Chapter Sixty-Four: Striking Down the Queen of Heaven

Since Victory Day, Su Tong had not been having an easy time; there was simply too much for him to do.

First and foremost, he had to continue his training in the system space, and every time he came out of it, he felt as if his mind was on the verge of collapse. This had been going on for months on end.

The system’s side missions hadn’t appeared for some time, leaving Su Tong living in daily apprehension. Neither he nor the little demon could guess what the next side mission would entail; all they could do was diligently complete the core courses the system had marked—skills like painting, dance, and other mainstream abilities, all of which he had to learn.

It was a pace that defied reason; no ordinary person could master so much in several lifetimes.

Yet Su Tong didn’t dare relax for a moment. Training points hadn’t increased—still 100 points per session—so sometimes he even snuck into the system space for training during class.

The base value of his points had already surpassed 700,000, but after his involvement in the Zhuxian project and fearing a hike in the system’s prices, he tried to spend his points as soon as he earned them. He had exchanged 500,000 points for the Chameleon Voice Fruit.

Together with his natural voice, he could now produce a hundred different voices—fifty male, fifty female.

Still, he didn’t dare reveal them all at once, thinking it would be too astonishing, so he only showcased a few during Zhuxian.

Even so, it was already remarkable. The last time he livestreamed a storytelling session, he added ten more voices, leaving both new and old fans utterly amazed.

Yang Feifei marveled that a single film could have Su Tong voice every character.

The university, after the new students’ military training ended on September 25th, planned to host a welcome party. Su Tong had already passed the preliminary selection within his department, and in a few days, the university would select from all the departments’ programs. Once finalized, rehearsals would begin, awaiting the end of military training.

Moreover, during the Victory Day parade of the Great Qin Empire, the island nation had refused to participate, continuing to refuse any expression of remorse or apology, which stirred the entire Great Qin to fury. In response to the national sentiment, the university decided to hold a speech contest before National Day, with a theme centered on the island nation's suggestion that “Qin and the Island Nation should foster friendship, and Great Qin should let go of past history,” allowing participants to speak freely on the topic.

Su Tong had previously won first prize in a university speech competition, so naturally, the department required him to participate again.

Of course, the department wouldn’t send him directly to represent them at the university level—he had to earn a top-three spot within his department on his own merit.

“Big Guy, Fourth, everyone, I’m heading out. I might not be back tonight,” Su Tong announced on Friday afternoon, having changed shoes and slung his bag over his shoulder as he prepared to leave the dorm.

“Sixth, you’ve been acting strange this semester. School’s barely started and you’ve already spent three nights out. Come on, confess—are you dating someone?” Big Guy grabbed Su Tong with a mischievous grin.

After the first two times, everyone had interrogated him together but hadn’t gotten anything out of him.

“Dating? As if. I’m just working part-time. This family’s got money to burn—look at me, wearing shoes and clothes that cost just a few dozen yuan. Does that add up?” Su Tong replied with an air of dejection.

“Alright, drop the act. Just be careful out there. With your looks, you’re as attractive as a girl. You could easily get assaulted. I’m not joking—take this, pepper spray. I bought an extra one when I got some for my girlfriend, Pingping.” Big Guy shoved a small black canister into Su Tong’s hand.

Su Tong was speechless, but his roommates burst out laughing.

But Big Guy had a point. There’d been reports recently—some high schooler, handsome as could be, was followed home by a group of men and assaulted.

“Just take it. If you get assaulted by a woman, well, at least she’s a woman. But if it’s a man, your life’s over,” his roommates counseled with earnest looks, though they couldn’t quite suppress their laughter.

“If you want to laugh, laugh. The louder you are, the more jealous you are of my good looks.” Su Tong pocketed the pepper spray, laughing as he walked out the door.

The dorm erupted in laughter once more.

Big Guy meant well, and so did the others. With Su Tong’s skills, he wasn’t actually worried about being assaulted, but he couldn’t refuse their goodwill.

As always, Su Tong exited via the west gate of Min University. Outside, he spotted Sister Yaya’s BMW, walked over, opened the door, and got in.

Just as he opened the car door, a girl was walking toward him from the front—a girl with a hint of beauty.

“So it’s true, a pretty boy, kept by a rich woman,” the girl sneered as she saw Su Tong get into the car and, through the windshield, caught sight of Sister Yaya in the driver’s seat. Her lips curled in a cold smile.

That girl was Hai Jing, the arts committee member from Su Tong’s class.

Su Tong paid her no mind. Once he was settled, the BMW drove off.

At Yang Feifei’s house.

Su Tong found it odd; Yang Feifei was already a senior, and unlike others who were busy finishing their graduation projects and seeking opportunities, she was focusing on her studies, making up for lost time.

She’d said she would take fewer gigs this year, concentrating on her education and pivoting toward a career in music.

“Su Tong, come here!” As soon as he entered, Yang Feifei, clutching her phone and a headset, hurried over. “Listen, I’ve finally finished recording ‘Invisible Wings.’”

Before Su Tong could even change his shoes, Yang Feifei had already put the headset on him.

“Took you this long? Are your classes that busy?” Su Tong asked, puzzled. It had been ten days since he’d given her the song, and only now had she finished recording.

“I used to be busy filming and working, barely attended any classes. Now I have to catch up. I’m practically a repeating student—I have to go to all my freshman, sophomore, and junior classes,” Yang Feifei replied, a little dispirited. It was obvious to anyone how hard it was for someone as restless as her to settle down and study.

“Just listen and tell me if I did well. Does it meet your expectations?” After a brief moment of gloom, Yang Feifei returned to the subject.

As soon as the music started, Su Tong felt a million wild horses stampeding across his mind.

“Are you sure the arranger and the band aren’t your mortal enemies?” He forced himself to listen to the end, feeling utterly drained.

They had completely overturned Zhang Shaohan’s version, turning it into a rendition of “I Believe” with the prelude played on a cello.

A cello, seriously? The cello’s tone is the embodiment of melancholy—using it as the prelude to an inspirational song?

The arrangers in this world were hopeless, or perhaps the person arranging for Yang Feifei was just that clueless.

“How can you say that?” Yang Feifei was wounded by his words, but recalling how harmonious and powerful Su Tong’s arrangements were, she held back.

“This song calls for a simple arrangement, nothing ornate. Your vocal range is broad, your voice powerful and penetrating. As long as the arrangement brings out the best in your voice, that’s half the battle won.” Su Tong tossed the phone and headset back to her and strode into the studio.

Yang Feifei trusted Su Tong implicitly. Hearing his advice, she suddenly saw the light.

He was right—simplicity was key, yet the arranger had insisted on making it complicated.

Still, she needed proof.

“I’m worried you’ll ruin my song. Let’s see how you arrange it. What are you standing there for? Put down the phone and headset and come over here.” Su Tong took the guitar hanging on the wall and gestured to the still somewhat sulky Yang Feifei.