Chapter 59: Public Appearance During the Livestream
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: Karai
Yun Yingzhi handed both Little Buns to Yun Yinghui. He needed some time alone—to think, to figure out what to do next. Yun Yinghui carefully took them into his arms. The Little Buns refused to behave and immediately leapt back toward Yun Yingzhi. He barely managed to catch them before they hit his chest, only to hand them right back again. They jumped again. And again. Each time he handed them over, they pounced right back. In the end, Yun Yinghui had no choice but to grab one in each hand, completely blocking any chance of another sneak attack.
“Da da?” the little kit squeaked, looking up with wide, wounded eyes. He glanced from Yun Yingzhi to Yun Yinghui, his entire tiny body radiating silent protest against the cruelty of these two adults.
Yun Yingzhi rubbed the little kit’s head gently. “Big Brother, please take them for now. I just… want some time alone to think.” Today, he really wanted to be a hermit rabbit.
Yun Yinghui’s voice softened. “Zhizhi, no matter what happens, I’ll always be here for you.”
Yun Yingzhi nodded. “Okay.”
With that, Yun Yinghui left the room, carrying the two Little Buns. They struggled the whole way, kicking and wiggling—until Yun Yinghui whispered, “Cute Little Battle Rabbit.”
Instantly, the two went still. But only for a heartbeat. Even the great and mighty Cute Little Battle Rabbit couldn’t hold their attention for long. At that moment, nothing in the world was more important than being with their father. Watching Daddy cry was more important than watching him fight. Their tiny hearts ached for him, and they kept squirming, determined to wriggle their way back.
Yun Yingzhi looked at their wriggling little bodies, his heart softening with warmth. No matter what happened, he would never let His Highness Elvis take them away. Both Little Buns were his—only his. Thinking of Elvis brought his mind back to the expensive set of source weapons he had built. He had to contact Elvis and tell him the truth—that the weapons weren’t a gift. They were only on loan.
“Jiaojiao, Taotao,” Yun Yinghui coaxed gently, “your dad needs to rest. You can’t keep fussing. How about Uncle takes you out to play, hmm?”
Little kit shook his fluffy head stubbornly. Little egg, meanwhile, tried to use his spatial ability to teleport back into the room.
Yun Yinghui frowned slightly, then played his trump card. “Didn’t you both want to see the Yaoming Battle Arena? Uncle will take you there today.”
Yun Yingzhi’s eyelid twitched violently. The Little Buns had clearly inherited their fighting spirit from Elvis—anything related to combat immediately grabbed their attention. They were born tiny warriors, through and through. Sure enough, the moment they heard “Battle Arena,” their resistance noticeably weakened.
The little kit looked up at Yun Yingzhi with bright, hopeful eyes. “Da da?”
Yun Yingzhi could practically see the longing written across that fuzzy little face.
“Jiaojiao, Daddy’s tired today and can’t go to the arena with you,” Yun Yinghui said patiently. “You’re still too little. You can only watch, not fight. And you too, Taotao.”
Yun Yingzhi was speechless. So what—they wanted to team up with him? On the battlefield? Absolutely not. They were far too small. What kind of madness would it be for him to appear on the same field with his own children? Those two Little Buns were dreaming!
“Be good,” Yun Yinghui coaxed again. “Uncle will take you to watch the battles, all right?”
Both Little Buns made one last attempt to launch themselves at Yun Yingzhi.
“Zhizhi loves the Battle Arena too,” Yun Yinghui continued gently. “So how about you go with Uncle today, then tell Daddy all about it when you get back, okay?”
The little kit went quiet in thought. The little egg stopped bouncing. After a long moment of consideration, both of them stopped struggling. The little kit waved his tiny paws at Yun Yingzhi. “Da da!” he called several times, his soft voice full of farewell. The little egg used his spatial ability to move the flower vase from the windowsill into Yun Yingzhi’s hands. Finally, Yun Yinghui managed to leave the room with the two clingy Little Buns, shutting the door softly behind him.
