"Qin Feng, please come in."
In the academic affairs office of the Seventh Middle School, Homeroom Teacher Li Weiguo pointed to the metal chair opposite him.
Qin Feng pulled out the chair and sat down, his back ramrod straight.
The office was spacious. Outside the window, the common sky-blue of an artificial sky stretched over the Educational Planet Qiming.
Small civilian anti-gravity vehicles glided silently along preset routes. Farther in the distance, the spires of skyscrapers pierced the clouds, their holographic ads shifting through light and shadow, promoting the latest "Dragon Blood No. 3" gene optimization fluid.
Li Weiguo projected an electronic file into the air in front of Qin Feng. On the pale blue screen of light, a line of crimson numbers was particularly striking.
[Name: Qin Feng]
[Student ID: 7351098]
[Life Force Index: 0.41]
[Grade Ranking: 9873]
[Recent Index Growth Rate: 0.001/month]
Li Weiguo's finger swiped lightly across the data as he began to speak. "Qin Feng, you're a good kid. You're attentive in class and always complete your homework diligently. All the teachers agree on this."
He paused for a moment, then continued, "But you know about the tracking policy for the high school placement exams."
Qin Feng nodded without speaking.
The Empire's territory was vast, the Great Expedition was in full swing, and war was everywhere.
Humanity needed warriors, needed the strong.
Therefore, education was fundamentally divided into two paths.
One was the elite path leading to Martial Arts Universities and Military Academies, where the strong battled the myriad races of the starry sky and achieved unparalleled military glory.
The other was to enter a vocational technical school and become a qualified cog in the Empire's vast war machine—a Power Armor Maintenance Worker, for example…
The sole criterion for dividing these two paths was the "Life Force Index."
An index of 0.8 was the admission threshold for a regular high school.
An index of 1.0 was required to even be eligible to apply for a key Martial Arts High School.
And Qin Feng's 0.41 was less than half the minimum requirement.
"There's only one month left until the placement exams. According to the system's assessment, the probability of your Life Force Index breaking 0.5 within this month is less than one in ten thousand. The school's recommendation is for you to leave early and prepare for the early admission exams for vocational technical schools."
Li Weiguo's words were blunt, but his tone held no trace of mockery or contempt. He was simply stating an established fact.
"There are many options for early admission: Power Armor Maintenance, logistics and supply management, primary processing of Spiritual Energy minerals… These are all positions for which the Empire has an urgent need for talent, and the salary after graduation is very stable."
"I understand, sir."
Qin Feng stood up and gave Li Weiguo a slight bow. "Thank you, sir."
Li Weiguo watched him, silent for two seconds. Then he took a small energy bar from his drawer and handed it over.
"This is your nutritional subsidy for the month; the school is giving it to you early. Go on home. Have a good talk with your father."
"Yes."
"Go on. Oh, and tell Zhang Xiaoli to come here as well."
"Okay."
If Qin Feng remembered correctly, Zhang Xiaoli was a "poor student" just like him—his academic grades were good, and he was very diligent, but his Life Force Index grew at an extremely slow pace.
Qin Feng took the energy bar, turned, and left the office.
Qin Feng returned to his classroom and told Zhang Xiaoli to go to the office.
A short while later, Zhang Xiaoli returned, looking completely dejected, and called over another "poor student."
Qin Feng leaned against the window, muttering to himself, "At the Seventh Middle School, there are two hundred and thirty-seven third-year classes. Each class has sixty students, and probably over twenty of them are 'poor students.' And on Planet Qiming, there are hundreds of thousands of middle schools just like this."
"And in this era of the raging Great Expedition, the human Empire loses and recaptures countless Educational Planets like Qiming every second."
"..."
Qin Feng held a copy of *A Comprehensive History of the Empire*.
To be honest, he didn't want to become an ordinary cog in the Empire's vast war machine, living a mundane and unremarkable life, especially not in a world so magnificent.
But reality was cruel.
A humble background, the tracking policy, mediocre talent—these things denied him even the chance to receive a high school Martial Dao education.
