Seven years ago, when Brian Walker first met Emma Carter, his family was still a traditional company specializing in handling the garbage on 3212, considered a moderately wealthy household on this planet. But over the years, under Emma Carter's leadership and reforms, the Jin family expanded beyond 3212, and it’s said they now control a third of the Federation’s waste management business, with signs of further expansion—rolling in wealth.

　　Yet Emma Carter remains as stingy as ever.

　　In comparison, Brian Walker, with an adult soul, seemed utterly weak.

　　“I’ll go pack up,” Jin’s mom said, turning to leave.

　　“Mom, no need, we’ll leave right now. We can still catch the starship and buy whatever we need when we get there.” Emma Carter said boldly. For the past seven years, he had been stubbornly pursuing the path of a mecha pilot, barely keeping up with school thanks to his photographic memory, never realizing he might actually be better suited for command.

　　The whole family left as soon as they decided, with the aircraft already waiting in midair.

　　“I’m leaving, take care.” Emma Carter gripped Brian Walker’s hand with deep emotion. “I know you must have your reasons for staying here. If fate allows, we’ll meet again.”

　　Jin, the king of overthinking, Emma: A family of experts hiding their identities on 3212—he couldn’t expose them.

　　Brian Walker: “???”

　　Brian Walker could only watch as Emma Carter’s family left in the aircraft, waving goodbye without leaving a single cloud behind, nor a single starcoin.

　　……

　　Emma Carter’s departure didn’t really affect Brian Walker’s impoverished life, except now there was one less person to talk to. She wasn’t truly a fourteen-year-old child, and Emma Carter was precocious, so there was never any generation gap between them.

　　“I watched the group battle this morning.” The teacher stood at the front, clutching his chest. “I’m so disappointed! None of your moves looked like real moves, and you were chased all over by the other class. You looked so pathetic that the principal had to talk to me.”

　　He started calling out students from the front, criticizing them.

　　“What’s wrong with you? You froze as soon as two people surrounded you?”

　　“You’re so fierce when fighting your own classmates, but the other class seemed to have a great time beating you up.”

　　“I, Peter Thompson, have taught so many classes, and yours is by far the worst. You panic at a group fight—how will you handle mechas in the future?”

　　“If you can’t even beat the other class, forget about military school. You’d be better off shoveling manure.”

　　After criticizing everyone, the teacher changed his tone: “But Brian Walker did well this morning—struck hard, just the way I like it.”

　　Brian Walker stood straight, eyes fixed on the back of the classmate in front of her, hands clasped behind her back, unmoved.

　　Sure enough, the next second Peter Thompson walked over, poked her hard on the shoulder with a finger: “You sent four students from the other class to the infirmary—they spent half an hour in the treatment pod. I was happy about that. But if you don’t improve your skills, no matter how smart you are, it’s useless!”

　　Seven years had passed, and their class had shrunk from several hundred students to less than a hundred. Brian Walker’s grades were now above average in the class. According to the teacher’s experience, in the graduation test, she’d probably hover around a B rank. In two years, she’d graduate from 3212 Academy. If her perception test reached B or above, she could apply to military school; if she reached A, she could enter one of the top five military academies.

　　All their daily training now was to improve perception. According to the teacher, the better your physical fitness, the higher your perception level usually is.

　　Peter Thompson always felt Brian Walker was capable of more, but Brian Walker kept her skills at a steady, above-average level, never too high or too low, so he often singled her out.

　　Seeing Brian Walker’s unbothered expression, Peter Thompson got annoyed and waved his hand: “All of you, get back to the classroom and study.”

　　……

　　As soon as school was over, Brian Walker rode her “BMW” home. Over the years, she’d kept increasing her speed, and now it only took half an hour to get from school to her place.

　　The government had set up relief housing near the landfill for people who made a living scavenging. They only had to pay a small amount of starcoins each month. The original owner of Brian Walker’s body had lived there with a mute old man, but later someone else took over the place.

　　Now, even though Brian Walker could afford it, she couldn’t live there—government rules allowed only one rental per person. But the relief housing was too small anyway. She often brought back cheap materials to practice with, and there was no space for them. The abandoned building was much more comfortable. Now, she not only had a bedroom but also a dedicated workshop, even if it was just separated by plastic sheeting.

　　The people nearby never came this way, as if they were wary of something. Brian Walker had never interacted with them and didn’t know why, but she enjoyed the peace. The only downside was the abundance of snakes, rats, bugs, and ants, but she’d already dealt with them.

　　Taking the materials out of her bike basket, Brian Walker hurried to her workshop.

　　She was planning to make a mini mecha for practice. She couldn’t afford real oil-gold, so she bought a knockoff with similar properties—the name alone made it obvious it was a fake. Even so, Brian Walker had saved up for a long time to buy even a small lump.

　　All mecha knowledge was controlled by the Federation government. Before entering military school, you couldn’t find anything useful on the public net. In the past seven years, Brian Walker had finished all the books in the 3212 school library, but the best mecha she could build was only at the level of a trainee mecha engineer.