Yun Yingzhi put the vase back on the sill. He stood by the window, still heavy-hearted. His mind kept circling back to the words he’d seen online… and to what Yun Yinghui had said earlier. Should he tell the world that he was contestant A13167? If he did, the secret of the Little Buns would definitely come out. But for the royal family—was there even such a thing as “secret”? Then again, maybe it was better to keep it hidden for as long as he could.
His personal terminal chimed with an incoming message. Yun Yingzhi frowned slightly and answered the call. On the other end was the Starshine Competition’s management team. Just as Yun Yinghui had predicted, the full set of source weapons he’d created had been classified as restricted equipment. Since they couldn’t go to auction, the Empire wanted to purchase them directly at a fair price.
Yun Yingzhi didn’t mind. It was the same as before, when his spatially limited source weapons had been bought for military use. If what he built could serve the Empire, then as one of its citizens, he considered that an honor.
The voice on the other end continued, “Honored contestant A13167, you must have seen it today—His Highness Elvis commanding your source weapon set against the zerg. Absolutely unstoppable.”
Yun Yingzhi fell silent. Yun Yingzhi thought back to that moment—his emotions had completely collapsed. He hadn’t even finished watching the match; all he’d done was cry.
“The Starshine Competition this year—from the preliminaries to the semifinals—every source weapon you’ve built has been a masterpiece,” the man on the other end of the call said warmly. He didn’t hold back with his praise, showering Yun Yingzhi’s work with the highest compliments. “Especially this latest series. As His Highness Elvis said, it’s truly epoch-making. You’re destined to become a legend of the Empire.”
If someone else were praised like that, they’d probably get goosebumps. But Yun Yingzhi had always liked being praised since he was a child. Even though he wasn’t in the best mood, hearing those words still made him feel a bit better.
“Thank you,” he said softly.
“I’m only telling the truth,” the man replied. “You can check the StarNet—everyone agrees that you’re already the Empire’s strongest source weapon maker!” (And also the most violent one.)
According to StarNet users, only someone with a truly brutal imagination could create such ruthlessly destructive weapons. Yun Yingzhi made a mental note to search those keywords later.
“Honored contestant A13167,” the man continued, “the reason I’m contacting you today isn’t just to inform you that your semifinal source weapons can’t be sold through the auction house. There’s something else. Do you remember the source weapons you made back in the preliminaries?”
Yun Yingzhi immediately realized what he meant—the batch he’d crafted right after joining the competition. “What about them?” he asked.
“Well, the full set you recently gifted to His Highness Elvis was so astonishing that countless people have reached out to us, asking if you would livestream a demonstration of that earlier batch’s skill effects.”
“No, sorry,” Yun Yingzhi said flatly.
“Honored A13167, please reconsider! I’m your fan—I’ve been following you since the preliminaries. I look forward to every new weapon you make. I really—”
“Thank you,” Yun Yingzhi interrupted, his tone gentle but firm. He paused before continuing, “I have my reasons for declining. But I can promise you this—soon, everyone will know.”
“Understood,” the man said quietly. Yun Yingzhi ended the call. He stood there for a while, thinking. There was something important he was supposed to do next… but what was it? He frowned, ears twitching slightly. His sharp hearing picked up voices in the hallway—two servants chatting while cleaning.
Outsiders didn’t know, but everyone who lived in this villa did. He was contestant A13167 of the Starshine Competition—and also the second son of General Yun’s household. On StarNet, many called him the disgrace of General Yun’s family.
Outside the door, one of the maids said angrily, “I’m so mad. I never imagined General Yun and Madam Yun could be such disgusting people.”
“Right? What did Young Master Zhizhi even do wrong? Having kids before marriage wasn’t his fault—it was that other scumbag’s fault!”
“Exactly! Whoever treated our Young Master Zhizhi like that deserves to be chopped up by Young Master Yinghui. Totally irresponsible!”
“But still, Little Masters Jiaojiao and Taotao are so adorable.”
“I bet General Yun and Madam Yun have no idea that Young Master Zhizhi is actually the Red Peony Powerhouse! If they did, they’d never dare treat him that way.”
