TL: Hua

---

Chapter 30

North Star Fortress is located at the junction of three galaxies systems, and that area is a notoriously chaotic zone. Alliance General Ying Xun has been stationed there with the Seven Azure Bird Guards for four years, exactly as Lai Zhou and Pei Yingye said in the Full-domain Simulation.

It was just that the specific details of the accident they mentioned could not be found; perhaps it was covered up by the authorities. It was only known that four years ago, Zerg suddenly attacked via a derelict jump point, causing injuries to dozens of preparatory school students who were on a study tour at the fortress training center.

As for the General’s only son, information about him also seemed well-hidden; like the General’s partner, no relevant information could be found on the StarNet.

After a while, the door was gently pushed open a crack. Lance drifted out with floating steps, his dry lips having lost their original color. He didn’t even look at Ji Xuan again but just lowered his head and returned to his own bed, busying himself with something unknown.

Ji Xuan was indifferent to this.

He stood up, took a change of clothes, and walked into the finally vacant bathroom.

The warm stream of water washed down, taking away the fatigue left over from the full-domain simulation and dispelling the slightly unpleasant scent that had been floating in the air. Ji Xuan closed his eyes, letting the water flow over the lines of his neck, shoulders, and back. His long black hair was soaked, clinging to his back and chest; within the dense mist, he looked even more like a glamorous ghost roaming in the middle of the night.

He didn’t take long to wash. When he came out, Lance had already left. Ji Xuan tied his bathrobe, unhurriedly using a dry towel to absorb the excess water from his hair, when he suddenly heard a burst of restrained, tentative knocking at the door.

“*Knock, knock, knock.*”

It carried a bit of cautious excitement.

Ji Xuan’s hand paused. He put down the towel, slowly pulled the loose collar of his bathrobe tight, and stood up to open the door.

Standing outside was an unfamiliar baby-faced Omega. Seeing Ji Xuan behind the door, his whole being instantly overflowed with eager excitement.

“Is something the matter?” Ji Xuan asked.

The Omega cleared his throat, appearing somewhat shy. His gaze quickly swept over the undried water droplets on Ji Xuan’s neck, his tone enthusiastic: “Hello, Senior. I’m a student from the Arts Department. This year’s dance party is being hosted by our department, and I’m here to ask what your thoughts are for tonight.”

Ji Xuan looked at him with confusion.

“Did you not receive the message? We should have sent out a push notification to everyone; the theme for this year’s dance party is ‘Ragnarok’.” The Omega looked at Ji Xuan earnestly. “We have prepared nearly a hundred sets of costumes. If you haven’t decided yet, we can provide them.”

With that, he stepped aside, and the dormitory robot behind him immediately spread its arms wide, displaying a row of images for various costumes and outfits.

Ji Xuan casually asked, “…Do you guys do this every year?”

He had thought the party Pei Yingye mentioned would be similar to those in the Demon Realm—a group of people gathering to drink wine and eat meat, perhaps watching some demonic beast wrestling, or appreciating the performances of dancers. The immortal sects were similar, except they preferred the highbrow music of silk and bamboo; the preferences of the Demon Realm looked more like unrefined barbarians in their eyes.

It seemed the people here really knew how to have a good time.

“Not exactly,” the Omega explained. “It depends on which department is hosting each year. Themes change accordingly. Last year, the Mecha Department did some ‘Interstellar Airshow’ theme… Honestly, if it weren’t for the Chief’s face, who would want to go to such a ‘straight Alpha’ event? The forum absolutely trashed it! So, when it was our turn this year, we discussed doing something interesting.”

Realizing he had mentioned someone he shouldn’t have, the Omega’s face showed a flash of panic. He stammered an explanation: “…That… I’m sorry, Senior, I forgot about you and the Chief…”

Ji Xuan didn’t mind. He simply asked, “So, what do you think I should wear?”

The Omega froze for a moment. Then, his gaze swept unashamedly over Ji Xuan’s face, measuring the curve of his nose and the softness of his lips, finally sliding over the sliver of exposed skin and the waist held firm and lean by the bathrobe’s belt. A blush instantly crept up his cheeks.

His eyes flickered with excitement as he made a fervent suggestion: “…How about a high priest? You look like you’d suit white perfectly, Senior!”

Ji Xuan raised an eyebrow.

