Chapter 9

The selection process for the Starsea Warriors was designed to replicate the conditions of the hunting grounds to the greatest extent—a “simulated examination” of mutual combat. Thus, the annual mortality rate of participants was openly listed in the rulebook.

Ten days later, Annie followed the staff assigned to her for the selection, stepping into the edge of District Three.

For most of the other contestants, this might have been their first encounter with the chaotic “free zone,” where shootings and massacres were commonplace. But for Annie, it was no different than coming home.

“Please be careful,” the staff member told her. “The rules for this selection are detailed in your invitation. Here is your mask.”

She handed over a small rabbit mask. This was a technological device of the Free Federation; once worn, it used special technology to conceal one’s appearance and voice, making it impossible to discern race and even rendering gender indistinct.

“Your movements will be broadcast live to viewers. As long as you achieve a top-three score, you will become a true warrior, representing Azure Star in the Starsea.”

Even the professional staffer could not hide a trace of excitement as she spoke. She had been specially assigned as Annie’s human liaison, carrying a sense of special emotion.

“Each contestant starts with ten points and carries a detector,” she said, inserting the detection chip into Annie’s watch. “If you incapacitate another contestant and the watch detects it, you’ll gain ten points.”

“Question,” Annie suddenly spoke. “Even at the edge of District Three, there must be many civilians, right? If the ten of us fight here and harm the populace…”

“Even without the distinguished elders present, this place is synonymous with blood and violence,” the staffer smiled. “They already engage in mutual slaughter. Don’t worry, we’ve received approval from the Joint Police Agency.”

She handed Annie a combat suit.

Annie put on the tight-fitting suit, fixed the headset-shaped communication broadcaster to her head. The device was sturdy, surprisingly light, and she barely felt its presence.

The staffer seemed to want to say more, but an alert sounded in Annie’s headset—the countdown to the live broadcast flashed across the large screens of Azure Star. The staffer’s final reminder: “Lady Annie, survival is most important, not victory. Good luck.”

The countdown began: 5, 4, 3…

As the number turned to 1 and disappeared, the starship’s hatch opened. Mask in place, Annie stepped into the arena.

The accompanying aerial camera drones silently followed overhead. The mask’s technology, which concealed appearance and gender, was filtered for the broadcast, allowing viewers to see the contestants. The audience, eager and attentive, immediately noticed this unusual competitor—

“A human?!”

“A human female. Good heavens, are there no merfolk left in this generation? How could such a thing appear…”

“Azure Star’s selection system must have malfunctioned.”

In merfolk gathering places, a wave of scorn and insults erupted—not directed at Annie, but at the useless ones who allowed a human girl to qualify. This was far from their ideal warrior.

Across the screens and starweb platforms, countless bullet comments scrolled rapidly. At the moment the contestants appeared, Annie—number nine—became the most eye-catching, her popularity rising swiftly until she was featured as a platform favorite.

Many viewers paid for her first-person perspective, mostly for amusement.

While the outside world buzzed with heated debate, the broadcast screens inside Azure Blue University were silent. Many merfolk had privately sparred with Annie before; bullet comments flooded the screen… Someone murmured, “Anyone who underestimates her… she’s a madwoman.”

Everyone silently agreed. Some glanced forward, where several teachers chatted by the screen. Among them, a figure with deep blue long hair—Annie’s rumored companion of recent months.

“When I first heard about your connection with her, I thought it was a baseless rumor… Annie is an exceptional student and a fierce warrior, but she’s still human,” a colleague warned softly. “If the councilor finds out, dragging you back for punishment would be the least of it. Think carefully—it’s tantamount to betraying your kind…”

Lin watched the screen, speaking calmly: “We’re just teacher and student.”

His colleague replied, “Then you should address the rumors outside. They’re harming your reputation.”

Lin remained silent, seemingly unconcerned with his own or the Blue Dragon family’s reputation.

Figures flickered on the screen; the ruined landscape of District Three made many privileged merfolk frown. In the top-right corner of the broadcast, a small map showed all contestant movements. Annie’s pink dot moved swiftly.

She knew every shortcut here.

To simulate true hunting, virtual environments were forbidden; this location was inevitable. Nowhere on Azure Star was more complex or perilous than District Three. Annie climbed the pipes in a narrow alley, lightly jumped to the rooftop, and pressed her headset.

