"Senior, has the dragon blood in your body passed fifty percent?"
"Not yet. But it's rising every day," Chu replied. "Don't touch that technology."
"We're brothers. I can't watch you walk into a dead end," Morin said evenly. "No matter how strong that tech is, raising blood concentration won't let you beat Odin. He's on the level of a Dragon King. Let me analyze it. I might improve it, or at least find a way to reduce the concentration."
"...Sleep." Chu didn't continue.
"Even if the Lionheart Society took Morin with Divine Calculus, the Student Union didn't lose out," Caesar said. "We obtained the only S-rank in forty years-Lu Mingfei. No matter how refined the strategy, it's meaningless before absolute power."
The next day, in the main conference room of Norton Hall.
Caesar's ice-blue eyes swept the room and stopped on Nuonuo. "You handled their recruitment. What is Lu good at?"
"Honestly, the fact that he didn't follow his Boss into the Lionheart Society is already a miracle." Nuonuo pulled the lollipop from her mouth and thought hard. "As for what he's good at... does StarCraft count?"
"...I'll note it." Caesar nodded. "If Day of Liberty turns into an e-sports tournament, I'll send him in."
Laughter rippled through the room.
"I don't see what's funny," Caesar said coldly. "His rank was personally decided by the Principal. Are you questioning that?"
The laughter died instantly.
"I'm inclined to think he's hiding something," Nuonuo said, recalling the theater. That boy had shed his usual loser aura, standing straight, gaze indifferent. A cheap suit had looked like tailored couture on him-an emperor surveying the world.
A text notification rang.
Everyone searched for the offender.
Nuonuo.
Never mind.
"Looks like we don't need to guess," she said after reading it. "He's suited for sniping. Put him in a sniper position."
"Source?" Caesar asked.
"His Boss." She waved her phone. The message was from Morin.
"Could be a diversion," someone muttered.
"No idea," Nuonuo shrugged. "Believe it or not. Or ask him yourself."
"Sniper? I've never touched a sniper rifle!" Lu blurted. "The only gun I ever used was in ROTC-a bolt-action with a wooden stock!"
He was dizzy after Nuonuo's call. He'd tried to play ostrich by oversleeping and ignoring the Student Union email. But he couldn't ignore a call from his "future sister-in-law"-at least in his mind.
Poaching was unethical, not illegal. Double standards were human nature. Lu didn't consider himself especially fair. If his Boss openly poached her, Lu would cheer. The fact Morin hadn't moved yet meant he was waiting.
"Planning to bring a sword to a gunfight?" Finger poked his head out from the top bunk. "Brave."
"Rush melee just to give first blood?" Lu had some self-awareness.
"Then stay in the rear," Finger said.
"Can't I stay in the dorm like you?" Lu complained.
"If you were F-rank, sure." Finger straightened. "But you're not. Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown. Defend the honor of the first S-rank in forty years."
"What if I lose the title?" Lu asked hopefully.
"Scholarship cut. Clearance reduced," Finger counted. "More importantly-your reputation. Prove S-rank strength and you're a legend. Drop from S-rank and you're another legend-the first demotion. Nailed to the pillar of shame."
"That serious?" Lu's eyes widened.
"That's what S-rank means." Finger's voice softened, persuasive. "Lineage. Inequality. Power. Authority. With power, everything you want is within reach."
For a moment, Lu saw ferocity-and regret-in this decadent, game-addicted senior.
A sudden boom shook the room.
"Earthquake?" Lu jumped.
When he focused again, Finger was gone. The room was silent.
"Brother."
"Ah!" Lu smashed his head on the bed frame and rolled, groaning.
He looked up.
Lu Mingze stood there.
Not his chubby cousin from home. This was the exquisitely dressed boy in a suit-the one who had appeared before, calling him "brother."
"You're like a ghost!" Lu rubbed his head.
"I am a ghost," Mingze said with a bitter smile. The sadness in it killed Lu's snark.
"Talk normally," Lu said. "You're alive." He pinched Mingze's cheek. "Texture's decent."
Mingze: "..."
"What do you want?" Lu sat up. "Every time you appear, nothing good happens. Did I pass out again?"
"A trade," Mingze said softly.
"A trade? For what?" Lu frowned. "I don't have anything."
"A trade. Your life. In exchange for the power you desire."
"Hah! Fox tail showing already?" Lu scrambled back, grabbing a controller. "What demon are you? This is the modern world. Go cultivate in the mountains."
"I am your brother."
"What kind of brother wants my life?" Lu shot back. "Cannibal? Pick someone else. The guy in the top bunk has plenty of muscle. Chewy."
"You need power," Mingze said. Loneliness radiated from him. "Nothing is gained without a price-except what you already possess."
"What do I need power for? I just want to lie flat." Lu denied it. "I don't crave power."
"Is that so?"
Mingze stepped closer. Each step echoed in Lu's chest. His voice hissed like Eden's serpent-tempting.
"Don't you want money? To buy anything, go anywhere? Love? For the one you like to like you back? Authority? One order and ten thousand obey? Supreme king... even Morin..."
Images unfolded.
A supercar. Chen Wenwen at candlelight. The world bending.
"All of this-if you have power."
"Enough!" Lu roared.
"Whoa!" Finger's weak voice broke in. "If you don't want it, don't want it. No need to shout."
Lu blinked.
Everything was normal.
Finger lay on the top bunk.
Had he shouted out loud?
Finger froze, then turned away with hands raised. "Junior, my bad! I was just talking trash. No need to use your Spirit Language on me!"
"Huh?"
Lu noticed a glow-two bright golden spotlights in his vision.
Who turned on the lights?
He ran to the sink.
The mirror showed a boy he knew intimately.
But not now.
His Golden Eyes were lit.
Majesty poured out-kingly, absolute. He didn't feel fear.
Because it was him.
Standing above all.
"In a trade, there's an inspection," Mingze whispered by his ear, playful and irresistible. "VIP privilege. This is permanent. How to use it? Ever played Street Fighter? Basically-SHORYUKEN!"
A vision flashed.
A rising dragon punch. Blood. The enemy blasted skyward.
The light faded.
Lu's mind reeled. He understood-he could control something.
Power.
If he wished, he could ignite his Golden Eyes and use his Spirit Language.
...Why was it so embarrassing?
"Junior, you okay?" Finger climbed down cautiously. "Don't scare me."
"Nothing." Lu tapped his head. "Senior, are there Spirit Languages like anime or games?"
"Of course. Take Chu-King's Fire. Fireballs. Big ones."
"So the form can match." Lu relaxed a little. "Do you have to say something?"
"As a rookie, yes. Sounds like chanting." Finger squinted. "Why that face?"
"Nothing. Something happy." Lu looked miserable. "Is there one that's short? Two or three words? Chinese?"
"Impossible." Finger laughed. "If you were that good, you'd be instant-casting. At that level, you say nothing. Shouting the move name is terminal Eighth-Grader Syndrome!"
He slapped Lu's shoulder. "By the way, I didn't know you'd awakened. Hiding it well. What is it? I won't tell."
Lu went silent.