Halfway through their training session, the students in Combat Class B were suddenly notified that two students from the medical department would be joining them for the exercise.
One was an Alpha, and the other was a Beta.
A group of these hot blooded, greenhorn young men instantly buzzed into a huddle, fighting over who would get to see what a Beta who qualified to hang out in an Alpha heavy zone looked like.
As a result, the very first thing that met their eyes was a face of striking, impactful beauty.
The person who was far too pretty to look like a Beta smiled politely and somewhat “timidly,” saying, “Hello, everyone…”
“Whoa…” The Alphas collectively took a step back, completely overwhelmed and flushed by the sheer force of the beauty washing over them.
Immediately afterward, they started straightening their clothes and hair, frantically making sure they looked like decent, presentable human beings.
“Hello, hello! My name is David!”
“Your Grace, are you an Omega from the nursing department next door? Are you here to visit someone?”
Someone with sharp eyes had already recognized him. “Aren’t you that mysterious Omega from the trending forum post?”
Bo Tang’s status as a Beta had only been exposed for less than an hour, for the time being, no one knew he wasn’t actually an Omega. The Alphas displayed an unmatched level of enthusiasm toward this extraordinary “Omega.”
“Holy shit, it really is him!” A student with exceptional execution speed immediately pulled up the forum post on his optical computer and began multi-angle comparisons. “He looks even better in person than in the holographic photos. Is he an S-class Omega?”
“Which brother ate this well, having an S-class Omega come visit practice? Who is it, stand up right now!”
“Hello, can I get your contact info?”
“I want it too!”
“You can’t play favorites, Your Grace. Can I have the honor of securing a spot on your friends list?”
Bo Tang: ?
His expression remained completely unchanged as he stepped back behind Wick and Iman, attempting to use the two doorframe-broad figures to block the overly enthusiastic Alphas.
Wick: ?
Iman narrowed his eyes with an aura of stern authority and coldly swept his gaze across the crowd. The group instantly ceased their commotion and scrambled back to their original positions.
Among the sea of heads, Iman located the instructor in charge of Combat Class B, Sullivan.
Sullivan strolled leisurely down from the teaching platform.
“How come it’s only you? Weren’t you supposed to have a teaching assistant here?” Iman asked.
Sullivan shrugged his eyebrows. “Said they were going to handle some follow-up from a traffic accident. They’ll be here soon, are these the two promising seedlings you mentioned?”
He cast an amused look toward the two individuals brought along.
Iman nodded. “One Alpha, and one Beta.”
The two men exchanged a knowing look that only they understood.
Sullivan glanced over Bo Tang and Wick, his attitude casual. “Assign them to Team 1.”
The Alphas erupted into another mild uproar.
“What the hell, what does the instructor mean by this?”
“A Beta? This f***ing guy is a Beta?”
“Bro, do you believe he’s a Beta, or do you believe I’m the Emperor of Avalon?”
“Please protect me and let me enter the Third Army, Your Majesty.”
Watching the two genuinely merge into the first squad, the students wore expressions as though the sky had just fallen. Their discussions grew louder and louder, filled with no small amount of grief and indignation.
Iman had already departed. Sullivan crossed his arms and paused with an amused smile on the teaching platform.
The chatter gradually died down.
“Done talking?” Sullivan dug into his ear. “Louder than three hundred ducks. You might as well form a duck legion right after graduation.”
“Instructor!” A puppy eyed Alpha called out loudly. “Aren’t you going to introduce the new classmates to us?”
“Yeah, yeah!” Several others immediately chimed in.
Sullivan raised a single eyebrow. “Oh?”
The drawn-out tone caused a layer of goosebumps to violently pop up across that student’s back.
“Since you’re so eager,” Sullivan pointed randomly into the crowd, “then why don’t you come up and demonstrate?”
The direction he pointed was precisely where Bo Tang was standing.
Bo Tang sighed inwardly, wearing a perfectly calibrated look of nervousness on his face. “Instructor, I…”
“Save it.” Sullivan bluntly cut off his escape route and shoved a particle rifle into Bo Tang’s hands. “Give these kids a little taste of shock.”
Bo Tang raised his gaze to look at him, only to see Sullivan standing with his back to the crowd, watching him with an expression full of playful intrigue.
It practically spelled out. Stop putting on an act.
Bo Tang took the rifle as if nothing was amiss.
This rifle felt vastly different from the toy one he had held earlier. It was more than twice as heavy, apparently due to differences in the construction of the energy canister and the barrel.
