Advanced!

Some people think that riding a space elevator feels the same as dropping on a free-fall amusement ride.

But that’s not the case.

Because the gravity field inside the elevator car is precisely controlled by computers, passengers don’t feel either overweight or weightless.

The vacuum tube design eliminates friction between the car and the atmosphere, and even the temperature inside the cabin never changes.

Passengers simply sit comfortably in their seats, watch the news, snack on food, chat with friends, and in less than an hour descend tens of thousands of kilometers from orbit to the planet’s surface.

The station broadcast sounded: “Elevator Car No. 8 has arrived.”

As the safety lights of Car No. 8 lit up, the crowd inside and outside grew impatient.

When the doors opened, passengers poured out in a stream, and Ye Lan and Su Lixiao were practically pushed out of the station by the rush.

Once they finally broke free from the crowd, a plump, white greeting robot blocked their path.

“Hello, are you new students of Soul-Slaying Academy?”

Although the robot stood over two meters tall, forcing people to look up at it, its round body and limbs didn’t feel threatening—on the contrary, it looked rather cute.

At least, that was how most freshmen felt.

But Ye Lan knew the truth.

Inside, the greeting robot was a real military machine.

Its round exterior was just an inflated covering.

You’d better not poke it with a needle, or you’d make it very “angry.”

Ye Lan answered honestly, “Yes, we are new students of Soul-Slaying Academy. Could you tell us how to get to the academy?”

“Identity confirmed: Year-One freshmen Ye Lan and Su Lixiao.”

The robot scanned them with its visual sensors, then opened a panel on its chest and extended a tray holding two shield-shaped badges.

“Please take your academy emblems.”

Ye Lan and Su Lixiao exchanged a glance, then each picked one up.

The emblem of Soul-Slaying Military Academy depicted the hilt of a long sword thrust into the earth.

It also resembled a balanced scale, and at the same time, a lighthouse rising from the ocean.

The design symbolized the academy’s ideals—though perhaps only its creator truly understood its full meaning.

What was obvious, however, was the emblem’s weight.

Though it was only half the size of a palm, it felt as heavy as a brick.

Ye Lan knew exactly why.

Thanks to quantum miniaturization technology, “worlds within a grain” became possible.

Each emblem contained both a computer and a shield generator, capable of handling nearly every problem students might face inside the academy.

On Beiken Star, the emblem could also tap into the academy’s supercomputer resources, and even activate an overloaded shield defense mode.

Su Lixiao, however, had little interest in new technology.

Feeling its heft, she asked doubtfully, “Is this really just an emblem?”

The robot explained proudly, “Our advanced emblems have completely surpassed the old half-coverage exoskeletons and full-coverage tactical armors.”

“A hundred sessions ago, academy emblems were merely decorative.

Students had to wear bulky exoskeleton armor to access computational support and shield protection.

That made movement clumsy and inconvenient.

Now, with a simple emblem pinned to your clothing, you can enjoy supercomputer support and powerful defensive shielding.”

The robot even described the evolution of the emblem.

But Su Lixiao still looked suspicious.

She couldn’t fully believe such a small object held so many functions.

Buzz—

The emblem in her hand vibrated.

A blue light projected outward, forming a holographic screen before her.

Su Lixiao froze for a moment, then became fascinated by the stream of information appearing.

Ye Lan looked at his own emblem.

Sensing his gaze, it vibrated slightly, then activated, projecting its own holographic display.

Text began to appear:

[…Registering information…]

[User confirmed: “Ye Lan”…]

[Name: Ye Lan

Year: First-year

Permissions: Level One

Credits: 100]

[Coordinates confirmed: Exit of Elevator Station No. 8, Beiken Star]

[Next step: guiding user to “Airport.” Please follow the indicated arrow.]

A green 3D arrow appeared in the holographic display, pointing toward the airport and later to the freshman reception hall.

Of course, Ye Lan didn’t need navigation—he already knew the way.

