Why Do All the Villains Look at Me Like This? - Chapter 23

Meng Xuexiao immediately noticed Shen Zekai’s complexion draining of color at a speed visible to the naked eye. His clothes were already soaked through with sweat at some point, now several shades darker.

After spending time together at school, Meng Xuexiao had come to know what kind of person Shen Zekai was generous, confident, and very good at enduring pain.

If it weren’t truly unbearable, Shen Zekai would never show such an expression. Even when he had faced the Enforcer before, he hadn’t looked this disheveled!

Meng Xuexiao quickly associated it with Shen Zekai’s recent emotional outburst. Before transmigrating into this book, he’d heard that when someone experiences intense emotional fluctuation, it’s easy for the body to develop problems. If not treated in time, it could even leave long-term damage.

“I’ll take you to the infirmary right away!”

Shen Zekai was much taller and heavier than Meng Xuexiao, almost one and a third of his size. The boy could only wrap an arm around Shen Zekai’s shoulder, letting the other’s chin rest on the crook of his neck to stabilize him.

But even with that effort-saving posture, the moment they took their first step, both of them staggered and nearly fell straight to the ground.

“Careful!”

The moment their bodies tilted forward, Meng Xuexiao instinctively bent down, shifting the center of gravity toward himself. Shen Zekai had looked out for him many times, and now that Shen Zekai was clearly unwell, there was no way Meng Xuexiao would let him fall to the floor.

In his calculations, his own shoulder should hit the ground first, acting as a pivot to support Shen Zekai and keep him from falling….Right?

He watched the floor draw closer and silently counted the distance in his mind.

If it’s from this height, even if he does fall, it shouldn’t hurt too much…

But just as his shoulder was about to hit the floor, something warm and soft cushioned the space between his shoulder and the ground. It was a hand.

A large, well-defined hand. Its veins bulging slightly from the strain of holding back pain, giving it a slightly fierce appearance. Unlike what Meng Xuexiao had expected, he didn’t feel even the slightest bit of pain.

Shen Zekai exhaled heavily, finally managing to steady his breath, “What’s wrong with you? Can’t you take yourself a little more seriously?”

Since the start of school, Meng Xuexiao had kept a cool, detached distance from most people and matters. Many who didn’t like him assumed that this seemingly useless F-rank freshman was just relying on his beautiful face to act aloof in front of everyone.

But Shen Zekai knew, this boy in front of him was like a little kitten, covered in wounds. He seemed indifferent, distant, like nothing could touch him, but in reality, the moment someone showed him even a little kindness, he would panic, flustered, not knowing how to respond or repay it.

Sometimes, Shen Zekai really couldn’t understand it.

Why would Meng Xuexiao turn out like this, even under the so-called “care” of the Enforcer? Did that guy really pay attention to how Meng Xuexiao was growing up?!

No one in this world is obligated to treat another well, not even Shen Zekai. Who was, by nature, too warm-hearted and liked helping others.

As for someone like the Enforcer, so irresponsible. If it were under federal supervision, he would have been stripped of any guardianship rights long ago!

But Meng Xuexiao only pressed his lips together and shook his head.

Because he believed in this world, no one owes anyone anything. But if someone was willing to be kind to him that was his luck, and he should cherish it all the more.

Not to mention…..

If it hadn’t been because of him, Shen Zekai’s emotions wouldn’t have been so shaken. When it came down to it, everything was because of him.

“Don’t talk anymore, save your strength for the doctor.”

Meng Xuexiao didn’t say much else to Shen Zekai. He gently pulled out the hand Shen Zekai had braced beneath his shoulder earlier, carefully checked it over to make sure it wasn’t injured, then gently placed it back by Shen Zekai’s side—like he was holding an oversized plush toy.

But when they reached the entrance of the infirmary, Meng Xuexiao suddenly stopped in his tracks.

In his earlier panic over Shen Zekai’s condition, he had completely forgotten. Inside the infirmary, there was someone he least wanted to see, Chu Sinian.

He had gone through so much trouble just to escape from the infirmary earlier!

 

Yet…

Meng Xuexiao shifted his gaze back to Shen Zekai’s face, the corners of the man’s lips, which always wore a confident smile, were now tightly pressed together and even trembling slightly.

His condition hadn’t improved at all, in fact, it seemed to have worsened.

Meng Xuexiao gritted his teeth, there was no other choice. They had to go into the infirmary!

He had already mentally prepared himself for possibly running into Chu Sinian inside, but whether it was sheer luck or something else, Chu Sinian never appeared.

At first, Meng Xuexiao assumed Chu Sinian had gone out on some errand, but after asking the infirmary staff, he found out Chu Sinian had never left. He’d just stayed in his office the whole time.

Could Chu Sinian have changed?

No way! Even if the sun rose in the west, Chu Sinian would still be the same terrifying villain boss.

Meng Xuexiao could only guess that something he’d done earlier had made Chu Sinian decide it was best to avoid him altogether.

There was precedent in the original novel, Chu Sinian had even been nicknamed “the Artist,” someone who deeply loathed anything lacking beauty, believing such things were an insult to his eyes.

How wonderful! Truly wonderful!

Meng Xuexiao silently repeated the words several times in his heart.

If this could lessen Chu Sinian’s attention on him, he’d be more than willing to act like a fool. As the best academy in the entire Federation, the Federal Military Academy’s medical technology was top-tier. In less than an hour, the infirmary had produced an extremely thorough physical report for Shen Zekai.

The infirmary rarely issued full reports, most students, even without medical knowledge, could clearly describe their symptoms and sensations. But Shen Zekai’s condition had been so sudden and strange…

It didn’t match any known or documented illness. Left with no other choice, the medical staff had to examine every inch of him.

