Both of them were agitated as they left the cafeteria.
"Zhao Chen, you were way too impulsive back there," Li Wei said anxiously, pacing beside him. "I know you hate Zhang Haoran—he stole… Jiang Shasha—but you shouldn't have agreed to a starship duel.
"The application's already submitted. There's no way to cancel it now."
He hesitated, then clenched his teeth. "If worst comes to worst, I'll lend you my T2 Hyena."
"No need," Zhao Chen replied calmly. "I already have a starship."
Li Wei stopped dead. "You do?"
Zhao Chen's calm tone only made Li Wei more incredulous. They'd been together nearly every waking hour. When had Zhao Chen ever acquired a ship?
"Well," Zhao Chen said, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly, "let's go exchange it now."
"…Now?" Li Wei stared at him, then rubbed his temples. "My dear baron, please tell me you're joking. You're not planning to fight Zhang Haoran using some relic from the academy warehouse, are you?"
Half an hour later, they arrived at the academy's starship warehouse.
Unlike the bustling starport, this place was quiet and heavy with age. Rows of docked vessels sat in dim light, some so old that dust had settled permanently into their hull seams.
"Hello, sir," Zhao Chen said at the counter. "I'm here to exchange for a starship."
The administrator glanced up, unsurprised. With the semester ending, third-year students came here every day.
"Browse the list yourself," he said, opening a holographic catalog. "It shows each ship's specifications and required academy points."
Nearly three hundred entries filled the screen.
Most were T1 starships—second-hand, obsolete models long since phased out of real service.
Li Wei leaned closer. "You've done well academically. After three semesters, you should have around thirty thousand points.
"This one's decent." He pointed at the display. "A T2 Hyena-class medium destroyer. Twenty years old, some hull damage, but the core systems are intact. Old design, but reliable."
Zhao Chen shook his head and continued scrolling.
Li Wei recommended several more T2 vessels—cost-effective, functional, safe choices.
Zhao Chen rejected them all.
"How long are you planning to choose?" Li Wei asked helplessly. "Out of these three hundred, those are already the best options."
"I'm done," Zhao Chen said.
"…Done?"
He turned to the administrator. "Teacher, as long as I have enough points, there's no limit on how many starships I can exchange for, right?"
"That's correct," the administrator replied after a pause.
"Good." Zhao Chen checked several boxes. "Then I want these three."
Three.
Li Wei and the administrator froze simultaneously.
They examined the selections.
T2 Hyena-class medium interstellar destroyer — 59 years in service. Severe hull damage in the past. Main cannons heavily worn. Cost: 9,000 points.
T2 Gray Wolf-class light interstellar cruiser — 65 years in service. Outdated systems. Cost: 7,000 points.
T2 Devil Crocodile-class medium interstellar battleship — 80 years in service. Extensive structural fatigue. Cost: 11,000 points.
Silence.
These weren't merely old ships—they were museum pieces.
"Are you certain?" the administrator asked cautiously. "These vessels were excellent in their era, but their modules have aged severely. Their combat value is extremely limited."
Li Wei added hurriedly, "Zhao Chen, this is madness. Starship duels are one-on-one! What's the point of taking three?"
"I'm sure," Zhao Chen said without hesitation. "Please process the exchange."
After repeated confirmations, the transaction was completed.
Li Wei covered his face. He felt like he was watching a slow-motion disaster.
"The ships are now registered under your name," the administrator said flatly. "You may retrieve them at any time. Storage is free for one month. After that, docking fees apply."
Zhao Chen nodded. "Teacher, academy points can also be used to exchange starship components, correct?
"And each student is entitled to free use of the starship modification and maintenance workshops. I haven't used mine for three semesters—so I should have thirty days available."
"That's right," the administrator replied.
"Then I'll submit a parts list. Please arrange a workshop and transfer these three ships and all components there."
The administrator glanced over the list.
Common parts. Nothing special.
And Zhao Chen's remaining points were just enough.
"You'll need to hire engineers or technicians to carry out modifications," the administrator reminded him.
"No need," Zhao Chen said, shaking his head.
The administrator shrugged. "Very well. Everything will be ready in half an hour. The workshop number will be sent to you."
"Thank you."
They left the warehouse.
Li Wei finally exploded, grabbing Zhao Chen by the shoulder. "What are you doing?! Those are three piles of scrap!
"You're gambling your entire future!"
"Li Wei," Zhao Chen said calmly, meeting his eyes, "trust me."
"You—forget it." Li Wei let go, frustration written across his face. "Do whatever you want."
Zhao Chen didn't argue.
No explanation would work right now.
Proof would.
[Ding. Third-year student Zhao Chen has been granted access to Small and Medium Starship Workshop No. 017.]
Zhao Chen parted ways with Li Wei and headed there alone.
He swiped his ID card at the entrance. The massive doors slid open, revealing a cavernous space—large enough to fit several football fields.
The air smelled of rust, lubricant, and scorched metal.
Inside, three aging starships waited in silence.
Their corroded hulls bore the scars of decades of service and countless battles. Though repaired by the academy, time had left its mark.
Zhao Chen walked to the central control console and summoned multiple holographic screens. His fingers flew across the virtual keyboard, inputting streams of data.
Moments later, detailed schematics of the three ships appeared—three-dimensional models segmented into gray and red zones.
The gray represented intact structures.
The red highlighted damaged, outdated, or redundant sections.
Zhao Chen's eyes shone.
"Combine these… here… and here."
He dragged the red sections together. Overlapping shapes merged, forming a strange, incomplete silhouette—neither warship nor cruiser.
Finally, he opened a heavily encrypted file on his terminal.
A sleek, lethal blueprint unfolded.
The T3 Blizzard-class Light Interstellar Battlecruiser.