Bo Tang didn’t have a deep study of machinery, but from an outsider’s perspective, he spotted the structural variations between the two firearms at a glance.
The one in his hand was clearly crafted with much greater precision.
Sullivan: “This isn’t the toy you were playing with just now. It has recoil.”
He patted Bo Tang’s shoulder, led him up to the shooting target, and adjusted the static firing distance to two hundred meters.
“You shouldn’t have any pressure, right?” Sullivan said with a smile.
An Alpha watching the show chimed in with a whistling jeer, unfazed by the tension. “Ooh, starting right off the bat with A-class standards. Someone’s going to cry in a minute~”
Bo Tang pinched his lips with a “constrained” look. Before he could speak, Sullivan stepped back and stood to the side. “Begin.”
Bo Tang had no choice but to reluctantly abandon the opportunity to showcase his fragility.
The Alphas curiously crowded in behind Bo Tang.
Bo Tang tested the shape of the rifle. The web of his hand pressed against the grip, and the cold metal handle efficiently transferred its freezing touch.
He stood sideways, his left hand supporting his right wrist. Fingertips colder than the metal hooked around the trigger.
The pupils within his pitch black eyes constricted slightly as he adjusted to the optimal focal point. He calmly slowed his breathing until nothing else in his field of vision remained clear except for the bullseye.
At this exact moment, the aura exuding from his body turned exceptionally freezing cold.
Yet the corners of his mouth were actually curved upward.
The surrounding Alphas involuntarily held their breaths to match his pace. Sullivan straightened his posture as his expression slowly shed its casual laziness.
No one noticed the training room door open and close. A silver-haired figure stood silently by the doorway, also quietly watching this scene.
“Bang!”
A tiny sound of air tearing apart rang out.
9.8 rings.
One of the surrounding Alphas let out a soft chuckle.
Bo Tang didn’t look at the numbers on the scoreboard. The recoil Sullivan had mentioned felt like catching a baseball in the palm of his hand, he felt a faint tingling numbness at the base of his palm. The impact wasn’t heavy, but it was enough to cause a slight deviation from the center.
He narrowed his eyes slightly, shifting his wrist infinitesimally to the left by a distance invisible to the naked eye.
Second shot.
“Bang!”
9.8 rings.
The Alphas wore subtle expressions. This score was quite good, but not exceptionally so.
Given the eyesight and extreme physical control of an A-class Alpha, starting out should at the very least yield a 9.9 ring.
“Well, he’s just a Beta after all…” someone whispered to their companion with a smile.
“Bang!”
The third shot took even less time than the crowd expected.
9.9 rings.
“Bang!”
With almost no pause, the fourth shot fired.
10.0 rings.
Fifth shot.
10.0 rings.
Sixth shot.
10.0 rings.
The final shot.
10.0 rings.
Current trainee: Number 36.
Current scores: 9.8, 9.8, 9.9, 10.0, 10.0… 10.0
Current total score: 99.5
Wick, who had watched the entire process, turned as dark and gloomy as if water were about to drip from his face.
“What?!” The Alpha from earlier couldn’t help but shout out, “Are you really a Beta?!”
The first couple of shots had allowed him to adapt to the trajectory and recoil. Once he got the hang of it shortly after, he pulled the trigger without any hesitation.
It was slightly challenging, but compared to what he had experienced in the past, it wasn’t worth mentioning.
It was just that looking too at ease right now wouldn’t be appropriate to show off.
Having used up all ten rounds, Bo Tang deliberately let out a long breath, relaxing his shoulders and back until his aura softened once more.
Only, that beautiful yet dangerous scene had already been captured by the person standing by the door.
Bo Tang lowered the rifle, turned around to face the crowd, and once again locked eyes with a familiar pair of purple irises.
Bo Tang paused momentarily on the surface, and then a smile bloomed in his eyes.
He smiled gently, as if directing it toward the crowd, or perhaps toward the person standing opposite them.
“Pleased to meet you all, I am Bo Tang from Medical Class A.”
Sullivan likewise caught sight of the figure standing by the door. He paused for a moment before walking over. “Anatoly.”
Before they had even recovered from the shock brought by the Beta, they were startled once more by the name uttered by the instructor. Someone blurted out before they could stop themselves. “Holy crap, who’s bold enough to casually use a nickname on the Mad Snake?”
Sullivan smiled without any warmth. “Do I need to remind you that in the military, you shouldn’t casually give nicknames to your colleagues?”
Bo Tang looked over at Anatoly.
