Vivienne Cross had the dubious honor of becoming a scenic sight on her second day of enrollment.
While she was being pushed to practice basic punches, curious classmates kept taking advantage of free sparring periods to deliberately steer their movements toward her, sneaking glances to observe the "new student."
Vivienne recalled one of the few random facts she knew—The Catfish Effect.
The Catfish Effect, as recorded in ancient human times, described how fishermen would throw a catfish into a tank full of sardines so that the sardines, in fear of being eaten, would stay lively and survive the journey to shore—only to then be eaten by humans.
In this case, the situation was precisely the reverse.
Vivienne felt like a sad tuna, forcibly thrown into a tank of catfish, successfully activating her classmates' motivation in a completely different way.
No matter how bad they were, surely not as bad as her.
…
After three hundred high knees, Vivienne was done.
Bent over, hands on her knees, she gasped for air, her bones practically floating away, sweat pouring down like rain.
Bailey Tong said gently: "You can rest when you feel you've reached your limit."
Vivienne felt like every single rep had already surpassed her limit…
"Vivienne?" Joey Yu, currently on truce with Tony Zane, leaned over, staring intently at Vivienne's face: "Are you really not a guide pretending to be a sentinel?"
Vivienne struggled to lift her head to meet her gaze, but could only reply with heavy, labored breathing.
She was dog-tired.
Joey Yu looked at her damp bangs that still couldn't hide her good looks and commented: "If you were a guide, I'd really want to bond with you."
Vivienne was truly thankful at that moment that her exhausted, expressionless face spared her from responding socially—
At that moment, Jan Squire casually took a step forward, supporting Vivienne's arm, effectively blocking Joey Yu's line of sight. His eyes carried a warning: "Joey, behave yourself."
"…"
Vivienne appreciated the class monitor's intervention.
But really—if you're going to talk, just talk. Don't pull on me.
She was about to go full homophobe here!
Fweet—!
A sharp whistle blew. Instructor Milo announced: "Ten-minute break!"
The students scattered, grabbing towels to wipe off sweat, chatting, joking, and practicing moves casually.
Milo strolled over to Vivienne. Having been troubled the entire class by the new student's garbage skill level, she had come up with a brilliant idea: "How about this, Vivienne."
Vivienne, who had just managed to calm her ragged breathing, looked up: "Yes, ma'am?"
"Come to the gym for extra practice over the weekend."
A bolt from the blue.
Vivienne mustered a weak, polite response: "Wouldn't that be too much trouble for you, ma'am?"
Milo beamed: "No trouble at all. Just drop me a message ahead of time!"
Vivienne: "…Okay."
The second class of the day was Mental Control, taught in a classroom.
The instructor was named Galen Keyes.
At first glance, it looked like a theory class—no physical labor required. Vivienne finally breathed a sigh of relief.
When the bell rang, a short-haired man walked in, holding a briefcase and cutting it close to being late.
He wore glasses, an outdated suit in a dull color, a crisply pressed shirt that only made his figure look thinner, and an overly tight tie. His shoes, however, were polished to a mirror shine.
Galen Keyes unfolded the student roster and called out: "Student ID 935xxxx007—Which one is Vivienne Cross?"
Here we go again.
Vivienne resigned herself and raised her hand: "Here, sir."
"Miss Cross, didn't your family ever teach you it's proper etiquette to stand when the teacher calls your name?" Galen Keyes smiled as he said it, but there was something cold and sarcastic about his tone.
Tsk. A troublemaker.
Vivienne's family had indeed never taught her that.
But honestly, someone like Galen Keyes wasn't exactly polite either. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.
She didn't react much outwardly. Standing up without comment, she felt like an isolated island in the middle of a stormy sea.
Alarm bells blared in her head. Something wasn't right. She made an effort to assess whether this man was an enemy or ally.
Well—ally could be ruled out. As for enemy…
Was he always this difficult, or was he deliberately targeting her because of Irises Major General Augustus?
Damn Augustus. If you've pissed people off, why am I the one paying the price?
…
Her classmates whispered amongst themselves.
"The new kid's caught Gao Rooster's attention."
"Tough luck."
…
Galen Keyes raised a brow. His glasses reflected a cold gleam, and the eyes behind them narrowed into slits, smiling without warmth: "Miss Cross, are you dissatisfied with me?"
Vivienne cursed him in her mind but remained calm outwardly: "No, sir."
"Good." Galen Keyes's smile deepened, lines forming at the corners of his eyes.
But the smile never reached his eyes—it always carried a sharp, cutting edge. "Harsh words are good medicine. As your teacher, I can't avoid saying unpleasant things. I hope you won't hold a grudge and will instead learn from my guidance."
Hold a grudge?
How could she?
Vivienne would never let grudges fester. A certain scar-faced pirate could testify to that.
…
Galen Keyesrested both hands on the lectern: "Let me introduce our new classmate—"
"From Sector X, has not taken the Higher Education Ability Test, admitted forty-five days after the semester started through special procedures."
"When I first heard about the new student, I was very curious what special abilities Miss Cross had to get admitted so smoothly." His smile grew sharper. "So I requested her records from Student Affairs."
"What a shock—it turns out Miss Cross's physical rating is F level."
…
"F level?"
"Did I hear that right?"
The class was once again stunned.
In the resource-rich, high-quality capital star, an F-level body was rarer than an S-level.
Jan Squire's gaze dropped: F-level physique. What exactly was Major General Augustus thinking, sending her to this school?
"Is it just me, or does no one else care she didn't even take the entrance exam? What a blatant backdoor."
"Must be some spoiled daughter from a rich family here to pad her résumé…"
…
For a sentinel—whose evolutionary direction was physical enhancement—this was equivalent to a public execution saying she was… dysfunctional.
Vivienne mocked inwardly:
What's with the fuss?
Even the capital's teachers are this sheltered?
Go travel the outer sectors and broaden your horizons.
E, D grades are super common out there.
"Mr. Keyes." Vivienne corrected him. "My physical grade is F+."
"Oh, my apologies. I misremembered." Galen Keyes feigned an apology, then added with a smirk: "But F+ isn't much better than F, is it?"
…
"Seriously, I've never met anyone with F-level stats."
"No wonder Milo said she had no foundation at all.
She didn't even take the test—must be a classic backdoor case."
"Good luck to her. If she can't keep up, she'll just drop out."
Under Galen Keyes's relentless, "concerned" questioning, many students quickly slapped a "connections" label on Vivienne.
And Galen Keyes kept going, deliberately sharpening his tone like a nosy child: "Miss Cross, what about your mental power rating?"
"Didn't you see that in my file?" Vivienne countered mildly.
"It wasn't noted in the remarks. After all—" Galen Keyes drawled, "Miss Cross, you really are special."
"Funny thing, isn't it? A student's mental power rating shouldn't be classified." He adjusted his glasses with one finger.
"Unless, of course, it's a secret the rest of us aren't allowed to know."