Parfen's duel was set for six p.m.
Since the "holo-cabin incident" two years prior, Parfen Luqi had rarely picked fights with Baisha's trio outright. Instead, she simmered in the shadows, her glances laced with resentment, her words in class sharp but veiled. A fleeting glare—angry, bitter, complex—would flash before she'd wrench her gaze away, as if scorched.
Jingyi, unimpressed by her skulking, treated her like air.
Today, though, Parfen was a live wire, hell-bent on challenging Jingyi.
"She didn't even try the mech," Yaning said at dinner, chewing a hunk of white bread, cheeks puffed. "Why's Parfen so desperate to lose again? Smells like a trap."
"Trap?" Jingyi's eyes flicked up, cool as frost. "Strong is strong. Weak is weak."
"She's improved, though," Baisha said. "Lately, she's crushed everyone who's fought her."
Parfen's combat skills, once middling seventh or eighth in class, had surged. She'd toppled the five or six above her, her dominance undeniable.
Baisha's words only stoked Jingyi's curiosity.
They wolfed down dinner as dusk painted the world violet. At the agreed spot—a secluded corner of the school's back courtyard—Parfen stood rigid, clad in gleaming mech-armor.
The trio knew that armor well.
Two years ago, Baisha had crafted a custom set for Freeman, the underground fighter. It sparked a craze in back-alley mech-brawls. To keep profiteers from cashing in, Baisha, with Freeman's nod, open-sourced the design anonymously, ushering in a new era for street fights. The armor—stronger, flashier, safer—outclassed old exosuits. Crowds ate it up; fighters couldn't quit it.
So why was Parfen wearing it?
"Another set's over there," Parfen said, tilting her pale, striking chin. Once a vibrant heiress, her beauty now carried a shadowed edge, her eyes chilling. "I won't cheat. Both sets are identical. Suit up, and let's settle this."
Jingyi inspected the armor but didn't move, her smile icy. "Spill it. You didn't drag me here just to spar."
"One condition," Parfen said, teeth gritted, each word deliberate. "If I lose, the Luqi family funds your academy tuition. If I win, Jingyi, you ditch the selection test and work for me at Luqi House."
Jingyi stared like Parfen had lost her mind. Yaning blurted, "Work for you? What's that mean?"
"Truth?" Parfen's face was stone. "My father's at Kangheng LifeTech. They've secured my academy slot—not top-tier, but enough for a solid resume. When I return to Lanslow, I'll take the Security Chief post."
Baisha stayed blank. Kangheng LifeTech's grip on Lanslow—government, military—was no secret. Parfen, a Luqi, stepping into the chief's role was par for the course. Families riding Kangheng's coattails loved their marriage alliances, all climbing the same greasy ladder.
"You know the B-grade mental strength kid from Lanslow who made it to an academy?" Parfen said, slow and sharp. "Graduated, joined Kangheng, now Chief of Security. B-grade, and he still bent to reality. Luqi House can pave that path for you—straight to the top—if you serve us."
"Serve Luqi House or Kangheng LifeTech?" Jingyi cut in.
Parfen smirked. "Is there a difference?" Her smugness deepened. "Bet you didn't know—my father's developed a radiation sickness vaccine."
The trio froze.
A vaccine? If it truly banished radiation's curse, Luqi House wouldn't just rule Lanslow—they'd reshape the stars.
"Jingyi just smoked an A-grade today," Yaning said, frowning. "Where's your confidence coming from?"
"Zhao Li and Niu Qingluo? Idiots," Parfen said, flicking her visor. "Their families hitched to Kangheng, aiming to send their best to the Capital Star. Those two? Sacrificial pawns. Their A-grade mental strength? Fake, propped up by Kangheng's drugs. Their mech skills? Pure grind. In a year or two, they'll lag behind real A-grades."
Mental strength set your ceiling, not your starting line.
"Kangheng's got cheat drugs?" Yaning gaped.
"Why not?" Parfen's smile turned manic, eyes shadowed. "Kangheng does the unthinkable. Fake A-grades? Child's play. Even boosting real mental strength…" Her grin twisted. "Come on, Jingyi. Let's see how far apart we are now."
Jingyi, silent, donned the armor.
Yaning whispered to Baisha, "She's actually doing it? Lose, and she's Luqi's lackey?"
Baisha snorted. "Parfen's nobody to dictate terms. Jingyi just wants to test her."
Parfen had dodged the trio in combat class lately. Watching her demolish others, Jingyi was probably itching to know how.
Parfen charged, weapon drawn. Jingyi pulled the armor's waist-dagger, meeting her in close quarters.
Parfen's speed was unreal, her form a ghostly blur. Her metal whip lashed out, snake-like, coiling toward Jingyi.
"She picks a whip while Jingyi's stuck with a dagger? Shameless!" Yaning gasped.
Worse, Baisha noted, Parfen's moves echoed Jingyi's old style.
Jingyi slashed through the whip's weaving net, striking gaps. The whip cracked against her armor, thudding dully.
Mid-fight, Jingyi sensed something off. Each of Parfen's strikes carried a faint, bloody tang. Parfen roared, her whip lashing the ground, carving a shallow trench in the concrete, grit flying.