“Doctor how is Shen Zekai doing now?” Seeing a staff member walk over with the report, Meng Xuexiao was the first to speak up and ask.

Normally, the staff would analyze the report and offer a matching diagnosis. But this time, the person paused for a moment, hesitant.

A sense of foreboding settled over Meng Xuexiao. He glanced at Shen Zekai and instinctively lowered his voice, speaking so that only he and the medical staff could hear, “…Is it serious?”

He had a bad feeling.

During one of the few healthy periods in his past, he’d worked a holiday job at a hospital. Because the critical care ward was short-staffed, he’d been assigned there.

Patients in that ward were all in poor condition. Every day, someone would pass away. He had long become familiar with this kind of hesitant, troubled expression from the medical staff.

This sort of thing definitely couldn’t be told to Shen Zekai. Patients with serious illnesses often suffered a huge blow, both physically and mentally, after learning the truth. One elderly man Meng Xuexiao used to chat with at the hospital had passed away in just that way.

He had looked perfectly healthy before knowing the diagnosis, but once he learned the truth, it was like a mountain collapsing. You could visibly see the life drain out of him.

“Ah… no, that’s not it!” The medical staff member had still looked a bit dazed just moments ago, but now he snapped out of it like waking from a dream.

He quickly shook his head, “If there were abnormalities in the report, we’d actually be more at ease. But the problem is…”

“The physical report shows everything is completely normal.”

“Completely… normal?” Meng Xuexiao felt he could understand each of those four words on their own. But put together, they left him confused.

He instinctively looked at Shen Zekai. The sickly pallor on his face hadn’t faded, and the cold sweat on his forehead was still there. He looked anything but “completely normal”!

Could it be the medical instruments at the Federal Military Academy were malfunctioning?

Meng Xuexiao considered suggesting that Shen Zekai contact Colonel Shen and return to the starship for another examination.

As if dissatisfied with Meng Xuexiao’s wording, the medical staffer coughed lightly and corrected him, “Strictly speaking, not just ‘normal,’ but very healthy—so healthy it’s well above the average student level.”

He glanced instinctively at the name on the report, then immediately felt it all made sense.

“Ah, I see now—you’re Shen Zekai, huh? One of the best among S-class students. Tons of students coming in and out of the infirmary are your little fanboys and fangirls!”

But the staff member quickly turned serious again, his tone harsh, “Faking illness is absolutely not allowed. No matter how convincing the act is, our instruments will detect it. You’re wasting the Federation Military Academy’s medical resources!”

“Even if you’re S-class, those resources should go to people who truly need them!”

He even scolded Meng Xuexiao as well, “And you—assisting him in faking illness to deceive the infirmary staff!”

Meng Xuexiao was stunned for a moment by the severity of the accusation.

So after all that, the medical staff thought they were faking illness and playing some kind of prank?

But… how could that be possible?

Having spent years around his caretaker aunt, Meng Xuexiao had absorbed a decent amount of medical knowledge. From what he observed, Shen Zekai had not been faking. Otherwise, Meng Xuexiao wouldn’t have rushed him to the infirmary.

Meng Xuexiao wanted to defend Shen Zekai but was stopped by the other boy.

Shen Zekai forced a weak, apologetic smile at the staffer. His voice was faint, “Sorry… we’ll be more careful next time.”

As time passed, Shen Zekai did seem to be improving a little. Though still weak, he was no longer so pale and pained as when they first arrived. Meng Xuexiao had wanted to suggest another examination, but since Shen Zekai had already chosen to go along with the medical staff’s assumption and was preparing to leave, it wasn’t his place to insist.

Perhaps Shen Zekai had already made his own assessment of his condition.

In the end, after leaving the infirmary, Meng Xuexiao still offered a subtle reminder, “When facing strange or difficult symptoms, it’s best not to… hide the illness for fear of treatment.”

Shen Zekai was briefly startled, then chuckled, even the lingering pain in his nerves seemed to fade a little, “Nothing to worry about. I’m S-class, after all. If anyone should be worried, it’s me worrying about you!”

He lowered his gaze, staring at the distinct lines in his own palm.

It’s a bit embarrassing…

He’d been the one scolding Meng Xuexiao for choosing to face danger alone instead of reaching out for help and yet now it was him being looked after and escorted to the infirmary. Although Shen Zekai had never been arrogant, he had always had a solid understanding of his own S-class physique.

Setting aside the rare exceptions like the Enforcer and Chu Sinian, both 2S-class, he was considered one of the strongest at the top of the pyramid. The academy even treated him as a key asset for the Federation’s future. And yet lately, he’d been forced into setbacks, again and again.

The initial wave of pain had mostly faded now, but a deep, inexplicable sense of unease was slowly spreading through his organs like fog.

The Enforcer was one thing… but this time, it was actually—

Shen Zekai’s hand clenched tightly.

It felt as if some unspeakable presence, along with that intense pain, had descended from the void to overlook Federal Military Academy— seeing through every tree, every blade of grass, and knowing all with terrifying clarity.

But… how could that be possible? The Federal Military Academy was the cradle for nurturing the Federation’s future combat power, equipped with the most impenetrable defenses!

Even though it sounded unbelievable, Shen Zekai still sent an inquiry email to one of the academy directors. An old friend of his father’s who would surely help out.

Sure enough, the director quickly replied with a message:

[The academy’s protective network hadn’t detected any threats. Not a single thing had crossed it in the past half-day. And that protective net was highly precise, even a passing fly would leave a trace.]

Could it be… he was mistaken earlier?

Impossible!

