Chapter 10

Fatigue is only temporary; soon Aomo will call Bi Ze to get up and go to the restroom.

It's quite normal for high school boys to go to the restroom together.

It's more natural for high school boys to settle conflicts in the restroom; the actual brutal 'Yeeeeart' sound will also be heard, but at least there is no 'sa·yo·na·la'! shout version accompanying the explosion.

This world has no ninja assassins, yet it also has Ninja Slayer; even Bi Ze, who knows many otherworldly cultures, can't tell whether it's creative convergence or plagiarism, only saying that within the cityscape shaped by the Holy Terra Federation's technological power, there is a considerable part that fits the cyberpunk stage.

It's just a stage, after all, the Heart of Terra provides social service funds, provides universal mandatory insurance, and vigorously develops all kinds of entertainment industries, emphasizing 'I want to raise you all into good-for-nothings.'

Occasionally there will be an uprising shouting 'Resist the AI leader, the world belongs to humanity!'—first they face not guns and cannons, but the lure of an open scheme.

Its existence makes many later transmigrators feel subtle, as if they've come to another world ready to show their mettle, only to find they have nothing to do.

Or they could just stay and enjoy the blessings.

Some colonial cities in fringe star systems have indeed developed a true cyberpunk society, but that's too far from here; Aomo at least doesn't have the Buddha's heart to rush aid to suffering people tens of thousands of light-years away.

At most he would utter a single 'Namu San'.

Namu San, actually brutal.

But saying is saying, letting Bi Ze go back with a swollen nose and bruised face would be hard to explain to someone like Grace, the 'small animal' type, so Aomo reluctantly sent Bi Ze to the infirmary, where the doctor used healing magic to give him a simple treatment.

"I remember this magic stimulates the body to speed up self-healing; its essence is to shorten one's lifespan."

Bi Ze, leaving the infirmary, spoke in a low voice, trying to evoke Aomo's guilt.

"But you can't call forth what isn't there, Aomo replied coldly: 'Letting the body heal on its own is the same; you just won't get hungry as quickly. Instead of talking about this, you'd better think about how to face Grace later—it feels like that girl hasn't really taken to dirty jokes.'"

"Ah, that's true, but people don't stay long, and today's class is either me doing practice problems and test papers on my own or the teacher lecturing; I just thick-skinned my way through."

"What ostrich..."

"You don't happen to like that girl, do you?" Aomo still remembered Bi Ze being all thumbs when he first met Grace, like a fan who had chased stars for years suddenly seeing their idol and becoming a flustered fan, completely lacking the ease he usually had when interacting with other classmates.

Even his goofy jokes in front of Aomo couldn't be pulled off.

In the end, it seemed he decided to make a move but misjudged the distance.

Saying it's a step-by-step defeat wouldn't be an exaggeration, but one cannot rule out the other side taking a wild route and trying to go off the beaten path.

First draw attention with a bad impression, then slowly scheme—something like that. Aomo himself has little romantic experience, doesn't really expect love, but he's read some manga and played some games, so he has a vague understanding.

Logically, knowledge gained from virtual works is hard to say could serve as reference, and it's even less likely to become true, but Aomo is a person who believes in possibilities, believing the world is so big that perhaps somewhere it could replicate manga- or game-like plots.

A cautious person rarely speaks in absolutes, and he is just such a cautious person.

"I've thought about it," Bi Ze, still unaware that Aomo had already worked out in his mind how many steps he could take, neither denied nor agreed, as if speaking of something else: "Perhaps her companion here, the one who came to pick him up, might be El-Melloi II."

"Another person you unilaterally know?" Bi Ze asked, glancing at the distant classroom, raising his chin, gesturing toward the tall man standing by the door, "Is that him?"

He is tall and slender, his complexion sallow, appearing lacking rest while also having issues ranging from poor diet to potential gastrointestinal problems.

Aomo suspected the latter.

But setting aside complexion and just talking about appearance, he is a long-haired, fair-faced individual who can attract the gazes of many female students, especially that mature aura cultivated together with his crisp Western suit, which is especially hard for these female high schoolers to resist.

Just by standing there he is a unique sight, especially since the cigar he originally held between his fingers has been snatched by a teacher, and he slightly bows his head to accept the scolding, making many male students feel gratified.

Aomo is not among them; he cares about the label 'new face'.

At such times, a new face appearing at the classroom door first makes one think: also someone come to pick up a 'visiting student'.

"Ah, yes," upon seeing that man, Bi Ze also paused slightly, seemingly not intending to approach and talk, "I happen to be quite suited for this pair."

"This pair?" Seeing him pause, Aomo also stopped to size up the two who had met with Grace and were heading straight for the stairwell, "They don't look like a couple."

"Maybe they're just teacher and student for now, but who knows about the future," Bi Ze resumed walking, deliberately heading toward the stairwell opposite that teacher-student pair, "I'm actually rather looking forward to whether any of the other people they know have also transmigrated."

"It's hard to follow your train of thought."

Aomo thought to himself that this sounded a bit like shipping couples in a romance manga, but since talk leads to mistakes, it's better not to say.

"Well, there's no need to really understand anyway..." Bi Ze said helplessly, really not wanting to say 'they're all characters from the manga I've followed,' since the people are right in front of him, there's no need to bring up the paper‑person notion; just treating them as unilaterally known acquaintances is fine.

Although doing so makes his behavior seem increasingly strange.

"It's fine, I can see you don't want to answer, so I won't bring it up; I don't care."

