Two years later.

A much-changed Ji Changqing stood in formation with squads of burly men—former soldiers, now military academy candidates—and a small handful of women. They were lined up in the same spot Yu Zhiyao had stood two years prior, waiting to board the starship.

After two years of frenzied studying with The First and being hauled into a military camp for intensive training alongside elite soldiers, Ji Changqing had performed miraculously. She passed the written entrance exam for the Alliance Fourth Military University—Major General Xie’er’s alma mater—a full year ahead of schedule.

The people now standing in neat rows had all passed the written exams for various military academies and were heading to the designated locations for their physical entrance assessments.

The Alliance’s military academies were, without a doubt, the most difficult schools to get into. Candidates had to pass both a written and a physical exam, after which the schools would admit students based on their combined scores, from highest to lowest.

In other words, even if you passed both exams, admission was not guaranteed.

Not far from the orderly ranks of these military academy candidates stood a more loosely gathered group of people. These were the chosen few, the objects of envy and admiration for the candidates—they weren’t applying to military academies. Having passed their written exams, they were about to depart for various universities.

The stark difference in numbers was because half of the military academy candidates were commissioned students. After graduation, they would return directly to Blue Star to serve in its planetary defense force rather than being assigned to an Alliance fleet.

This time, the total number of prospective students exceeded twelve thousand, making them the first cohort from Blue Star to enter the Alliance university system. An ordinary starship couldn’t accommodate them all.

To ensure their safety, and because only Major General Xie’er’s flagship could hold thirty thousand people at once, she was personally leading the transport mission. Her flagship would deliver the students to their respective university planets one by one.

The two thousand-plus students who were already confirmed university attendees boarded first.

Nearly ten thousand military academy candidates were assembled, a dense, dark mass of people whose whispers merged into a low hum. When Major General Xie’er appeared, the restless crowd of nearly ten thousand fell instantly silent.

This woman was a demon!

“Everyone, you are now military academy candidates, preparing to walk the path of a soldier.” She gazed calmly at the future military personnel below her and gave them a standard military salute. “May you achieve victory in your first battle and may fortune favor your arms!”

The candidates returned the salute in unison, watching as she entered the command cabin.

They clenched their fists tightly. They, too, dreamed of the day they would command their own flagship!

This group, with an average age of over thirty, was as excited as eighteen-year-old high school graduates with acceptance letters in hand. They were all brimming with anticipation and longing, feeling as if they were on the verge of ascending to the heavens.

Excluding the operations level, the flagship had five decks. Decks one through three were residential, deck four housed the dining hall and medical bay, and deck five contained the command cabin and training area. Aside from the operations level and deck five, which were off-limits, the other four decks were open to the new students.

The living quarters were single rooms of seven or eight square meters, similar in layout to the ones from their differentiation isolation training. Though small, they were fully equipped and felt comfortingly familiar.

After receiving temporary authorization for their rooms, everyone hastily tossed their luggage inside and immediately started contacting their friends on their comms, gathering in groups to rush to the best viewing spots.

It was their first time leaving Blue Star to embrace the sea of stars. They had to get a front-row seat and savor the experience!

After meeting up with The First, Ji Changqing figured that everyone would be crowding the viewing areas on the first three decks. She headed straight for the fourth deck and, through some mysterious stroke of luck, managed to snag a decent spot.

The flagship’s vibrations during takeoff were minimal, and its acceleration was incredibly fast. In just a few minutes, the beautiful Blue Star came into view, its beauty breathtaking.

As the flagship gradually pulled away, the chorus of gasps and exclamations slowly died down. They were traveling far more than ten thousand miles from home, and a sense of melancholy was inevitable.

Ji Changqing and The First remained pressed against the viewport for a long time before reluctantly preparing to leave. Just then, a slightly hesitant voice came from nearby. “Your Majesty?”

What an incredibly embarrassing nickname!

People nearby turned to look.

Ji Changqing forced herself to remain calm and looked toward the source of the voice. “Wow, it’s Pencil!”

The First chuckled teasingly. “Hey, Pencil, I’m here too! You recognized her even though she’s changed so much, but you didn’t recognize me?”

Pencil smiled a little shyly. “She’s a comrade-in-arms.”

Straight guys always remembered their bros better than they remembered girls.

Several of the other “Pencil brothers” who had fought alongside them in the game came over to say hello with grins.

“Hey, it’s boring just sitting in our rooms. How about a spar?” one of the Pencil brothers enthusiastically invited Ji Changqing to join their practice group.

“Sure,” Ji Changqing agreed readily. During the intensive training, they had focused mostly on fundamentals. The upside was that she had gradually rediscovered the feeling of her Big Sister teaching her basic moves by hand in the cultivation instance; her execution and recovery were now incredibly fluid. The downside was that she hadn’t sparred much and was unsure of her own combat strength.

Pencil was the first to volunteer. “I’ll go first!”

He had no idea what level Ji Changqing was at now. Among their group, he had the lowest combat ability, so he figured he’d test the waters.

The group went to the training room and requested a combat platform. The two of them leaped onto it one after the other.

Pencil rubbed his hands together and took a stance. “You first.”

Ji Changqing nodded. She took a step forward, lunging like a monkey, her left fist raised in defense while her right fist shot straight for Pencil’s temple.

An expert’s touch is obvious from the first move. A wave of gasps came from below the platform. “Damn, that’s fast!”

Facing her directly, Pencil felt it even more keenly.

Ji Changqing was using standard military combat techniques. He knew every move she was making and where she was aiming, but he just couldn’t dodge. The force of her punch was too powerful, her speed too great. His subconscious reaction was to retreat and defend.