A soft chime sounded, and a pale blue floating screen appeared before her. In the upper right was the contestant map. According to the rules, the organizers had hidden usable weapons in the area, marked as shaking treasure chests on her screen.

She quickly mapped the fastest route, slipping into a little-known path, moving silently like an agile cat. Soon, Annie arrived at the first chest. She authenticated her mask and opened it: inside was an alloy baton.

The bullet comments rolled.

“R0955 alloy electric baton—according to the weapon list, doesn’t seem very lethal.”

“Isn’t her movement too fast and decisive? Can humans really achieve this speed?”

“Tsk, just running quickly. Could she have qualified just by being fast? Ridiculous.”

“No wonder she’s from District Three—moves like a habitual thief.”

Annie gripped the alloy baton, wearing white half-finger gloves. With a flick, the short baton extended, both ends crackling with white arcs of electricity.

She was satisfied, twirling it back to a short baton and securing it at her waist. She crawled into the ventilation duct, using the steel beams of the abandoned building to take a shortcut, soon reaching the second weapon chest.

About three meters high, Annie gauged the distance, opened the duct, and jumped down without hesitation, landing softly near the chest, not even disturbing the dust.

“So light,” a colleague watching exclaimed. “Does she have bones? Or any weight at all?”

Lin glanced at his courseware, typing on the virtual keyboard, entirely unsurprised. “She could have no bones. She’s a mollusk.”

The colleague laughed, “Never heard you joke like this. Even if you dislike her, you shouldn’t call our warrior an octopus.”

“She’s not our warrior,” Lin replied, not looking up. “Nor an octopus. An octopus would die from such a fall; she’d just make a squishy sound as she wriggled on the ground.”

“…Lin.”

“Sorry,” Lin sighed. “She’s a lovely girl, not my taste. My apologies.”

“I now believe you two aren’t involved.”

Lin put away his courseware and looked up.

On screen, Annie was opening the second weapon chest. As she did so, a tall figure in a leopard mask appeared behind her.

“Strange, this is the closest weapon to me,” the newcomer said, approaching Annie with a smile. “According to the rules, everyone is placed near a chest. No one should be faster than me.”

The leopard mask wearer was at least 1.9 meters tall, species unclear, voice modulated by electronics. “To arrive so quickly, let me guess… you must be number nine from District Three. Seeing me, aren’t you going to run?”

“Didn’t we spar in combat class?” Annie stood up. “I remember you—even among merfolk, nearly two-meter-tall females are rare.”

“If you remember me, you should know you’ve never beaten me.”

As soon as she finished, the leopard-masked female merfolk lunged, her strong legs making a sound like tearing air. Her combat boots, with blades embedded in the sides, lashed out—her high whip kick traced an arc from the right.

Annie watched her closely, dodging instantly. The opponent’s boot slammed into the wall, leaving a crater in the concrete and steel.

She withdrew her leg, one hand behind her back, graceful as a ballet dancer. But everyone knew she was a dancer of slaughter—a roaring combat machine.

“We’re done for, our little cat-human—”

“Don’t mourn, this is what a real warrior looks like! Take her down!”

“This must be number four. Such a powerful female merfolk, I wish I could mate with her…”

“Enough filth—accounts will be banned…”

The real-time bullet comments cheered. Viewership for this perspective surged.

The leopard advanced, pressing her.

The alley was narrow, no way out left or right, and breaking through head-on was a fool’s dream. Annie reached for her alloy baton, flicking it into a long staff, silver arcs flowing along its length.

The leopard just smiled: “Your scores in weapons combat? Oh, I didn’t check—ranking too low.” She tilted her head, voice dripping with merfolk arrogance. “Concede now, and I won’t kill you.”

“Then perhaps you should see my weapons combat skills firsthand.”

The leopard’s patience ran out; she laughed lightly and charged. Her legs, transformed from a fish tail, were muscular and vibrant. She grappled Annie’s staff, twisting her leg to almost wrench the baton from Annie’s grasp.

Throughout, the leopard kept one hand behind her back. Even with the mask, her pale golden eyes glinted with mockery.

“Queen…”

“Purely a game.”