"...... Are you the Sea King?" Bi Ze felt somewhat moved and somewhat speechless.

"That would definitely be nowhere near as good."

Aomo said while stepping onto the stairs of the target floor, and the class bell rang just then, prompting him to quicken his pace slightly.

He is always this sensitive to time, so even the lazy Bi Ze had to hurry to keep up, and after entering the classroom and taking his seat, he handed Bi Ze a sheet of paper to look at.

The paper bore thanks and farewells, evidently from the hooded girl with gray‑green eyes.

Bi Ze's gaze fixed, perhaps imagining her sitting at the desk writing these English words; after a few seconds he turned the paper over and saw a string of numbers noted on the back.

"She hasn't received official certification yet, so this contact method should belong to her companion," Aomo said softly, because the teacher for this class had already walked up to the podium, making it inconvenient for them to whisper.

After all, they aren't desk mates, nor do they have the luxury of a rear‑window seat, nor the darkness under the front‑row lights; they have only an in‑between spot, stuck right here.

Fortunately, this class involves writing practice problems and self‑study reading, which makes it easy for Aomo to toss a note over.

【I've prepared a copy; I suggest you also keep one, after all...】 Aomo didn't say anything else, only saying, '【The homeroom teacher said her affiliation is under the Clock Tower, and maintaining good relations with that organization is also a good thing.】'

Bi Ze nodded and put away the paper, while Aomo turned his attention to the crystal in his mind, confirmed that number, then honestly took out the test paper and began doing practice problems.

The following two days passed uneventfully, except that the netizen Kailifu actually transferred money to buy those few Super Dream items, and nothing else occupied Aomo's memory; the Sirius symbol also didn't reappear in the subway, and one would think that such a famous figure taking the subway would just be a whim.

And Bi Ze reverted to his usual habit of easily raising people's blood pressure.

After doing practice problems, explaining them, correcting them, and undergoing a simple, quick physical check, Aomo slung his pencil case and sat down in the examination hall.

He glanced at the devices placed before and after the examination hall, which directly shield the crystal, and at the floating security robots in midair, then Aomo again began boredly observing the other examinees around him.

The college entrance exam is an important part of the Holy Terra Federation's education system; although the questions are drawn from the same test bank, the actual examination methods and hall designs are 'according to our own national conditions!'

For example, the Gaokao in Canaan City once launched a cool, immersive infiltration exam, where the chief examiner selects the exam hall map, scatters the test questions around as monsters, and examinees defeat them with verbal volleys and pen strokes—this once sparked heated discussion.

This is the Border Gate District, not Canaan City.

The examination hall where Aomo finds himself is just as rustic as the classroom he used to be in.

The most ordinary written test, the most ordinary examination hall, the only thing not ordinary is the examinees themselves:

Dwarves, demons, horse girls, elves, and even people whose race is unclear or who simply have cosmetic modifications giving them dog ears, cat ears, horns, etc.

Thirty oddballs have gathered, yet they make up less than half of the common races of the Holy Terra Federation, and each bears an air of extraordinary gravity, even heaviness.

The college entrance exam will decide their future—either get into their desired university or go straight into society's crucible; even if the Heart of Terra's policies are enough for one to scrape by as a rice-worm, who would sit here thinking that?

They obviously have goals, even ideals and dreams.

But if such dreams come true, they become the brilliance in people's hearts, something nothing can obscure, a gem born of the human heart.

Yet its more common state is broken.

Right now, the gems Aomo sees—some dust-covered pearls, some cracked, some already chipped—are exactly where that grave, even heavy atmosphere lies.

So thick it feels like it could cover the whole exam hall, making Aomo feel as if he already has one foot in the list of life's losers.

Can my luck really be this bad?

I still feel my mock exams and practice results were pretty good......

Even before leaving, he had intercepted Morrison's poisonous well-wishes for his college entrance exam; upon setting off, he even felt his condition was excellent, and if expressed in the tone of a horse girl trainer, that would be called a perfect condition!

But now, with his usual excellent perception and insight working together, he sees the decaying atmosphere in this exam hall—a mist like some unnamed fog that constantly spreads and swallows hearts, making Aomo feel his inherent confidence will be snatched away.

What sin have I committed! Will my spiritual sense disappear on the first day if I apply for archaeology?

Or perhaps applying to the Daoist school, specializing in aura-reading, could also be promising?

Aomo gripped his pen, poised, watching the sheets being passed forward one after another, his mind wandering, his condition indicator slightly shifting away from perfect.

Fortunately, the test paper placed before him drew his attention to reality; the indoor broadcast's notice and the chief examiner's reminder also brought all those similarly distracted examinees back to focus, fixing their eyes on the papers that would determine their next steps.

This is a trial, a trial from the past; the answers written on the paper now will reflect each examinee's past deeds.

At that moment, Aomo recalled having studied horse girl races countless times before.

He paid attention to every horse girl who could attract his notice through performance, speed, or words, then looked up all available information on her to confirm whether she would continue to succeed.

What he thought of were not those failures, but those who achieved continual success, especially on racecourses where boos never ceased and rain never stopped.

Such racecourses also harbor unabandoned dreams; whenever he studied those horse girls' race conditions, he also drew near to their hearts yearning for victory.

And the reason he could be certain of their success was that he had already seen those gems gradually growing brilliant.

Thinking of this, he understood.

The law of victory, he had already seen.

Aomo Lindun, perfect condition.

The moving pen strokes were calm and stable; only his brown eyes held a faint flash of blood-light driven by a will to contend.