Shen Zekai immediately dismissed the thought. The stronger someone’s physical aptitude, the sharper their instincts, and so far, his instincts had never been wrong.

Recalling that earlier wave of bone-deep dread, Shen Zekai felt every nerve in his body stretch taut. Like a shark suddenly sensing a much more ancient, much more powerful predator.

He had a strong premonition— the school was going to become dangerous soon.

And before that happened, he had to change Meng Xuexiao’s current situation in the academy.

In fact, he had to thank Wu Zian for causing such a stir. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have realized so clearly just how isolated Meng Xuexiao was at school. Because of Meng Xuexiao’s F-rank constitution, not a single student was willing to team up with him for practical combat classes, leaving him frequently on his own.

If danger truly arrived, being with others was always safer than being alone.

Then, Shen Zekai made another phone call, “Xiao Ding, I have something I need you to handle.”

The call lasted for hours, even continuing after Shen Zekai and Meng Xuexiao returned to the dorm. Shen Zekai spoke quickly and gave instructions in great detail. Meng Xuexiao couldn’t catch exactly what was being said, but he did know who “Xiao Ding” was. Xiao Ding was one of Shen Zekai’s subordinates as student representative, often helping him handle all sorts of matters. Meng Xuexiao guessed that it probably meant some new policy or regulation was about to be issued at school.

No wonder Wu Zian lost to him. Shen Zekai worked like a machine, showing no signs of slowing down even when he wasn’t feeling well. Not only was he constantly working overtime, but he was practically running operations like a demolition crew.

This thought brought Meng Xuexiao’s mind back to the cracked wall in their dorm that Wu Zian had smashed with his fist.

When Meng Xuexiao got up the next morning, Shen Zekai was already gone. Looking at the bed neatly made like military quarters, he couldn’t help but sigh again, this student rep really was born to grind himself into the ground.

The pressure that came with an S-rank constitution was no joke. Meanwhile, as an F-rank, he basically had nothing to worry about, even though the teachers didn’t hold much expectation for him. The only real issue was that no one wanted to team up with him for group combat classes…

Thinking about it that way, maybe not having a team wasn’t such a big deal after all. Meng Xuexiao didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Looking at the class schedule where team combat was the very first session, he surprisingly wasn’t all that anxious anymore.

The classroom for team combat was still the same as before. Students were slowly filing in, and the Combat Instructor stood at the doorway with his arms crossed, radiating a silent, powerful pressure. He scanned every student like a military inspector on review, no one escaped his gaze. And soon enough, that sharp gaze locked onto Meng Xuexiao.

In truth, the Combat Instructor was a decent person. Even though Meng Xuexiao had failed to find a partner due to his physical ranking, the Instructor hadn’t immediately docked his participation score.

Still, Meng Xuexiao instinctively took a step back, pressing his spine to the corner wall and lowering his gaze as if something priceless had just fallen to the ground.

No matter how good his psychological conditioning was, he couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty when facing this teacher.

After all, last time the Instructor had given him a final warning. If he didn’t find a partner before this class started, there would be consequences.

But…

Meng Xuexiao stared at the ground, at the shadow that belonged solely to him, small and solitary. The hem of his clothes was slightly wrinkled from his unconscious fidgeting. The Combat Instructor seemed to notice something was off and began walking toward him. Meng Xuexiao swallowed hard, like a cub caught red-handed doing something wrong.

If the Instructor asked whether he’d found a partner… he really wouldn’t know how to answer.

Just as he was scrambling to organize his thoughts and come up with a decent explanation, a Department Head happened to approach the Instructor to discuss something. The Instructor frowned, clearly still thinking about Meng Xuexiao, but the Director looked rather anxious. With no other choice, the Instructor followed him down another hallway, but not before shooting Meng Xuexiao another glance.

The sound of their footsteps faded away.

Meng Xuexiao quietly exhaled in relief, clutching his bag tightly to his chest like a thief, and hurried into the classroom.

Since group Combat Class was designed for hands-on exercises, there were no desks or chairs, most students stood around in small groups, chatting about tactics they’d use for today’s training. In the past, students never really paid him any attention. Even if they happened to run into him face-to-face, they’d just pretend not to see him. But today… people kept glancing at him out of the corner of their eyes.

As usual, Meng Xuexiao walked toward the far corner of the room where he always stood alone. But… the atmosphere felt different this time.

Meng Xuexiao was certain he wasn’t imagining it, he was extremely sensitive to that kind of gaze. Back when he was still living with the caregiver auntie, plenty of people had looked at them the same way, pointing fingers behind their backs.

They used to say that the aunt shouldn’t have dragged around such a burden like him. Meng Xuexiao didn’t want to dig too deeply into why these people were looking at him like that. He had long since stopped caring.

Whether they thought well of him or carried malice, it didn’t matter. Even if they didn’t like him, he was going to keep living his life properly. Ignoring the sidelong glances, Meng Xuexiao went straight to his usual corner and stood there, starting on some solo drills that didn’t require a partner.

Training at the Federal Military Academy was far more intense than the PE classes in his original world. In just ten minutes, sweat was already dripping from his hair onto the bridge of his nose, trickling down into his eyes. Just then, he hit a sweet spot in his pace. He glanced at the timer in front of him, if he could hold out just ten more seconds, he’d beat his previous training record.

He shut his eyes for a second, then shook the sweat from his face with a sharp turn of his head and sped up.

His eyes locked firmly on the countdown.

Five seconds…

Three seconds…

He made it!

He exhaled a heavy breath and collapsed onto the soft training mat at his feet, rubbing the side of his face against the padding, some of the droplets clinging to his eyelashes rubbed off.