But he wasn’t a pushover. After a few exchanges, he identified Ji Changqing’s weakness. Her fundamentals were exceptionally solid, but her responses to changing moves were a bit green. Whenever he counterattacked, her speed would slow by a fraction of a beat—though she was still very fast.

Naturally, Pencil wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip by.

From Ji Changqing’s perspective, Pencil’s every move seemed a bit slow. She could easily adjust her techniques to counter him, completely unaware that in the eyes of others, the moments she spent changing her moves were openings.

The Pencil brothers below the platform had already figured it out. They couldn’t help but sigh; their brother was about to lose.

Ji Changqing grew more excited as she fought, each move faster than the last. After about thirty exchanges, she easily dodged a blow aimed at her chin, pivoted smoothly to Pencil’s side, and landed a solid punch to his abdomen. As he doubled over, she followed up with an elbow strike, pressing down on his neck and pinning him to the floor.

The onlookers burst into applause, followed by eager shouts of, “My turn, my turn!”

Ji Changqing obliged them all.

After taking down three of the Pencil brothers, only one remained. This last guy was particularly excited. “Hand-to-hand combat isn’t my strong suit. How about we use weapons?”

“Sure!” Ji Changqing, who was having a great time, readily agreed. “I’m not that great with my fists and feet either.”

Two of the Pencil brothers cried out in protest. Not that great? She had just beaten them to a pulp!

But Pencil and The First knew she was telling the truth.

“Chongzi, are you sure you want to use weapons against her?” Pencil called out with a laugh. “Don’t blame me for not warning you if you lose!”

“Who cares about losing? A good fight is what matters.”

Ji Changqing’s specialty was the spear, while this guy’s was the military dagger. But since this was a private sparring session without protective gear or the combat platform’s safety mechanisms enabled, they couldn’t use real weapons. They each picked up a long staff to serve as a substitute.

The result was truly dismal. The final challenger, who was also the best fighter of the four, was defeated the fastest. He didn’t even last twenty moves before Ji Changqing disarmed him.

After the sparring session, they all compared notes, and the Pencil brothers gave Ji Changqing a lot of pointers.

Her fundamentals were solid and she had good combat awareness, but her practical application was lacking, so she had trouble keeping up. It wasn’t quite a case of “sees it once, fails on the first try,” but it was close.

“Watching you fight, I’d guess most of your combat practice has been in the game, right?” Pencil advised her. “That’s not enough. The game is great for training your combat awareness, but you need to follow up with real-world sparring and practice. Look, your actual strength is definitely a cut above ours. In a one-on-one, you can beat us. But what about one-on-two? Or one-on-three? If you had more practical experience, you could easily take on all four of us and win.”

Ji Changqing’s eyes lit up. “Want to try?”

Fine, might as well give it a go.

This time, Pencil and the final challenger teamed up, and Ji Changqing immediately felt the pressure. Before, she had effortlessly dominated them individually. Now, with the two of them working together with excellent coordination, they constantly had her on the defensive.

She fought with immense frustration and was ultimately the one pinned to the floor.

Afterward, the three of them picked up their weapons again for another round. This time, Ji Changqing’s movements were much more fluid. Facing two opponents, her staff went wherever she pointed it, as if she were a completely different person from before.

When the three of them finally stopped, panting for breath, Pencil lay on the floor, not wanting to get up. He gasped out, “See? Your spear technique has clearly been honed through hard work and long-term sparring with a master. No matter how we attacked or from what direction, you could instantly block and counter. That’s combat awareness. With your hand-to-hand, you have the awareness, but your transitions aren’t timely or precise enough. You need more practice.”

Ji Changqing nodded absently. She took the towel The First handed her and wiped away her sweat. The two exchanged a glance, a shared melancholy in their hearts. It was true. Back then, she had been beaten by her Big Sister for years on end. Developing combat awareness wasn’t a choice.

After a short rest, the group dispersed and headed back to their rooms.

Walking side-by-side with The First, Ji Changqing had a sudden thought. “The First, do you think it’s possible that the instance worlds we visited actually existed?”

Otherwise, how could every instance world feel so real, with such meticulous detail? Even if the Alliance’s technology was heaven-defying enough to create such vast and complex instances, the people within them were so varied. The so-called NPCs genuinely displayed joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness, constantly adjusting their responses to their actions.

They couldn’t have possibly known in advance what she and the others would do, who they would interact with, or what kind of ridiculous things they would get up to, could they?

If it was all truly designed by people, then the holographic game’s backend interaction data and response models were just too incredible.

The First gave her a thumbs-up for this wild idea.

As expected of a scriptwriter.

But the research expert’s imagination was just as vast. The First proposed a new theory. “Remember the preview content they had us experience when we first entered the game? The Alliance has always said Blue Star’s evolutionary path is ABO, right? So there must be many other evolutionary paths. Maybe all the ones in the preview represent a different direction.”

Ji Changqing gave her a thumbs-up in return.

Recalling the world-conquering power they had experienced in the preview, the two couldn’t help but feel a sense of yearning. That had truly been the most glorious moment of their lives.

While there was nothing wrong with the ABO evolutionary path, the non-human ones—gods, demons, ghosts, cultivation, magic, and fantasy—were so much more exciting!

To move heaven and earth, to shift mountains and drain the seas.

If Yu Zhiyao were there to hear their wistful longing, she would have undoubtedly slapped them both into next week.

Non-human evolutionary paths meant high-risk worlds! She remembered how hard it had been to survive in that world of gods and monsters, a fate worse than death. And they were yearning for it?!

Wasn’t it good enough just being human?