Nineteen. Nineteen.

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“Of course! Junior, just wait a moment! I’ll go get the watch!”

Just moments ago, he was secretly admiring the beautiful junior, but unexpectedly, she turned and chose to join his own school. Meng Mingcheng suddenly stammered, feeling light-headed and dazed. Once he realized what had happened, he was overjoyed and eagerly volunteered to serve tea and water.

The lineup at Silver Star Academy was not long, but the seniors surrounding them outnumbered those in line.

The students recruited here were quite perceptive; they immediately handed out water and nutrient solutions without a word.

After receiving several tubes of high-grade nutrient solution, Yuan Hanshuang’s mood gradually shifted from gloom to brightness.

Although she had obtained new identity documents on the Black Street, those could be forged; DNA could not. The Empire’s government had an all-seeing system specifically for political vetting. If DNA samples were required, any hint of deception would be disastrous. She could not afford to take such risks.

Therefore, the reason for choosing Silver Star Academy was simple.

Silver Star was adjacent to the Empire’s premier military academy, sharing a large common campus. As long as she was admitted, there would be opportunities to access military databases in the future.

“Hello, student! Welcome to Silver Star! Welcome, welcome!”

The admissions officers were as enthusiastic as the students themselves, fussing over every detail and even grabbing her resume to help fill it out — a truly one-stop service.

When they saw Yuan Hanshuang’s transcript combination, the atmosphere fell silent for a moment.

The assisting students’ pupils dilated in shock, exchanging glances filled with undisguised astonishment.

“Damn! This is a big shot!”

“We’ve got a real VIP! Chicken legs for dinner are guaranteed today!”

The first student who saw the grades shuffled over and whispered to another, who immediately understood and quickly sent an encrypted message via their lightbrain.

“What? We’ve admitted a top talent? Hide it, keep it quiet!”

A pinned message popped up in the Silver Star admissions group chat. Many students on the plaza lowered their heads to check, repeating the wide-eyed, shocked, and breathless reaction, then bursting into joyous excitement, exchanging looks with one another.

“Keep it under wraps; don’t let the Empire Academy know!”

“Got it! Noted!”

Unlike the usually quiet and solemn Empire Academy, Silver Star’s students were noisy, lively, and carefree, turning the admissions office into a bustling marketplace, making heads buzz.

Suddenly, the noise died down, and the silence lasted long enough to attract attention from the neighboring side.

Empire Academy didn’t send out large groups like Silver Star; they dispatched one department at a time, and today it was the close-combat department’s turn. The department head stood with the team nearby, guiding new students.

Just after finishing their arrangement, he noticed the Silver Star students exchanging strange glances and suppressed laughter, looking like they were up to some mischief.

Bian Yu, head of the close-combat department at the military academy, immediately sensed something amiss. “Go and find out.”

Several cadets nodded and casually wandered around. After a while, they returned hastily with identical strange expressions. “Silver Star just admitted a top talent.”

“A top talent?” Bian Yu raised an eyebrow. “How top?”

The cadets lowered their voices. “Not sure, but seems like they’re starting at Level Four.”

“Level Four? Silver Star actually recruited an S-rank talent?”

Not only Bian Yu but also the admissions officer beside him was momentarily stunned.

At this age, reaching Level Four was rare, achievable only by those with very high-level psychic talents. Such prodigies didn’t even appear more than a handful across all seven advanced academies combined each year.

“Why didn’t such a talent choose our Empire Academy?”

The officer shook his head regretfully but said no more. The cadets, however, were indignant.

Though neighbors, Silver Star and the Empire Academy had a frosty relationship. The Empire Academy, proud of its elite status, looked down on Silver Star’s unruly and uneven student body. Silver Star thought the Empire cadets were arrogant show-offs.

The two academies constantly clashed, causing minor daily conflicts.

Even this time, Silver Star’s recruitment efforts targeting students who didn’t pass the military academy’s test were still unwelcome.

