Lucia was never short of people willing to bet on her. In fact, the entire power center of the Empire was a giant casino. Too many people wanted to win the chips of power, so they wagered their talent, money, and lives on one candidate after another, hoping for a handsome return.
Glory was a classic example of such a wager.
Those alpha supremacists bet on her, boarded her ship, and then they were all capsized by the waves together.
It was only fair.
And it was also fair for those who bought a ticket to criticize the captain, since their futures and lives were on that ship.
Lucia could understand Yun Chuji’s intentions. In fact, seeing her like this gave Lucia a sense of joy, as if she had met one of her own kind.
Of course, she wouldn’t trust her. Lucia knew full well that people like herself were not to be trusted, but that didn’t stop her from using Yun Chuji.
As a tool, a spokesperson, or perhaps, a demagogue.
Yun Chuji’s A-Virtue livestream sparked heated debate on the StarNet. Omegas had found the perfect way to deal with dissenting alphas. Whenever an alpha came to curse them, they would simply throw back a single sentence: “You’re not worthy of being an alpha.”
Now, many sharp-tongued omegas were willing to acknowledge the A-style nobility that alphas had repeatedly proclaimed, but with one condition: you had to learn A-Virtue. If you didn’t, you weren’t worthy of being an alpha.
Alphas could, of course, give them a taste of their own medicine, using the slowly forming theory of O-Virtue to attack these omegas as arrogant and unreasonable, completely unworthy of being omegas.
To this, the arrogant and unreasonable omegas replied that it didn’t matter. Being an omega wasn’t like being an alpha, which came with inheritance privileges in the Empire. If they weren’t worthy, so be it.
The alphas’ punches landed on cotton. Their hearts burning with rage from the mockery, they turned their spears toward the instigator: the traitor, Yun Chuji.
After the livestream, Yun Chuji’s private messages on her StarNet account became more popular with alphas than even the national dream omega, Clarence. But unlike the complex mix of admiration, lewd fantasies, and harassment in Clarence’s inbox, the private messages alphas sent to Yun Chuji were remarkably uniform—all of them were curses and well-wishes for her family.
As a law-abiding citizen, upon learning that sending more than three such messages would earn one a grand gift package of a StarNet ban, Yun Chuji combined it with advanced technology. She had an AI report those who spoke rudely in real-time, doing her part to clean up the StarNet environment.
Just as alphas were furiously denouncing Yun Chuji as a shameless villain on the forums, the former paragon of alphas, the only S-rank alpha in the royal family, Princess Lucia, spoke out. Strictly speaking, she didn’t fully speak out.
She merely reposted a clip of Yun Chuji’s livestream and added a thumbs-up emoji.
It was an expression of attitude, and also a sign—a sign that the alphas were beginning to split internally.
After the Third Princess, a large number of noble alphas followed suit. Most of them were related in some way to the alphas involved in Glory and had been the primary targets of omega vitriol during this period.
No one believed that being cursed at could make someone achieve enlightenment on the spot. If that were the case, the Empire would have become the Garden of Eden long ago.
So the only answer was that they had yielded.
To be honest, it wasn’t that hard to imagine. It wasn’t the first time alphas and omegas had engaged in flame wars. Although not on the current scale, the fanatics from Spartacus had been quite active in spreading their views across the StarNet. In her younger, more impetuous days, Tang Jianxi herself had been a notoriously fierce omega debater.
But there was a clear difference between a flame war and online harassment.
No matter how fierce a flame war got, it was over in a moment. The next time you logged on, everyone was a stranger again. Online harassment, however, was about targeting a specific person. Every time you logged off, it was just a chance to recharge for the next round.
These publicly shamed nobles, along with their families, were undoubtedly being harassed by the entire internet.
Although only a small number of people persistently and relentlessly cursed them, the vast majority would still remember them from time to time and couldn’t resist coming over to spit. Because the base number was so large, it created a scene of continuous, bustling activity. These nobles—especially the alphas among them—could barely maintain a foothold on the StarNet. And because the online vitriol was so intense, it spilled over into the real world. Certain alphas who had displayed philandering traits online were subjected to extremely malicious speculation, with people assuming they were birds of a feather with their arrested relatives.
The Empire had repeatedly called for calm and urged people not to harm the innocent, but the result was that these people started flaming the Empire as well, leading to a constant rotation of official spokespeople.
What particularly infuriated these nobles was that their attackers weren’t just omegas. There were also some betas who stepped in to right perceived wrongs, and, most annoyingly, a large group of alphas who clamored that they had tarnished the noble image of alphas, failing to properly educate the Empire’s precious alphas and dooming their descendants to live with shame.
