Insufficient balance. Insufficient rank. Even his gender was deemed “incorrect.”
The system raged uselessly in his mind, cursing the AI: [Idiot! Brain-dead trash! What right do you have to block my beautiful and adorable Baby?!]
There were a lot of people coming and going in the training grounds, and Lu Chi stepped back to make way for the Alpha behind him. The ends of his rough hair curled slightly, sticking up like an irritable cat, the strands shimmering with a dim, lake-like silver sheen.
The unfamiliar Alpha paused, instinctively following that glance, but all he saw was a tall, slender figure disappearing quickly into the crowd, gone without a trace.
Lu Chi walked out of the training building, raising a brow with a faint smile.
[I remember some idiot saying that in the second world, you’d give me a good identity?]
The idiot system froze, recalling its promise, and instantly grew guilty.
[My… my base code is just defective… I’m sorry, Baby. I can’t break free from this program…]
It had really tried to fight for benefits for its host. Unfortunately, it genuinely had no brain… after all, it still needed information force-fed just to remember the plot, otherwise it couldn’t even read properly.
It didn’t even know where to find a so-called superior to change my Baby’s identity, ah!!
Lu Chi smiled again, a little strangely wanting to pat its head.
[Mm, I’m not blaming you… You remind me of a cat I used to have.]
Back when he was filming, Lu Chi had once picked up a stray cat on set. Most of the time, it would squat outside the filming area, blankly watching him act, or it would sneak into his dressing room, blankly begging for food. When he took it to the vet, the doctor shook his head and said the cat had mild intellectual impairment.
The foolish cat only recognized Lu Chi, so later, he took it home. However, drooling and leaking urine became a daily routine. Because of that, Lu Chi now had an unusual tolerance toward mentally impaired creatures. He always felt they already had it hard and couldn’t help but empathize.
After all, no one wanted to be foolish.
So he comforted the system a few more times and told it to go play on its own. And sure enough, with its nonexistent frontal lobe, it was cheered up within seconds, happily running off, saying it was going to work on its ancient-style epic novel.
It had recently started teaching itself how to write fiction.
Lu Chi stood there for a while, inexplicably laughing to himself, until the people around him began casting subtle glances his way. Only then did he stop, his smile faint as he opened his balance to check just how poor he really was.
A blue-white interface unfolded across his vision. Not checking was one thing, but checking was a shock. At the top, a pitiful number glared back at him:
[Balance: 1069.09 star coins]
Barely enough to survive frugally on the floating island for two weeks. Following the AI’s prompts, he then checked his mental power and citizen rank:
[B-level], [Fourth-class citizen]
A B-level, fourth-class Beta, more miserable than a stray cyber-dog on the street.
Lu Chi let out a soft laugh and opened the background setting notes of the original story. He discovered that in this world, not only were genders divided into three types, but ranks were also determined by mental power, increasingfrom C-level all the way to SS-level.
Each gender would undergo differentiation twice: once at eighteen, and again at twenty-four. The first was accompanied by the initial heat cycle, called the “coming-of-age heat.”
Those with resources would have professional doctors present throughout the process, even allowing temporary marking at will. But those without could only rely on the cheapest suppressants, or endure it at the risk of damaging their minds.
The second was purely mental power differentiation, and there was a chance to leap beyond one’s original rank, but inthe hundreds of years since the Federation was established, fewer than a hundred individuals had ever jumped more than three levels. Most only increased by two.
As for citizen ranking, well… it was even more brutally realistic.
Lu Chi read through the description, wondering if he should just find a hole in the ground and start over from scratch.
The Federation had no death penalty. Instead, all citizens were strictly categorized. At the very bottom were criminals who had committed severe offenses, stripped of their names and assigned only numbers.
Above them were fifth-class citizens, then fourth, third, second, and first class in ascending order.
Above first-class were the “special-class.”
Special-class citizens were born to enjoy ninety percent of the Federation’s resources. They held wealth, power, and supreme authority. With no exception, all of them came from the three major powers of the Federation: the military, the financial conglomerates, and the research institute.
Those qualified to be special-class were usually direct heirs, like Lin Jingsi, the sole heir of the Lin family in the military, an S-level Alpha. Or Yu Kexing, the only Omega young master of the Yu financial family, already highly sought after for political marriages at just twenty.
