“ヾ|≧_≦|〃”
Ye Lan stared at the emoji, realizing there was still something he hadn’t done.
In Su Lixiao’s earlier words, there was one key term—gravity chamber.
The gravity chamber was a highly advanced training facility.
By increasing gravity, it imposed heavier loads on the body, rapidly draining stamina and producing the effect of high-intensity training.
But at the beginning, the gravity chamber was only open to Class A, B, and C students, and only for those who had passed the physical standards.
For anyone with an unqualified physique, entering the gravity chamber was nothing but harmful.
Muscle breakdown was the least of the risks.
So for Classes D and E, only by passing the stage of basic training could a limited number of them earn the right to train inside the gravity chamber.
Ye Lan once again changed into his school uniform.
Although it hadn’t been washed, the fibers of the uniform had self-cleaning functions, so it could still be considered clean.
Just as he finished dressing, Raymond came out of the bathroom.
Seeing Ye Lan ready to head out, he asked in surprise, “Huh? Ye Lan, you’re going out this late?”
Ye Lan replied, “There’s something I haven’t done yet.”
“You’re seriously not tired?” Raymond scratched his head, baffled by Ye Lan’s behavior after a whole day of training.
But resting was his own top priority, so he said, “Well then, I’m going to sleep first.”
Ye Lan nodded and left the room.
Compared to last night’s noise, Class E’s dormitory building was now deathly silent.
Everyone was simply too exhausted.
Even someone like Raymond, who still had enough energy to shower, was considered to have a decent physique.
Most of the others just collapsed straight into bed without the strength to fool around.
By rights, with Ye Lan’s condition, he should have been one of those collapsing immediately.
But he forced himself to resist fatigue through sheer willpower.
Even so, he still had to cling to the stair rail just to make it safely downstairs.
Ye Lan slipped skillfully through the quiet paths.
Just like how he rose early in the morning to train, he was avoiding crowded places in order to steer clear of troublemakers.
The gravity chamber might sound like a simple room, but in reality, it was a massive training facility capable of holding thousands.
Inside were chambers of all scales—some for only one person, others big enough for hundreds.
The main entrance was guarded by a heavy iron gate.
Without clearance, entry was absolutely impossible.
Above the gate, a warning light glowed red, a signal of the chamber’s danger, meant to drive away idle personnel.
Ye Lan silently gazed at the immovable iron gate.
In his past life, he had barely set foot here for his first few years.
But during his final days at the Soul-Slaying Military Academy, this place had become where he turned himself around, the place where he shed the most sweat, and the place that gave him strength.
“If I had obtained that power earlier, she wouldn’t have had to…”
Once again, a faint lilac silhouette surfaced in Ye Lan’s mind, drifting further and further away from him.
He knew full well that what he was about to do was wrong.
But it was as if he were possessed.
He stepped up to the identity scanner beside the gate.
The scanner swept across his badge, and an alarm immediately blared.
[Warning! You do not have clearance to enter the gravity chamber!]
[Warning! You do not have clearance to enter the gravity chamber!]
“Shut up!” Ye Lan slammed his fist against the screen.
A new window popped up: [Please enter authorization code: ——————]
The human system of complex symbols and codes could generate astronomical combinations of ten-digit passwords.
Yet within all the military systems of the Human Alliance, there existed a handful of secret codes capable of bypassing every safeguard.
These codes were known only to a select few—individuals of the highest rank, utterly loyal to humanity, and who had rendered immense contributions.
For emergencies, they served as the final override.
And in his previous life, Ye Lan, as the last Fleet Commander-in-Chief, had undoubtedly qualified as one of those few.
Staring at the prompt, Ye Lan knew he could enter one of those codes and unlock the gate.
But using a classified override code at will was a crime.
Even if his identity as a student shielded him for now, the best outcome he could expect was the death penalty.
And no one would believe his excuse of being reborn.
Even if they did, his brain wouldn’t remain his own—it would be taken away as research material.
“Ye Lan! What are you doing?!”
A furious shout from behind snapped him awake.
He realized he had nearly made a disastrous mistake.
He quickly slid his finger to [Cancel].
The screen shut down, and the alarm ceased.
“Teacher?” Ye Lan turned, only to see someone he never expected to find here.
It was Gongsun Shen.
And he didn’t look the least bit pleased at this nighttime encounter.
His face darkened as he strode forward in long steps.
Without giving Ye Lan a chance to explain, he grabbed him by the collar like a chick and lifted him off the ground.
“What the hell are you doing here at night?!” Gongsun Shen roared.
“This is the gravity chamber! With your physique, are you tired of living?!”
Dangling in midair, Ye Lan had no room to resist.
That was the vast difference in raw strength between him and Gongsun Shen.
And Ye Lan also knew—he should have been resting right now, not standing in front of the gravity chamber.
He really had been in the wrong.
“I know you have a strong desire to get stronger, even to the point of using reckless methods,” Gongsun Shen said.
“But power must be built step by step. If you rush, your foundation will crumble.”
“You need to understand what should be done, and when.”
Gongsun Shen set him back down, hoping he would reflect.
Ye Lan lowered his head and clenched his fists.
Gongsun Shen was right.
Many things in life did require steady progress; no one could leap to the top overnight.
But he was also wrong.
Because Ye Lan had seen too many people suddenly gain overwhelming power, instantly becoming the center of all attention.
Some were even born with golden spoons in their mouths, gifted with powerful abilities from the start.
These innate differences meant not everyone began on the same starting line.
Ye Lan knew very clearly—
In this era of universal abilities, being without one meant being inferior.
Noticing Ye Lan’s hands still tightly clenched, Gongsun Shen realized the boy hadn’t let go of his feelings.
He sighed, knowing he needed to have a serious talk with this student.
“Ye Lan,” he said, “you envy… no, you deeply envy ability users, don’t you?”