Star firmly opposes such unfair and unjust measures!”

Undermining and smearing the rival.

The senior’s spiel was pure reflex.

If SpongeBob’s level or exam score were a bit lower, he might have dared to try recruiting her. But with near-perfect scores and fourth-tier cultivation, there was no confidence to poach her.

Beautiful juniors and top talents belonged to the Empire academy—how tragic.

What surprised the senior was that after a moment’s silence, SpongeBob looked up at the imposing steel building of the Empire academy, then abruptly closed her application form and walked out of the queue.

“Shall we go? Need a recommendation?”

The senior was stunned.

His pupils dilated.

Damn! The poacher really is coming!