—

The setting sun was like molten gold as the twilight mist gathered.

The hall was a riot of color and light, crowded with shifting shadows. Crystal chandeliers cast patterns into every corner, and countless specks of light floated in the air like fireflies, enhancing the mythological decor into something dreamlike and ethereal.

Ji Yan wore a white and green gradient formal suit. When the light hit his pale gold-dyed hair, it shone brighter than the tiny gemstones sewn into his clothes. Golden ornaments hung from his pointed ears, completing his elf ensemble.

A crowd surrounded him, like stars orbiting the moon. Several students dressed as knights or forest fairies were engaged in eager conversation with him.

“This outfit was practically made for you; it’s perfect!”

“Seriously, can you leave the rest of us a way to live? Standing here, you make the rest of us look like we were dug out of the dirt.”

Ji Yan smiled shyly, taking a drink from a passing waiter’s tray and handing it to a student cross-dressing as a witch. “Stop it, you guys. Have a drink and stay quiet.”

His posture was relaxed and natural, clearly accustomed to such occasions.

Another voice chimed in with exaggerated flair: “Let me see who this is! Isn’t this the face of the Medical Department, the most formidable Omega in Mars Military Academy? I hereby declare that the focus of tonight’s dance has already been decided—there’s no contest!”

The surrounding group laughed in agreement. Ji Yan put on an appropriately helpless yet tolerant expression, raising a hand as if to hide. “That’s enough, everyone. I’m about to find a hole to crawl into. There are so many people; it’s embarrassing.”

Amidst the clinking glasses, the atmosphere was warm and harmonious—until a sudden voice cut through, mentioning the final rankings of the annual assessment.

“Ji Yan, speaking of which, your second brother… he really was a sensation this time.”

The lively atmosphere seemed to have been punctured, and the smiles on the faces of the people around them froze. They looked at each other with complicated expressions. Everyone knew that the team Ji Yan had meticulously assembled had been eliminated on the second day by Ji Xuan and Pei Yingye. The former had taken out two of the three Alphas in the team, and Ji Yan himself hadn’t lasted five minutes against him.

“Haha, that second brother of yours is quite ruthless,” one person joked, trying to lighten the mood. “He didn’t even go easy on you. Does he have any brotherly affection left?”

The light in Ji Yan’s beautiful eyes dimmed imperceptibly for an instant, like a dark cloud passing over a clear pond. But he quickly pulled his lips back into a smile, his voice gentle: “Second Brother has always… worked very hard.”

He paused, his fingers tracing the rim of his cold glass. “It was a competition, after all. I couldn’t ask him to be biased. He eliminated me for the sake of a better score… If it weren’t for this time, Second Brother might have been expelled. So, I don’t think it matters. At least he gets to stay at the academy with me; that’s very good.”

“I heard they eliminated a lot of people during the melee. I hope Second Brother didn’t offend them because of it.” Ji Yan smiled again, his face showing a timely blend of worry and concern for his kin.

The people around him couldn’t help but click their tongues.

“Sigh, only you wouldn’t care. If my brother were that ruthless to me, I’d have a massive falling out with him.”

“Xiao Yan, you’re just too kind.”

Ji Yan rubbed his nose bashfully, his gaze shifting. He was about to change the subject when he spotted Shen Que standing alone in the shadows not far away.

Unlike the others, Shen Que wasn’t heavily costumed. He wore only a silver-blue outer robe, which emphasized his already tall and noble stature.

Ji Yan’s heart stirred. He guessed Shen Que was likely in a bad mood due to yesterday’s elimination, which was why he hadn’t come over to say hello.

So he picked up his glass and walked towards Shen Que, thinking he could perhaps offer a few words of comfort.

However, after only a few steps, he came to a sudden halt.

Ji Yan saw clearly that Shen Que’s cold, detached eyes had suddenly widened, staring intently at the entrance of the banquet hall.

What happened?

Ji Yan followed Shen Que’s gaze and slowly turned his head—

Time seemed to stretch infinitely in that moment. The boisterous music and noisy chatter receded like a tide, leaving the entire hall in a silence so profound you could hear a pin drop.

At the entrance, the twilight sky pouring through the doorway framed a figure.

The first thing that hit the senses was an extreme, blinding white.

