The Strongest Brain in the Interstellar

The school implemented a small class education system, and it felt like there were even fewer students than in her classes on Blue Planet, with about thirty people in a class.

With just two minutes left until the scheduled time, the classroom still wasn’t full.

Jiang Hui was unsure whether the empty seats meant that some students hadn’t arrived yet or if they were simply unoccupied.

Otherwise, those who hadn’t come were quite audacious, weren’t they? The class instructor had sent a message telling them to report by this time, and yet they dared to be late. Didn’t they see the phrase “consequences are their own responsibility”? Even through the screen, Jiang Hui could sense the underlying intent of strict adherence to rules.

As the time slowly ticked by, finally, no one else entered the classroom.

When the clock struck one, a somewhat strange yet stirring bell rang throughout the classroom.

“Clop… Clop…”

A somewhat familiar and orderly sound of footsteps emerged, and a figure stepped in with measured strides, entering the classroom like a gust of wind.

The door behind him slammed shut as if blown by an unseen force, creating a loud bang that echoed in the spacious classroom, causing everyone inside to fall silent, their breaths involuntarily held.

A tall man in military uniform stood at the podium, his posture straight and upright, exuding an air of military discipline. His physique was perfectly proportioned, not an ounce more or less, and even the curve of his mouth, the shape of his jaw, and the height of his shoulders seemed meticulously measured.

Just his presence alone made everyone feel a sense of impending aggression, an overwhelming pressure that instinctively made them retract any slackness, tightening their nerves in a defensive stance.

The moment he entered, before he had even said a word, the students who had been excited and lively just a moment ago suddenly fell silent. They unconsciously sat up straight, straightening their backs, fearing that this man in military attire might spot them and drag them out of the classroom by their collars.

Jiang Hui was no exception; she had never been this close to such an imposing soldier before.

…Although, to be fair, she had encountered soldiers at close range before. Just half a month ago, she had stumbled upon the Third Corps capturing rebels at the Dongbo Group, where the group had been surrounded and unable to escape. At that scene, she had seen many gallant soldiers in action.

But the feeling she had at that time was entirely different.

The soldiers she encountered at the Dongbo Group were in a restrained state, like swords in their sheaths, ready to spring into action but held back, waiting for their commanding officer to point them in a direction, after which they would strike decisively without hesitation.

At that time, Jiang Hui was just an ordinary civilian needing protection and shelter from them. Their aggression was not directed at her, so she felt both intimidated and secure.

However, the soldier before her, who was presumably their class instructor, was different. His aura was completely unleashed and aimed directly at them, conveying a sense of wanting to tame them.

This soldier was like an eagle, while they were like clueless lambs unaware of their predicament.

Whether in terms of position or aura, they were clearly at a disadvantage. This instinctively caused Jiang Hui to feel a pressure and a tremendous sense of crisis.

It seemed she had almost forgotten the curriculum details of the Combat Infantry Department that she had looked up before the start of school; it was entirely focused on military training, wasn’t it?! In other words, Jiang Hui suddenly realized that for the next year, she would likely be subjected to a military-style learning environment.

Moreover, it was very possible that those training them would be actual military officers—true soldiers.

Jiang Hui unconsciously glanced at the insignia on the man’s shoulder. Good, a black background with a single bar and three stars—this was a lieutenant-level officer, the same rank as her father’s when he was alive. Such ranks were rarely seen outside of a military environment unless in a military-heavy area; in peaceful places like the permanent star systems, it was considered a higher-ranking officer.

It was surprising that the first-year students at the Beska Intermediate Academy had managed to recruit a captain-level officer to teach them; the influence behind the school was indeed quite formidable.

But Jiang Hui felt as though the sky was about to darken because having a real captain as an instructor only meant that her learning experience would become even more challenging. Would she be able to survive the Combat Infantry program…?

What could Jiang Hui do? She had no way out now; she could only join her classmates in silencing her voice, holding her breath, and watching this instructor in silence.

The instructor, whose name was still unknown, scanned the entire class, glancing briefly at each person’s face, his expression emotionless, devoid of any feelings, more like an inorganic inspection.

Finally, he spoke softly, “Is there anyone who hasn’t arrived?”

His words seemed quite gentle, with a calm tone, but Jiang Hui instinctively felt a chilling sensation; the hairs on her back stood on end, and she experienced a tremendous sense of crisis, as if she had been stabbed in the back, making her feel entirely uneasy.

Naturally, no one dared to respond, nor did anyone truly know. After all, they were all new classmates who hadn’t even memorized the class roster; how could they possibly know which bold ancestor dared to be late?

They were even praying that those few students who were either late or had truly forgotten to come wouldn’t arrive at this moment. Once the class meeting was over, it wouldn’t matter to them how the instructor handled it. But they definitely did not want them to make a grand entrance in front of everyone, as it felt like something terrible would happen.

Clearly, it wasn’t them who were late, yet everyone could feel the instructor’s overwhelming pressure and instinctively shrank back, their unformed wings folding in like quail.

Jiang Hui had originally thought he would continue to ask about the students or take attendance. However, he probably didn’t want to waste that time; he directly opened his light brain as if connecting to some information network. Jiang Hui was startled to find that her light brain, hanging on her chest, was automatically activated and projected an information page.

Then, each person in the class automatically had a basic information page displayed in front of them.

Without even looking, he clicked on the light brain, checked a few boxes, and instantly, the pages projected by their light brains went dark.

His gaze returned, and he pointedly named three or four students, some with short names, some with long ones, and both male and female. There was no response in the classroom, indicating that these were likely the students who were late or absent.

He seemed to smile slightly, the corners of his lips lifting gently.

However, despite the apparent smile, no one in the room felt even a hint of lightness.

He appeared to whisper something to the other side of the light brain, his voice very soft, and the students in the class couldn’t hear it. After speaking, he closed the light brain. Immediately, the frightening expression on his face almost disappeared, returning to the usual seriousness he had shown when he first entered. The atmosphere in the entire classroom relaxed significantly.