Baisha watched Jiang Gui's eyes light up with the fervor of a man reborn by work, and a wry silence settled over her. After a beat, she shifted gears. "Teacher, how's the slime mold material project going?"
"The Empire's approved my findings, greenlighting further research," Jiang Gui said, his voice steady despite the faint shadows under his eyes. He transmitted a data file to her light-computer, the holographic interface blooming with schematics and test results. "Next step: integrating slime mold into actual mech production. You're tied up with the military exercise, so you can't join the lab work. I'll update you when we hit milestones."
Baisha rubbed her chin, a glint in her eye. "Teacher, is your project short on funding?"
Jiang Gui's research was self-funded, every credit drawn from his personal savings—a solitary endeavor without external investors. He paused, his cool gaze softening with a flicker of something complex, like moonlight on a still lake. "I'm not strapped for now. But if you're offering to invest, I won't say no."
Baisha's intent was transparent, and Jiang Gui saw through it instantly. She grinned, scratching her nose. "Just easing your burden, Teacher." And securing a front-row seat to the project's progress, she didn't add.
"I promised you five percent of the profits as my assistant," Jiang Gui said, his tone dry but not unkind.
"It's the slime mold itself I'm excited about," Baisha countered. "I want to use it to design mechs for my friends—the sooner the research wraps, the better."
Jiang Gui fell silent, considering. "The pioneering phase for slime mold is done. I was planning to outsource the remaining experiments to other labs—less critical but time-consuming work."
Baisha's face fell slightly. "Oh."
He sighed, a rare trace of exasperation breaking his composure. "But I hold the material's certification rights. If you're that eager, I'll let you pick a lab to handle the rest. Happy now?"
Baisha's eyes sparked, her posture snapping upright. "It's a deal, then! Don't worry, I'll have a contract drafted—fair and square, no funny business."
In essence, while slime mold material was developed, its practical application needed refinement—a grind of iterative tests. Jiang Gui, eyeing the Devourer Starbug, wanted to offload this slog to free his schedule. Outsourcing was tricky, though; external labs could falter under logistical snags, delaying results. Baisha's impatience to see usable material gave Jiang Gui an out: let her orchestrate the research, ensuring speed and oversight.
Her enthusiasm amused him, but his brow furrowed. "You're squandering your talent in the combat department. You should be in a lab, not a cockpit."
Baisha, used to his occasional prodding, flashed a placating smile. Jiang Gui valued her as a lab partner, their synergy a quiet point of pride for him.
"Gotta go, Teacher," she said. "Need to line up a lab."
"Go," Jiang Gui said, waving her off.
Baisha ended the call and pinged her ever-resourceful uncle. "Uncle, does the Ronin family have a dedicated mech material lab?"
Cecil Ronin's holographic image arched an eyebrow, his imperial regalia glinting faintly. "Didn't I show you the Imperial Mech Design Institute last time? That sprawling complex isn't enough for you?"
Baisha winced—her oversight. Emperors commanded resources with a word, unburdened by profit margins. "I meant a private lab, for the royal family."
"Youdu Star has one," Cecil said, his tone indulgent. "Smaller scale, but equipped for sensitive projects. What do you need it for?"
She outlined Jiang Gui's slime mold project. Cecil's brow lifted again. "Jiang Gui's work? Even outsourced, labs would claw each other to take it on. Youdu's facility can handle it—you've snagged a lucrative deal."
"So it's settled?" Baisha pressed.
Without hesitation, Cecil transferred the lab's access rights. "Run it yourself."
Baisha nodded, contacting the lab via her light-computer. In a brisk exchange, she requested a draft contract, her fingers dancing across the holographic interface. The lounge's sterile calm—its walls a soft ivory, the air faintly scented with antiseptic—faded as she immersed herself in logistics.
A knock interrupted her. Cen Yuehuai's voice called out, "Your Highness—visitor!"
Baisha's fingers stilled, the interface hovering as she glanced back. "Who?"
Cen poked her head through the door, her braid swinging. "That Grez kid."
"Kaisin Grez?" Baisha clarified.
Cen snapped her fingers. "Bingo."