The design of the high priest’s robes was daring. The fabric overlapped tightly across the chest; the heavy, draped material and intricate runes embroidered in silver thread made the outfit look sacred and untouchable. Yet, the back was cleverly tied, leaving a line of smooth spine and a lean waist exposed to the air. The bare skin glowed like cold jade under the lights.

The sleeves were not continuous tubes but two draped ribbons of silk, bound at the wrists by golden bands.

The open design left Ji Xuan’s forearms fully exposed. That ink-black tattoo of a snake coiled around a flower bud climbed up from his wrist bone like a vine, disappearing into the deep shadows of his sleeves.

A jarring sense of contradiction and complexity clashed violently on Ji Xuan, yet miraculously fused together.

“*Clink—*”

Nearby, someone dropped their glass. Amber liquor splashed across the polished floor, but no one cared.

The dead silence was followed by uncontrollable gasps. Eyes full of awe and fervor surged toward the doorway.

“Ji Xuan is here! I knew he’d show up tonight!”

“Who picked this look for him? It fits him so well, I’m dying…”

“No, no, let me try to remember the scene where he shot me out of the simulation with one burst. What am I thinking? Do I want to die again?!”

Lance watched from a dark corner of the “temple.” His fixed gaze swirled with intense jealousy, inescapable fear, and powerless resentment.

He felt the phantom sensation of Zerg legs crawling on his neck again. He jerked his hand up to touch his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing with difficulty. Finally, he just tilted his head and downed the harsh alcohol in his glass.

Since leaving the simulation, he no longer had the heart to oppose Ji Xuan. The recurring nightmares of last night made him realize that Ji Xuan had far too many ways to pay him back a thousandfold for his petty tricks.

It only depended on whether Ji Xuan felt like it.

He saw Ji Xuan’s gaze coldly sweep the room. Seemingly disappointed at not finding the person he was looking for, Ji Xuan’s brow twitched with slight dissatisfaction.

The moment their eyes were about to meet, Lance hurriedly looked away, set down his glass, and hid himself behind a Roman column. The terminal on his wrist “beeped” twice. He answered it and asked quickly, “Is the room transfer not handled yet? I have to move tomorrow… no… tonight!”

—

Ji Xuan didn’t see Pei Yingye, who was supposed to come for his “prize,” but he did see Shen Que.

He paused for a moment, then walked straight toward him.

A flash of surprise crossed Shen Que’s eyes, followed by a look of realization when he saw the letter in Ji Xuan’s hand. He pressed his lips together, unaware that they had already curved into an uncontrollable arc.

Ji Xuan had sent him many things in the past. His favorites were transcribed cards. Somewhere, Ji Xuan had heard that he liked romantic, poetic things, so he had searched through classics page by page for sentences about the seasons, freedom, and dreams.

There was no talk of love.

Perhaps Ji Xuan had been worried his intentions would be too obvious and cause revulsion.

Shen Que stood his ground, waiting expectantly. He didn’t know why Ji Xuan had suddenly changed his mind and picked up his old habits.

He prepared himself to hear the clumsy words of reconciliation that usually followed. In truth, an apology wasn’t even necessary.

However, Ji Xuan stopped in front of him without any of the emotions he had anticipated. Those eyes, hidden beneath long lashes, were as calm as a still pond. Ji Xuan simply reached out and pressed the letter into Shen Que’s already raised hand.

“Guess what I’m giving you?” Ji Xuan asked with a playful, curious lilt.

Shen Que’s eyelids lowered. As his palm brushed the warmth of Ji Xuan’s fingertips, his heart gave an involuntary throb.

His Adam’s apple moved as he let out a muffled “Mm.”

“Good.”

Ji Xuan withdrew his hand without a trace of lingering attachment. He turned his head and gave a cold smile to Ji Yan, who had stepped forward looking like he wanted to say something. Then, without further explanation, he turned and walked away.

The white robes traced an arc in front of Shen Que’s eyes. He watched the increasingly distant, indifferent back and dazedly opened the plain white letter.

The handwriting was sharp and solitary, completely different from the past. The content was not the words of reconciliation Shen Que had imagined. The phrase “Have nothing to do with each other” hit his eyes, leaving him stunned. It took several seconds for him to understand what Ji Xuan had written.

He was breaking off the engagement.

---

Purchase complete translation in EPUB format HERE.