Luo Zexu was slightly lower in standing, a second-ranked Alpha of the Luo family in the research institute, with an A-level older brother and a B-level younger brother.
The Federal Academy gathered hundreds of thousands of students, yet fewer than a thousand were special-class citizens. However, they were the true apex of the pyramid.
With such outstanding backgrounds, every move of the main characters naturally attracted countless eyes, not to mention that one of them was an Omega.
Two Alphas and one Omega. The perfect setup to satisfy human gossip.
The original novel described it like this:
“Every weekend, the Federal Academy’s forum erupts into chaos.”
“Thanks to the AI ‘Cocoon,’ the privacy of AO users is protected. They take on virtual avatars and wage fierce online battles, arguing over whether the Luo-Xing pairing or the Jing-Xing pairing is the real one: you have your Pride and Prejudice, I have my Romeo and Juliet. Stock buyers argue endlessly, cursing each other until both sides break down.”
“But behind the gossip lies something deeper: the decline of the military, the rise of the financial powers, and the silent stability of the research institute. The Federation has maintained a fragile balance for a hundred years. Now, the three representatives have begun to reveal their abilities. Any alliance between two would signify…”
“This is a cruel era. This is a twisted era. Countless people at the bottom sustain the special-class citizens with their flesh and blood. No one can tolerate falling from the clouds to become fodder. They must muddy the waters of public opinion, to glimpse the power struggles at the top, and then seize the current to rise.”
“Because this is also the best of times.”
Lu Chi closed the original text, thoughtful. Truth be told, he suspected the author might have had a bit of a chuunibyou phase.
He looked at the bold “B” in his profile, then at the fourth-class citizen emblem, like withered black branches circlinghim, making him look even more striking by contrast. Then he recalled how the main characters reacted to those CP shipping wars…
Lin Jingsi remained indifferent.
Yu Kexing stayed composed.
Luo Zexu enjoyed the chaos, even personally logging onto the forum to like and reply.
Looks like…
They were all villains.
But all of that was still very far away for Lu Chi right now. For a poor guy like him, the most urgent task was finding somewhere to sleep peacefully, so he took a hovercar back to the D-level combat zone.
The long-haired Beta stood outside the lounge, looking at the neatly packed, pitiful luggage by the door. He raised a brow slightly.
“What did you say?”
The lounge AI responded gently: [Insufficient balance. Unable to renew rental. Please log in to the Federal Academy website to recharge.]
“…”
Even staying in a lounge costs money!
Very Federation of you, ne!!!
Run out of money, pack your bags, and get kicked out. Also very Federation. Poor Lu Chi opened his outdated terminal, awkwardly navigating to the payment page. The moment he saw the price, he fell silent.
[Renew D-level lounge: 100/hour. Weekly package: 9999 (currency: star coins) (No discount for fourth-class citizens)]
[This fee includes meals, hot water, security, 1-hour personal training room trial, combat match tickets, and more. Great value, come try it!]
“…”
All of Lu Chi’s money combined could only afford half a day in a D-level lounge! He then checked previous payment records, noticing scattered charges of 100 star coins. Then he looked at the timestamps.
Mostly late at night or in the early morning.
Clearly, the original owner had only paid when he couldn’t hold out any longer and needed a place to sleep. The floating island was filled with surveillance drones, and students weren’t allowed to linger outside late at night; if caught, it would be recorded as a demerit.
For wealthy elites, that didn’t matter, but for scholarship students from poor backgrounds, it could ruin future job prospects. Today was the second day of the combat tournament, and Lu Chi still had more than ten days to survive here.
He needed to train in mecha, cram basic knowledge about the world, eat, sleep…
But everything costs money!!!
The long-haired Beta stared at his pitiful balance. After a moment, he lightly touched the frayed ends of his hair. Mm. He’d need to take care of his hair, too.
Sunlight poured down.
It was bright and dazzling, yet carried no warmth, only the cold, inorganic chill unique to a cybernetic world. Towering skyscrapers rose into the sky, and hover trains roared past. Surveillance drones sprayed fine mist into the air.
