6:06

In the days that followed, Yuan Hanshuang thrived at school like a fish in water. With her most pressing problem of securing meals resolved, she walked as if the wind followed her every step.

The only regret was that the school doctor, fearing she might overeat and cause health issues, strictly limited her daily intake of nutrient fluid. According to this allowance, Yuan Hanshuang could only eat until she was half full each day.

But why complain when she could enjoy half a meal for free? After enduring genuine hunger for a while, she had fully adapted to this state. Besides, although the junior academy’s cafeteria provided the nutrient fluid free of charge, the daily supply was finite—no endless provision was possible.

If she were to eat her fill, Yuan Hanshuang suspected she might be asked to leave on the spot.

The world was not just about fighting and killing; it revolved around human relations and social etiquette. Leaving some leeway in her actions would help nurture renewable resources.

Still, several times at the school gate, she overheard workers delivering nutrient fluid to the junior academy chatting idly.

“Why has the nutrient fluid consumption at the junior academy suddenly increased so much recently?”

“No idea. Could they have expanded the student intake? Judging by the consumption, at least a hundred more students!”

“Forget it, let’s be understanding. These kids are the empire’s future blossoms—they need to grow properly.”

Yuan Hanshuang, empire’s future blossom and food machine single-handedly supporting a hundred others, quietly slipped away.

Apart from this small episode, everything else remained calm and peaceful.

Though she had made an enemy of young master Gu Dezé, he did not seek to trouble her directly. Instead, when they crossed paths in the corridor, he would glare fiercely at her; during joint practical classes, he would insist on being placed on the opposing team, constantly opposing her in every way. As a mature adult, Yuan Hanshuang barely allowed these childish antics to vex her—at most, she thought to herself, “Ah, such youthful energy, how wonderful to be young.”

Little did she know that this cold shoulder only fueled Gu Dezé’s hatred, making him gnash his teeth all the more fiercely.

With permission to commute daily, Yuan Hanshuang left school promptly at fixed times. After familiarizing herself with the lunch break and timetable, she began consciously allocating her time—attending important classes on time, skipping or leaving early from less important ones, and using the extra time to practice and work.

While the other students were genuine children, her exterior housed an adult’s mind. The courses for gifted students at the junior academy were essentially equivalent to elementary school lessons in her previous life, posing no challenge whatsoever.

Moreover, she noticed that lessons for their age group mainly focused on theoretical fundamentals and mental cultivation. Meditation came naturally to her, and after flipping through the textbooks, she understood the cultural subjects thoroughly. Graduates of the exam-oriented education system handled final exams with ease.

“Thanks to the college entrance exam system back then, I wouldn’t be who I am today without it.”

Most of the remaining classes involved physical training and combat lessons.

In particular, on these fronts, Yuan Hanshuang, a former martial arts champion and ancient martial arts master in her past life, was an expert—more than capable of teaching the teachers themselves.

Thus, she studied exactly what she needed, and after receiving a set of textbooks unavailable on the market, she felt justified skipping classes.

With the extra time, she unwittingly pushed herself harder than anyone else.

Training on a half-full stomach was almost twice as slow as when she was fully fed, a discovery that made her increasingly anxious.

Half a month was enough to confirm that although she suspected a mimicry defect, eating her fill still bore significant benefits.

Yuan Hanshuang realized her training speed and efficiency depended entirely on how full she was. The fuller she was, the faster she trained; the emptier, the slower.

“So, it’s a bit like a battery—you need to be fully charged to unleash maximum power.”

Notably, if she stopped training, her appetite would return to normal levels.

Her mimicry abilities also grew in size and length as her training level increased, showing remarkable effects.

From a palm-sized fish she first awakened to, it had now grown to nearly half the length of her forearm.

To maximize every moment and better utilize her half-full state, Yuan Hanshuang meditated at night and continued basic physical training during the day.

Reaching the first tier as soon as possible was her current paramount goal.

One day in class, she listened especially attentively.

