The Strongest Brain in the Interstellar

“Beep beep… beep beep—” The display clock had just ticked past 6:01, and dawn had barely broken, yet the bed was already empty. The dark-colored quilt was casually folded and draped over the foot of the bed.

This was a very simple room, without many decorations. Even the standard curtains that many students disliked had not been replaced. The plain white fabric complemented the grayish-white tones of the room rather well.

The only thing that seemed out of place in the room was a heavy workbench. The workbench occupied a significant portion of the room, taking up almost half of the dormitory’s limited space. Its surface was cluttered with various scattered parts, their original forms no longer recognizable. Thick books were piled on the edges, their covers appearing quite new, as if they hadn’t been read much.

The bookshelf was also packed tightly with large volumes, revealing how much the room’s owner loved reading. However, one section in the middle of the shelf had been deliberately left empty. There, a small trophy was displayed. It was inscribed with the following words: “Champion of the Class D Tournament, XX Year, Beska Intermediate Academy, Combat Soldier Department, Class 2, Jiang Hui.”

Next to it was a traditional photograph frozen in time, its pixel quality and clarity far inferior to holographic images, but it carried a unique sense of atmosphere.

The photo captured a group of five people. Despite their disheveled appearances and the tattered state of their training uniforms, the camaraderie was evident. Jiang Hui, barely able to stand, was supported on either side by Zhou Xiuwen and Xierman, looking like close brothers. Everyone in the photo appeared somewhat amusing, including Clarens, who seemingly never smiled, yet even he displayed a faint smirk.

Jiang Hui emerged from the bathroom, freshly groomed. Her eyes were clear, giving no hint that she had just woken up. Since it was the weekend, she wasn’t in her school uniform but had opted for a more comfortable outfit. She pulled back the curtains and casually sat on the small sofa by the side, beginning to scroll through the day’s ‘Star News’.

Out of habit, she slid her fingers across the holographic screen, but she suddenly felt she might be relying too much on it. It was almost as if she had become a starry-age version of a tech-dependent recluse. This prompted her to consider whether she should subscribe to the paper version of the news.

However, recalling the subscription price made her hesitate. It seemed wasteful, especially since she only needed a quick glance to process the information. Moreover, the paper version contained far less content than the electronic one, and discarding it after reading felt irresponsible. No matter how much money she had, she couldn’t afford to waste it frivolously. And in reality, she didn’t have much—just enough to get by.

It had been three weeks since the orienteering race. Jiang Hui had spent a full week recovering from her leg injury, during which the school medic had scolded her harshly. Even while performing photon suturing, the medic didn’t bother to mask her irritation. Thankfully, there were no lasting effects from the injury. This was a relief to Captain Stark, who had escorted her to the infirmary and finally relaxed his previously stern demeanor.

Despite the simplicity of the award ceremony afterward, Jiang Hui was genuinely thrilled. After all, this was an honor she had earned for herself.

The prize money and her slot for custom mecha had already been credited to her personal account. The former was quite substantial, marking the first money she had ever earned in this new world, and it gave her a sense of security. As for the custom mecha slot, along with the club membership and summer camp experience vouchers, they existed as digital tickets. They sat in the same category as the housing qualification certificate Hailusi had sent her earlier. Glancing at the list, everything felt surreal, especially since none of it was immediately useful.

Unfortunately, this competition didn’t include any group honors. Each participant was only given a custom badge with their team number printed on it. For those without a team, it was a plain badge. Still, the school showed some thoughtfulness in the design.

That group photo was one Jiang Hui had shamelessly asked Captain Stark to take for her. Right after it was taken, she was immediately carried off for treatment. Even now, she couldn’t forget the dark, stormy expression on Stark’s face as he looked at her injured leg.

Who knows what the instructors and students from other classes thought when they saw it? “Hah, her team took first place, and their instructor still looks that upset. Who’s he trying to impress?” They probably even thought the two of them were just putting on a show.

Since the competition was highly educational and revealed many issues, the school had specifically set aside two weeks for the teachers and students of each class to rest and review the event.

Of course, this review process became a major “trial by fire.” Even Jiang Hui, who felt she had done her best, faced plenty of criticism and corrections. The other students fared no better.

It wasn’t until the third week, when regular classes resumed, that they began learning new material.

Schools, after all, are the same everywhere—just the same routines in a different package. Even in military programs, there were both cultural theory courses and practical training. The latter remained the current focus for most students. So far, they had only had two practical shooting classes.

However, there were rumors that next week they would begin mecha operation training. Since the start of the semester, they hadn’t had any exposure to mechas, so everyone was excited. By the last day of the third week, the first-year students were buzzing with discussion and speculation.

Jiang Hui was curious as well, but the person she was closest to was Clarens from her class. Both of them were rather independent, usually minding their own business. It was hard to imagine them getting together to discuss new mecha models or their expectations for the upcoming classes.

That said, after the competition, Clarens’s attitude toward her had softened significantly. At least now, he would occasionally greet her. Once, when she went for a follow-up medical check, he even helped her by taking notes and saving her classroom assignments.

Of course, during her days in the infirmary, it was Zhou Xiuwen and Xierman who visited most often. Jiang Hui even took the opportunity to consult Zhou Xiuwen about the principles of mental energy conduction. She hadn’t had the chance to learn it during the competition, but now that she had time, she was eager to get started so she could apply it directly next time.

When it came to preparation, Jiang Hui never allowed herself to fall behind.

To sum it up, the past three weeks since the semester started had been both busy and relatively comfortable for Jiang Hui.

However, she was now facing a bit of a problem.

After finishing her usual ‘Star News’ column on the holographic interface, Jiang Hui realized it was still quite early. It felt too soon to head out for breakfast, so she reached for the large volume sitting on top of her workbench.

The book was titled ‘Command and Art’.

The title already seemed unreliable, but the content was even worse. It couldn’t even be classified as a proper educational or reference book. How it ended up in the school library was a mystery. Even as someone who wasn’t studying command, Jiang Hui found it absurd, let alone those who actually were.

If there were a suggestion box, she would definitely submit a request to have this book removed from the reference library. It was simply too ridiculous. Even for someone like her, who could read quickly, spending time on it felt like a waste. Every extra second spent on it felt pointless.

But this wasn’t entirely the school’s fault. The library’s collection of books on command seemed to consist only of titles like this. Over the past three weeks, Jiang Hui had borrowed nearly thirty books on the subject. They weren’t unreliable, they were so marginally relevant that they barely touched on the core concepts. Very few of them offered any real insights—they were all just stories and vague discussions about “art.”