The next moment, a towel was handed to him.

A familiar face appeared before Meng Xuexiao, it was Xue Chen.

Blinking, Meng Xuexiao lay spread-eagle on the mat, tilting his head back to look up at the young man.

He hadn’t expected Xue Chen to show up here.

Ever since Xue Chen’s teammates had made it clear they didn’t want to work with him, Meng Xuexiao had been avoiding interactions with Xue Chen, subtly but deliberately. Xue Chen had always treated him the best, and he didn’t want that kindness to cause a rift between Xue Chen and the rest of his team.

He wasn’t sure if he should accept the towel and reflexively glanced toward Xue Chen’s teammates.

And what he saw nearly made him jump.

Those teammates were all staring straight at him in perfect unison, like they were watching the lead story on the evening news. One of them even had his neck craned so far it looked like he wished he could switch places with Xue Chen.

So… something really had happened, huh…?

Meng Xuexiao took a deep breath, pushed himself up with one hand, and sat upright on the mat. His gaze toward Xue Chen became more cautious, ears perked to catch whatever the other was about to say.

Xue Chen seemed to be organizing his words, then finally spoke, “You… and Wu Zian…”

Wu Zian….

Meng Xuexiao felt an instant headache the moment he heard that name— Wu Zian. Involuntarily, his mind conjured up the image of the five knuckle imprints on his dormitory wall…

He was really starting to regret it. He never should’ve said what he did to Wu Zian. At this point, even he couldn’t believe the kind of courage he’d managed to summon back then.

And now, things were clearly turning for the worse. Wu Zian must have pulled something behind the scenes… right?

It was a complete disaster.

Wu Zian was an S-level physique, and even if he’d lost out to Shen Zekai in the popularity vote, his influence on campus was still formidable…

Meng Xuexiao swallowed hard. He could already picture the tragic path ahead of him.

His whole brain throbbed with pain, but he forced himself to stay calm— even going so far as to brace and encourage a clearly hesitant Xue Chen, who was stammering uncertainly in front of him.

With grim resolve, he said, “…Just give it to me straight!”

Xue Chen still seemed nervous, glancing left and right before finally gritting his teeth and blurting out, “Um… did you really make Wu Zian eat dirt yesterday?”

Meng Xuexiao froze, “…Huh?”

In that moment, he truly felt like covering his ears.

Every word out of Xue Chen’s mouth landed squarely on his most painful nerves.

Wu Zian was clearly someone who cared deeply about saving face, the kind of person who still hadn’t gotten over losing the student vote to Shen Zekai and had even tried to trip him up behind the scenes. If that kind of guy found out about what happened yesterday, that it was now being spread all over campus, he’d definitely be furious at the humiliation.

And then, Wu Zian would absolutely pay it back a hundredfold, tenfold, all directed at him.

Wu Zian would definitely do it!

This is bad!

Meng Xuexiao regretted everything all over again. What was he thinking, humiliating Wu Zian in public? He must’ve been insane. He’d put up with so much before. Why hadn’t he just swallowed his pride that time too?

“How did you find out about this? Who spread it?” Meng Xuexiao clenched his jaw. If he was going to go down, he at least wanted to know why.

But to Xue Chen, that one question sounded like confirmation. Everyone at Federal Military Academy knew exactly what Wu Zian’s temper was like.

Xue Chen’s mouth formed a stunned “O”. The nearby students all widened their eyes too, and the ones farther away began inching closer.

No way. That was confirmation just now, wasn’t it?!

Could it really be true? Or just gossip?

A few students standing in the back exchanged glances, then looked down at their communication devices.

Sometime during all this, the recording mode had quietly been turned on. And now, that audio clip had already been sent out, to a certain schoolwide group chat.

At the same time, Xue Chen’s comms device buzzed in his pocket. He gave Meng Xuexiao an apologetic look and quickly checked it and immediately, his expression changed.

He furrowed his brows tightly and quickly locked eyes on the group of boys who had sent out the recording earlier.

Meng Xuexiao, noticing their strange behavior, also pulled out his communicator to take a look, but his message inbox was completely empty.

Instinctively, he glanced around, only to find that many students in the team Combat Class were doing the same as Xue Chen, heads down, checking their communicators. Quite a few even had the same kind of shocked expression.

Meng Xuexiao immediately understood. Even though they were just freshmen, not long into the semester, the students had already formed their own cliques, and those cliques were now trading information in their own private ways.

“You don’t need to feel bad,” Xue Chen said quickly, realizing Meng Xuexiao must have figured out something from all the strange reactions, “Honestly, those group chats aren’t even that great!”

And yes — Meng Xuexiao wasn’t part of any of them. If it had been him, just days after school started, getting excluded like that, he’d feel pretty awful too.

Xue Chen quickly held up his communicator, showing the messages to Meng Xuexiao.

“Really, it’s nothing to envy! That chat was made by Wu Zian’s die-hard fan club. I was basically forced into it, just like most of the other classmates!”

Ever since Wu Zian rose to fame, he’d been one of the dominant figures at the Federal Military Academy, a campus tyrant. Naturally, a group of fervent admirers had formed around him. But Wu Zian was flamboyant and carefree, like the alpha lion in a massive pride, hovering outside the fan club’s daily activities and only stepping in when necessary to shield them.

That meant his fan club grew on its own, largely unchecked. Wanting to prove their loyalty, they had created this chat group and forcibly pulled in every promising student at the school, hoping to turn it into “Wu Zian Worship Unit No. 2.”

Xue Chen stumbled over his words as he tried to explain things to Meng Xuexiao, but the more he explained, the more he ended up entangling himself.