An advertisement chimed softly:
[Technology changes lives. Bionic systems bring you closer to home. Our latest S-level calming mist soothes your emotions. To order, please call…]
The mist dissolved into the breeze, carrying a faint, pleasant fragrance that subtly eased the mind. Lu Chi inhaled calmly for a few seconds, then turned and sat down on his luggage. After a moment of thought, he opened his friend list and found the contact labeled [Professor].
But when he initiated a video send, the AI popped up an option:
[Would you like to enable message delivery?]
Message delivery?
Lu Chi raised a brow. Looking at the video he recorded last night, of the Second Male Lead publicly going into heat, he tapped confirm without much thought.
B-1121: [Video – message sent]
A few seconds later, his terminal vibrated violently.
A-0207: [Lu Chi, what are you trying to do?!]
………………..
Deep within the floating island, Luo Zexu closed the message screen. His gentle expression didn’t change, but his temple throbbed sharply. The gland at the back of his neck still ached faintly, aftereffects of being forced into heat.
As a child, Luo Zexu had been kidnapped and abused, and his health had never been great. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been so easily subdued by Lu Chi last night, left in such a humiliating state.
…Last night.
The red-haired Alpha recalled himself grinding helplessly against the ground. A flash of anger, darkness, and an indescribable trace of shame passed through his eyes.
He shut his eyes tightly.
A moment later, his fox-like gaze steadied again as he sent another message:
A-0207: [What’s your relationship with the Lin family?]
Late last night, Luo Zexu had been taken to the medical unit by his family and the academy enforcement team. It took ten minutes to completely clear the stimulant from his system, but as soon as the enforcement team left, his older brother, still on the capital planet, arrived via jump ship.
Dust still clinging to him, he pushed open the door and got straight to the point:
“Did you offend the Lin family?!”
Luo Zexu was still on oxygen. He shook his head, his expression equally unpleasant.
“I just wanted to play with a Beta…”
On the surface, Luo Zexu appeared flirtatious and gentle, but in truth, he had never even touched an Omega. Lu Chi was the first person he had ever taken an interest in, but who could have expected that a fourth-class, B-level Beta would have ties to Lin Jingsi?!
But Lu Chi had only been enrolled for a month. Before that, he had never even set foot on the capital planet where the academy was located.
So what connections could he possibly have?!
As a Beta with no future prospects, it was precisely why others dared to bully him without restraint. Luo Zexu thought for half an hour, but still couldn’t figure out any intersection between Lu Chi and Lin Jingsi.
After all, everyone knew that the rising star Lin Jingsi lived a dull, monotonous life. Back and forth between the military and the academy training grounds.
Eat. Sleep. Train. Repeat.
If not for the combat tournament, it was hard to even catch a glimpse of the S-level Alpha. His older brother glanced at him but said nothing. Instead, he casually tossed over a metal sphere, saying, “Twenty minutes ago, the military sent notice: next year’s medical cooperation and AI implantation project with the Luo family has been canceled.”
“Ten minutes ago, several minor financial groups were investigated and shut down by the military for illegal operations. You should recognize them.”
The screen lit up, and the companies listed were precisely those belonging to the other Alphas from last night. However, Luo Zexu frowned, not particularly concerned about their fate. After staring at the screen for a moment, he suddenly spoke:
“The military still refuses to accept the Luo family’s technology?”
Silence filled the hospital room, and his brother’s expression remained calm. After a long pause, he narrowed his eyes slightly, answering, “We took a bite out of their meat. Of course, they hate our AI.”
Over a hundred years ago, the research institute led by the Luo family had introduced the intelligent AI “Cocoon,” and from that moment on, they monopolized the Federation’s medical technology and AI research.
The Federation was made up of countless stars and one main planet, with a population in the hundreds of millions. “Cocoon” was the first artificial intelligence capable of covering, processing, and coordinating the entire Federation.
Its birth didn’t just change how interstellar humanity lived; it reshaped the entire structure of the Federation, even giving rise to massive conglomerates like the Homeland Group.
Machinery, riding the tide of technological advancement, seeped into every aspect of life.
Even the iron-blooded military had to yield somewhat, allowing the financial conglomerates and research institutes to expand their influence. If not for the barrier of mental power still remaining unbroken, and the fact that over 90% of S-class Alphas were in the military, the Luo family would have long since joined forces with the financial groups and drained them dry.