“Enough, it’s just one S-rank.”

Bian Yu cut off the cadets’ discussion. “S-ranks are rare, but our military academy has plenty. We even have the first S+ rank in the entire star cluster. Why worry about this? Even if Silver Star adds an S-rank, it won’t shake the rankings next year.”

Everyone agreed. “True.”

“Silver Star’s just been starved of S-ranks for too long, so they’re overexcited about one recruit.”

In the Top 7 rankings, the Empire’s first military academy was dominant, only rivaled by the old Federation Military Academy and the occasionally innovative Qingbei Academy.

Such a dominant military school rarely paid much attention to a single S-rank recruit.

In short, Silver Star was not yet on their level.

Meanwhile, the enrollment procedures were mostly complete.

“Please display your manifestation.”

At these words, the twin-tailed girl was instantly surrounded by powerful air currents, and a nearly transparent, almost two to three meters long giant fish appeared from shimmering pale-blue psychic ripples.

In the sunlight, the broad fish’s red and white scales shimmered dazzlingly, as clear as glazed glass.

“What… what kind of fish is that? It’s huge!”

While other new students summoned small cats or dogs, the giant fish’s appearance was undeniably eye-catching, drawing open-mouthed spectators.

“An S-rank talent, definitely an S-rank talent!”

Empire Academy students witnessing this confirmed the level of the manifestation in their hearts.

To judge the strength of a manifestation, besides rarity of the species, the simplest and most intuitive method was to observe its size.

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For example, the Academy Chair of the Empire’s first military school, the renowned Bright Sanctuary Scion, whose mythical manifestation Gabriel could reach several stories high when fully displayed, resembling a god looming over mortals — truly befitting the S+ rank.

“What kind of manifestation is this?”

The Silver Star admissions officer marveled at the radiant giant fish, certain he had never seen anything like it in the comprehensive psychic manifestation catalog.

Yuan Hanshuang hesitated before replying, “It’s a koi fish, just an ordinary red-and-white koi.”

Her voice betrayed a hint of unease.

Over the past two years, as her cultivation level increased, the koi’s size had also expanded horizontally. Even ornamental koi boosted with growth hormones rarely reach such a size. Yuan Hanshuang wondered if the promotion of the little black bird had had some influence on this other manifestation.

Sure enough, everyone present was speechless.

A fish two people tall, with gorgeous, shining scales, slick and extraordinary — a common ornamental koi found in star cluster aquariums? Was she joking?

Admissions officer: Alright then.

Some talent holders disliked others knowing or discussing their manifestations. For example, this year’s new Silver Star enrollee, the Empire’s young prince, whose powerful top-tier mutated manifestation was a golden berserk lion, insisted on calling it a golden lion. Anyone who mentioned “berserk” would draw his ire.

Genius quirks were hard for ordinary people to understand — respect and blessings.

“Enrollment procedures are complete. Here is your student barcode. Open your lightbrain and follow the Silver Star Academy app to check your assigned dormitory. Your class schedule will be arranged after military training.”

Since personal data and exam transcripts were on file, only the appearance of the manifestation needed to be recorded. The admissions officer finished Yuan Hanshuang’s registration quickly — over three times faster than others.

“Junior, come on, I’ll take you to your dorm.”

Upon receiving her acceptance letter, she was enthusiastically surrounded by senior students and led into the school.

Silver Star’s architecture was unique, mostly exuding classical elegance unlike anything Yuan Hanshuang had seen before, with more intricate contours and refined details — very pleasing to the eye.

Having secured a promising recruit, Meng Mingcheng was ecstatic on the way. “I didn’t expect you to be in the close-combat department like me.”

The term “junior” sounded odd to Yuan Hanshuang.

Though talkative, he shared plenty of useful information about freshman life.

Unlike junior or intermediate academies, advanced academies had no grade divisions. Required courses were divided into basic, intermediate, and advanced. Only after completing one level could students enter the next.

