"Ever heard of Raizer?"
The red‑haired youth froze. For a while, neither spoke. Then that single word struck him like a spark in dry air, and his expression changed dramatically.
There was no point in pretending any longer. Yang Yu masked all traces of emotion and lowered the black sword in his hand. "If you reacted to that name," he said evenly, "then when you joined the star‑pirates… you were actually working for another faction, weren't you?"
Even his foster father had never known that. The youth—Flame Bell—turned sharply, eyes locked on Yang Yu.
"If that word interests you," Yang Yu continued, meeting his stare, "you're welcome to visit my master one day. But don't let your people harm her." He paused, voice dropping lower. "I'm Yang Yu. My master's name is Ye Cheng. And you?"
"…Flame Bell."
"Let's look forward to a fruitful cooperation."
With that, Yang Yu sheathed his sword and walked away, his figure dissolving into the whitening dawn.
Flame Bell watched the retreating silhouette for several seconds, then turned back to his safe house. Inside, he activated his Subspace Ring; a black cube appeared in his palm. He tapped in a sequence—an encrypted communication channel shimmered to life.
A woman's cold voice answered, "Report."
"Someone knows about Raizer."
There was a pause. Then another connection joined in—a deep, gravelly male voice, edged with excitement. "Flame Bell, did you just say you heard that name?"
"Yes," he confirmed, and added calmly, "The man who said it called last year's target 'Young Master,' and mentioned his new owner's name—Ye Cheng. I'm not sure if it's the same one. His elemental power surpasses mine, though he hides it under a night‑half‑grade disguise. Yilan Star… seems quite an interesting place."
Silence hung a long while before the elder voice spoke again. "You can't remain there. Return immediately. I'll assign someone else to investigate. You have another task waiting."
"Yes."
The line cut off.
Flame Bell looked out at the lightening sky. A small pulse of deep‑brown energy flickered at his fingertip; he brushed it across the cut at his neck, healing the wound in a breath.
When Yang Yu returned to District A, the horizon was silver with morning. He glanced at the time, swung by the market for fresh groceries, and quietly began preparing breakfast.
Sorra rose like clockwork to help. Yang Yu measured out a quarter of the Twilight‑grade Star‑Realm Juice, poured it into the breakfast porridge, and handed the bowl to Sorra. "For the master."
That very morning, Ye Cheng felt unusually sharp. The text that had seemed dense and clumsy the day before now unfurled effortlessly in her mind—one reading left a clear impression, several readings fused new sections with what she'd already learned. Excited, she studied without rest. By noon, she had cleanly outlined the entire Fundamentals of Mecha Structural Theory, a book four centimeters thick. Skipping lunch, she grabbed a set of practice tests and worked through them. Her score—up from less than forty percent to ninety‑seven.
Had Yang Yu not personally placed her lunch in front of her, threatening to feed her like a child, she might have giggled over answer sheets straight through till dawn.
From that day on, her learning surged, but she didn't allow herself an ounce of complacency. Early mornings, late nights, constant reading. She never noticed the steadily darkening shadows under both Yang Yu's and Sorra's eyes.
Sorra's progress, of course, far outstripped hers. He absorbed her entire pile of textbooks in less than three days. Watching this, Ye Cheng quietly changed her earlier plan. Initially she'd thought of giving the mech Camellia to Yang Yu. Now she resolved to keep it for Sorra when the time came, once he had mastered every craft as thoroughly as Yang Yu himself. As for Yang Yu—she would gather the materials and help repair his mech, step by step. Once she graduated, they would venture out together, three pilots earning their future with their own hands.
Sorra's genius still awed her, though one flaw persisted: he had no initiative whatsoever. Without explicit orders, he simply froze—silent and unmoving—from sunrise to sunset, perfect as a doll. Neither Ye Cheng nor Yang Yu could change that overnight; years of conditioning couldn't be undone in days. All they could do was move forward, patiently.
The twins, by contrast, were changing rapidly. Still small enough to reshape, they blossomed fast. Whenever Ye Cheng needed a break, she played little games with them; their laughter began to fill the house, their curiosity to surface. Once, while helping Yang Yu in the garden, both crouched down to watch a line of ants march past—normal, healthy children again.
The only anomaly left was the absence of Flame Bell. Word had it he'd boarded a star‑cruiser and left Yilan Star. Yang Yu doubted it was coincidence; Flame Bell wouldn't abandon the name Raizer unless ordered to. Something urgent must have recalled him.