“Today, we will discuss another combat method for gifted individuals—synchronization combat,” Teacher Xiao Yunmeng stood at the podium, explaining to the eager students. “Compared to the straightforward and crude mimicry combat where you simply release your mimicry, synchronization combat is more powerful but also more difficult.”

“Even though I’m giving you a detailed explanation today, it might take you half a year or even a year to master it proficiently.”

Yuan Hanshuang tilted her head in confusion.

She had already tried this brand-new combat method last week based on the textbook—it wasn’t very difficult, just barely succeeding after one afternoon.

She hadn’t expected the interstellar academy to still use this reverse teaching method that exaggerated difficulty to spark students’ competitiveness.

“Why is synchronization combat stronger? Because in the synchronized state, gifted individuals can use skills. And skills can only be used in synchronization.”

A student raised a hand: “Teacher Xiao, how do we acquire skills?”

“They can’t be acquired; you must develop them yourself.”

Xiao Yunmeng explained, “Each gifted individual’s skills differ, depending on your imagination and the characteristics of your mimicry. For example, a hedgehog mimicry is good at defense, a woodpecker mimicry excels at healing—developing skills in those directions is twice as effective.”

“Of course, skill development must not defy common sense.”

As she listened, Yuan Hanshuang’s thoughts drifted away.

She began pondering what kind of skills she should develop to maximize her combat power.

Finally, after diligent training for half a month, she successfully broke through the peak of level zero and officially stepped into the first tier.

At this turning point, she began to get a clearer idea of the direction in which to develop her skills.

To confirm whether she had mastered a new combat method, practical combat was indispensable.

Fortunately, after reaching the first tier, Yuan Hanshuang could formally go to the Black Street Fighting Arena to handle her promotion from an ordinary fighter to a gifted fighter.

“Not enthusiastic about eating, there must be something wrong with your mindset.”

With triple the salary offered, Yuan Hanshuang didn’t hesitate and happily decided to skip the unimportant theory class tomorrow morning to first complete her promotion paperwork.

After breakfast, the whole family went out together.

Yuan Hanshuang first accompanied her father to the tavern where he worked, watched him change into his security uniform, then waved goodbye.

Taking over her father’s job at the fighting arena, she found him a simpler, easier role as a security guard at the tavern, where he only needed to stand watch. With his natural superhuman strength, he could easily handle ordinary people.

That’s how it was for poor families—never letting go of a strong man.

“Goodbye, Dad! I’m off to school!” she called as she slung on her small backpack, waved to her father, then turned down an alley and, like a thief, circled back along a familiar narrow lane, descending into a passageway.

After several twists and turns in the abandoned, dim corridor, the space suddenly opened up.

Looking up, the underground dome stretched boundlessly, revealing only night and stars. Even though it was artificial, it looked indistinguishable from the outside world. The surroundings were all cold, hard steel; the ground was forged from some unknown alloy. People came and went on the streets, while above hovered deep blue star trails and floating spacecraft.

This was known as Black Street. The underground fighting arena where Yuan Hanshuang worked was built here.

The name alone betrayed its lawless nature—and indeed, it was so.

Black Street was uniformly built underground on the planet, a de facto no-man’s land. It was mostly filled with fighting arenas, casinos, auctions, and ghost markets—gray-to-black hubs of commerce. Over years of development, it had become a vast industrial chain with organizations sprawling across the Empire and Federation, forming a formidable and influential power.

Of course, despite the danger, Black Street had its own rules.

Most who came and went were gifted individuals, some borderline reckless types, mingling among each other with an unmistakable aura of bloodshed. The fighting arenas held several life-or-death tournaments annually, and regular death matches were common. Yuan Hanshuang had often helped deal with corpses at the arena, so she was used to it.

“Ding, employee card recognized.”

At the back entrance of the fighting arena, facial recognition triggered the silent opening of the steel door.

Inside the employee room, she changed into a sleek, jet-black fighting suit. Untying her twin tails, she tied her hair into a high ponytail, then picked up a pair of sunglasses from the rack. Pressing a hidden button, the lenses underwent molecular reorganization and diffusion, completely concealing her face behind a mask.