They had pulled all the students with potential into that group but hadn’t included Meng Xuexiao. That sounded like he was implying something about Meng Xuexiao’s F-rank physique!

Xue Chen nearly slapped himself.

Look at you, just listen to what you’re saying!

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—” Xue Chen kept a close eye on Meng Xuexiao’s expression.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to worry about that,” Meng Xuexiao said calmly.

Before transmigrating into this book world, he’d already experienced more than his fair share of discrimination and exclusion. If he obsessed over every single slight, he’d drown in self-pity and never get anything done.

But Xue Chen stared at him suspiciously, refusing to believe that Meng Xuexiao could really be so unfazed.

People had feelings. Who could truly be immune to obvious contempt and unequal treatment? Even the strongest person, after pretending nothing’s wrong all day, would eventually cry in silence when no one was watching.

But then, to his surprise, Meng Xuexiao reached out his hand.

“Can I borrow your communicator for a moment?” he asked.

Rather than dwell on all that stuff, what he really wanted to know was—what exactly was going on in that group chat right now?

Wu Zian had way too many fans. If each of them just spit once, he’d be drowned. And here he was… calmly asking to see the communicator.

People naturally seek benefit and avoid harm—Xue Chen knew that about himself. If he knew a group chat was full of people who looked down on him and excluded him, he’d avoid it like the plague.

But Meng Xuexiao asked to see it.

Was there really someone in this world who could feel so little emotion about something like that?

Or… had he just been ignored and pushed aside too many times? To the point he was used to it, to the point he no longer expected anything at all?

Looking into Meng Xuexiao’s eyes, Xue Chen suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe. But in the end, he couldn’t bring himself to refuse the boy’s request.

He turned his back, shielding the screen at an angle where Meng Xuexiao couldn’t see it, and quickly scanned through the chat.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, dry as if he’d just choked down bitter gall.

“Okay,” he said quietly.

“But… I’ll need a minute. Something’s wrong with how it’s displaying.”

The people in Wu Zian’s fan group were just like Wu Zian himself, they didn’t even bother to hide their contempt. If they looked down on you, they made sure you knew it. Their malice was open and unchecked.

As soon as the recording about Meng Xuexiao and Wu Zian was posted in the group, the chat exploded like a drop of oil hitting a boiling pot.

[WTF, who even is this guy? Must’ve made up a bunch of crap just to leech off Wu-ge’s popularity!]

[Tsk tsk, F-rank? Never mind then. Complete garbage.]

[Trying to “dominate” Wu-ge, huh? What kind of “dominate” are we talking about? If it’s that face, I mean, sure I’d hit it. But Wu-ge? He can play with him, sure—but a weak little F-rank like this? Total mismatch!]

The comments were vile, filled with innuendo and crude memes. Worse, no one in the group was stopping it.

Xue Chen’s brows knitted together. He tapped one of the more offensive comments, right-clicked—report, then delete.

That comment instantly disappeared, but Xue Chen still wasn’t satisfied. He opened the trash bin, selected the deleted message again, and crushed it completely, not a trace or log was left behind. Then he repeated the same process, reporting and deleting every related comment and meme, he wiped it all clean.

In total, Xue Chen deleted over sixty posts. Ten of them had already been flagged successfully, and the senders had their accounts banned on the spot. The entire group chat was now marked with a high-risk warning due to the sudden surge of bans.

Finally, Xue Chen checked everything again. Once he confirmed that there was nothing vile left in the visible history, he handed the communicator to Meng Xuexiao. Even though Meng Xuexiao had long grown used to surviving in environments full of malice and discrimination, something about Xue Chen’s actions made his heart momentarily tighten.

He stared at the communicator resting in Xue Chen’s palm and quietly drew in a deep breath.

Were the group’s comments really that vile? Xue Chen had stared at the device for so long, tapping furiously on the screen. Every tap had sounded to Meng Xuexiao like a silent weight pressing on his chest.

The boy closed his eyes.

It didn’t matter anymore, wasn’t it all just malice? This world was far more dangerous than the one he used to live in. The fact that the hostility here was stronger than what he’d experienced before… was only natural.

It wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle.

He would get used to it eventually.

Meng Xuexiao took the communicator, instinctively lowering his gaze. His downcast eyelashes looked like a swallow nailed to a wooden board, wings dragging on the ground, soaked in mud.

This was the best method Meng Xuexiao had developed to conceal the emotions in his eyes.

He was ready.

He first tapped on the recording.

The clip was clearly taken out of context, skipping over many key parts. It started directly with Xue Chen asking, “Did you really make Wu Zian eat dirt yesterday?” and then cut to Meng Xuexiao’s reply, “How did you know about this? Who leaked it?”

Even someone like Meng Xuexiao, hearing it from a third-party perspective, would’ve thought he sounded smug and provocative. No wonder Xue Chen had hesitated for so long, staring at the screen, probably stunned by the sheer shamelessness of those people.

Meng Xuexiao’s mood instantly plummeted.

Still, he read through every single comment under the recording.

He could choose to lie to himself, to not look or pretend he hadn’t seen anything. But doing that would mean missing crucial information.

If Wu Zian’s followers were planning to target him in the group, at least by knowing early, he could prepare and avoid it.

In the past, it was this cautiousness that had allowed him to sidestep many traps.

But in the very next moment, he paused, stunned. His lashes fluttered slightly like a bird, revived in its final moment, fluffing its feathers before flight.

[Solo and clutch! 6 out of 6!]

[Brilliant, sneaky orange cat face.JPG]

[This time Wu-ge is in trouble!]

