Ji Chenfeng had been there a while. Discovering that the one roasting meat was a Waste Star girl, his first thought was of the Waste Star girl President Ferrero had mentioned.
Was it her?
After a quiet look, he had more or less sized her up.
Her body metrics and overall capability seemed ordinary—but by her side were two companions who were not weak.
He didn't know the burly Chen Cheng, but he knew Zhao Qingyan's name—and had met her.
Zhao Qingyan was from a famous business family on the Alliance Star. Talented, she had been sent to train with a battle regiment in her teens.
Though it wasn't the same regiment as his, they were close in age and often compared.
So he knew Zhao Qingyan.
Ji Chenfeng thought: like attracts like. How could the strong and the weak match so harmoniously?
Especially in an entrance exam where all were competitors—this calm didn't make sense.
What's more, he noticed that the big, muscular man and Zhao Qingyan both faintly revolved around the Waste Star girl, as if she were the centre.
If so—what was she relying on?
He thought through every possibility—and still found no answer.
At first, when he had heard of the Waste Star girl from Ferrero, he had only been surprised that she could pull ahead of everyone.
A few minutes ago, seeing the strong companions by her side, he had felt a flicker of surprise.
Now, watching her roasting the bird with consummate ease, his curiosity deepened.
Someone from a Waste Star—if they could eat at all, that was something. How could she have such technique?
From the way she handled the meat, she was no beginner.
Were there so many birds on the Waste Star for her to practise on?
Nothing about her made sense; answers would not be had from a distance.
So Ji Chenfeng grew more curious still.
What kind of person was she, really?
"Do you mind if I sit?" he asked, stepping up to the fire.
He felt that if he drew closer, perhaps he would find answers.
But he hadn't expected that the moment he spoke, he would meet twin pairs of cold eyes from Zhao Qingyan and the burly man.
Ji Chenfeng: "…"
When had he ever been treated like this?
With his background, talent, and strength, he was fawned over wherever he went.
Yet to‑day—the door in his face. Disliked.
Still, for his purpose's sake, Ji Chenfeng sat down by the fire anyway.
He had barely done so when he caught those same looks of disdain from Zhao Qingyan and the big man.
Besides Lan Grace, there were already two mouths here eating meat—they had no desire for a third.
Especially Zhao Qingyan. She was already begrudging the bite given to Chen Cheng—the labourer—let alone this Ji Chenfeng, who clearly wanted a free lunch.
"Very much," Lan Grace said coolly, lifting her head to give him a glance. "You can sit elsewhere."
The straight‑backed, striking black‑haired youth was handsome and magnetic—but his eyes felt all wrong to Lan Grace.
That probing, testing look—she didn't like it.
His purpose in approaching was not pure. She had no wish to be close to such a person.
Compared to her direct words, Ji Chenfeng felt that his earlier treatment was nothing.
It was the first time anyone had cut him down to his face.
When he had sat, his movements had been casual. Now, struck by the Waste Star girl's words, he felt unaccountably ill at ease.
By past habit, he would have risen and left at once.
But he hesitated—and in the end, obeyed his true intent. He did not act on impulse.
He swallowed his pride and told himself he could not abandon his purpose over a goad.
If anything, her bluntness only made him more curious.
Sensing the atmosphere turning, Chen Cheng looked from the Waste Star beauty to Zhao Qingyan, then to Ji Chenfeng.
He knew Ji Chenfeng—the famed genius of his growing‑up years.
Ji Chenfeng was that legendary "other people's child."
At three, both physique and mental power reached B‑grade; at six, mental power broke through to A; at eight, physique reached A; at thirteen, he was one of the few under‑fifteens in the Alliance to reach double‑S.
In recent years, news of him had waned across the Alliance—because while his peers still had done nothing, Ji had already gone to war.
In those few years, he had fought countless battles.
Some even said that he would become the Alliance's second Feng Xi battle general—and perhaps surpass the youngest battle general in Alliance history.
Whether all that would come true, Chen Cheng did not know.
But he could be sure of one thing: among all sitting this year's entrance exam for the Second Military Academy, Ji Chenfeng was the strongest.
Bar none.
Ji's calm held—and Lan Grace noted it, a touch surprised.
After words that harsh, he could still sit?
Should she call it a strong psyche—or a thick skin?
Since he insisted on sitting, she couldn't force him up.
This jungle wasn't her private property; she had no right to drive others off.
As for his purpose, she had a guess.
Only—whatever he wanted, one thing was certain: if she didn't agree, he wouldn't be getting a thing.