But as a “freshman,” he couldn’t afford to appear overly familiar.

“Wow, Lan!”

Ye Lan felt his sleeve tugged.

He turned and saw Su Lixiao pointing at her holographic display, exclaiming in amazement, “Look! It really shows the path, like there’s a real arrow in front of me.”

Ye Lan smiled wryly.

“I can’t see yours.”

The holograms projected by the emblems were focused for the user’s eyes only.

For privacy, no one else could see them.

“Huh? You can’t?”

Su Lixiao was surprised, but when she realized she couldn’t see Ye Lan’s either, she understood.

“It’s getting late. Please proceed quickly to the airport. Volunteers will meet you there,” the robot said with a bow.

Then it rolled into a corner and powered down, looking like nothing more than an oversized toy.

“Let’s go,” Ye Lan said to Su Lixiao.

Although they were now on Beiken Star’s surface, the Soul-Slaying Military Academy’s main campus was still far away.

How far?

Roughly one-eighth of the planet’s equator.

The space elevator was built on Beiken’s equator, while the academy was in the northern hemisphere.

The academy covered 1.42 million square kilometers.

That included not only the main campus, but also training grounds, weapons research facilities, residential areas, commercial zones, and other extensions.

To traverse such a massive area, one had to take ground trains or rotorcraft.

Walking on foot would take forever.

The emblem guided Ye Lan and Su Lixiao toward the nearby airport.

But first, they had to wind through a maze of underground passages beneath the elevator station.

The network was so vast, it resembled a small city.

Quietly, Su Lixiao said, “Lan, back at the starport… you really didn’t need to get so angry.”

Ye Lan blinked, then realized she meant the incident with the boy in glasses.

He smiled lightly.

“Then I guess my acting was convincing.”

“Eh? Acting?”

Su Lixiao froze, then felt both annoyed and amused.

She pinched Ye Lan’s waist.

“Unbelievable! You even fooled me. You could be an actor.”

“Hiss—”

Ye Lan sucked in a breath, though she hadn’t pinched him very hard.

“Hmph!”

Su Lixiao pouted, displeased by his dramatics.

But whether Ye Lan was truly calm inside—only he knew.

On Beiken Star, surveillance systems of the academy were everywhere.

Visible or hidden, they watched every corner of the planet—sea or sky.

They existed to ensure the academy could manage its students.

The school missed no mistakes and ignored no good deeds.

New students were monitored with extra care, often by multiple cameras at once.

Thinking back to his outburst at the starport, Ye Lan felt regret.

From the moment he stepped off the shuttle, he sensed invisible eyes watching him.

But he simply couldn’t tolerate that boy’s arrogance.

“The tallest tree in the forest is the first to be cut down.”

Ye Lan knew this truth well.

He hadn’t wanted attention so soon.

But for Su Lixiao, he didn’t care whether he gained fame or infamy, whether others saw him as shallow or deep.

The emblem popped up a reminder:

[Passage exit 100m ahead. Navigation ending. Volunteers will escort you to the freshman reception hall.]

Ye Lan heard the sound of rushing wind ahead.

The closer they came to the exit, the louder it grew, mixed with the whir of rotor blades.

Beep—

Their emblems lit up the green pass signal.

The heavy gate slowly parted.

A violent gust blasted through the crack.

When the gate fully opened, sunlight flooded in, dazzling and bright, along with the roar of giant rotors overhead.

Whoosh—

A twin-rotor aircraft swept over their heads.

The downwash nearly made Ye Lan think he’d be blown away.

“Wow… this…”

Su Lixiao stared in awe at the scene.

The nearby runway, smooth and spotless, was made of high-polymer material that could endure extreme heat.

In the sky, vector fighters landed briefly, then vanished in a flash, leaving only sonic clouds and twin trails of flame.

In the distance, towering control towers linked to aircraft systems, ensuring the airport could function even without human operators.