Meng Xuexiao blinked and reread the comments—those few messages were still there. He scrolled up and saw more in the same tone.

This group chat… is actually this harmonious?!

Instinctively, he glanced at the group member list.

Strange. No teachers in here either.

He had been fully prepared to face a wave of scathing remarks. Right now, it felt like someone who’d braced to smash into a brick wall with all their strength, only to find themselves gently caught in a pile of soft cotton instead.

It seemed… things hadn’t spiraled beyond salvation yet.

The rapid, almost derailing beat of Meng Xuexiao’s heart finally slowed, and he exhaled in relief.

“Are you… okay?” Xue Chen asked, a little uneasy after seeing Meng Xuexiao stare at the communicator motionlessly.

He had made sure to delete every single nasty comment—but what if he’d missed one?

“I’m good—much better than before!”

Returning the communicator, Meng Xuexiao truly felt better. He even gave Xue Chen a genuine smile.

The boy’s skin was very pale, making the slight redness of his lips stand out. When he smiled, there was an inexplicable sense of fragility—like an ultra-thin sheet of paper that would disintegrate into dust with just the slightest tear.

Xue Chen grew even more uneasy.

He paced back and forth, glancing repeatedly at Meng Xuexiao, like a restless beast gripped by anxiety.

Was Meng Xuexiao really doing better? That sickly complexion… Could it be he was just forcing himself to appear fine?

This couldn’t go on. Xue Chen gritted his teeth and walked to a corner, dialing a number.

Behind the students in that group stood Wu Zian. As an ordinary student, there wasn’t much he could do—but he knew someone who could put Wu Zian in check.

After a moment, the call connected, and a voice came through—neither too distant nor too friendly, “Hello?”

That voice was extremely familiar, often heard through the loudspeakers of the Federal Military Academy.

Xue Chen paused briefly before saying the name, “Representative Shen.”

“Mm.” On the other end, Shen Zekai sounded like he was in the middle of something, his tone lightly tinged with impatience, “Is there something you need, classmate?”

Xue Chen knew he couldn’t hesitate. The student representative was always swamped with tasks and wouldn’t spare extra time lightly.

“It’s about Meng Xuexiao. I believe you two are roommates…?”

He tried his best to emphasize the closeness between Meng Xuexiao and Shen Zekai, hoping to persuade the student representative.

“Did you know? Wu Zian has been giving him a hard time lately.”

Then Xue Chen reported the chat group number of Wu Zian’s fan-followers without hesitation.

On the other end of the comms, Shen Zekai’s hand paused mid-motion. He looked at the person standing in front of him—none other than Wu Zian himself.

Last night, after coming up with the idea to improve Meng Xuexiao’s relationship with other students, Shen Zekai had made it his mission this morning to confront Wu Zian. Like the saying goes—to catch the bandits, catch the leader first. If he wanted to fix things, this was the place to start.

At the Federal Military Academy, power was essentially split between him and Wu Zian. He could keep his side in check. If Wu Zian could do the same with his people, then Meng Xuexiao’s situation would drastically improve.

But Wu Zian had always been reckless and elusive, almost no one could track him down. It wasn’t until just now that Shen Zekai managed to catch him perched in a tree.

Wu Zian looked as cocky as ever, one foot hooked over a branch. He flashed a middle finger at Shen Zekai with a mocking grin, “Yo, what wind blows the mighty Representative Shen over to our side today?”

Shen Zekai didn’t rise to the provocation. He stood coldly to the side, “Did you just have someone mess with Meng Xuexiao again? In the group chat?”

—Meng Xuexiao?!

Wu Zian had thought Shen Zekai had come, as usual, to lecture him on this rule or that regulation, or to scold him for forming small cliques.

He didn’t expect… this was all because of Meng Xuexiao…?

The image of that boy questioning him flashed across Wu Zian’s mind, most vividly, those firm yet defiant eyes.

And to think… he was just an F-level.

Wu Zian paused for a beat, then quickly returned to his usual roguish self, clutching his stomach as if laughing out loud.

“What, I’m not allowed to mess with him now? Isn’t he your little pet? Can’t even protect your own people and now you’re here lecturing me? What a joke—both Meng Xuexiao and you. Are you two doing a comedy act?”

Shen Zekai’s expression turned even colder, the hand hanging by his side slowly curling into a fist. He realized now that he’d been too idealistic, someone like Wu Zian wasn’t even worth cooperating with.

Fine. He could handle it on his own.

Shen Zekai retracted the speech he’d prepared earlier and simply stated, “Just a warning. Keep it up, and you’ll deal with the consequences.”

Wu Zian only shrugged exaggeratedly, “Oh no~ I’m so scared!”

Shen Zekai didn’t dignify that with a response. He turned and walked away. He had more important things to do.

Back when Xue Chen first reported the situation in the group chat, Shen Zekai had already instructed his people to investigate. It didn’t take long before every comment, whether it had been deleted or reported, was laid bare before his eyes.

And what he saw was… utterly revolting.

Shen Zekai typed out each word clearly in his reply to his subordinate, “Write a report and submit it to the school. All of these students are to receive major demerits. If they reoffend, expel them immediately. You’ll continue following up on this. If you encounter resistance, contact me directly—I’ll handle it.”

As Shen Zekai’s figure disappeared from view, Wu Zian’s previously nonchalant, cocky expression vanished. He jumped down from the tree and kicked over a nearby trash bin with force.

He scrolled through his contacts until he found one marked “AAA” and dialed.

“You guys even went and made a whole damn group?”

“AAA” was Li Hao’s nickname—one of Wu Zian’s most fervent followers. He was the one who had rallied all of Wu Zian’s admirers together and formed that unofficial fan group.