This was truly disgusting, the epitome of speaking from a position of privilege. As if they weren’t alphas themselves! Who didn’t know what they were thinking? They just wanted to nail this group of people to the pillar of historical shame, then hypocritically claim it was all an accident born from the decadent upper-class nobility.
You want to revoke our A-status?
We’ll revoke yours first!
Of course, the above was all based on emotional considerations. The rational consideration was that the Third Princess had already stated her position, and above her was Tang Jianxi’s fiancée. If the sky fell, the royal family and the vanguard of omega rights would hold it up. As for them, they truly hadn’t expected that in this age of near-monopolistic economies, boycotts could still happen.
In fact, they could.
Because technology was so advanced and machines so convenient, apart from food, which the people of the Empire lacked suitable land to grow, they could manufacture other daily necessities through simple personal crafting systems. With the help of AI, filling the gap left by the products of this small handful of families was no problem at all. As for the family businesses whose products were so essential that the people of the Empire had no choice but to use them, none of them were on that list. As for the real situation, no one asked, and those who did never asked again.
In short, these publicly displayed nobles became true cannon fodder, bearing an excessive amount of anger without receiving any compensation, because everyone wanted to draw a clear line between themselves and them.
After all, what if a war really broke out? The starship cannons of the Omega Legion were no joke. Especially for the nobles who had escaped unscathed; they didn’t want to fan the flames. They had paid a high price to have their family names removed from the list, so maintaining stability was their priority.
Thus, a very strange phenomenon appeared on the Empire’s StarNet. The nobles who were recently being condemned by everyone, who would get a face full of exhaust fumes just for flying their hover cars in the sky, had now become representatives of advanced A-Virtue.
They tipped in Yun Chuji’s livestream, filmed all sorts of A-Virtue declaration videos, and even established an omega foundation to help omegas who had suffered domestic violence with their divorce proceedings.
To some extent, for the sake of performance, they appeared to love omegas even more than the genuine omega rights organization, Spartacus.
It was terrifying, truly terrifying.
Just as Lin Lu, who had been disgraced a while ago, had thought, after the matter was exposed, these nobles could only desperately try to win the favor of omegas to prove their stance. An excellent example was that three noble families had already announced that their future heirs would be omegas.
And so, the grand A-Virtue movement began.
Alphas called them lunatics, traitors, and spineless cowards. Omegas also knew, more or less, that these alphas had ulterior motives, but compared to the former group, the latter was clearly more detestable and more deserving of condemnation.
Thus, the split within the alpha ranks began.
All of this happened in just one short month. During this time, the founder of A-Virtue, Miss Yun Chuji, had been carefully holed up at the Omega Legion base, diligently spreading the gospel of A-Virtue on the StarNet every day, receiving an equal measure of curses and praise.
It was a bit difficult to get used to at first, but she had something even more difficult to adapt to.
Yun Chuji finished her livestream for the day. The words “bitch” and “dream A” on the light screen gradually faded. Yun Chuji walked out of the study and into the living room.
This house was more modest than any place Yun Chuji had ever lived in—ah, perhaps it was on par with her small apartment?
The house was furnished with only simple furniture, with an overall natural wood theme. Its size was comparable to an ordinary family home in the Empire’s seventh ring, and the level of interior decoration was about the same. The wooden floorboards under her feet were probably several decades old, worn smooth and shiny by countless footsteps.
However, this was the home of the Omega Legion’s Marshal, Chu Meng.
Yes, Tang Jianxi had brought her to her grandmother’s house.
But there was more than one grandmother in the house. The busy one only showed up on weekends. The one who spent time with them on weekdays was the other grandmother: a former alpha colonel, now a military theory professor at the Omega Military Academy.
Honestly, if there was truly another spokesperson for A-Virtue in the Empire besides Yun Chuji, it would have to be the woman before her, Ms. Gu Yun.
Whether it was choosing to retire to take care of her child, or teaching at the Omega Military Academy as an alpha just to see her wife more often, she completely fulfilled all the requirements of A-Virtue.
Moreover, the fake A-Virtue followers, that group of nobles and the Third Princess, would only constantly buy bots on the StarNet to prove they were believers. A true A-Virtue follower, on the other hand, would constantly strive for progress in private.
“Xiao Yun, that point you made today, about how alphas should value an omega’s reproductive losses and provide a series of support during an omega’s pregnancy, instead of just providing pheromones and watching from the sidelines, I think that’s excellent. People in the Empire are becoming less and less willing to have children these days, and it’s all because of those alphas. I think we should also add that alphas should learn professional nursing skills to better serve omegas.”
“Otherwise, even if you let them help, those brutes probably don’t know how to do anything. How can they compare to the nimble and skillful omegas?”
For a moment, Yun Chuji silently looked at the female alpha before her, who, even in her seventies, was still a bundle of lean muscle.
In that instant, the gender shock that had long since vanished was resurrected once more.
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