All the better. Without outside interference, their days settled into rhythm. Yang Yu slept in fragments, trained Sorra nightly in mech piloting, let him practice inside Raizer while he himself slipped off to mine, and—every week—returned to the black‑market auction to trade for more high‑grade Star‑Realm Juice. Bit by bit, he poured it discreetly into Ye Cheng's meals.
Thanks to that elixir, to relentless study, and to their combined discipline, Ye Cheng's physical and mental rise was astonishing.
Six weeks later, she had mastered every required subject. Only practical simulation remained—and less than ten days to the entrance examination.
The Star‑Realm Academy divided its Mecha‑Pilot admissions test into three parts: written theory, physical assessment, and simulation. The first alone lasted an entire morning. Real combat experience wasn't mandatory; applicants merely needed to demonstrate control of a mech through one standard maneuver sequence. Advanced simulators online could suffice—most practiced virtually for weeks.
Ye Cheng, however, had the real thing: Camellia, the mech Andreas had gifted her, and a top‑tier instructor in Yang Yu. With Aunt Zhou's help, she arranged proper authorization from the government and began practicing live in the outskirts.
After weeks of near‑monastic preparation, the admission day finally arrived.
Early autumn sunlight had softened from summer's heat. Ye Cheng woke at dawn, reviewing formulas in her head while brushing her teeth, feeling confidence hum through every cell. Looking into the mirror, she allowed herself a grin. "I can do this. Come on!"
Downstairs, the table brimmed with steam and scent. Yang Yu and Sorra stood waiting; Gingko and Sequoia sat bright‑eyed in their special chairs before twin bowls of porridge.
"Good morning, everyone! Why're you all waiting on me? Let's eat!" She beamed—the sight of her handsome steward, her quiet beauty of a Senlo, and two cherubic children made her morning sunshine even warmer. She ushered Yang Yu and Sorra to sit and personally ladled porridge for the twins.
They'd grown lively now. "Thank you, sister!" Gingko chirped, and little Sequoia followed shyly, murmuring the same. Delighted, Ye Cheng kissed each soft cheek in turn. Watching them attack their breakfast with tiny spoons and radiant smiles, she couldn't help turning her own smile—perhaps a bit too—toward their father's calm, perfect profile, and only noticed her empty plate once every crumb was gone.
Afterward, gazing out the window's golden light, she hesitated, eyes drifting back to Sorra, still wearing house attire. "Sorra… would you like to go out for a walk?"
He blinked, unsurprised but silent.
Ye Cheng laughed at herself. "Forget it, you're coming anyway. You're going to the exam with me."
And so, moments later, she arrived at Star‑Realm Academy flanked by the most eye‑catching entourage imaginable.
On the way in she worried they might attract too much attention. Instead, she discovered her retinue was modest compared to most. With tuition this astronomical, only the wealthy could attend—and every rich youth arrived surrounded by slaves like stars around a planet. Some came escorted by full mech‑guard units. Bringing only two adult slaves was, in fact, understated.
Still, none could match her party's beauty. Sorra's mere presence turned heads like a walking legend, and more than one student walked straight into a tree. A few observers noting Ye Cheng's plain clothes approached, trying to buy Sorra—or at least the children. She smiled tightly and refused each one.
The exam began with the written portion, lasting the entire morning. Ye Cheng was among the first to finish, confident as she left the hall. Her mind replayed every question; the answers flowed clearly. She hurried off to meet the others for lunch.
After eating, she rested briefly beside Sorra's calm warmth before heading to the afternoon tests—physical and simulation.
While she was away, Yang Yu pulled up a digital exam on his Ring—a genuine Advanced Mech‑Pilot Qualification theory sheet—and handed the projection to Sorra. "Try this."
The results appeared on Yang Yu's interface in real time. Gingko and Sequoia perched on Sorra's shoulders, occasionally poking at holographic equations and options, helping him choose answers. Whenever they guessed wrong, Sorra gently corrected them. Yang Yu kept one eye on their surroundings and another on the score—final accuracy: one hundred percent.
Meanwhile, Ye Cheng emerged from the physical test astonished to find herself rated Good. Her body felt lighter, keener than it had in years. She hadn't trained physically, so it could only be the diet—their nutrient‑dense meals, and perhaps a quietly added catalyst she didn't know about.
The simulator exam followed smoothly. Guided hand‑in‑hand by Yang Yu's prior lessons, she executed the entire standard sequence flawlessly, even adding a few improvisational combat maneuvers during the free‑operation period.
Results for the written section would be released within half an hour. Confident, Ye Cheng left the simulator hall, scanning the crowd until she spotted two familiar figures waiting—and began walking toward her little family in the sunlight.