Yuan Hanshuang asked, “So that means, as long as you earn enough credits, you can graduate without completing five years of schooling?”

“Yes.” Meng Mingcheng scratched his head. “But some courses require prerequisites. For example, you must pass advanced hand-to-hand combat before taking ancient martial arts. So at least three years on campus are needed to meet graduation requirements.”

“If you don’t earn enough credits or fail required exams, graduation is deferred. We even have a senior who’s been studying here nine years and is now in his tenth.”

Yuan Hanshuang: “...”

Ten years without graduation — that’s intense.

Meng Mingcheng also pointed out campus landmarks like the central auditorium, cafeteria, and teaching buildings scattered across regions.

Of course, in the interstellar era, navigation was no problem — just open the panoramic map on the lightbrain, and it automatically guides you to your classroom.

“Oh, I forgot to mention, freshmen have military training for the first two weeks.”

Meng Mingcheng recalled, “Since half the school leaders were arrested, the school is short-staffed. This year, we’ll probably train alongside the Empire’s first military academy.”

“What does the military training involve?”

“Mostly weighted running, standing at attention, mountain climbing, and obstacle courses. For us in close combat, it’s not too difficult. But since the military academy is in charge, I’m not sure of the details.”

“Oh, that’s fine.”

Yuan Hanshuang wasn’t concerned about military training. She checked the listed exercises on her lightbrain; the daily training volume was about equal to her usual routines — easily manageable.

Aside from that, her biggest concern was food.

Food was naturally a priority. Meng Mingcheng grinned knowingly. “Don’t worry! Our cafeteria offers hundreds of nutrient solution flavors. If you want cooked meals, go to Cafeteria One. They have chefs who cook decent food, though it’s a bit pricey. Military cadets from next door often sneak in for meals.”

Of course, she couldn’t afford cooked meals every day.

Discreetly, she inquired and found out that the standard nutrient solutions provided by the school were free but limited per person. She was overjoyed.

As cultivation level rose, Yuan Hanshuang’s appetite grew accordingly.

Five years ago, the crystal core pouch Goderze gave her could be consumed in a day if she trained at full strength.

Though her earning power improved after becoming a Diamond Fighter, expenses to satisfy her hunger skyrocketed exponentially. She never managed to save much, still using the oldest model of lightbrain.

Out of necessity, she mixed nutrient solutions with crystal cores and even scavenged useless crystal core fragments from junk shops.

She had already decided: after this semester, during summer break, she would join a mercenary group from Black Street to nearby polluted planets to hunt insectoids and mine crystal cores — self-sufficiency with effort.

After escorting her to the dormitory building, Meng Mingcheng waved goodbye. “Alright, junior, I’ll leave you here. Spend the next few days getting familiar with the school and buying necessities. We’ll meet again when classes officially start.”

“Thanks.”

After swiping her student card at the entrance, Yuan Hanshuang easily found her dorm.

In this era of abundant interstellar resources, except for the military academy’s strict six-person dorms, other advanced academies offered comfortable two- or four-person rooms, all equipped with bathrooms.

The dorm was empty; no roommate had arrived yet.

“I wonder when the other roommate will come. Hopefully, they’re easy to get along with.”

She took out her few belongings from the spatial button and began making her bed.

After tidying up, since no one appeared, Yuan Hanshuang closed the door and planned to explore.

She was indeed ambitious, but as her cultivation rose, meditation consumed more satiation than her current finances could support. Reluctantly, she paused her overachieving pace.

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She activated navigation and slowly scoped out the major cafeterias of Silver Star.

Given that star 1999 was far from the central star system, she had arrived early to allow ample time. It was still enrollment season; classes would officially start in three days.

While scouting, she opened her lightbrain contacts.

Staring at a number she hadn’t contacted in five years, she hesitated but finally composed and sent a short message.

Five years was enough to change many things.