The smart terminal on his wrist vibrated and displayed a message.
[Seventh Middle School Academic Affairs Office: Dear Student Qin Feng, based on the tracking policy and an assessment of your individual situation, your on-campus courses have concluded as of today. Please select a suitable vocational-technical path. We wish you a bright future.]
Qin Feng closed the notification, walked out of the school gates, and boarded the maglev bus home.
The bus sped along a track thirty meters above the ground, the bustling cityscape outside the window as prosperous as ever.
On a massive holographic projection, a planet was burning amidst a dense fleet of Imperial ships.
"...The Green Skin Fleet has launched a surprise attack on the Egret Star System. The Imperial Third Legion has been dispatched as emergency reinforcements. The two sides have erupted into a fierce battle in the planetary fracture zone. An Imperial mission has been posted on the official Subspace website..."
"...'Fist Emperor' Loksi successfully broke through to the 'Constant Star-level' yesterday, becoming the youngest Constant Star-level Powerhouse in the history of the Empire..."
"...'Dragon Snake' Wang Chao took first place in the Imperial Starry Sky Cup yesterday, earning a spot in the Cosmic Genius Battle..."
"...The latest batch of gene optimization fluid has been delivered to Blacktan Star. Imperial citizens may purchase it at designated locations..."
Qin Feng averted his gaze and looked down at the terminal on his wrist.
He opened his personal information interface. The number 0.41 was like a thorn jabbing into his vision.
There was a reason for his slow progress.
When Qin Feng was seven, a small-scale Subspace fissure event occurred in the neighborhood where he lived.
A low-level Corrupting Worm was thrown out of the ruptured space. Although it was quickly killed by the garrisoned City Guard Army, the toxic gas it released upon death still contaminated half the street.
Qin Feng had inhaled the gas back then.
Although emergency treatment saved his life, the foundation of his body suffered permanent damage.
When cultivating the *Imperial Basic Body Refining Technique* distributed by the Empire, he could practice it ten times and still not achieve the same results others got from a single session.
His life force grew at a snail's pace.
---
The maglev bus arrived at its stop.
Qin Feng got off and returned to his home in the Silver Gull residential community.
This was the edge of the city, a dense area of apartment buildings, far less glamorous than the city center.
His apartment was on the seventeenth floor.
He opened the door, and a faint, mixed smell of disinfectant and blood rushed to greet him.
It was the smell his father, Qin Dahai, brought back from work. After more than a decade, it had seeped into every corner of the apartment.
The apartment wasn't large—two bedrooms and a living room—but it was kept very tidy.
Qin Feng changed his shoes and walked into the living room.
A family photo hung on the wall. In it, a younger version of his father, dressed in a crisp military uniform, held a young Qin Feng, while his mother stood beside them, smiling gently.
But his mother had passed away from an illness when he was five.
He put down his schoolbag, went into the kitchen, and started washing rice to prepare dinner.
Half an hour later, a soft click came from the door lock.
Qin Dahai was home.
He was a tall man, but his back was slightly hunched. His left sleeve was empty; he had lost the entire arm on the battlefield.
Time and hardship had carved lines into his face, but his eyes remained calm.
He took off his work clothes, stained with dirt and blood, and went into the bathroom.
The sound of running water rang out.
A few minutes later, Qin Dahai came out drying his hair, having changed into clean house clothes. The peculiar smell from the Alien Race corpse processing plant had faded significantly.
"You're back?"
he asked, seeing the two sets of bowls and chopsticks already on the table.
"Yeah."
Qin Feng brought the last dish, stir-fried vegetables, to the table.
The father and son ate in silence.
"Dad," Qin Feng said, breaking the silence.
"Speak," Qin Dahai said, picking up some vegetables with his chopsticks.
"The school told me to leave early. To prepare for the vocational school exams."
Qin Feng's tone was flat.
Qin Dahai's chewing paused for a moment.
He put down his chopsticks and looked at his son.
On that face, still holding a trace of youthful immaturity, there was no frustration, no resentment—only tranquility.
"I see."
Qin Dahai picked up his chopsticks again. "Eat."