SS+

Xu Xiqin leaned against the railing, her lake-blue eyes blinking rapidly. The moment Liu Zheng turned her head, she saw tears welling up again and handed her a handkerchief.

"The thing I regret least is deciding back then that Xu Lingqu was my sister," she said softly, dabbing at her eyes with the cloth.

They shared no blood, yet they were family by mutual choice.

Jin muttered from the side, "Thank goodness. If the Commander had changed her surname to Euryphes..."

That would have been too awkward for him! He didn't want to become siblings with the Commander!

And when he thought about Shen Shouli trying to win over the Commander, he only found it bold. But when he remembered that same Shen Shouli was trying to win over his own sister, Jin felt his fists clench.

-

The livestream of this press conference was drawing in more and more viewers. On Star 5 of Star System No. 4, inside a small house, a young man took a sip of hot soy milk while watching the broadcast on his smart device's projection.

On his handsome, gentle face was a stark, jarring scar—a memento from his underground fighting days a few years back. The scars on his body were even more numerous. Punch by punch, he'd saved up money, and combined with his Sky Network arena winnings, he'd bought a house in Star System No. 4, a place to call his own.

His name was Pei Ming, former rank 1 in the Sky Network virtual mech arena, owner of the account "Ming." Just yesterday, he'd learned that the opponent who had once restored his confidence was the very person he most admired in the military academy league.

Because he dreamed of becoming a military cadet, Pei Ming never missed a single league match. He'd watch, imagining himself among them. Like a penniless child pressing his face against a shop window, staring at exquisite candies, it was a spiritual comfort—a way to quench his thirst by gazing at what he couldn't have.

At first, he'd joined everyone else in writing off Moye Military Academy—until after the first match. From then on, Pei Ming began to think: if only he could become a soldier under Xu Lingqu's command.

After that, he watched every single Moye match a dozen times over, plus another dozen viewings of Xu Lingqu's personal POV clips.

She was a perfect commander. On a real battlefield, there would definitely be people willing to lay down their lives for her—Pei Ming himself, for one. Unfortunately, he didn't even have the chance to become her soldier.

He held a pure, fervent admiration for her, but after watching the mech arena matches, Pei Ming's feelings toward Xu Lingqu grew complicated.

The moment Xu Lingqu stepped up to face Jia Xianglan first, Pei Ming recognized her.

Every detail of that duel was seared into his memory, and as it overlapped with the Xu Lingqu fighting before him now, Pei Ming recognized her in an instant. He went from shock to exhilaration, and finally, when he saw Xu Lingqu summon Chi Ren, to disappointment.

Xu Lingqu's psychic power level was actually S-rank or above—for most of the Empire, that was good news, but for a certain subset of people, it hit like a thunderbolt.

Ming was among them. They had always firmly believed that Xu Lingqu was truly B-rank. True, B-rank was already high among ordinary people—it at least offered a chance at the six major academies—but in the eyes of those who worshipped psychic power, B-rank was trash.

In the early days, Xu Lingqu had suffered countless unwarranted attacks and insults because of her B-rank psychic power. The people who spoke up for her were opponents of psychic-level supremacy, people like Ming himself.

They saw Xu Lingqu as a benchmark for low-psychic-level individuals. Watching her topple those S-rank commanders, watching S+ single soldiers obey her every command, gave them hope and confidence to fight against the psychic elitists.

But now they were being told Xu Lingqu was S-rank or above? It was like a harsh slap across their faces, telling them: this world is all about psychic power, and you low-levels will never turn things around—you'll always be second-class.

Of course, some argued that Xu Lingqu didn't command through psychic power alone, but in the eyes of the triumphant psychic elitists, such arguments were pathetically weak.

So Pei Ming couldn't help but harbor a seed of hatred toward Xu Lingqu, which tangled with his love, torturing his heart.

If this world was destined to be dark for those with low psychic power, why had she given them hope, only to cruelly snatch it away?

He stared at Xu Lingqu, who was still answering questions on the livestream, his emotions a tangled mess.

"Perhaps you're aware that before the arena, you were regarded by some as the light for low-psychic-level individuals? They used you as an example to oppose psychic-level restrictions."

A reporter stood up, flashing a smug grin. This was the same reporter who, during the team match interview, had deliberately asked Xu Lingqu a string of difficult, undermining questions.

Back then, he simply couldn't stand Xu Lingqu.

As a psychic-level supremacist, he'd always been smug about his own A-rank psychic power, considering himself above others. At the time, B-rank Xu Lingqu's performance had been too dazzling, and it had irritated him for a long while.

Now that her psychic level was revealed to be SS+! Those low-level trash had been silenced instantly—he couldn't be more pleased.

But this wasn't enough. He wanted Xu Lingqu herself to deliver the fatal blow to those people.

"What do you think of such people?"

Pei Ming clutched his cup nervously. Xu Lingqu's face showed little emotion as she spoke:

"My psychic level is SS+. That should hit them pretty hard, I suppose." She lifted her eyelids to look at the reporter. "But what I don't get is how someone like you can still be so happy about it?"

Xu Lingqu really did hold a grudge.

"Do you know what SS+ even means? To me, A, B, C, D—heck, even S—there's no real difference." Her gaze was contemptuous. "You think A-rank counts as high psychic power? You don't actually think we're the same kind, do you? Just as you treat them as lesser, in my eyes, you're the same."

She tilted her head slightly, delivering the killing blow to this sweaty, "above-the-rest" A-rank reporter.

"In my eyes, you're all trash—not even good enough to call yourselves garbage. Let me tell you what 'comparing trash' means: among a pile of garbage, someone like you stinks to high heaven."

Throughout this press conference, Xu Lingqu had spoken little, and when she did, she answered questions mildly enough—even warmly when she mentioned Xu Xiqin.

Now she was speaking more, but with razor-sharp edges and full firepower, startling everyone. Yet once they snapped out of it, they all began rapidly snapping photos.

Xu Lingqu in this state was utterly captivating. She was a fully qualified heir to the Empire—the Empire's Blade, in every sense of the word.