Chapter 25

Asher departed empty-handed and returned fully loaded.

Sebastian evaluated him. "Went on a robbery?"

"Robbing the rich to relieve the poor."

Asher tossed the bag straight into Sebastian's arms.

Receiving poverty relief for the first time, Sebastian looked at the powdery pink cosmetics bag and found it a bit amusing. "Milo didn't sever ties with you?"

"We are all good brothers, it doesn't exist."

Sebastian applied the floral water in a slow, deliberate manner, speaking in a low, teasing voice: "Excuse me, but as an Alpha, why on earth should I be brothers with you two Omegas?"

"...Give me back the floral water."

Sebastian let out a soft chuckle. "Why are you so stingy? It was just a joke. Isn't Elliot an Alpha too, and doesn't he have an exceptionally great relationship with you two?"

"That's true. But Elliot is different; that's a life-and-death friendship." Asher crossed his legs, clamping a carton of milk between his lips, looking thoroughly lazy.

With a sharp clack, Sebastian snapped the cap of the floral water shut.

He didn't know whether he should remind a certain someone that just yesterday, he had personally said to him, "our relationship has always been distinct from everyone else's."

He had been quite moved at the time, but he hadn't anticipated there would be so many "distinct" people.

Sebastian lowered his eyes, dropping his sleeve to adjust his cuff, attempting to fasten the cufflink with a single hand. His pale fingertips fumbled with that deep green button, yet it simply refused to slide into the hole.

Watching him fumbling triggered Asher's explosive temper. Snatched Sebastian's left hand with a sharp tug, he completed the fastening within a few rapid movements.

"Would it kill you to open your mouth and ask me to help you?"

Sebastian went along with the momentum flawlessly, extending his right hand. "This one too."

"..."

One truly shouldn't pamper people.

Asher rolled his eyes, helping him fasten the other one as well, before lifting the bag. "Let's go, time to deliver breakfast to that chubby Mason."

He was entirely oblivious to the fact that Sebastian's behavior just now was purely a clumsy desire to establish a sense of presence.

When he said Elliot was different, it was primarily targeted at the relationship between Elliot and Milo; when he said Sebastian was different, it was primarily targeted at the relationship between Sebastian and himself.

However, lines like that were merely casual, mindless words delivered without any intense scrutiny or reflection. Sebastian lacked awareness of the true context, and Asher himself didn't feel anything was amiss.

As for Sebastian, he wasn't genuinely throwing a tantrum out of jealousy. The steel-brother sentiment shared between Asher and Elliot, two individuals who were straight Alphas on the surface, was authentic, so he didn't harbor much anxiety.

What he worried about was that within Asher's eyes, he held zero distinction compared against Elliot, Milo, or Caleb and Mason.

Everyone was a brother.

At most, it was merely that they had known each other longer, comprehended each other better, and endured a massive horde of events together.

If things continued to develop along this trajectory, he genuinely feared that one day Asher would abruptly drag a little Omega girl right before his face, instructing him to call her "Sister-in-law."

Reflecting on that exact imagery, he would rather drop dead.

He let out a self-deprecating smile.

Asher cast a deeply suspicious look over him. "What kind of absolute conspiracy are you plotting now?"

Sebastian offered a flat smile. "Nothing, really. I simply felt that the way Mason eats bread perfectly resembles that yellow ball from Pac-Man."

He paused for a brief second. "The plus-sized version."

Mason, who had just been fed a moment ago, froze with a chunk of bread stuffed inside his mouth. "...???"

What exactly had a fat boy done wrong? Fat boys were remarkably endearing, alright?

Yet the universe was inherently hostile toward fat boys.

Materializing out from nowhere, Yellow Ming blew his whistle fiercely. "Alpha bracket, assemble immediately! That fat boy who's eating! Who gave you permission to eat on the training field? Forty squat jumps, move!"

Mason despised the military camp.

His physical endurance fell short, and finishing the forty squat jumps left him drenched completely in sweat. Bending his waist and bracing his hands against his knees, he panted heavily.

Catching sight of his state, Yellow Ming's brows knitted. "Return to the formation immediately!"

Mason wanted to rest for a brief moment. Keeping one hand braced against his knee, he raised his other hand. "Report, report Instructor. I apply to rest on the spot for thirty seconds."

Yellow Ming barked viciously: "A soldier's absolute duty is compliance! This is a military camp, you must strictly comply with the instructor's commands with zero conditions!"