She entered the employee lounge.

Black Street was busier at night; this early, only resident employees were present. A few glanced at her upon hearing her, then quickly lost interest.

The staff at the fighting arena were varied: receptionists, front desk clerks, cleaners, errand runners, and resident fighters like her.

Periodically, the arena invited active and promising fighters to become resident combatants. Those signing contracts enjoyed better services, guaranteed shares, and bonuses compared to freelancers. The arena required fighters to participate in a minimum number of matches monthly with a set minimum win rate, ensuring ongoing and exciting competitions.

Having come to the interstellar era, other ways of making money had barriers; sticking to her old trade was the most suitable.

Putting aside other matters, Yuan Hanshuang quite liked the fighting arena’s work atmosphere. No socializing, no overtime, and indifferent relationships between employees meant no time wasted on maintaining social ties.

She walked straight to a floating screen, authenticated with her iris, and selected the upgrade service.

Soon, a senior staff member arrived to escort her for gifted fighter certification.

Since spectators loved exciting fights, gifted fighters’ battles were far more thrilling than simple brawls between ordinary people.

Under these circumstances, the arena was willing to pay handsomely to nurture them.

The senior staff filled out some forms and spoke gently: “Please demonstrate your mental power mimicry.”

“All right,” she replied.

...

Meanwhile, elsewhere, Xiao Yunmeng and Hong Nian had finally found time to negotiate with the director and successfully obtained Yuan Hanshuang’s home address.

The home visit was conducted discreetly to consider the student’s feelings, choosing a school day and taking leave from school.

“Residential complex... does the child usually live here?” Xiao Yunmeng frowned deeply as she looked up at the tall building before her.

From enrollment, she had noticed Yuan Hanshuang’s attire. Unlike the other children in uniform, she wore patched clothes arrogantly at school.

Yet Yuan Hanshuang didn’t see any problem with this. Once, when teased, she earnestly told classmates these were the latest fashions from the capital star’s fashion circle, where fashion insiders and noble elites liked to sew patches of different colors onto their clothes.

At the end, she pityingly shook her head: “Alas, you country bumpkins have no sense of fashion!”

The others were utterly baffled.

The star 1999 was dozens of star clusters away from the capital, with news sparse and closed off. Very few children had light brains, and who knew what was fashionable there?

Yet Yuan Hanshuang shamelessly pulled off her con with a straight face, making her story oddly convincing. After exchanging glances, the classmates began spreading rumors that she was actually a fallen noble lady from the imperial capital star.

Xiao Yunmeng, who had witnessed this scene, was speechless.

If not for her regular subscription to the capital star’s monthly fashion e-magazine, she might have believed it too.

The two took the elevator to the entrance and pressed the doorbell.

After waiting several minutes with no sign of the door opening, Xiao Yunmeng frowned.

“What’s going on? It’s noon—this shouldn’t happen.”

They rang the doorbell for ten minutes, then reluctantly dialed the parents’ light brain number.

...

After a long silence, Hong Nian was quiet.

The number had been entered but was a dead line.

The school maintained a unified registry of parent contact info to report on students’ progress and exam results, usually via text messages. Teachers rarely called parents unless something serious occurred.

No one expected this child to have provided a false number.

It was truly excessive.

Hong Nian then called the director’s light brain.

Originally, they planned the home visit carefully to avoid unsettling the student. Now, with no way to contact the parents, it seemed their trip might be in vain. After some thought, since they had come all this way, it would be embarrassing to leave empty-handed.

“Director Song, please contact Yuan Hanshuang’s homeroom teacher and find out the real contact information or workplace of her parents.”

The director set down his thermos, clutching the layers of fat on his belly, then hurried from his office to the classroom of Class Two.

Upon hearing this, the homeroom teacher paused the lesson.

“Yuan Hanshuang, please come out for a moment.”

Calling three times, there was no response.

She frowned and sharply scanned the room, checking students one by one.

Good grief, the girl wasn’t even here. She had skipped class.