【Interstellar Contract Magician】Ruyuanke

Chapter 471 [Empire] Our Plants Are Different

Gradually, the training sessions no longer filled the entire day like they had at the beginning of the semester. Initially, the schedule was incredibly tight, with barely a moment to spare from morning to night. Back then, I felt overwhelmed by time. Physical training, ability control, tactical drills, and constant assessments and feedback—the entire military academy life felt like a whirlpool of high-speed activity, leaving even time for reflection extremely limited.

But slowly, over time, everyone adapted to this rhythm, becoming more resilient and better able to manage their time. The classroom atmosphere was no longer as tense as it had been at the beginning. Training courses also became more flexible, with teachers gradually reducing fixed teaching content and providing more space for students to learn independently. Everyone's progress varied; some have already entered the stage of in-depth professional training, while others still need to hone their skills in basic training.

Most students no longer rely on the course schedule, gradually adapting their approach based on their own progress and goals. For example, supernatural training isn't my forte; I might even say I'm completely unsuited to it. But I know that simply following the course schedule passively will likely be inefficient and even lead to further confusion and frustration. Therefore, I've begun adjusting my training methods, dedicating more time each day to plant control, particularly my green seedlings and transparent vines, which are currently my greatest strengths.

Some students would find extra training after class to improve their physical fitness or tactical skills. Others enjoyed delving into their special abilities, studying advanced techniques, and pushing their limits. Some even went so far as to "fight alone" on the training ground almost every day. Although their mission didn't require such intense training, they were spontaneously striving to surpass themselves.

The instructors seemed to be less frequent on the field, more often than not, as bystanders, offering occasional advice and encouraging independent development. The atmosphere in the class became much more relaxed, but also more challenging. Everyone was progressing at their own pace, and no one wanted to be slowed down by others.

I occasionally visit other training areas. Despite their varying goals, the different classes each have their own distinct training styles and rhythms. Class 1's focus remains on strength and control, with intense confrontations and challenging tests creating a tense atmosphere. Class 1's training, on the other hand, offers a more diverse range of creatures. Some are lightning-fast, while others are covered in thick scales. Almost every student is hampered by their own creature, making it a challenge to stand out in such an environment.

In this environment, I'm no longer as anxious as I was when I first enrolled. Instead, I'm increasingly able to calmly analyze what I need. Everyone's growth trajectory is different, and I've learned to stop holding myself to others' standards and instead adjust based on my own circumstances. This has given me a greater sense of freedom. Although the external environment remains constantly changing and the competitive atmosphere is always around us, I know that only in a free environment can I truly explore my potential.

I'd sometimes meet up with that quiet boy for training. He was a bit different from the typical training-obsessed student in the special abilities class; he was unusually cautious and steady. His special abilities were also plant-based, genuine plant-based abilities, not like mine, which were achieved through combat plants. However, his primary function was defense.

He always seemed so quiet, rarely engaging in conversation, giving off a low-key vibe. During every training session, he remained focused, as if attentively perceiving every detail. Unlike others' aggressive training style, his movements were always cautious and steady, conveying an air of calmness and composure.

His plant-based abilities are different from my combat plants. Although they're both plant-related, his abilities seem more geared towards protection and defense. Every time I see him summon those vines or branches around him, while there's no sense of aggressive power, it feels very stable and solid.

"This can block attacks," he once said casually, his voice low and calm, as if confident but not boasting too much. His defensive ability seemed as solid as the roots of a tree, able to withstand almost any external impact.

During every training session, I would silently observe him, wondering if I could ever be so calm and composed. This guy struck me as something special. Although he didn't talk much, every movement he made exuded a calmness and strength. We would occasionally exchange training notes, but words were usually spare. Perhaps he wasn't good with words, so he expressed himself more through his movements and the tacit understanding between his abilities.

Whenever he summoned those branches and leaves, my green seedling would become noticeably more active. It seemed to be able to sense the scent of that plant, and every time it saw those vines or branches growing from his hands, it would involuntarily stretch its branches and leaves, extending its "antennae"-like buds towards those new plants.

A few times, it would even circumvent me, cautiously touching the vines, sometimes even gently biting them. Such "experimental" behavior was both amusing and embarrassing; its curiosity seemed innate. Every time this happened, I couldn't help but smile bitterly, even feeling a little embarrassed for it—my combat plant, so out of control.

I've tried to pull it back, to get it to abandon these irrelevant interests, but every time it's like a naughty child, breaking free from my grasp and darting closer to the vines. Watching its curious expression, I can only sigh helplessly. Sometimes, it really isn't quite rational, as if it's completely disregarding everything, simply to satisfy its own desire to explore new things.

I remember one time, I couldn't help but warn that boy, "Be careful, my green seedling...it seems to be particularly interested in your plant." He looked up at me, his eyes still so calm, "It's okay, my supernatural power won't hurt it."

His voice was steady, and he didn't seem at all surprised or uneasy by the proximity of his special plant. I, on the other hand, felt a little awkward, wondering if I should do something. After all, after all—my cyan seedling wasn't as gentle as his plants, and its attempts at "experience" could sometimes be a headache.

