CR CH60

Chapter 60: “It Is Me Who Resembles Him”

The rift between him and Liang Chong had perhaps been sealed from the very beginning.

Back when Jiang Tianji was still free of care, Liang Chong had already been burdened by a host of troubles he couldn’t comprehend.

So by the time Jiang Tianji began to know troubles of his own, the distance between them had stretched beyond reach.

At the start, Jiang Tianji’s path of study at the academy hadn’t followed his mother’s footsteps. He possessed an innate affinity for combat—ranging from mecha and fighter jet design to close-quarters hand-to-hand combat and long-range marksmanship.

As awakening rates rose day by day, “humanoid weapons” gradually supplanted mecha. But during Jiang Tianji’s childhood, mecha were a hot topic; in just over a decade, however, barely a shadow of their former glory remained.

Noticing his interest, Liang Chong often brought technical materials from home to share with him. The joint creation they designed together had even won first prize in the Federation Youth Mecha Design Competition.

On the day of the awards ceremony, Liang Chong gifted the sole trophy to Jiang Tianji, and they snapped a photograph at the venue as a keepsake.

Jiang Tianji had once believed they would stay close like that forever.

As a child, he had been straightforward and blunt. Lacking a gentle elder figure in his childhood, he had inherited Jiang Yan’s decisive nature in full.

In those days, Liang Chong was surrounded by friends; from teachers to classmates, everyone adored him.

Jiang Tianji, on the other hand, had only Liang Chong by his side; from teachers to classmates, no one mentioned his name without letting out a sigh.

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when things began to shift subtly, nor did he care to dwell on it—he only remembered Liang Chong growing increasingly quiet.

Liang Chong had stepped into his life as an elder brother, and even if he feigned reluctance, his actions had always been protective and caring.

But Jiang Tianji ran too fast, eventually leaving others far behind in his wake.

Children born into prominent families were never truly free. From the time they were old enough to form memories, they were saddled with targets to hit. Every word and action was bound tight to the family name, leaving no room for error.

Parents treated their children like rare treasures, pouring their heart and soul into them. A minor scrape would send them into a frantic spiral of worry, scolding the child for failing to take care of themselves; a slight mistake would spark thunderous fury, as though the sky were caving in.

Liang Chong had taught him so much—until the very boy he had watched grow up became a mountain he himself could never surpass.

So he began to harbor deep hatred for that mountain, drifting from friends to rivals, and finally, enemies.

Yet the true breaking point between them had never been each other, but a transfer student.

That transfer student’s face remained blurry in his memory—he recalled only a timid boy with messy, flaxen hair.

He possessed high talent and excellent grades, yet he went through every day with his tail tucked between his legs. The other kids mocked him, calling him a savage from a D-Class planet.

No one knew where those rumors originated. Unable to stand by and watch, Jiang Tianji approached a teacher to explain the situation. The teacher’s attitude remained unfailingly gentle as they told him:

“Tianji, your studies are what matter most at this stage. Most of these kids don’t mean any harm—they’re just young and ignorant.”

He found adults utterly baffling. People grew and changed, yet this “ignorance” hit like a torrential downpour on young sprouts. Adults clearly knew the sprouts were fragile and could be broken, yet they would still smile warmly and tell you everything would be fine once you grew up.

Besides, not all little radishes were tender sprouts; some were nasty field mice. Jiang Tianji loathed the soil he was living in, sometimes wishing he could turn into an owl and devour the field mice.

Verbal abuse and isolation posed no threat to Jiang Tianji. Every day, he pictured himself as an owl, sorting his classmates into tender sprouts and field mice. Protecting the tender sprouts and attacking the vile field mice was his duty.

Most children, however, didn’t possess such strange coping mechanisms; they withered rapidly in such an environment.

Then came a school field trip. He noticed the transfer student standing by the sea for a long time, and just as a sense of foreboding crossed his mind, he watched the boy leap into the water.

Liang Chong had been standing very, very close to him. He had seen the transfer student’s movement, yet he didn’t move to stop it—merely watching in cold indifference as the boy plummeted into the waves.

“I just didn’t save him—I didn’t harm him either.”

That was the answer Liang Chong had given him at the time.

Many years later, Jiang Tianji never brought up the incident again. It was Liang Chong who could never let it go, constantly striving to prove he was in the right—even though no one had questioned whether he was wrong.

During one heated argument, Jiang Tianji had asked only two questions.

