"Meng He, you're looking for death! Don't blame me!" Meng He's eyes flashed with viciousness as he prepared to strike again.
"Stop!"
"Stop!"
Two sharp voices rang out almost simultaneously as two girls jumped onto the arena.
One was the icy, alluring beauty Tan Bingbing. The other, slightly less striking but undeniably beautiful, was Murong Yan'er.
"Meng He, if you keep hitting him, he'll die!" Murong Yan'er rushed over to Meng He anxiously.
"He's the one asking for it—this loser!" Meng He snorted coldly.
"Do you realize what killing him would mean? Your actions would implicate the other three great families!" Murong Yan'er scolded fiercely.
Meng He glared fiercely at Endymion but said nothing. He understood Yan'er's meaning: the four great families of Shuimeng Star had long formed an alliance. If the Endymion family retaliated, their target wouldn't be just the Meng family but all four.
"You can't continue. Come with me!" Tan Bingbing urged Endymion.
"Get out of my way!" Endymion shouted back, his Dou Qi circulating faster and faster, surging battle intent consuming him, desperately craving release.
"You!" Bingbing's anger flared. She wanted to retort, but her tone softened, "Don't be stubborn… losing isn't a big deal."
"I said, get out of my way!" Endymion roared, loud enough to drown out everyone in the arena.
"You!" Bingbing's face flushed red and white with frustration. Then she stomped her foot and snapped, "I don't care if you live or die!"
Fuming, Tan Bingbing jumped down but didn't stray far. Though furious, she still cared about Endymion, and at this distance, she might still be able to save him.
"Endymion, you can't keep fighting!" Murong Yan'er stepped forward as well.
"Scram!" Endymion snapped harshly. What right did she have to lecture him?
"Endymion, I'm doing this for your own good!" Yan'er retorted, irritated.
Smack! A sharp slap rang out.
Yan'er froze—she had just been slapped for the first time in her life, and the one who slapped her was none other than Endymion, the infamous loser of the Galactic Alliance.
Endymion was now in a berserk state. Seeing Yan'er blocking him, he felt no mercy. With a single slap, he sent her flying aside, then charged at Meng He.
His Dou Qi surged like never before, filling his meridians to the brim, desperate to vent. Endymion threw a punch at Meng He.
The punch was neither fast nor skillful. Even a normal person without martial arts might dodge it. But Meng He couldn't—he also threw a punch, and the fists collided heavily.
With his violent Dou Qi erupting, Endymion felt a fierce vibration surge through him, an indescribable sensation flooding his body, bringing clarity to his mind. He could barely contain his joy—he had broken through! At this very moment, his Dou Qi finally advanced to the first level of Star Dou Qi!
"Ugh…" Meng He screamed as he flew backward, tumbling off the platform.
In a way, Murong Yan'er had unintentionally helped Endymion. Because of her warning, Meng He didn't dare use full strength. Combined with Endymion's prior weakness, Meng He only used less than 20% of his power. Yet Endymion's sudden surge of Dou Qi sent him flying.
Murong Yan'er was stunned; so was Tan Bingbing. The crowd was dumbfounded. Though they had started to respect Endymion's persistence, none expected him to defeat Meng He. Their strengths weren't even comparable. How was this possible?
"I won… I finally won!" Endymion murmured to himself. Suddenly, a wave of exhaustion swept over him, and heavy drowsiness crashed in like a flood. His legs buckled and he slowly collapsed.
Before losing consciousness, he vaguely heard a gasp and felt himself fall into a soft, warm, yet faintly cold embrace.
Endymion dreamed strangely—sometimes in Auro Continent, sometimes on Shuimeng Star, sometimes in a magic lab, sometimes back at Notting Academy—chaotic and confusing.
Finally, he awoke. He was lying in bed, but it wasn't his dorm. The elegant decoration, the warm atmosphere, and a faint fragrance all told him it was a girl's room.
Sitting up, Endymion eagerly tried circulating his Dou Qi—yes, it was really the first level of Star Dou Qi now! He believed his strength was enough to pilot a mech in battle.
"I have to try it!" The thought surged irresistibly. For years, he had longed to pilot a mech himself. Perhaps it was the family's influence, or the Endymion bloodline's natural affinity for mechs, but he had always dreamed of becoming a mech knight.
Not just to uphold the millennia-old family honor—he felt abandoned by his clan and no longer needed to fight for their glory—but because he truly loved it. The idea of piloting a mech and dominating the battlefield stirred his heart, even if it was only imagination for now.
He jumped off the bed and dashed toward the door—but stopped cold.
"Endymion, you're awake?" Someone was waiting in the living room. Only one person called him "Endymion" like that—Fang Yang, Tan Bingbing's fiancé.
"Wh-where is this?" Endymion was a bit flustered, feeling like he'd been caught red-handed.
"Oh, this is Bingbing's place. How are you feeling? All good?" Fang Yang said casually, not the slightest hint of anger.
"I'm fine." Endymion glanced around, hesitated, then asked, "Where's Tan Bingbing?"
"She's training again, practicing her Ice Frost Technique every night—practicing so hard she's practically an ice cube," Fang Yang said lazily. "Since you're awake, I'm off to sleep!"
"Oh, okay." Endymion was puzzled. He wondered if Bingbing really was Fang Yang's fiancée.
"By the way, Bingbing's in the training room over there. It's her personal practice chamber. But it's best not to disturb her while she's training," Fang Yang yawned, gave a reminder, and headed to his room.
Endymion sat awkwardly in the living room, glanced at the clock—it was late. The mech training center was closed now, so no mech practice tonight. Staying here didn't seem right either.
After waiting, Bingbing still didn't come out, so Endymion quietly left.
At the Bamboo Grove, Endymion resumed his magic training. Early next morning, starving, he ate two bowls of noodles, eight steamed buns, and two fried dough sticks in one sitting, then headed to the mech training center.
The mech training center was specially set up by Notting Academy to hone mech students' combat skills. Its unique simulated combat system, while no substitute for real battles, provided excellent training.
The center had loose management—a 50 or 60-year-old man stood outside. Students swiped their ID cards to enter. Inside, they could freely choose a mech and connect to the simulated combat system, picking opponents for training.
Endymion felt both excited and nervous entering the mech. He wasn't sure if he could pilot it fully yet. Wearing special glasses, he took a deep breath and entered the simulated combat system.