Mason detested causing trouble, forcing his anger back down. Bracing his frame upright, he returned to the formation, standing right next to Asher.

Sweeping a glance across the few individuals in their row, Yellow Ming raised his voice to roar: "The training task for this morning remains the four-hundred-meter obstacle race, but the upgraded version. Yesterday merely required you to clear the straddle hurdles; today, the low-wire crawl net, single-log bridge, straddle hurdles, deep trench, high wall, and high-altitude diving board are all included!"

The crowd wanted to wail, yet didn't dare let out a single sound.

Yellow Ming continued: "In the military, a score of two minutes and thirty seconds is the baseline for passing, and excellent soldiers will intensely pursue a score of one minute and thirty seconds! But as for you all..."

Yellow Ming refrained from completing his sentence, merely casting a flat glance across the crowd as a dark smile touched his lips. "To train your collective awareness, the assessment for this exercise won't be a single-candidate assessment, but a four-person relay collaboration. You are free to form teams. A total time under fifteen minutes secures an 'Excellent' rating, while under twenty minutes counts as passing. The assessment takes place tomorrow afternoon, meaning you possess two half-day training sessions—this morning and tomorrow morning. Everyone must prioritize their time intensely, hear me?!"

"Hear you!"

"Report Instructor, the Alpha bracket consists of sixty-two members. Sorting into four-person teams will leave two extra individuals; how will that be handled?"

Yellow Ming had already established a calculation within his mind, casting a glance over Sebastian and Asher before looking back toward Mason. "During today's single-candidate training, the two candidates who record the shortest times will secure an immediate 'Excellent' rating, exempt from participating in tomorrow afternoon's team assessment."

The sliver of hope that had ignited within Mason due to the words "free to form teams" instantly vanished into thin air.

He didn't even need to reflect; the two candidates recording the shortest times would definitively include his Ash.

With his Ash exempt from the assessment, who on earth could drag his frame through?

Distressed.

Despite the distress, the training had to proceed.

Once the instructor executed a textbook demonstration, the team began queuing up to train in a sequence—two candidates per group, launching simultaneously.

The vast majority of Alphas possessed excellent physical builds and athletic talents, but Mason had fallen ill frequently during childhood, consuming a massive amount of hormone-heavy medications. Consequently, his frame was puffed with a sallow plumpness. He barely managed to clear the hurdles and deep trench at the front, yet he became completely stuck when he reached the low-wire crawl net.

The peak height of the crawl net was less than fifty公分 from the ground, and tracking along the center section, it sagged naturally to a height of less than fifty公分. Even though Caleb, who was in the same group, deliberately waited for him and stealthily propped the net up a bit, Mason remained completely wedged in the center, unable to clear it.

On one hand, the space was genuinely insufficient, the net constantly snagging against his frame; on the other hand, his physical strength was limited, failing to support a high-speed prone crawl; and thirdly, "his stomach had too much fat, failing to press flush against the earth."

Mason attempted it multiple times, yet failed to break through from start to finish.

Yellow Ming watched with a cold stare, wanting nothing more than to claim the authority he had failed to deliver this morning. Pacing over to squat right next to him, he delivered a severe bark: "Do you have any idea how much of everyone's time you alone have delayed? Someone like you is an absolute drag on the collective! And you actually ate food on the training field; how on earth can a lazy glutton who loves eating clear tasks to contribute to the nation and society in the future?!"

He delivered the speech with total righteousness on the surface.

In truth, it was a pure, groundless barrage of yapping.

Mason feared that launching a public confrontation would cause Yellow Ming to deduct his conduct points, barring him from an 'Excellent' rating when the time came. Thus, simmering with a suffocating anger, he forced it back down.

In any case, no matter how harsh the words sounded, it wouldn't matter; it wouldn't shave two pounds of fat off his frame anyway—and if it genuinely could, it would actually be a benefit.

Yellow Ming had finally tracked down a soft target he could manipulate, intending to deliver another wave of criticism, yet he caught a lazy voice cutting in: "Report Instructor, I have a few words I wish to deliver."

"Hold them in!"

"Can't hold them."

Asher was queued right behind Mason, currently standing at the absolute front of the line, perfectly positioned to look straight at Yellow Ming and Mason.

