Section 84: The First Lesson

Ji Shangyan considered carefully before speaking: “What shocked us most was that our alarm system was completely destroyed by the intruder, with no possibility of repair—it must be rebuilt from scratch! And the alarm system didn’t function at all. To this day, we still don’t know what kind of attack was used. We found not a single clue; clearly, in terms of virtual intelligence, the opponent is leagues ahead of us.”

Nervously, Ji Shangyan finished his report, certain the old master would erupt in fury. Yet after a long silence, the old man merely stared at the black fragments in his hand, his expression inscrutable, and sighed deeply: “Ah, you are still young, unaware that beyond every mountain lies another. There are many things in this world beyond your imagination.”

Ji Shangyan was shaken, gazing at the old master in disbelief.

The old man’s face was filled with melancholy; his former sharpness had vanished without a trace. Now, only the marks of time remained upon him, and his slightly stooped back made Ji Shangyan feel as if he were looking at nothing more than an ordinary, aging man.

A sting rose in Ji Shangyan’s nose, and he nearly burst into tears.

With a wave of his hand, the old master spoke: “That’s enough, all of you may go.”

At the Luo family estate, Luo Heng listened to Luo Ren’s report, his face grave as he asked in a low voice, “Are you certain of this information?”

After the last disaster, the Luo family had suffered a major blow, but centuries, even millennia, of heritage cannot be so easily erased. As long as the family did not fall, often just a catalyst was needed for a resurgence. Under Luo Heng’s leadership, the Luo family had shed its former decline and returned to a path of rapid development. Luo Ren’s outstanding abilities had won Luo Heng’s high regard, making him a trusted and capable subordinate.

Luo Ren replied respectfully, “I have confirmed the information; it is entirely true.”

Luo Heng’s slender fingers tapped rhythmically on the table. Suddenly, he looked up and asked, “What do you make of this?”

Luo Ren responded without hesitation, “The Ji family’s reputation is built on their prowess with virtual intelligence, and being so publicly humiliated must have dealt them a heavy blow. We’ve never managed to infiltrate that base, only maintaining a few contacts on the periphery. But this incident was simply too big! Our people could only gather some scraps by taking advantage of the chaos. Now that the Ji family has been so brazenly challenged, I expect they’ll have to respond.”

Luo Heng nodded, agreeing, “Indeed. Given the old master’s temperament, a reaction is only logical. But who could it be—who could defeat the Ji family through virtual intelligence?”

The two fell into deep thought. Suddenly, as if the same idea struck them, they exchanged a glance, eyes filled with shock. Could it be…

At last, the Blue Ocean Academy’s Mechanist Tournament drew to a close, and the school’s usual order was restored. Among this year’s new students there were several who could be called geniuses, yet compared to previous years, they received far less attention. All of this was because of Ye Chong.

Ye Chong drew every eye in the academy!

From the moment he began dazzling the tournament grounds with his performance, every rival paled in comparison. Later, the rumors swirling through the school about his ambiguous relationship with Rui Su only added to the intrigue. Ye Chong became the brightest focus of all Blue Ocean Academy.

This was Ye Chong’s first class. Of course, he had already simulated it several times with Shang, so he expected no trouble.

Blue Ocean Academy had established its own campus in the virtual network, where teaching was more convenient and access to various knowledge bases easier, with no constraints of physical space.

Since receiving access to the top-tier modification lab from Principal Lan, Ye Chong had spent nearly all his time there, playing endlessly with Shang. Though Shang’s computational ability fell short of Mu’s, his terrifying processing power was something even Ye Chong’s dull senses could appreciate. After all, he had no need to worry about materials—Principal Lan’s standing order was: let him play as he wishes!

Shang reminded Ye Chong, “Yezi, class is about to begin! Time’s almost up!”

Ye Chong glanced at the time, muttered an acknowledgment, picked up the virtual network connection helmet he’d prepared in advance, and logged in.

Shang never ceased his banter: “Yezi, there are so many vivid details about you and Rui Su going around. But, Yezi, Rui Su really is an extraordinary beauty—why not give it some thought?”

Ye Chong replied coolly, “Shang, that’s the twenty-fourth time you’ve said that in three days. Do you really want me to repeat my answer?”

“Yezi, hey, I have all of Rui Su’s data. If you want it, don’t be shy—just ask!” Shang cackled mischievously.

Ye Chong could only sigh in exasperation; Shang seemed to be growing more lively by the day, often leaving Ye Chong both amused and helpless. Truly an exasperating fellow!