Li Hao was usually the most active whenever Wu Zian needed something done, which was why Wu Zian had kept his contact.

The call took Li Hao by surprise.

Wu Zian had never cared much about his fan circle. He barely interacted with them and likely didn’t even remember how many people were in the group. But now, he reached out on his own!

Li Hao was instantly thrilled, practically bursting with excitement.

It felt like a moment of glory, “Raised an army for a thousand days, and finally it’s time to use them!”

“Yes, Wu-ge! You’re finally joining the group? I’ll have them prepare everything right away!”

…

Xue Chen was still pacing anxiously back and forth.

It had already been a while since he contacted Shen Zekai—Why was there still no response?

He couldn’t help but imagine the worst-case scenario…

What if even Shen Zekai couldn’t do anything about Wu Zian? Then what?!

Suddenly, the previously silent Wu Zian fan group chat dinged—a new member had just joined. Xue Chen’s eyes lit up.

He was sure Shen Zekai had finally taken action. He quickly pulled Meng Xuexiao over, excited, “Representative Shen’s here to help us! Just wait and see—this group’s going down, and Wu Zian’s going to get what’s coming to him!”

Everyone in the Federation Military Academy knew, Shen Zekai was the only son of Colonel Shen. He’d been the pride of the family since childhood, and even his friendships were strictly managed.

That meant Meng Xuexiao could stop worrying now too.

But Meng Xuexiao’s expression was hesitant, “This… doesn’t look like Shen Zekai’s account.”

“Huh? It’s not?!” Xue Chen was startled.

He knew Meng Xuexiao wasn’t the type to say something without reason.

But still… that was Shen Zekai.

His public student rep number was well known due to his official role, but those who had access to his private account were extremely few.

Maybe Meng Xuexiao was just mistaken?

“No, I’m sure it’s not him.” Meng Xuexiao frowned, flipped through his contact list, and quickly found Shen Zekai’s real account.

Back when Shen Zekai had first given him his private contact, Meng Xuexiao had repeatedly waved it off, saying it wasn’t necessary. After all, the student rep’s number was public—why bother someone with another line?

But Shen Zekai had told him, that’s exactly why. Since the public number was always busy, if anything urgent came up, he should use the private one.

So he had added it.

Xue Chen crouched down and compared the newly joined group member with the private account on Meng Xuexiao’s device. He scratched his head.

“It’s… yeah, definitely different.”

But then—if that wasn’t Shen Zekai…

Who was it?

The next second, the entire chat exploded with a massive, animated fireworks effect.

[Li Hao: Wu-ge is here!!!]

[Original group owner Li Hao has transferred ownership of the group to “Wu Zian.”]

It was like a signal going off.

The group was instantly flooded with a wave of messages screaming “Wu-ge is here!”

The atmosphere was almost ritualistic.

Even some of the previously reported and banned members were back—using fresh alt accounts to join the excitement.

At that moment, it finally happened.

Wu Zian’s sudden appearance was unexpected for Meng Xuexiao, yet not entirely surprising.

He had always believed that someone as domineering as Wu Zian wouldn’t just sit back and do nothing in a situation like this. There had always been a sense of a guillotine hanging over his head—he just hadn’t known when it would fall.

Now, at last, the outcome had arrived.

Messages welcoming Wu Zian flooded the chat before his eyes, flying by at lightning speed—hundreds in the blink of an eye. He carefully observed each ID—filtering.

[Flying Fish]

[Bouncing Grasshopper]

……

[Wu Zian (Group Owner)]

He’s here.

Meng Xuexiao’s gaze sharpened.

[Wu Zian (Group Owner): What era do you think this is, still whining in a group chat about an ordinary student? Isn’t that embarrassing? You might not mind looking ridiculous, but I do!]

Li Hao had spent quite a bit to level up the group, so the group owner’s messages now came with flashy premium effects.

That one line spun, leapt, and gradually enlarged, like a massive bomb detonating in the middle of the chat, leaving everyone stunned.

Meng Xuexiao stared at that message for a long while too, muttering under his breath, “Whining and nagging…? What whining and nagging…?”

He thought back, he hadn’t seen anything like that in the chat history. Could it be that Wu Zian had clashed with someone else in the group, and he’d come this time just to deal with that person, not him…?

But Meng Xuexiao wasn’t entirely sure if he might’ve missed something while reading the messages, so he turned to Xue Chen to confirm.

“Hiccup….”

Xue Chen scratched his head, visibly awkward—maybe even… on the verge of losing it.
How on earth was he supposed to explain this?!

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to mention the vulgar and nasty comments that had been in the group. So he just laughed it off casually,

“Haha, yeah, nothing major’s been going on in the group lately. Wu Zian probably just had some old grudge with someone in there, that’s all!”

“I thought so,” Meng Xuexiao nodded.

In his impression, Xue Chen had always been the straightforward type—if even he was saying this, then it must be true.

Meng Xuexiao reread Wu Zian’s message in the group over and over, silently feeling grateful to whoever that poor soul was who’d clashed with Wu Zian.

Sure enough, the enemy of your enemy is your friend.

He opened his own communicator and applied to join the group. If Wu Zian and the “enemy” started arguing in the chat, he planned to back the other guy up, maybe toss in a few scathing comments of his own. A little gesture of thanks for helping him dodge a bullet.

But the next second, his request was denied.

[The group you attempted to join has been disbanded by the group owner.]

Ah… disbanded already…?

Meng Xuexiao blinked.

It seemed that mystery person must be really impressive to push Wu Zian this far!

But the next moment, his attention was yanked away—not by choice, but by a loud “BANG!”

