Cen Yuehuai's hair practically stood on end at Baisha's words. "What? My sister's here? How does she know I'm here?" she hissed, panic creeping into her voice.
"If they guessed you'd come to Tianquan Military Academy, tracking you to your dorm isn't a stretch," Baisha reasoned, glancing outside. Cen Haiyun, usually warm and approachable, now radiated a chilling aura, her expressionless face hinting at suppressed fury, like storm clouds gathering.
"She looks really mad," Baisha observed.
Cen Yuehuai shrank back, but before she could respond, a thunderous bang shook the dorm's security door. "Cen Yuehuai," came Haiyun's icy, measured voice through the barrier, "don't pretend you're not there. We traced your optic computer's signal to this building."
Yuehuai's eyes widened. "You tracked me?" she shouted toward the door, mustering defiance.
"You had the gall to run away from home. Did you think we wouldn't use every means to drag you back?" Haiyun's cold laugh carried a sharp edge. Silver ripples of mental energy swirled around her shoulders, coalescing into a sleek black peregrine falcon. Its wings folded, but its piercing gaze locked onto the door, as if ready to shred it with talons. "Enough games. Come home. The military academy isn't your place."
"Why not? I have the right to choose!" Yuehuai shoved a chair toward the door and plopped down, her voice rising in protest. "Tianquan accepted me. What grounds do you have to stop me?"
Haiyun's breath caught, her brow furrowing as if poised to scold, but the door swung open. Baisha leaned against the frame, gesturing for Haiyun to enter. "Let's talk inside."
"Wait, Your Highness, why'd you open the door?" Yuehuai yelped, scrambling toward the stairs to hide. Haiyun froze, visibly startled by Baisha, then composed herself, offering a respectful bow. "My apologies, Your Highness, for my lack of decorum."
Yuehuai, peeking from behind Baisha, realized her advantage: Haiyun would restrain herself in Baisha's presence. Emboldened, she sidled closer, half-hiding behind her roommate. Haiyun's gaze hardened at Yuehuai's defiance, her headache intensifying. "Moon, come here."
"Only an idiot would," Yuehuai retorted, grinning. "Go ahead, try dragging me off in front of Her Highness."
Haiyun's falcon flapped its wings, bristling with indignation. Baisha, observing their standoff, interjected, "What exactly are you fighting about?" She turned to Haiyun. "I know the Cen family are renowned physicians, but is Tianquan so terrible? Why force her home?"
Haiyun's expression stiffened. "Your Highness, this is a family matter—"
"No need to hide it," Yuehuai cut in, blunt. "You all think I can't hack it as a mech soldier, so you want to cage me at home forever."
"Cage you?" Haiyun snapped. "We agreed you could do anything except attend Tianquan."
"I don't need your permission," Yuehuai shot back. "I'm enrolled. If the academy deems me hopeless and can't teach me, I'll leave on my own. Why are you so worried? Or do you think a Cen daughter flunking out would shame the family?"
Her amber eyes locked onto Haiyun's, unwavering. The air grew thick with tension. After a long silence, Haiyun's resolve wavered, her voice softening. "I didn't mean that."
"Then don't stop me," Yuehuai said, stepping forward, her gaze resolute. "You know I'm stubborn—I won't turn back until I hit a wall or see a coffin. I'm not as useless as you think. And you're not so fragile that my attending military school will break you. It's not a war zone. I won't die."
Haiyun's brow creased, and she shut her eyes briefly. "Fine. I can't control you anymore." Her mental energy dissipated, the falcon vanishing. She turned to Baisha. "I'm sorry you witnessed this farce, Your Highness. I didn't expect you and Moon to be roommates. Please look after her. The Cen family will repay you generously."
As the royal physician, Haiyun was diligent, and Baisha was happy to oblige. "No trouble."
Haiyun straightened, avoiding Yuehuai's gaze, and departed, her coat snapping crisply in the air. Yuehuai watched her go, her defiance fading into a quiet melancholy. Baisha glanced at her. "Care to explain?"
Rubbing her hair, Yuehuai stared at the floor. "It's simple. As a kid, my mental power went haywire. My parents were away, and I nearly hurt my sister. Since then, I've struggled to control it."
Baisha frowned. "How does it manifest?"
"It's not that I can't use it," Yuehuai said, wiping her nose. "I can manage about seventy to eighty percent of my mental power. Push past that, and it spirals out of control. My sister says it'll worsen, straining my body. The only way to live long is to avoid using it entirely—but how's that possible?"
Baisha blinked, unfamiliar with such a condition. "Sounds unbelievable," Yuehuai said wearily. "Yet Tianquan took me. I admire their guts. It's rare—most who've had mental outbursts don't end up like me. My family, all doctors, studied it and think it's a genetic flaw. I might be short-lived."
Baisha sat beside her, offering warmth. "No big deal. I only awakened my spirit a few months ago. Your sister probably told you who I am."
Yuehuai nodded.
"Ever met someone awakening at my age?" Baisha continued. "Plus, my spirit isn't the imperial blackbird." She summoned her silver-throated tit, a fluffy snowball chirping delicately as it fluttered.
Yuehuai's eyes lit up. "It's adorable!"
"What's yours?" Baisha asked. "Summoning it doesn't strain you, right?"
"Nope." Yuehuai grinned, calling forth her spirit. White feathers with gray tips materialized, forming a peregrine falcon half a person tall, its snowy frame dwarfing Haiyun's. It beat its wings, stirring the air.
Baisha's tit gawked at the giant, braking mid-flight to avoid a collision. The falcon extended a claw, unleashing a raucous, gleeful cackle. "It's being friendly, wanting to bond," Yuehuai insisted.