“When he jumped, were you genuinely indifferent, or were you secretly thrilled that you had one less rival?”

“He told me that the rumors circulating about me in the academy were your doing—just like what you did to him. Is that true?”

He had seen Liang Chong’s expression turn subtly pale.

From that moment on, the world began to show the outline of its darker side, though he still caught himself reminiscing about the past on occasion.

“Liang Chong, what will we become in the future?”

“Hmm… we’ll become incredible adults.”

In truth, however, both of them were slowly devolving into beasts.

Certain families resembled beast clans in the way they passed down their legacy, breeding the fiercest fighting beasts. A beast didn’t need much humanity—everything simply had to be calibrated just right to serve as a qualified, supreme victor.

And in that academy back then, fully seventy percent belonged to the so-called “nobility.” The young cubs knew from an early age that they were meant to be “beasts.”

The innocence on their bodies gradually peeled away. By the time their figures bore the outline of adults, those childish games of house from their youth were still playing out—only this time, the weapons thrust at one another were no longer paper daggers, but cold, gleaming metal.

Their hands were no longer soft and fleshy; they were sized just right to clamp around an opponent’s throat.

And now…

Two figures stood within the vast arena, surrounded by a high defensive barrier that rose into the air. High above on the elevated platform stood the instructors.

The crowd gathered to watch the duel today was several times larger than usual, shouting in wild excitement beneath the ring.

For a brief moment, Jiang Tianji felt as if he too had become a trapped beast.

Yet there was no expected repulsion or disgust—instead, he felt a strange urge to laugh.

His gaze swept toward the high platform. The main seat was empty, but almost all the other instructors were present, including Yuli and Ye, who rarely made appearances from Special Ops.

“Prepare—”

A ten-second countdown popped up on the floating screen overhead, marking their final moments of preparation.

The tail behind Liang Chong whipped high into the air. The moment the countdown hit zero, pitch-black corrosive energy collided violently with dark-green lightning. The shockwave generated by the clash of the two energy storms burst wildly outward in all directions.

The defensive barrier flashed a deep red warning as the Phase-2 energy defense grid engaged.

Amidst the deafening blast, the two figures closed in on each other with blistering speed. Stripped of all probing or restraint, their strikes aimed straight for vital points.

The crowd went quiet for a beat before surging into uproar. On the high platform, Ye, who had been resting with his eyes closed, opened them.

“Is there blood between them?”

Wei Jiangming had been sitting beside him, but after watching for a moment, he stood up with a furrowed brow.

“I’ll go down and keep an eye on them so nothing goes wrong.”

He accessed his instructor permissions, hovering his finger over the “Warning” button, preparing to issue an alert, when a voice sounded from nearby:

“Leave them be.”

Ling Kongmiao strode over, his eyes sweeping across the arena floor as he walked straight to Wei Jiangming’s side and shut down his permissions.

Wei Jiangming hesitated before speaking: “Captain…”

Ling Kongmiao lightly raised a hand to signal that no further explanation was needed. Wei Jiangming thought it over and sat back down.

“The energy is almost approaching the Phase-3 defense threshold,” someone noted with a cheerful smile as he walked onto the high platform. “Haven’t seen a fight this fierce in a long time—thought I’d come watch the fun.”

Ling Kongmiao glanced over and nodded: “Assistant Jiang.”

“Technician Jiang,” the other instructors greeted him one by one, and Assistant Jiang responded with a warm smile.

He was no ordinary technician. His mentor had been a high-ranking figure in the Star Alliance, and rumors claimed he himself was a member of the Star Alliance as well. Yet every time the topic was brought up, he would merely laugh it off with a wave of his hand, claiming the Star Alliance’s retirement benefits were mediocre and that he had no desire to go.

Even when the Federation Technology Bureau extended multiple invitations, he had turned them down all the same, stating simply that he preferred Z01’s atmosphere—that it had the most human warmth.

Now, standing behind Ling Kongmiao, he spoke up:

“When this kid first arrived, I couldn’t tell he had this kind of grit in him.”

Assistant Jiang clicked his tongue, muttering under his breath: “Though the way he fights in the arena looks awfully much like you. Did you really manage to corrupt him?”

The silver hair swayed gently in the wind, looking every bit as cold and detached as its master.

Having long grown accustomed to his quiet demeanor, Assistant Jiang pursed his lips and was just mentally grumbling about this “stoic kid” when an extremely soft response came from up ahead:

“It is me who resembles him.”