“The ranking gap is huge; the little human is already impressive to hold her own.”

Annie gripped the staff, electric currents crawling onto the opponent’s suit. But merfolk skin was tough enough to ignore such shocks. Annie seemed to struggle, the two quickly engaging, soon forcing her into the alley’s end.

A dead end.

The leopard licked her sharp teeth, her forked tongue flickering in the air—a merfolk trait. “I’m bored now.”

Annie wiped blood from her scraped shoulder—the boot’s blade had barely touched her, yet opened a huge gash, blood seeping out. But beneath the clothes, her skin had already healed.

She looked at the leopard mask. “Honestly, I’m bored too.”

The leopard smiled, suddenly pressing harder. The hand she’d kept behind her back joined the fight; her long leg swept like a scythe, her sharp-nailed hand lunging for Annie’s chest. No matter how Annie dodged, she’d be struck from another angle.

Annie seemed to anticipate this. She shifted her body, letting the leopard’s hand pierce her shoulder—injury meant nothing to her. The sensation of flesh tearing was met with a foot planted on the merfolk’s knee, her alloy baton leveraged, and Annie swept past like a butterfly.

In a blink, she was behind the leopard. A collective thought flashed through viewers’ minds: “She escaped.”

Yet Annie’s move diverged from all expectations. Instead of leaping across the alley, she landed on the opponent’s shoulders, pressing her knees to the leopard’s neck, twisting her head left—

Crack.

The sound of bone breaking.

Her strength had grown vastly since half a year ago. Such a fierce warrior couldn’t be killed this way by an ordinary person.

The opponent’s contempt was misdirected. Annie, emotionless, twisted her neck hard, baton blocking the intercepting arm.

Number four’s strong body half-knelt, trembling, reaching out in surrender. Annie took her wrist’s scoring watch, scanned her chip—her opponent’s ten points vanished, Annie’s score rose to twenty.

She released her legs, flipping to the ground. The other contestant clutched her nearly broken neck, rasping and struggling to breathe, unable to speak.

Number four lost combat ability and would soon be removed. Annie showed a trace of regret, taking a new weapon from the chest.

It was a mist detector.

She attached it to her headset; her map updated, the contestants’ dots moving across the screen—she now had the viewer’s perspective.

Number four and number seven’s dots dimmed.

Annie stood, adjusted her rabbit mask, twirled the baton into her belt, flicking blood from her hand as she walked out openly.

Now, she was not prey, but hunter.

–

The bullet comments were silent for a long time.

In those thirty seconds of stunned blankness, few remembered what to say. Until the white-haired girl’s flicked blood splashed onto the camera, as if onto the viewers’ faces.

Advanced broadcasts could simulate sensations—a faint metallic scent wafted, making viewers scarcely dare to breathe.

A lone bullet comment drifted by—

“Bloodthirsty little white rabbit.”

Just five words, yet they sparked a frenzy of discussion, bullet comments flooding the screen, golden paid comments streaming in.

“Damn, I misjudged Azure Blue University. She really is ** **, incredible. Damn.”

“Calm down—there’s a filter. That aerial flip’s power and beauty are stunning, though number four underestimated her completely—a rookie mistake.”

“Honestly, she wins by flexibility and skill. Looks like a skill-type five-star talent, almost SSR grade. I thought the earlier weapons combat was impressive…”

“Strength enough to twist number four’s neck is outstanding. I bet many merfolk would’ve been crushed by the leopard, and wasn’t she seriously injured? Fighting so bloodthirstily—how will she face the others?”

“Did anyone notice how number six got eliminated?”

“My god, a human actually has such an awesome moment…”

As comments from the human viewers dominated, Lin’s colleague stared, trembling, poking Lin: “She, she…”

“She’s very flexible,” Lin said. “Her body’s always been soft, winding tightly.”

His colleague gave him a strange look; Lin didn’t notice his own words, continuing calmly: “Once you’re wrapped up, you die—or suffocate. No one can handle that suffocation, it makes you want to vomit, to break down, to wish you were dead.”

The colleague was silent for a moment, then said, “You sound dissatisfied with her methods, like an M.”

“…,” Lin realized the ambiguity. “Her methods… No, we’ve never played together!”

The last sentence was almost tinged with indignation.