Yin Lu’s hair was a mess, probably from haste, just hastily tied up. Bai Wendon’s face changed drastically, and he pushed her aside, moving into the apartment.

The air inside was thick and heavy.

It smelled of arousal.

Clearly, Yin Lu had just been entangled with another man.

Bai Wendon scanned the living room; not seeing anyone, he stormed into her room, throwing back the covers. The sheets were rumpled, one even bearing a crude map drawn on them, but the body was absent.

Unwilling to give up, he moved to open the closet, and Yin Lu immediately panicked, tugging his arm. "What are you doing?"

Bai Wendon turned and slapped her across the face. "You slut!"

Yin Lu began to sob.

Bai Wendon pinned her onto the bed, delivering strike after strike with vicious force until Yin Lu’s face was covered in red marks. He shouted hysterically, "Do you know the police came looking for me today, asking who the mastermind was? Yin Lu, out of respect for our past, I didn't turn you in! But what in the hell have you been doing behind my back?!"

Yin Lu was stunned by the blows, unable to resist, only able to weep.

Just then, the closet behind him burst open. Arles sprang out, and upon seeing the scene, his rage ignited. He hoisted a stool and swung it violently toward Bai Wendon’s back.

Yin Lu saw his move and shrieked, "Ah—!"

The scream jolted Bai Wendon. He twisted to the side. Arles’s strike missed, nearly hitting the naked Yin Lu instead.

Bai Wendon turned, spotting Arles bare-chested, his fury boiling over. "It's you!!" With that, he threw a punch aimed at Arles’s face.

He had seen Yin Lu eating with Arles before. When he asked about their relationship, Yin Lu had only claimed they were 'just friends.'

Friends indeed—so friendly they were this intimate!

Arles took the full force of the punch, his face immediately contorting sideways.

He spat, cursed, rubbed his fists together, and prepared to strike back.

Bai Wendon sneered internally, his head feeling scorched. The two men grappled, exchanging punch for punch, kick for kick—inflicting a thousand wounds on the enemy while suffering eight hundred themselves. Within minutes, both were severely battered.

Yin Lu scrambled up from the bed, her hair wild and her face swollen. Seeing them locked in a mutual beating, she cried out, "Please, stop fighting!!!"

Kaga apologized to the Chu Qiao team, especially the twins, after resolving Bai Wendon’s issue. The matter was finally laid to rest.

The time for the championship final was fast approaching.

Kaga recorded promotional videos for both teams, which were then broadcast widely across the entire galaxy.

Reporters once again interviewed the twins. In front of the cameras, the twins dramatically removed their gauze bandages, revealing perfectly healed skin with no trace of scarring. "Thanks to Kaga, thanks to the hospital, thanks to the cellular repair surgery, we’ve been made whole again," they declared. A reporter zoomed in to film the sites of their former wounds. "It’s a blessing that both ace pilots of Chu Qiao have recovered. For tomorrow’s match, we have absolute faith they will conquer themselves!"

The twins stood side-by-side, smiling at the lens.

The reporter turned, asking, "Can you reveal whether you’ve pre-arranged your appearance order for the final, or will you stick to drawing straws?"

The twins exchanged a knowing glance. "That’s a secret."

The reporter chuckled. "Then we eagerly await tomorrow’s championship final!"

When this interview aired during the competition special, Ilya nearly ground her teeth to dust.

If she hadn't managed to trip the twins, the Fei Fei team would have been in serious trouble.

Now, with reporters swarming everywhere and Kaga’s private security detail escorting them, there was no opportunity to act.

Ilya, furious, smashed her comm unit on the spot, her face contorted like a murderer’s.

After a long while, she finally managed to regain her composure, straightened her appearance, and left for the Fiya family’s exclusive hospital.

Peizhe was recuperating in a specially protected isolation ward.

Ilya entered the room and felt a pang of heartbreak seeing him focused on watching combat videos on his optical computer. She sat down beside him. "Are you feeling better?"

Peizhe’s complexion was somewhat pale, but his smile remained gentle. "Much better; it doesn’t hurt nearly as much."

Ilya reached out and gently touched his cheek, her voice choked. "You’ve been through so much."

She didn't mention the championship final once.

Peizhe took her hand, his voice warm with affection. "It’s alright; I can bear it. However, about tomorrow's final…"

Ilya looked away. "I don't know what to do either. I was so close to the finish line, but seeing you like this, I really can’t trust you to compete."

The crucial point was that, in his current condition, winning was impossible.

Peizhe shuddered, gripping Ilya’s hand tightly. "Don't be sad; let's think of something else. There must be a way."

Ilya "suddenly" seemed to remember something, squeezing his hand back. She pleaded earnestly, "Can you inject the XX5 one more time? This is the absolute last time. With XX5, we are guaranteed to win!"

Peizhe instantly convulsed, as if a spike had been driven through his spine.

He hadn't forgotten the bone-deep agony that followed leaving the arena that day, nor the splitting headache that made him want to go mad.

One more injection—he couldn't guarantee he would remain a normal person even if they won the championship!

Seeing his reaction, Ilya quickly pulled him into a tight embrace, crying, "I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’m sorry. We won't inject it. We’ll forfeit. After all, a championship title isn’t important at all; you are the most important thing."

Peizhe let her hold him, his body slowly stabilizing. He sighed softly. "Silly girl, stop crying. If you cry, it makes me sad too. You are right; this will be the very last time. I’m willing to try."

Ilya raised her tear-filled eyes before throwing herself back into Peizhe’s embrace, weeping loudly.

Peizhe held her in return, gazing out at the magnificent structures of the space station, thinking with a sense of doom, This is the last time. Afterwards, even if I wanted to inject it, I wouldn't have the chance.

No one had ever survived injecting XX5 twice in succession and remained securely alive.

Ilya cried for a while longer. "Don't worry, I promise I won't let you suffer too much; I'll double the painkillers for you. After we win, whatever you want, I can give it to you."

Peizhe merely smiled. "Silly girl, do you think I care about your things?" He sighed wistfully. "I only hope that you can live safely and happily."

The championship final of the Mecha Grand Prix—the biggest student competition, watched by everyone in Kaga and across the galaxy—finally commenced.

By eight in the morning, attendance had surpassed three hundred thousand, setting a new historical record.

This time, Chu Qiao did not sit in the audience stands but remained together in their exclusive medical examination room, tense.

On the other side, Ilya personally took the mixed solution and injected it into Peizhe’s body.

Before the examination, not only could he not have the poison injection, but he needed this neutralizing agent to mask the residue from the previous injection so that the testing instruments wouldn't flag it.

She stood in the examination room, watching Peizhe successfully pass the check and get teleported to the battlefield, telling herself inwardly: This battle, we absolutely must win!

-RS