“Hmph! Better they cut ties now—General Yun and Madam Yun don’t deserve to cling to our Young Master Zhizhi anyway!”
“Exactly!”
“But honestly,” one said after a pause, “even though I know our Young Master Zhizhi is the Red Peony Powerhouse, it still feels unreal. Do you remember when the Little Masters were fighting, and Young Master Zhizhi smashed that workbench with a single slap? Back then, I told myself it had to be the Powerhouse’s freakish strength—but now that I picture our delicate Young Master Zhizhi doing it, I can’t help thinking that the workbench must’ve been really cheap.”
“It was cheap! Didn’t people notice the problem back then and file a complaint? The organizers even admitted it! I heard the Imperial Consort himself contacted them, demanding they upgrade the equipment quality—he said it would be terrible if a contestant got hurt.”
“Don’t remind me. Once I accepted that the Powerhouse was actually our Young Master Zhizhi, I realized he must’ve been wearing specially made shoes.”
“Oh, definitely. Otherwise, how could someone who can’t lift or carry anything move that fast?”
“Even if they weren’t custom shoes, maybe it was the source weapon’s speed-boosting ability?”
“Had to be.”
Inside the room, Yun Yingzhi was speechless. The two outside continued gushing about the three source weapons he’d built during the competition, praising him to the heavens. He recalled what the competition staffer had said earlier—that everyone on StarNet was singing his praises.
Curious, he opened his personal terminal and searched his own keywords. He had expected to see endless compliments—flattering enough to inflate his ego to celestial levels. And there were plenty of compliments.
But— He also found other things. Some users were speculating about the Red Peony Powerhouse’s true identity… and some had guessed that he might be the disowned second son of General Yun’s family.
Reactions on StarNet were split. One group insisted that such a comparison was an insult to the Red Peony Powerhouse. The other group said the second son of General Yun’s family was actually a very delicate, fragile man—and if anyone was curious, they could look up his most recent final exam battle video.
Yun Yingzhi’s eyelid twitched violently. His battle video? What battle video? Because if they were talking about that… His entire body flushed bright red. No—why did that footage even exist? Who could possibly have access to that kind of material?
Hands trembling, he tried searching for it the way the posts described. Not everyone could find it—but based on the descriptions, he was pretty sure it was out there.
“…Oh no.” The room seemed to spin. He nearly collapsed. His already-fragile emotional state crumbled even further. Then something caught his eye—a list of interview videos.
After that day’s livestream, contestant A13167’s fame had exploded. Even though the highest-level source weapon he’d ever built was only level seven, his popularity now rivaled that of recognized masters—and even stood shoulder-to-shoulder with grandmasters. Journalists seized the opportunity, interviewing prominent figures across the Empire about their opinions of the mysterious craftsman.
One clip made Yun Yingzhi freeze. It was an interview with General Yun. In the video, General Yun’s face was cold and severe—his sharp, chiseled features giving him an air of unapproachable authority.
Looking directly into the camera, he said, “I admire him. Before him, I had seen all kinds of source weapons. Compatibility and resonance—they’re always matters of probability. In my opinion, the effort and cost rarely balance out. But after watching His Highness’s live broadcast from the Shaluo Trial Planet today, I finally realized that a source weapon could be that powerful. To me, that weapon represents true fairness and justice. If possible, I would like to extend a sincere invitation to contestant A13167. I hope he’ll consider joining the Third or Eighth Corps—to serve as their chief source weapon maker.”
Yun Yingzhi just stared at the screen, utterly speechless. Yun Yingzhi’s eyelid twitched. He found it almost funny—painfully, bitterly funny. If General Yun or Madam Yun had said something like this even a short while ago, he thought, he probably would have been thrilled. He would’ve proudly told them that even if they hadn’t supported the path he chose, he had worked hard all along. That he only wanted to make his parents proud. That he wanted to make his brother proud.
In the interview, the reporter continued asking General Yun questions. General Yun gave contestant A13167—the mysterious craftsman—the highest possible praise.
Then suddenly, the reporter asked something sharp and dangerous. “General Yun, are you aware that many people on StarNet are speculating that your second son might actually be contestant A13167? What are your thoughts on that?”