Jingyi met her gaze—and froze. Parfen's eyes were pitch-black, veins crawling across her cheeks.
"What the hell?" Jingyi's instincts screamed to stop. Dodging a strike, she closed the gap, dagger aiming for Parfen's jaw. Parfen ducked; Jingyi's next slash targeted her waist. Her blade plunged into a precise spot on the armor, twisting. Sparks flew, the suit fritzing with a zzzt.
Jingyi, a ring veteran, knew every armor model cold. Parfen's? High agility, low defense. Jingyi could cripple it blindfolded.
Seizing control, Jingyi hammered Parfen's damaged armor with fists and feet.
Parfen fought like a trapped beast, her moves wild, desperate. Jingyi stayed clinical, her dagger a flashing arc of lethal grace, pinning Parfen's every motion.
Finally, Jingyi kicked Parfen's visor off, knocking her out cold.
"She's lost it," Jingyi said. "Call the medic."
Yaning checked Parfen. Pale as death, forehead bleeding, but no glaring issues.
Skeptical, Jingyi peeled back Parfen's eyelid. Her pupils were normal, the black film gone.
What was that?
Medics arrived, deeming Parfen stable but weak, with a moderate concussion—a serious injury. Jingyi wondered if her kick was too hard.
For brawling and injuring a classmate, Parfen and Jingyi each got a major demerit and a five-thousand-word essay. Parfen, still out, couldn't write. Jingyi hadn't expected this mess but had no choice—write, or the head instructor would bar her from class. She stormed to the dorm, face dark, Yaning trailing to "cheer her up."
Baisha, as the trio's rep, got an hour-long lecture in the classroom.
"I thought you'd grown up, gotten wise," the teacher snapped, slamming his thermos on the desk. "Then you pull this stunt! Parfen's in the infirmary, out for weeks, maybe missing the selection test. What were you thinking, hitting that hard?"
Baisha stared at the ceiling. "Sir, if Parfen were stronger, you think she'd hold back?"
"Sophistry. If Parfen were stronger, she wouldn't keep tangling with you," the teacher shot back, waving off her logic.
Baisha grinned. "That doesn't sound like a compliment to Parfen, sir."
The teacher faltered, sighing, softer now. "I know Parfen started it. But Jingyi's unscathed, and Luqi's girl is comatose. The school has to show a stance, or Luqi House won't let it slide. Sometimes, a little humility isn't shame. I'm old enough to fear Luqi's wrath and admit it. You three are academy-bound—don't trip over this mess, got it?"
Baisha nodded vaguely, eyes elsewhere. "So, what do I do?"
"Visit, bring a gift, apologize. Done," the teacher said, signaling no further pursuit against Jingyi.
Baisha got it. She hit the school's mini-mart, agonizing over choices, settling on a medium fruit basket and two cans of brain-boosting fish oil. Wincing at the cost, she bagged them and headed to play the remorseful visitor. The infirmary confirmed Parfen was awake—perfect timing, too groggy to hassle her.
The infirmary was spacious but had just two rooms. The door was ajar, the reception desk empty. One room's sign glowed with Parfen's name.
Baisha, gifts in hand, neared—then froze at a loud slap.
Instinctively, she cloaked herself in a mental shield, muffling her presence, and crept to the room's window.
Parfen was awake, face wan, her golden hair dull. Before her stood a suited man, greying temples but youthful, reeking of wealth. He'd slapped her.
"Didn't I tell you to leave those students alone?" he roared. "We secured your academy spot. Study, graduate, become a respected Security Chief. What's wrong with that? You've shamed Luqi House!"
Parfen turned away, silent, daring him to finish her.
His anger flared. "Fine, fight them—but with those methods? You stole experimental drugs from my study! If I hadn't caught you, another dose would've killed you!"
"Why steal?" Parfen snarled, face contorted. "You use them, give them to Brother, but not me! You hid it! I'm family—whose selfishness is worse?"
"Selfish? Me—" He raised his hand again but stopped, deflating, exhaustion in his eyes. No more reprimands came.
"Parfen Luqi, you're grounded at home until the selection test," he said coldly. "Act out again, and you're locked in for life—no academy."
He stormed out.
Baisha held her breath. The man passed her in the hall, not sparing a glance—her shield worked.
Peering through the window, Baisha saw Parfen bury her face in the sheets, sobbing. Now wasn't the time for gifts.
She left the basket and fish oil at the reception desk with a signed condolence card and walked away. Duty done.
Back at the dorm, Jingyi hunched over her essay, pen gripped like a blade.
"I checked on Parfen," Baisha sighed. "She's fine, mostly."
Jingyi snorted. "With Luqi's medical resources? She'll live." Flipping a page, she scrawled furiously. "From now on, I steer clear of Parfen and anyone named Luqi. They're bad news."
"Agreed," Baisha said, recalling the infirmary scene. She recounted it quietly. "Parfen's state ties to Luqi family secrets. Good thing we kept quiet at the infirmary. Going forward, we act clueless—or we're in deep trouble."