Today, the other man’s long silver hair was tied up high, completely exposing his pale, sharp, handsome face. However, his emotionless eyes made him look even more like a moving sculpture.
He was still wearing the standard issue uniform buttoned all the way up to his throat, just styled in a version far easier for movement than the one seen in the dormitories.
Only… why was he appearing here?
, No wait, Bo Tang recalled the conversation between Sullivan and Iman earlier and seemed to understand something.
…A teaching assistant?
Bo Tang raised an eyebrow slightly.
“I’m late.” Anatoly gave Sullivan a cold nod in greeting.
Sullivan raised his wrist to check his optical computer. “One minute before the expiration of your leave request. Not late.”
Bo Tang clearly heard the Alpha beside him whisper a complaint. “The instructor is totally throwing shade right now, he’s definitely throwing shade!”
“Instructor has guts!”
“Wait, did you guys forget something? The instructor said earlier that the teaching assistant would arrive later. This f***ing couldn’t be our TA, right?”
“Please, no!” The one responding was the puppy eyed Alpha, whose puppy eyes drooped even lower now. “Even though he’s a freak who’s allergic to Omegas, his attitude toward Alphas isn’t any better. We’re going to get the skin peeled right off us under his watch.”
“Cough!” Sullivan let out a heavy, warning cough.
Didn’t these guys know that an S-class Alpha’s hearing could pick up any whispered gossip within a five-hundred meters’ radius?
No wait, these guys did it on purpose, just so Anatoly could hear it and voluntarily leave.
After all, this was a school. No matter how daring and insane the Mad Snake was, he couldn’t possibly do anything to anyone on school grounds.
You really can’t underestimate an Alpha’s hostility, Sullivan thought with a headache.
Anatoly’s expression was like eternal, unmelting glacier ice, making it hard to probe whether he had heard those provocative remarks.
He strode past the crowd onto the teaching platform and spoke without any emotional fluctuation in his voice: “I am your teaching assistant, Anatoly Vaneri. For the next month, Instructor Sullivan and I will be jointly conducting your training.”
His purple gaze swept across the two figures at the edge of the crowd: “Instructor Sullivan, these two students are not from Combat Class B.”
Wick felt an urge to shrink back when pinned by the other man’s icy gaze.
The Mad Snake’s reputation preceded him, and coming from aristocratic circles, he naturally knew how much of that reputation was real.
To be honest, he felt that the media using “mad” to describe this Alpha was already quite restrained.
Instinctively, he wanted to avoid Anatoly, but his combative Alpha nature kept him standing his ground. In the end, he fought the tremor in his body and simply lowered his gaze slightly.
Anatoly’s eyes shifted, continuing to land on Bo Tang.
Sullivan’s footsteps shifted slightly, as though he wanted to block Bo Tang, but after an imperceptible pause, he stayed where he was.
“They are outstanding students from other departments, here to practice marksmanship practical’s alongside the combat department,” Sullivan said.
Hearing this, Anatoly’s expression remained unchanged as he nodded to show he understood.
He tapped his optical computer, his inorganic gaze sweeping across everyone down below.
“I have already received your training scores,” the silver haired Alpha stated. “Only Number 36 reached the excellence threshold.”
He scanned the circle. Though his tone remained calm and level without a single wave, the oppressive weight it carried was undeniable.
“Is this the A-class level you boast about, being completely crushed by a Beta?”
The thirty-five Alphas present all felt their faces grow hot and uncomfortable.
Even though it pissed them off to no end, the Mad Snake wasn’t wrong at all.
“It’s just a military drill after all…” the puppy eyed Alpha muttered under his breath.
“Just?” Anatoly’s gaze locked precisely onto the speaker. “What’s your name?”
“I… me,” the Alpha stammered, caught off guard by being called out, eyes expanding wide in nervousness. “My name is David.”
“Number 23, David Slid.” Anatoly pulled up his information with practically zero pause and smoothly read out the scores uploaded from the optical computer. “Twenty shots at the 150 meters target, with an average score of 9.95 rings.”
The silver haired Alpha lowered his eyelids slightly, looking down at the other person from a position of absolute superiority.
“Do you need me to repeat Bo Tang’s score for 10 shots at the 200 meters’ target?”
A total and utter crushing defeat.
David’s face instantly flushed bright red.
Sullivan stood off to the side with his arms crossed, watching the show unfold. He didn’t forget to activate his optical computer’s recording function, bundling the video he had just captured and sending a copy to Iman.
Sullivan: Shock! Mad Snake flies into a rage out of love for a beauty! .mp4
4 minutes later.
Iman: …??