Baisha stepped to the door, meeting Cen's gaze. "What's he want?"
"Probably to thank us—some of the cadets we saved were Grez clan," Cen said, then frowned. "Unless he's here to pick a fight?"
Baisha shrugged and entered the lounge, where Kaisin Grez sat rigid on a plush gray sofa. His features were sharp as a blade, his brown eyes cold yet striking, framed by lashes that caught the light like frost. Spotting Baisha, a flicker of discomfort crossed his face.
He opened his mouth, hesitated, and finally muttered, "Thanks."
Baisha sank into the opposite sofa, her lips twitching. "That looked painful."
Kaisin exhaled, tension easing slightly. "Your team saved my people. They're recovering—some with heavy mental strain, but alive, thanks to your timing."
"We poached your kills earlier," Cen said, waving a hand. "Call it even."
Kaisin's eyes narrowed, a predator sizing up prey.
Cen chuckled. "What, wanna rehash old scores?"
"No," Kaisin said, looking away. "I hate owing debts. Name what you want—gear, resources, a favor. I'll deliver, once. Then we're square."
Sino and Cen exchanged surprised glances. They'd expected gratitude, maybe a token gift, but Kaisin's offer was bold—a blank check, within reason. It spoke to his sense of duty as a leader. He saw his team's rescue as his responsibility, and Tianquan's intervention demanded repayment.
Sino, arms crossed, leaned against a chair, his grin sly. "Interesting. Anything? What if we ask you to drop out of the main team race?"
Cen blinked, about to protest, but Sino silenced her with a gesture.
"Quit the main team?" Kaisin's laugh was icy, his eyes flashing a faint crimson, his refined features twisting with a feral edge. "If I can't secure a seat, why bother with the exercise?"
"Whoa, didn't you say any condition?" Sino teased, raising an eyebrow. "Fine, how about a cross-grade challenge? With your skills, you'd crush it."
A "cross-grade challenge" let underclassmen battle senior main team members for their seats—a rule for prodigies. Mentors discouraged it; senior elites were formidable, and ousting one didn't guarantee team synergy in the five-person group phase. Sino was nudging Kaisin toward a thankless task.
Kaisin went quiet, his gaze piercing. "That's your condition?"
A favor this open-ended was typically banked for later. Sino glanced at Baisha, who gave a subtle nod.
"Kidding," Sino said, shrugging. "Let's keep the competition fair."
Kaisin snorted, his posture relaxing fractionally.
Baisha studied him, intrigued by the paradox of his icy demeanor and vivid eyes. "Why're you always glaring at us? And that bizarre toast at the banquet…"
Kaisin coughed, turning aside, his voice muffled. "Can we drop the banquet?"
"How?" Baisha said, smirking. "You hacked for three minutes straight."
Kaisin's face flushed, and he shot to his feet, glaring before storming out.
"Still no clue why he's so prickly," Baisha said, clicking her tongue.
"Not us—you," Cen whispered. "You're a Ronin."
Baisha blinked. "What?"
"Rumor has it," Cen said, lowering her voice, "Kaisin's uncle, Yincha Grez, the beastkin leader, vanished because of the royal family. So Kaisin's got a grudge against you, Your Highness. The rest of us? He just finds us annoying. He doesn't like anyone—big surprise."
Baisha turned to Sino. "True?"
"My father never mentioned it," Sino said, his expression troubled. "But the Grez clan's bitterness isn't baseless. Something happened, though the truth's buried. Rumors are just that."
Or someone knew and kept silent.
Baisha frowned. "How'd Kaisin get in here?"
"Walked through the door," Cen said.
"We're still quarantined," Baisha pointed out.
"Quarantine's lifted," Sino said, checking his light-computer. "Kaisin wasn't stopped, and—look—official notice just dropped. Selection's resuming on Minghu Star."
Yu Yan, quiet until now, spoke. "There's more. A volunteer team for Devourer sampling before Greenstar's destroyed. They're short-handed. One day's work equals two credits."
Baisha's eyes met her teammates'. Hesitation wasn't an option.
"Let's do it," she said, grinning.