The classroom door of the team Combat Course had been kicked open.

And the one who entered was none other than Wu Zian, the very person who had just become the center of attention in the group chat.

Wu Zian had his arms crossed and his brows furrowed, storming in with an aggressive air. Sweat trickled down his neck, it was obvious he had come here in a hurry.

What an entrance. He really meant business.

Meng Xuexiao glanced subtly from side to side. Could it be… the person who angered Wu Zian was one of his classmates?

He couldn’t help but admire that person a little. To stand up to Wu Zian so soon after enrollment, while he himself had just been regretting his own impulsiveness a few days ago…

Wu Zian was like a lion whose territory had been invaded. He strode quickly between the clusters of students, his gaze sharp and hostile. Quite a few people instinctively looked away, avoiding eye contact.

Meng Xuexiao hesitated for a moment but ultimately chose to keep his eyes fixed on Wu Zian.

To him, Wu Zian was like a ticking time bomb—better to keep it in sight than wait for it to explode unexpectedly.

Still, staring so directly would be too obvious, so he lowered his eyes slightly and focused on Wu Zian’s sneakers instead.

They were moving fast.

Silently, Meng Xuexiao began calculating the distance between them.

Three more steps… two…

Alright, Wu Zian should be walking past him… any second now…

But—he didn’t.

Meng Xuexiao froze. Based on Wu Zian’s pace, he should’ve moved right on by. Instead, the tip of Wu Zian’s sneakers stopped squarely in front of him, pointed like two blades poised to strike. Meng Xuexiao could feel it. Wu Zian was angry. The air around them even seemed to burn hotter, thick with tension.

Could it be… Wu Zian planned to settle both old and new scores right now?

Should he look up?

If he didn’t, he wouldn’t see Wu Zian’s full expression.

But if he did…

He remembered, some predators in nature take direct eye contact as a challenge.

Time stretched painfully. The pressure in the air built and built. Meng Xuexiao gritted his teeth. In the end, he chose to look up.

If Wu Zian really came to settle everything at once, then fine. He’d stand with whoever had pissed Wu Zian off in that chat group.

Two versus one. Couldn’t be that much worse than one-on-one, right?

Resolved, Meng Xuexiao didn’t hesitate any longer. He raised his head—and met Wu Zian’s eyes dead on.

This time, he didn’t flinch.

The boy’s gaze slammed into Wu Zian like searing fire—fearless, defiant, and unyielding. Like someone prepared to crash headfirst into a wall and never look back.

And for a split second, Wu Zian flinched, he was the one who looked away first.

Cough… anyway, I wasn’t here to see Meng Xuexiao in the first place.

He turned and walked out again, this time at a much quicker pace. Strangely, Meng Xuexiao couldn’t help but see a trace of retreat in that hasty departure.

Meng Xuexiao frowned slightly.

He glanced around and saw the same look of confusion mirrored on many of his classmates’ faces.

Wait, he just left?

What’s up with Wu Zian today?

Made such a dramatic entrance, just to take a lap around the classroom?

…

“Wu… Wu-ge?”

When Li Hao found out the group he’d painstakingly built had been disbanded, he barely had time to grieve. He hurriedly asked around for Wu Zian’s whereabouts. But when he arrived near the lower-grade team Combat classroom, he still found it hard to believe his eyes.

Wu Zian had always disliked going to class. His formidable strength came entirely from self-training—his own system. Aside from a few compulsory courses, he skipped everything he could, to the point that even some teachers couldn’t do anything about it.

Yet now, Wu Zian was standing at the blind spot near the classroom window, a cigarette in his mouth. Judging by the scattered ash at his feet, he’d clearly been standing there for quite some time.

“Those few—those are the ones who posted the recording in the group, right?” Wu Zian held a cigarette between two fingers and used the glowing tip to casually point toward the young men gathered in the corner of the classroom.

“Ah, yes,” Li Hao responded instinctively.

“Hmm.” Wu Zian tossed the cigarette to the ground and casually crushed it with the sole of his shoe. One hand in his pocket, he turned and walked away.

Li Hao stood there staring at Wu Zian’s retreating figure. Having followed Wu Zian for so long and gained some standing himself, he immediately understood what that gesture meant. But when he actually arrived at the dormitory of those students who had posted the recording, he noticed the door was ajar—and inside, he could even hear a few pained groans.

Wu-ge was clearly displeased with those guys who posted the recording, huh? And rightfully so—what were they thinking, stirring up trouble out of nowhere and dragging Wu-ge into it? A petty issue like this wasn’t even worth Wu-ge’s time!

What Wu-ge had said in the group chat couldn’t be more accurate. Disgraceful! Absolutely shameful!

As Wu Zian’s right-hand man, of course it was his duty to help ease Wu-ge’s burdens.

Li Hao quickly tracked down the dorm numbers and contact info for the students who’d leaked the audio. Picking a free moment, he stormed over aggressively, ready to teach those clueless fools a lesson. But when Li Hao finally arrived at the dormitory of those students, he found the door already open, and inside, there were even a few groans of pain.

He paused for a moment, then cautiously peeked inside, just in time to see Wu Zian gripping one of the students by the throat and slamming him straight against the wall, “Like sending messages in the group, huh? If your hands are really that idle, maybe donate them to someone who actually needs them.”

Wu Zian raised his leg and stomped hard on the wall, right where the student’s hand was pinned. He frowned as if he’d touched something filthy, and twisted his foot left and right over the hand.

Li Hao immediately heard a sharp, sickening crack of bones breaking.

The whole movement was casual and effortless, just like the way Wu Zian had stubbed out his cigarette outside the Combat Training classroom earlier.