Pointing a finger toward Mason, he spoke in a slow, deliberate manner: "This individual you outlined as an absolute drag on the collective started participating in the high school biology Olympiad during the ninth grade, securing first-place provincial awards for three consecutive years. He is a top-tier national talent in biology. He is destined to get early admission into a top national university in the future, accelerating through a consecutive bachelor’s, master’s, and doctoral program, before transforming into the nation's most excellent biomedical specialist. He will develop numerous methodologies for preventing and treating complex medical conditions, delivering absolute welfare to tens of thousands of human beings. You, or members of your family, might very well benefit from his scientific achievements during a time of critical illness in the future. Therefore..."

"Based on what do you style him a lazy glutton who is incapable of contributing to society? Purely because he is fat? If that is the case, I might very well compile a formal complaint letter, accusing the instructor of executing appearance-based discrimination and personal attacks against a minor—severely compromising a minor's psychological health, and potentially causing a future great scientist to completely lose his footing from this moment forth."

"..."

"..."

"..."

Whether looking at Asher's expression or listening to his tone, everything was exceptionally solemn and upstanding, delivered with absolute gravity as if it were the absolute truth.

The principal scientist, Mason, tilted his head to look at Caleb, asking in a low, dazed whisper: "During that trial run back in the ninth grade, didn't I fail to even make it past the preliminary round? And Tenth Grade was merely a second-place award? Furthermore, have I genuinely secured a consecutive doctoral track early admission at a top national university? I feel my own system is so freaking formidable, a bit proud."

Caleb: "...You should focus on severely compromising your own psychological health first."

Mason reacted instantly, a torrent of tears flowing out immediately as he clenched his fists and bit his lip violently, putting on a front that was both defiant and fragile: "Instructor, I know my physical endurance falls short compared against other Alphas, but I am expanding my efforts too, and I am attempting the tasks. Every single day, I study hard and unite alongside my classmates, why the hell do you style me a lazy glutton? I am too deeply hurt, I am so miserable, I have completely shut down, I require psychological counseling. I have zero desire to take the university entrance exam anymore, I feel I possess depressive tendencies now."

Yellow Ming: "..."

He hadn't received much of an education, failing to completely comprehend the massive segment of text Asher had unleashed, but within his cognitive scope, anyone who could secure a doctoral track at a top university was a master-level genius.

He was thoroughly stunned by the speech.

He indeed looked down on this pack of delicately raised children from wealthy backgrounds, but deep within his heart, he held immense envy and respect toward educated individuals. Beholding this student genuinely weeping now, he suddenly felt a trace of regret concerning his words from a moment ago.

Tracing it to the root, he held zero blood grudges against this pack of students; he merely found their carefree youth vexing, so he constantly sought to reclaim a trace of absolute superiority, making them endure a bit of hardship.

Furthermore, what if Asher genuinely compiled a formal complaint letter...

He still had a household of elders and children to support.

Yellow Ming set his face in a dark line: "Asher spoke without permission, twenty push-ups as punishment! Training continues! Everyone wait with total patience!"

Then, marching to the side with a sour face, aside from delivering mandatory training corrections, he refrained from uttering another single syllable.

And in the end, Mason managed to complete the entire four-hundred-meter obstacle race.

Recording a time of twenty minutes.

He alone utilized twenty minutes.

If a team desired an 'Excellent' rating, the four members collectively could only utilize a maximum of fifteen minutes.

No one would willingly form a team alongside Mason.

The next group consisted of Sebastian and Asher.

Sebastian’s gaze swept out from the corner of his narrow eyes, casting a look over the Asher who was currently rolling his wrists beside him, his lips hooked into a smile. "Do you still recall our childhood game?"

"Recall it perfectly. Give it a shot?"

"It's far from being out of the question."

"Don't throw the match."

"Of course I won't."

Having just returned to the formation, Mason caught this conversation, his heart turning cold. If the two of them refrained from throwing the match, they would definitively secure an immediate 'Excellent' rating.

But it was fine. Ash and Boss Seb were so freaking fierce; they deserved to take an 'Excellent'. He himself merely faced losing an Exemplary Student title anyway, and with his Olympiad awards present, a university recommendation slot would find its way onto his frame sooner or later.

Mason comforted himself internally, before catching a wave of sharp gasps from the crowd. Lifting his head to look toward the training field, he was completely dumbfounded.

What on earth kind of manipulation was this? Could the task even be played in this manner?!