Luo Zexu clearly thought of this as well. After a moment, he said:
“So last night was just a pretext?”
“No matter whether the person you had your eye on was a Beta, Omega, or even an Alpha,” his older brother gave a quiet hum, “the Lin family would have found an excuse to cut off cooperation with us.”
“After all, they’ve already placed all their bets on Lin Jingsi. Second differentiation,” he smiled faintly, “Breaking through mental power.”
Back then, under pressure from the aggressive rise of the financial groups and research institutes, the military had no choice but to sign agreements, introducing large amounts of technology from the Homeland Group, prosthetics, calming agents, and more.
But ever since Lin Jingsi became an S-class Alpha four years ago, the Lin family had been dragging their feet on cooperation.
Luo Zexu studied his brother’s expression, then cautiously said:
“According to Federation records, double-S Alphas possess mental strength so powerful that it enters the domain of brain control. If Lin Jingsi successfully differentiates again, without an Omega of equal level, he’ll only live at most a hundred years.”
“We don’t need to confront them head-on. Lying low for now is also an option.”
Only Alphas and Omegas of equal rank could soothe each other’s mental power. And for a hundred years, the Federation hadn’t seen a single pair of double-S AO.
If Lin Jingsi couldn’t be soothed, the outcome would be…
His own mental power burning him into brain death.
Or leaving him a vegetative patient.
The Luo family’s current research focused precisely on that: mental power. They were desperate to understand the principles behind pheromone compatibility and mental control.
His older brother didn’t respond. He simply stared out the window at the dazzling blue-purple neon lights of the floating island. After a while, he turned back, looking at Luo Zexu with a meaningful gaze.
“Mental power isn’t everything, and technology has come this far. We can’t rely on old experience anymore; we need to forge an entirely new path.” Luo Zexu watched him. After a long pause, his older brother added, “The ones who drugged Lin Jingsi before have been dealt with. Their families live on the main planet. I’ve already sent people. By morning, they’ll all be dead from ‘accidents’.”
“Good. It’s a pity we couldn’t have him run into the Yu family’s Omega…”
At that remark, his brother seemed to think of something, frowning slightly.
“That Omega has been acting a bit strange these past couple of days. Since you’re at the academy, keep an eye on him, see if the Yu family has noticed anything.”
“Alright.”
The hospital room door closed. The man had come in a hurry and left just as quickly. The red-haired Alpha lay on the hospital bed, eyes closed, resting for a long time.
Then his terminal suddenly vibrated. He opened it casually, but the next second, Luo Zexu saw himself on screen, rutting against the ground like a dog, hoarsely gasping at the camera:
“I… I’m a dog in heat… Lu Chi!”
Clang!
Chaos erupted in the room as a small cup smashed to the floor. Luo Zexu immediately shut off the AI call system, afraid a nurse would walk in and see him like this. His face flushed pale and red at once, unaware of it himself. He steadied his breathing for a long moment before replying.
A-0207: [Lu Chi, what are you trying to do?!]
A-0207: [Just what is your relationship with the Lin family?!]
A-0207: [You think this is enough to threaten me?!]
B-1121: [Video – message sent]
B-1121: [Video – message sent]
B-1121: [Video – message sent]
Lu Chi didn’t respond.
He just kept sending the video.
Luo Zexu’s gentle mask was completely shattered. His fox-like eyes locked onto the screen, as if he could reach through and grab that beautiful Beta, teeth grinding:
[What exactly do you want?!]
Was he threatening him?
Or the Luo family?
Was Lu Chi some hidden pawn of another force?
But three seconds later, the other side finally replied.
B-1121: [Give me money.]
B-1121: [Little cat reaching out.JPG]
B-1121: [Little cat reaching out.JPG]
B-1121: [Little cat reaching out.JPG]
Luo Zexu: “……”
T.N: Aha, so everyone undergoes a second differentiation at age 24. I see where this is going, so even a B-level, fourth-class Beta has the innate potential to magic girl transform into a, let’s say, SS-level Omega? It’s just that I doubt the currently 19-year-old Lu Chi will hang out in this world for five more years :))
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