Even so, the boy's calmness and composure seemed to give me a strange sense of security. No matter how the green seedlings "messed" with him, he seemed unfazed, instead viewing the interaction as a manageable one. Rather than feeling strange, this kind of person made me feel reassured.

I remember that day, standing at the edge of the training ground, watching the young plant's tireless exploration. Its branches and leaves entwined themselves around the vine, seemingly oblivious to its surroundings. I walked over, looked down at its almost gluttonous appearance, and couldn't help but ask, "Is it delicious?"

As soon as I said that, I was stunned. Why would I ask such a question? I watched the green seedling "gnaw" at the vine without hesitation. It seemed unconcerned, "tasting" it leisurely, its branches and leaves swaying with pleasure and satisfaction. I felt helpless and a little stupid - how could it answer me?

However, just as I was beginning to laugh at myself, the seedling's reaction was unexpected. Its branches and leaves suddenly trembled slightly, as if in response to my question. I was stunned and almost laughed out loud. It was like a child, cautiously trying to communicate with me. Although it had no words, its "response" felt somehow intimate.

"You're such a fool," I whispered, unable to help but laugh again. This casual interaction gave me a strange warmth.

Although it couldn't truly respond to me, its behavior seemed to tell me that it wasn't just a plant, but rather a world of its own. Perhaps it was truly like a child, unable to speak, yet searching for its place in this world in its own unique way.

I gently patted its branches and whispered, "Are you full? Don't eat too much, or you'll hurt yourself." Even though I knew it wouldn't understand, I couldn't help but want to say something to it. This feeling of "care" actually made me a little dependent.

I remember one day after training, exhausted, I leaned against the wall and took a sip from my water bottle. The air was filled with the faint scent of sweat and grass, and my eyes unconsciously flicked to the quiet boy. He stood quietly in the distance, his eyes indifferently observing the plants that had disappeared into the vines. Suddenly, I became curious and couldn't help but ask, "Does it hurt when those branches and leaves are bitten?"

His eyes seemed to flicker slightly at that moment, and then he turned his head and smiled faintly, as if he was already accustomed to my sudden question. His smile was gentle and calm, as if responding to my sudden question. "Plants don't have feelings." His tone was still low, giving a soothing feeling. "They only grow according to their instincts. Just as I control them, they will only react naturally."

I was stunned for a moment, feeling a mixture of confusion and relief. Indeed, plants, unlike humans, lack pain and emotions. They grow to adapt to their environment and fulfill their own life paths. Perhaps they don't need to feel "pain," operating silently like machines. Yet, I felt they were more complex than machines, possessing a greater rhythm of life.

"Aren't you afraid that they will be hurt?" I continued to ask.

He shook his head slightly and said, "They will repair themselves." After he said this, he lowered his head again to tidy up the plants in his hands, as if he had returned to his own world.

I watched him intently, and a strange feeling welled up in my heart. Perhaps his plants were completely different from my own, but that tacit understanding, that mutual understanding, seemed to be common. I smiled and whispered, "You understand them quite well."

He said: "I am just their guide."

Listening to these words, I suddenly realized that each of us may be like a guide for plants, trying our best to help each other in our own world, whether it is fighting, growing, or learning.

"Our plants are different, very different. We are different too," I murmured quietly.

He didn't respond immediately, but just looked at me quietly, his eyes filled with thought. The air became somewhat silent, with only the distant wind rustling the branches and leaves, making a slight rustling sound.

I don't know why I say this, perhaps it's just an outpouring of emotion. Our plants are indeed different. His plants are quiet, steady, and primarily defensive, while my combat plants are full of power and conflict. They are not only living things, but also tools in battle, my companions, and a way for me to express my existence.

"Hmm," he finally murmured. "Every plant has its own characteristics, and every person has their own way." He paused, as if weighing how to continue the topic. "We are the same. We each have our own paths and choices."

I lowered my head, staring at the green seedling in my hand. Its branches and leaves were already glowing faintly. It rested quietly in my palm, a silent response. I gently stroked it for a moment, and suddenly a sense of relief came over me. Isn't our difference precisely because each of us has our own way of understanding the world?

He once again looked down at the plant in his hand and said calmly, "It's not easy for each plant to grow, but they all survive in their own way."

I nodded, the corners of my mouth raised slightly, and I whispered, "Yes, we are here too."

"The list is about to be submitted. Do you really want to... team up with me?" I hesitated.

He seemed to have been prepared. He slowly turned his head, his eyes calm but with a hint of determination: "I want to team up with you." There was no hesitation in his tone, as if he had already made up his mind.

"You know, my abilities aren't suitable for direct confrontation." I looked at him hesitantly. "Are you sure you want to come with me?"

He nodded, seemingly without saying much, his eyes revealing a rare determination. "No matter what our abilities are, our cooperation is the key." His tone was clear and powerful. "I believe we can find a suitable way."

I was silent for a moment, my inner conflict and hesitation slowly dissipating. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps I should also try to step out of the framework I had always set for myself and find a path that belongs to us together with others.

"Okay." I finally nodded, "Then come with me."

He smiled slightly, seemingly satisfied with my decision, and then lowered his head to tidy up his equipment. The atmosphere in the air became more relaxed, as if everything had become much simpler.

"Let's work together, help each other, and find the right way." I whispered again, with an imperceptible firmness.