Chapter 64: Transformation (Please Vote for Me)
Songyang High School.
The cafeteria during lunchtime.
Zhao Tianxing carried his tray with hesitation.
The campus seemed as calm as ever—unchanged, quiet, like a still pond. But beneath the surface, everything had shifted.
The clash that had erupted yesterday on the training grounds had already spread like wildfire through the school. Almost every student now knew the truth: Zhang Yu from Class 1, Grade 10 had defected to Bailong High School, confronting Zhou Chichen, the vice president of the student council, along with several senior classmates.
From Zhao Tianxing’s observations across different student circles, the general consensus was simple—though deeply divided.
The "Songyang Loyalists" saw it as betrayal.
“Just another traitor? A classroom thief? Selling out for profit, siding with Bailong scum? He should be expelled!”
Jealous students whispered in suspicion.
“First Li Xuelian, then Zhang Pianpian—why does Zhang Yu keep attracting rich women? Probably didn’t even finish the surgery properly. The school should investigate him!”
Anger, envy, and hidden admiration all twisted into raw, unfiltered malice.
Meanwhile, most of the timid students kept their distance from Zhang Yu—afraid of being tainted by association with the student council or the loyalists.
Zhao Tianxing was no exception. He feared drawing attention, being targeted.
After all, Songyang High School wasn’t innocent of bullying.
He’d heard stories about Shuang Youpeng from the previous year—once the top scorer in the Monthly Exam, a rising star in Grade 10. But by Grade 12, his grades slipped behind the wealthy students, and the harassment began.
They banned him from doing homework. Forbidden from taking medicine. Denied exercise. Forced to stay up all night without permission.
They even forced him to eat nothing but fried chicken, fries, beer, and desserts—watching his belly swell, his muscles fade, his hard-earned physique vanish.
They made him spend hours watching videos, reading novels, playing games—watching his grades plummet, his heart, once burning with ambition, slowly crushed under the weight of humiliation.
Only after he begged for mercy did Zhou Chichen finally let him go.
Just imagining the ordeal made Zhao Tianxing’s chest tighten, his breath shallow.
So when Zhang Yu invited him to eat together today, he panicked—making up an excuse to come late.
Now, tray in hand, he hesitated again as he caught Zhang Yu’s gaze. Instinctively, he looked away.
That moment of avoidance made his heart sink.
“Ah… now I’ll never be friends with Zhang Yu.”
He wandered aimlessly in the cafeteria, then couldn’t help but glance back.
When he saw Bai Zhenzhen and Qian Shen sit down beside Zhang Yu, a flicker of envy sparked in his eyes.
“Why can they be so bold? Why aren’t they afraid at all?”
“If only I could just do what I want, without thinking so much…”
He hated this side of himself—the constant overthinking, the fear of judgment. He longed to be free, to act without hesitation. But he couldn’t.
Now, as he stood frozen, he felt a thousand invisible eyes watching him. Every step toward Zhang Yu’s table felt like walking into a storm.
In truth, no one was really paying attention. The cafeteria was full of people.
But the fear was real to him.
He watched Zhang Yu laugh with Bai Zhenzhen and Qian Shen, their conversation easy, unburdened.
And in that moment, Zhao Tianxing felt a deep longing—just like he had after watching Zhang Yu stand firm against Zhou Chichen the day before.
He envied Zhang Yu’s calm, his unshakable confidence.
He wanted that strength—that kind of fearlessness.
Just as he was paralyzed by doubt, Zhang Yu waved at him.
“Old Zhao! Over here!”
Zhao Tianxing blinked. “Did he think I didn’t see him?”
He bit his lip—then, with sudden resolve, marched toward the table.
Every step felt heavy, every eye a spotlight. He just wanted to sit down and make the invitation stop.
And he wasn’t wrong—dozens of eyes were on him.
But this time, Zhao Tianxing didn’t feel fear.
He felt… cool.
Maybe, just maybe, he looked like Zhang Yu did yesterday.
He was wrong.
To most students, Zhao Tianxing looked like a clown. Another outcast. Another name tagged with “unreachable.”
As soon as he sat down, Zhang Yu’s phone buzzed.
A reply from Zhang Pianpian.
Earlier, Zhang Yu had messaged her:
“Sis, I have a really studious classmate who wants to add you as a friend.”
Zhang Pianpian: “How many points?”
Zhang Yu: “Highest was 620-something.”
Zhang Pianpian: “Too low. Not adding.”
Zhang Yu: “Wait… seriously?”
He sighed inwardly. “My sister’s got serious score obsession.”
He remembered how she’d once called him—back when his score was below 600. In her eyes, he’d probably been nothing more than a walking pile of trash.
No wonder she was so harsh.
Still, given Bailong High School’s environment, it made sense.
The top student there had to be picky.
Zhang Yu looked up at Qian Shen, who was watching him with hopeful eyes.
He scratched his head, embarrassed.
“She said… you scored 620-something? Too low. Won’t add.”
Qian Shen froze for a second, then flushed bright red.
“Wait—forgot the last digit! It was 626!”
Then, immediately, his face fell. He looked down, voice quiet.
“…Still, I know it’s not enough.”
Zhang Yu felt something shift in that moment.