He couldn’t help but wonder how Mu was doing. Ye Chong found himself missing Mu’s wooden calmness.

After several rounds of identity verification, Ye Chong finally entered the classroom; this was to prevent teachers from sending substitutes, and to record attendance. Of course, for a verification system of this caliber, Shang couldn’t help but look down on it.

Students also had to pass identity checks. Once class began, the system would automatically deny latecomers entry—a torment for habitual latecomers. Attendance was also a crucial part of a student’s evaluation.

Blue Ocean Academy offered great freedom in learning; every student could choose any teacher’s class, as long as they could pass the comprehensive assessment at the end of the year.

The virtual classroom was vast, but ordinary senses of space did not apply. Each student occupied an independent space, so to them, Ye Chong seemed to stand right before them. For Ye Chong, however, all he saw were countless points of light—no people at all, though he could interact with students through the interface.

Ye Chong strode to the center platform.

Because students could freely choose classes, this one had drawn over ten thousand attendees—one fiftieth of the entire student body. Yet Ye Chong felt nothing; after all, all he saw were points of light. Who could be intimidated by points of light?

Class began.

Ye Chong’s voice, deep and tinged with coldness, echoed clearly in every student’s ear. His speech was concise and forceful, utterly devoid of theatrics, which was a refreshing change for students used to more flamboyant instructors.

Yet Ye Chong’s vast knowledge and solid theoretical grounding earned the students’ wholehearted admiration. At Aurora, the old masters would often use a simple question as a springboard, delving deeper until they reached the heart of the matter, and in that process, students reaped great rewards.

Ye Chong adopted the same approach. As he probed deeper, the students’ respect only grew—though Ye Chong could not see it. With Shang’s help, Ye Chong moved through the virtual classroom with ease: all manner of electronic holograms, data, charts, and more would appear at a flick of his fingers.

This overwhelming abundance of information left every student dumbstruck.

Usually, such teaching materials had to be prepared in advance, but Ye Chong’s dedication amazed the students and won their admiration. Those who had known little about him instantly reassessed their opinion.

Still, admiration was one thing; this was profound, specialized knowledge. For those who could not follow, it was nothing but dry, mind-numbing tedium.

Of all these students, only a small fraction truly belonged to the mecha mechanics department—most had come purely because of Ye Chong. Their real aim wasn’t the lecture, but the twenty minutes at the end set aside for open discussion with the teacher.

Ye Chong’s cool, aloof manner kept the female students entranced.

Soon, the free discussion period arrived.

Ye Chong had just said, “Does anyone have questions?” when almost every point of light before him began to flash incessantly. Even with his courage, Ye Chong felt his scalp tingle.

Steeling himself, he randomly selected one of the lights. It immediately expanded, revealing a female student.

She was clearly stunned that such luck had befallen her, and after several moments of stammering, she still couldn’t form a question.

Without a word, Ye Chong simply closed her channel.

He swept his gaze over the points of light and said coldly, “If you haven’t thought of a real question, don’t ask.” Even in the virtual network, Ye Chong’s knife-edged gaze and icy words sent a chill through every student. All hands froze; for several seconds after Ye Chong spoke, not a single point of light flickered among the ten thousand present.

In Ye Chong’s mind, Shang complained, “Yezi, you’ll scare off the pretty girls like this!”

Ye Chong replied, “So much the better.”

After a brief, awkward silence, all the points of light began flashing again, as if in a frenzy.

Ye Chong ignored Shang’s nonsense and clicked another light at random.

This time, it was a male student, who appeared far more composed than the previous girl. He asked excitedly, “Hello, Teacher Ye. I’m a student from the Mechanist department. I’d like to ask, how can one greatly improve hand speed? How did you train, Teacher Ye?”

Ye Chong replied flatly, “Training. Relentless training. As for the method, I won’t share it.” That method had been taught by Mu, and without Mu’s permission, Ye Chong would never pass it on. As for things learned at Black Horn, he dared not teach them—doing so would greatly increase his chances of being discovered by Black Horn. As it stood, the risk of being found was already alarmingly high.

The male student’s expression turned scornful. “I never thought Teacher Ye would be one of those who hoard secret techniques! I must have misjudged you!”

Ye Chong responded indifferently, “You did misjudge me.” Before the student could protest, Ye Chong closed his channel. Whether the student had misjudged him or not was none of Ye Chong’s concern.

“I’m just a teacher of mecha mechanics. I’ll only answer questions related to mecha mechanics,” Ye Chong declared expressionlessly, laying down the rule.

A hush fell once more.