After the incident years ago, Yuan Hanshuang chose not to revoke her death declaration but disappeared, living anonymously on Black Street. Naturally, she never returned to junior academy. Due to various concerns, she hadn’t dared send even a single word. Her former classmates and teachers likely assumed she was long gone.

It wasn’t coldness or indifference on her part but the heavy burden she carried. Her identity might be exposed, but her father was now infamous. She couldn’t involve anyone else.

But this year was different.

The children who trained alongside her back then had reached the age to take the college entrance exam. If lucky, she might even meet them in the Top 7 rankings. After much thought, she decided to contact the one most likely to succeed.

The message was sent, but she didn’t expect a reply.

Who would have thought, the next moment, a lightbrain communication request appeared.

She hesitated but chose to open it.

On connecting, a deep voice barely recognizable spoke: “Boss!!!”

Accompanying the greeting were muffled sobs.

Ke Junda was truly crying.

He never imagined he’d see his long-lost, fate-unknown boss again after five years.

“Why are you crying? It’s nothing serious.”

Yuan Hanshuang sighed. “Am I still your boss?”

“Yes!” Ke Junda wiped his tears. “You’re my one and only boss!”

“Alright, enough shouting.”

Seeing people glance their way, Yuan Hanshuang quickly put on her hanging headphones. “How did you do on your exams this year? Which school are you applying to?”

Five years apart, their first words concerned results. Ke Junda recalled the fear inspired by his boss back then and straightened up.

“Reporting, boss! I did okay! I should get into some of the lower-ranked advanced academies!”

Ke Junda had been motivated by Yuan Hanshuang’s accident. After graduating junior academy, he trained hard and got into the best intermediate academy near star 1999, recently graduating top of his class.

“As for applications,” he whispered, “I plan to apply to Lanxiang Academy.”

Lanxiang was always at the bottom of the Top 7 rankings, as their students generally had low talent levels. There were even shocking instances of F-rank students admitted purely through effort.

In this world that valued psychic talent, Lanxiang represented the belief that “effort can also lead to success,” cherished by many commoners.

“Lanxiang, huh? Not bad. Their defense department is well-known.”

Yuan Hanshuang casually added, “I just finished enrolling at Silver Star.”

Ke Junda was stunned. “Didn’t you say you wanted to go to the military academy?”

Back when they trained together, Ke Junda had secretly vowed to follow his boss to the military academy and see the world. But fate was unkind; despite years of hard work, his talent capped at B-rank.

B-rank talent might appear once every ten years on a small planet but was average in the Top 7. Not to mention the Empire Academy, a prestigious school full of geniuses where even throwing stones hits A-rank students.

Ke Junda’s results were far from qualifying.

Yuan Hanshuang replied, “Something unexpected happened. When I lined up to register, the Empire Academy’s requirements were just too arrogant. I think Silver Star suits me better.”

“I haven’t finished teaching you that Tai Chi yet. Want to consider Silver Star to continue?”

Unbeknownst to her, as she wandered, she had crossed Silver Star’s boundary and entered the “central zone” shared with the Empire’s first military academy.

She still wore headphones and didn’t lower her voice deliberately.

A group of cadets passing by overheard her provocative remarks, stopping to glare angrily.

Just as they prepared to confront the blasphemer, a faint voice sounded.

“Have you forgotten what I said?”

Ahead, a tall figure in the Empire Academy’s white uniform stood in the light.

His lips curled in a faint, familiar smile. Silver hair flowed like moonlight behind him, as if a deity had descended, worthy of every beautiful word.

The cadets froze. “Chairman!”

Lou Jia nodded slightly.

Yuan Hanshuang was oblivious to the unfolding drama, continuing to persuade her subordinate to join Silver Star and casually belittling the neighboring school.

She breezed past the frozen group and walked briskly toward a nearby cafeteria.

Lou Jia seemed to sense something. His eyes closed, silver lashes drooping, as if truly gazing upon the departing figure with a substantive presence.