CR CH59

Chapter 59: Had Enough

The process of mental restoration was extraordinarily complex. Even with clinical support, a full recovery was impossible in the short term.

Congenital defects like Jiang Tianji’s were tricky enough to begin with; coupled with the external trauma that had shattered his mental realm, he could only rely on periodic stabilization sessions and machine therapy to dampen the field’s volatility. Only after his condition stabilized could the domain begin to “regrow.”

As Jiang Tianji prepared to leave the research institute, he caught sight of He Qian syncing his diagnostic data over to “Ling.”

“Does Captain Ling review all of our data?” he asked.

“Hmm?” Unprepared for the question, He Qian gave him a slightly puzzled look before answering with a gentle smile. “At present, Captain Ling has only requested to sync your data. Given your unique circumstances, the Star Inspectorate is keeping a close eye on you as well.”

“Understood.”

Jiang Tianji pressed no further, offered his thanks, and left the institute.

Back in the dormitory, Huang Qi was the sole occupant, sprawled limply across his bed. The moment Jiang Tianji pushed the door open, their eyes met.

Huang Qi had been staring blankly into space with a subdued expression, but he instantly forced a bright grin when he saw who had walked in.

“You’re back.”

Jiang Tianji walked over to the desk, took a sip of water, and paused for a moment before speaking.

“What’s wrong?”

“Ah, it’s nothing.”

Huang Qi didn’t hide it, sprawling out in a giant X-shape on his mattress.

“That kid Feng Huo went and awakened behind my back.”

“Just to be clear, I don’t mean anything bad by it. It’s just that after bouncing off the walls celebrating, once the excitement wore off… I felt a bit hollow inside.”

“You—an S-tier ability user, needless to say. Now Feng Huo’s awakened too. The captain already had incredible baseline talent, but he just stays humble and grounded. Feels like I’m the only useless dead fish left in the pond.”

Jiang Tianji observed the candid look on Huang Qi’s face, casually setting his glass on the desk.

“Squad C finished their mission early today. We headed straight back to the dorm after dinner, planning to rest up for a bit.”

Before Jiang Tianji could figure out how to comfort him, Huang Qi rolled over with a theatrical whine.

“So I pushed open the door like an idiot, yelling ‘I’m back!’—only to find the room completely empty. Just me, all by myself.”

Jiang Tianji offered mild reassurance: “There’s nothing wrong with being a dead fish.”

Huang Qi sighed, “A dead fish can’t keep up with you guys.”

Watching him wriggle around on the bed, Jiang Tianji felt a faint urge to laugh. “We’re friends. There’s no need to ‘keep up.'”

Huang Qi went quiet for a moment. “Do you really see us as friends?”

Jiang Tianji didn’t hesitate: “Of course.”

Huang Qi squirmed awkwardly with his back turned, his voice muffled and thick inside the blanket.

“To tell you the truth… when Feng Huo told me you were acting weird, I accused him of having paranoid delusions just to change the subject.”

“I knew Feng Huo had the potential but didn’t plan on pushing his way up. I knew the subtle oddities you let slip every now and then made that idiot a bit wary. And I knew the captain’s special care toward you might be for other reasons. After living together for a while, those subtle shifts are pretty obvious.”

“But I didn’t want to bring it up. Deep down, I knew that when everything is said and done, I’m the one who’ll be left behind.”

“Ah—what can I do? Who asked me to be so painfully average?”

Huang Qi finished his dramatic monologue, his voice trailing off into a quiet whisper.

“The time we have together is limited. I just hope these days bring us more happy memories than anything else.”

Hearing rustling behind him, Jiang Tianji leaned over and pulled back the blanket.

Huang Qi yelped, “What are you doing?!”

“Not crying, I see.”

Jiang Tianji tossed the blanket back over him, quietly tucking a tracking device he had been aiming at Huang Qi back into his uniform. His tone sounded almost disappointed.

Huang Qi: “…”

“I was being serious!”

He lunged forward, throwing his arm around Jiang Tianji’s neck in a chokehold, gnashing his teeth.

“You bastard, you’ve gone bad! You’re nothing like the guy who first walked through that door!”

Jiang Tianji’s frame didn’t even sway. With effortless ease, he executed a shoulder throw, sending Huang Qi sprawling onto the floor.

Click.

The dormitory door clicked open. The two figures standing outside froze at the sight.

“What are you two doing?” Feng Huo asked, bewildered.

A bit embarrassed, Huang Qi intentionally raised his voice: “Talking trash about you!”

Noticing Feng Huo’s suspicious gaze shifting to him, Jiang Tianji pointed a finger at Huang Qi.

“I was strictly an observer.”

Huang Qi immediately raised his hand to swear to the heavens: “How could I? I didn’t say a single bad word about—”

“Like hell you didn’t!” With flames flickering in his eyes, Feng Huo tackled him to the floor. “You’re glowing bright red, you liar!”

“What red…” In the middle of the scuffle, Huang Qi managed to catch the key phrase and tried to ask, only to be rubbed face-first into the floor by Feng Huo.

Jiang Tianji turned his gaze toward Ji Yandong, who was shutting the door, offering him an inquiring look.

“Fire-type ability,” Ji Yandong answered.

Jiang Tianji pressed further: “Just fire-type?”

Ji Yandong took a sip of water, looking up at him.

“Haven’t you already guessed it? Latent ability perception. Otherwise, with a brain like his, how could he have picked up on…”

“Captain, I heard that!”

“My bad.”

Feng Huo turned around in annoyance. Ji Yandong merely shrugged.

“Though I’m a bit curious—what does he look like to you right now through your ability?”

“Let me try.”

Surrounded by faint ripples of fire energy, Feng Huo paused his beating of Huang Qi.