For a second, Qian Shen looked like he was carrying the weight of the world.
Then he nodded slowly.
“Yeah… I really am too low.”
But then he lifted his head, eyes shining.
“Still… the one who scores 699—can afford to be picky. Even choosing friends with such taste… I can only admire that.”
“Tell her… I’ll study harder. I’ll raise my score. I’ll earn her friendship.”
“And even though I’m at Songyang High School… my heart has always been with Bailong. I even took the entrance exam before… just fell short of the Model Class.”
Zhang Yu understood.
Qian Shen wasn’t just a fan. He was a spiritual Bailong loyalist.
“Guess the air there really is sweeter…”
He rolled his eyes, then relayed the whole speech to Zhang Pianpian.
Zhang Pianpian: “Next time, don’t bother sending me people with scores under 620. They’re not strong enough to keep up with us.”
Zhao Tianxing looked at Qian Shen—still smiling, still determined.
Zhang Yu hesitated.
Then, he didn’t say a word.
He couldn’t bring himself to crush that hope.
---
Afternoon class.
The Chinese teacher droned on at the front.
Bai Zhenzhen sat quietly, focusing on refining her Martial Energy control.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from Mo Tianyi.
Mo Tianyi: Bai Zhenzhen, you and Zhang Yu really joined Zhang Pianpian’s faction at Bailong High School?
Bai Zhenzhen paused.
She understood immediately—but didn’t know how to reply.
Zhang Pianpian—Bailong High School’s top student in Grade 12—was, in Mo Tianyi’s eyes, a symbol of wealth, privilege, and power.
And if Zhang Pianpian had taken them under her wing… it meant one thing: she’d stolen them from Songyang.
No other explanation made sense.
How could Bai Zhenzhen explain that Zhang Pianpian had chosen them—because she saw talent, potential, not money?
That she wasn’t a boss, but a mentor?
That they weren’t signed—they were supported?
She’d promised to keep Zhang Pianpian’s secret.
And unlike Zhou Tianyi, she wasn’t one for gossip.
But then—why explain at all?
What if she told them the truth?
What if they learned she wasn’t “signed”?
What if they, too, wanted Zhang Pianpian’s protection?
Or worse—what if their chatter spread to the rich kids?
Let them think we’re under her shadow.
Let them think we’ve given up on Top Ten.
That was better.
Because now, the pressure was off.
And if, one day, they did make it into Top Ten?
They could repay the investment—maybe even help Mo Tianyi and his group break through to Kunxu Level Two.
In the end, whether for me and Yu, or for Mo Tianyi and his friends—what matters most is whether we can get into Top Ten.
Any choice that increases that chance is the right one.
With that thought, Bai Zhenzhen typed back:
“Yeah… sorry. I just couldn’t handle the pressure anymore. We’re done with Top Ten. We’ve already committed to Zhang Pianpian.”
Moments later, Mo Tianyi replied:
“I get it. I heard about the pressure from Songyang. No shame in folding. But please—keep our situation a secret. Don’t tell anyone.”
Bai Zhenzhen: “Don’t worry. We’ve given up—but we still believe in you. You’re our last hope, the poor kids’ last chance. Go get it!”
---
In Ling World.
Mo Tianyi stared at her reply.
A small sigh of relief.
Then—just as quickly—a pang of regret.
Zhang Yu’s fourth-place finish in the Mana Competition.
Bai Zhenzhen’s iron will.
He’d believed—just for a moment—that they might have a chance.
Now?
“They just couldn’t hold on.”
And the money he’d sent them—gone.
“Should’ve kept that cash for the boss.”
He thought with a quiet ache:
“In the end… the one who’ll break through this ceiling… is still the boss.”
Then, a sudden red warning flashed in his vision:
Work has been paused for over 1 minute. Please return to your station immediately.
Mo Tianyi snapped back to focus.
He reconnected to Ling World.
Unlike other schools, Mangshan High School required soul cultivators to begin internships from Grade 10.
Before him, dozens of identical Mo Tianyi appeared—each in a tiny, empty room, each facing a different chat window.
Today’s job: customer service at a tutoring center.
Client: My son already had his sterilization surgery. Now high school won’t accept him. Even girls’ schools and soul cultivator schools rejected him for being physically incomplete. What now?
Mo Tianyi replied calmly:
“Girls’ schools and soul cultivator schools have lower entry thresholds—highly competitive. Physical defects often lead to early elimination. But there’s a way.”
“He can get a sterilization reversal surgery. Then reapply.”
“If it fails again, repeat next year. Two sterilization procedures? That’s a massive advantage on a resume. Shows unbreakable Dao Heart. Next year, he’ll definitely get in.”
“We can recommend a partnered hospital for you.”
Around him, ten more Mo Tianyi typed identical replies, each in their own isolated space.
After eighteen hours of work, a five-minute break.
Mo Tianyi quickly transferred his earnings to the boss.
“The boss needs every bit of this.”
Thinking of how this small sum might bring his leader one step closer to Top Ten—
a quiet warmth filled his chest.
“Please succeed, boss. You’re the only poor kid in Songyang who can make it.”
“You’re the only hope we have… to leave this life behind.”
(End of Chapter)
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