A faint flicker crossed General Yun’s eyes, but he said nothing. The reporter repeated the question. This time, General Yun turned those cold, blade-like eyes on him. The reporter’s expression froze, clearly unnerved. Just as he was about to change the subject, General Yun finally spoke. “He couldn’t possibly be,” he said flatly. His tone wasn’t cold—it was detached, dismissive.
There was no mistaking it. General Yun didn’t love Yun Yingzhi. Yun Yingzhi sniffed quietly and closed the video window. A soft ding came from his personal terminal—Yun Yinghui had sent him a short message.
When he opened it, Yun Yingzhi blinked in disbelief. Seriously… He thought his brother was far too indulgent with the two Little Buns. One of them couldn’t even talk yet—just made “aw” or “da” sounds—and the other hadn’t even hatched properly. How long had Yun Yinghui been gone with them? And already he’d taken them up onto the battle stage?
He remembered how seriously Yun Yinghui had told the Little Buns that they were too young and could only watch battles at the Yaoming Battle Arena. Yet now— Yun Yingzhi could guess exactly what happened. It had to be those two little troublemakers begging him into it. But really… the Yaoming Battle Arena allowed cubs that small to step onto the stage?
The match was a 3v3. Yun Yinghui entered the arena holding one Little Bun in each hand. Before the battle even started, little kit spotted the three opposing warriors. His fur puffed up instantly, and he waved his tiny paws, shouting, “Aw! Aw! Aw!” in a series of fierce squeaks.
When the match began, Yun Yinghui protected the two Little Buns but tried to let them fight on their own. At first, the Buns thought they were unstoppable—one charging forward on all fours, the other rolling furiously across the field. Yun Yinghui simply let them go wild. You could tell just from that moment how popular they were.
The crowd that had been cheering for the opposing esper soldiers instantly switched sides, yelling in unison, “Go Jiaojiao! Go Taotao!” The arena rang with laughter and cheers.
Despite the cuteness overload, the three opposing espers weren’t about to throw the match. Every fight counted for them. They launched their esper attacks toward the Little Buns. And that was when the two saw, for the very first time in real life, someone else using an esper ability.
Instantly, the little egg rolled straight into the little kit’s arms. Little kit’s long ears drooped. He squeezed his eyes shut and wrapped his paws tightly around the trembling egg. The two little warriors who had looked so fierce just moments ago now seemed completely terrified.
The audience burst into laughter. Some shouted again, “Let Jiaojiao win!” “Let Taotao win!”
Yun Yinghui, using his ice-type ability, shielded the two shivering Little Buns, training them gently in the midst of battle. In the end, the opposing team won. When the match ended, the little kit released the little egg. His tiny body swayed unsteadily. The egg wobbled too—though no one knew quite how an egg could wobble. The little kit collapsed onto the ground, pitiful and exhausted. The little egg rolled over to bump against Yun Yinghui’s foot, equally miserable.
Yun Yinghui crouched down, scooping both a little rabbit and a little egg into his hands. And just like that—mere seconds after the match ended—their tragic energy vanished. Little kit lifted his tiny paw again, waving furiously at the arena, clearly saying, Again! Again! Again!
Watching the adorable scene, Yun Yingzhi couldn’t help but smile. His bad mood lightened considerably. Still, he thought, the two of them had decent esper potential—but they barely knew how to use it. They needed training. They needed the best teacher. Then his eyes widened slightly.
Right—that was what he’d forgotten. He’d forgotten to contact His Highness Elvis and tell him that those source weapons weren’t gifts at all—they were borrowed. The thought struck him like a spark. He immediately dialed Elvis’s comm number.
Curiosity, after all, was human nature. Many people cared less about the era-defining source weapon and more about down-to-earth gossip, such as the news that General Yun’s second son was pregnant out of wedlock. Who was the child’s father? They said General Yun’s second son had nothing but his beauty to his name. But this was the man the Imperial Crown Prince had once favored—so just how beautiful was he, exactly?