Having just awakened, his control was still somewhat clumsy. He quieted his mind and looked closely at Jiang Tianji—and suddenly went dead silent.

Seeing the unsettling complexity in Feng Huo’s eyes, Jiang Tianji asked, “Hard to describe?”

“…” Feng Huo went completely mute, his eyes reflecting a sight hidden from ordinary vision.

The youth before him was smiling mildly, but the shadow behind him spread outward inch by inch, until it swallowed all light. A massive, dark-green eye hovered in the darkness behind his back, its vertical slit-pupil pulsing with an eerie glow—staring right back at Feng Huo alongside the youth.

“…”

Huang Qi, lying beneath him, noticed his sudden freeze and poked him.

“What’s wrong with you? Say something.”

“…He looks fine.”

Jiang Tianji seemed to sense something amiss and asked once more: “Is that so?”

“…”

Noticing that Ji Yandong was about to speak up beside them, Feng Huo lowered his head and took a deep breath.

“Fuck it, don’t ask. I can’t explain it.”

Huang Qi: “What do you mean you can’t—”

Ding—

Before Huang Qi could finish, both Jiang Tianji’s and Ji Yandong’s devices emitted a sharp chime simultaneously.

Sensing something was wrong, the two on the floor stopped messing around, scrambling up to ask.

Huang Qi: “Is it a notification?”

The moment Ji Yandong saw the content, his expression shifted slightly. He snapped his head up to look at Jiang Tianji.

“Tianji!”

He was a second too late. Without a moment’s hesitation, Jiang Tianji read the prompt and tapped confirm.

“Is the system glitching? What kind of absurd luck is this? You just transferred to the main special unit, and your first arena match matches you against Liang Chong?”

“Liang Chong?” Huang Qi thought for a moment. “Why does that name sound so familiar… isn’t he the former top ranker from the Ability Division?”

Ji Yandong kept his lips pressed tight, offering no response as he turned to walk out of the dormitory.

“Come with me.”

Sensing the heavy atmosphere, the two chatterboxes instantly fell silent. Knowing the two needed to speak in private, they didn’t follow, huddling together to observe secretly from afar.

Jiang Tianji pulled the door shut behind him and stepped out onto the corridor balcony.

“Why were you so impulsive today?” Ji Yandong asked, cutting straight to the point. “I think I’m starting to understand Aunt Jiang now. You make decisions too fast, your execution is relentless, and no one can intervene once you’ve made up your mind.”

Just like in the past, when he could abandon his original, smooth path in a single instant.

Jiang Yan had tried hard to bridge the gap, actively explaining herself, but once Jiang Tianji accepted certain “truths,” he reconstructed his entire way of interacting with the world in an impossibly short span of time—refusing to accept any information that might disturb that balance.

At home, as long as sensitive topics were avoided, he played the role of a dutiful son, taking on his share of domestic responsibilities. When he was home, Jiang Yan didn’t even need to stand up to pour herself a glass of water. When he was away, practical gift boxes arrived at the house every few days—thoughtful items that left no room for fault.

Ji Yandong stared into those calm eyes, feeling a rare flash of anger rise within him.

“The arena isn’t a simulated combat exercise—it’s raw, physical hand-to-hand combat. One of you is a dual-awakened A-tier combatant, and the other is an S-tier ability user. Neither of you are normal humans. Do you remember what you asked me when you first arrived at Z01 and sat beside me watching the arena matches?”

“You asked me if they were going at it for real. Now I want to ask you—what on earth are you thinking?”

Jiang Tianji didn’t reply right away, his gaze drifting into the distance.

The moment he saw Liang Chong’s name earlier, a dark fire had flared up deep in his chest.

Images of Ling Kongmiao stepping past him to walk toward Liang Chong flashed through his mind. The corners of Jiang Tianji’s lips curled into a cold, mocking arc.

Though he couldn’t quite fathom why his emotions were running so hot—rationally, they shouldn’t be—it had indeed been a very long time since he felt this infuriated.

Had it been anyone else, his mood wouldn’t have turned so foul. But it had to be Liang Chong.

As a captain, Ling Kongmiao’s actions were completely beyond reproach. Liang Chong was currently the highest-rated prospect in Z01; giving him guidance was standard procedure.

Yet when Jiang Tianji saw that silver-haired figure walking over earlier, he hadn’t expected him to walk past toward someone else. Perhaps Ling Kongmiao’s prior indulgence had given him an unearned sense of confidence—a subtle, unspoken assumption that such attention naturally belonged to him.

So when he realized he was merely an ordinary team member in Ling Kongmiao’s eyes, the sudden drop left him feeling somewhat humiliated and exposed.

And hearing Liang Chong use that cloying, overly polite tone to address him as “Captain”—the very first thought that popped into Jiang Tianji’s head was a primitive urge to tear that bastard to pieces.

“Jiang Tianji.”

Seeing him fall silent for so long, Ji Yandong raised his voice slightly, a sense of helplessness spreading through his heart. The longer he spent around the youth, the clearer it became just how stubbornly unyielding he was to his core.

“Your ability has only just awakened, and you’re still required to wear a suppression collar. Meanwhile, he is dual-awakened and can wield his power with complete freedom.”

Ji Yandong stated plainly, “Your only edge is raw talent—meaning your ceiling is higher. But in actual combat, the gap between an A-tier and an S-tier isn’t that large. The A-tier members in Special Ops are effectively operating at S-tier combat levels.”

Jiang Tianji nodded. “I know.”

“You know what?” Ji Yandong exhaled slowly. “I don’t even want to talk about win-loss probabilities. A match like this ends with someone going straight into a medical pod.”

“Captain, you said I didn’t have much time left to consider.” Jiang Tianji held up his device toward him, showing the screen where both parties had already confirmed acceptance of the duel.

“I’ve had enough of holding back.”