Baisha raised an eyebrow. "That's not friendly. That's a predator's call."
Yuehuai flailed. "My spirit's glitched since the incident—not the sharpest." The falcon hopped onto her lap, mimicking the tit by nuzzling her chest, nearly knocking her breathless. "Ow, stop!" She dissolved it, slumping. "That's the deal. I can't fully control it."
"Even your sister, a spirit expert, can't help?" Baisha asked.
"She's tried, but no luck," Yuehuai said, shrugging. "She heals others, not me. I'm used to it. Doesn't mess with daily life."
But as a mech soldier, it could be a hurdle. Still, Tianquan's acceptance suggested they were prepared. Worst case, Yuehuai would withdraw and reassess. "What about you, Your Highness?" Yuehuai asked. "Hiding your identity because your spirit's not a blackbird?"
"Not quite," Baisha said, propping her chin. "I'm triple-tracking. Concealing my status keeps my school life peaceful." As a "royal" rather than a "prince," she blended in; the prince title was too conspicuous, with no living nobles holding it.
They sighed, kindred spirits in their struggles. Baisha, long isolated from peers, found Yuehuai's candor refreshing. Over a shared meal from Baisha's order, their bond solidified. "Thanks for the meal!" Yuehuai said, picking her teeth with exaggerated gratitude. "I'm sticking with you, Your Highness!"
Baisha blinked. "Huh?"
"My family's probably cutting my funds," Yuehuai whined. Her bold words to Haiyun ensured repercussions. To survive, she'd latch onto Baisha. "You're that broke?" Baisha asked. "What about your mech?"
"Bought it with saved allowance before I bolted," Yuehuai said proudly. "Took ages to snag a master designer's commission. It's called Frostquench." She showed Baisha photos, earning an approving nod.
"But no master beats our school's Teacher Jiang," Yuehuai added wistfully. "Every mech soldier dreams of his custom designs."
"Jiang?" Baisha recalled the top-ranked name: Jiang Gui. "He's at Tianquan?"
"You didn't know?" Yuehuai gasped. "His orders are impossible to get, and his design classes overflow. Everyone wants his favor or a sliver of his expertise."
Baisha muttered, "I forgot about course selection."
"Me too! Quick, open your optic computer—registration's starting!" Yuehuai urged.
Baisha's triple-track meant juggling combat and mech design majors. Tianquan's packed curriculum forced her to drop less critical courses, banking on passing finals to graduate with one major's credits—a rare leniency. Navigating the course portal, she found mandatory classes preloaded: red for combat, yellow for mech design. Clashes required tough choices, trimming her schedule to fit two electives.
Tianquan's electives ranged from rigorous seminars like Jiang Gui's History of Mech Construction to easy "water" courses with light workloads and high grades. Fun, niche classes ranked lower, chosen for relaxation when top picks were snagged. Baisha browsed the student forum, a chaotic marketplace of course trades: "Swapping electives! Check my list!" or "3,000 campus points for Jiang Gui's class—mid-level designers only. Act fast!"
Students bartered or sold slots, a frenzy of speed and strategy. Baisha felt like she'd stumbled into a bazaar, overwhelmed by options. "Ugh, missed my picks," Yuehuai groaned from the couch. "What'd you get, Your Highness?"
"Nothing," Baisha admitted.
"Cheaters probably coded bots," Yuehuai huffed. "Our signal's fine, no lag." Cracking her knuckles, she dove into the forum, brokering deals with dizzying skill. She built a complex trade network, pocketing kickbacks while securing her desired course and a high-scoring elective for Baisha. Baisha gave a thumbs-up, impressed by her savvy.
"No big deal," Yuehuai said. "Couldn't snag Jiang's class, though. It's a pipe dream with our limited leverage."
Baisha scoured the forum, buying a slot in Jiang's course, eager to meet the top master. The seller warned, "Mid-level designer cert required." Baisha confirmed she qualified, joking about a discount. "No deal on price," came the reply, but she secured the course.
The next day, schedules finalized, classes began. Baisha's Class A, with over thirty students, showcased the empire's terrifying talent pool: all at least S-grade, with four or five double-S, and three 3S-grade students—Baisha, Xeno Us, heir to the Us Marquisate, and, shockingly, Cen Yuehuai. Their trio drew intense scrutiny.
Xeno, a flamboyantly handsome blond, stood out, his noble lineage well-known. Yuehuai's combat genius puzzled peers, given the Cen family's medical legacy, though ancestral warriors explained her "throwback." Baisha, however, sparked the most intrigue. The emperor's fury over her Federation captivity, even deploying fleets, fueled rumors of close kinship—perhaps his secret daughter. Yet, Cecil's bold nature suggested he'd proclaim such a tie, not cloak her as a mere royal. Most chalked his rage to the Federation's audacity in slighting imperial dignity.
Curious, probing gazes followed Baisha, laced with a surprising undercurrent: battle lust. "Seriously?" she thought. They'd just met—already itching for a fight?
Their first instructor, Tisiya, strode in, her crisp uniform accentuating her fiery red lips and radiant presence, like a rose with thorns. Her albatross spirit stood silently at the lectern's edge, observing. "Welcome to Tianquan," Tisiya said, her voice resonant, her smile sharp. "Today's lesson: spirit manifestation and combat."
"You've lived with your spirits for years, perhaps seeing them as mere mascots," she continued. "But they're part of you, inseparable. Your state affects them, and theirs enhances you. Their battlefield utility is vast, beyond what most imagine."
She paused. "To strengthen your spirits, return to basics: spirit combat. It hones their will—and yours." Her vibrant gaze swept the room. "Who's first?"