Curiosity about Yun Yingzhi spread like wildfire. Some people had already watched Yun Yingzhi’s old videos. Among them, one influencer with over ten million followers posted a comment that received countless likes:
“With beauty like that, no wonder His Highness liked him. Honestly, even if that person were trash, I wouldn’t care!”
So what kind of beauty could inspire such words? More people wanted to know. A few had managed to obtain the combat-department examination footage from Fansa Academy. They claimed the beauty was real—and the frailty even more so. They said that anyone who had watched General Yun’s second son take his combat test would never blame him for what happened.
It was obvious, they said, that General Yun’s second son simply wasn’t suited for the combat department. Yet General Yun had forced him into it—into one of the Empire’s Ten Great Military Academies, no less. It was nothing short of cruelty.
“Can you imagine it?” they asked.
A military school full of tigers, leopards, bears, lions, and wolves—and in the middle of them, Yun Yingzhi, the smallest, softest little white rabbit. By the logic of the food chain, he was at the very bottom. He was just a weak little rabbit. How could anyone blame a rabbit for being what he was?
While the StarNet filled with endless discussions about Yun Yingzhi, far away on Shaluo Star, Elvis finally learned what had happened. He had barely ended his previous livestream when he opened another one. The battle against the zerg had just finished; streaks of dark-green fluid—zerg blood—stained his cheek and the shoulder of his military uniform.
The floating camera orb circled him, capturing every perfect angle of his sharp, elegant features. His livestream didn’t allow comment scrolling, but that didn’t stop the audience from finding a way to talk. They all thought of the same trick.
When Elvis had wielded contestant A13167’s source weapon during the Starshine Competition, fans had chatted in that competition’s official livestream. This time, they did the same. A flood of people rushed into the Starshine Competition’s chatroom, spamming comments and theories until those still watching the event switched immediately to Elvis’s stream.
Elvis narrowed his violet eyes slightly and said, “This time, I’m streaming for my beloved.”
For a heartbeat, the scrolling comments froze. Two seconds of stunned silence passed—then a wall of exclamation marks exploded across the feed.
His beloved!
His Highness’s beloved—the future Crown Princess!
Could it be…? The same name flashed in everyone’s minds—Yun Yingzhi. At the same time, they recalled another rumor—the one about Yun Yingzhi being expelled from the Yun household.
Elvis’s gaze turned razor-sharp. “The former second son of the Yun house, Yun Yingzhi—he is my beloved.”
The comments went wild again.
“That word former says so much.”
“It’s like His Highness is saying—if General Yun and Madam Yun don’t want him, he does.”
Elvis continued, his voice steady. “I’m using this stream to make our relationship public—and to remind everyone not to speak, in any public or private setting, words that could hurt my beloved. I won’t tolerate anyone making him feel even slightly wronged.” He paused. “As for the children…”
Suddenly, the frost in his expression softened. His eyes brightened, warmth flickering through the cold. Everyone watching understood instantly—someone was calling him. It wasn’t hard to guess who. No one knew whether Elvis had done it intentionally or by accident, but the private video call that should have been hidden opened in full view.
The hovering camera orb shifted automatically, filming every angle, including the image on the other end of the call. Viewers in the stream immediately redirected their attention, enlarging the projection to see the figure on the other side.
A young man stood before a window. It was still winter. Sunlight poured through the glass, casting a soft glow across his pale skin until it seemed almost translucent. His hair was gently curled; his black eyes gleamed like dark gemstones; his lips carried the faintest tint of rose. His beauty was so pure, so fragile, it felt like looking at an ice blossom—delicate, crystalline, and heartbreakingly perfect.
The moment the audience saw him, countless people forgot to breathe, afraid that even a gasp might startle him away. It was beauty that could shake the soul. Seeing him, everyone finally understood why so many at Fansa Academy had believed General Yun and Madam Yun were cruel to send him into a military school.
They understood why so many people had defended him. At last, they grasped why someone had once said, Even if he were garbage, I’d still love him. The truth was—they loved him too.
Through the open call came a voice, soft and melodious, echoing through every listener’s ears.
Yun Yingzhi said, “Good afternoon, Your Highness.”
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