Chương 111: Penn State @ UCLA

Rose Bowl Flying Aces Stadium, California Arthur winced the moment his rear touched the seat.

"Who had the bright idea of using plastic for stadium seats? They hurt like hell." Beside him, Leo and Mike shifted with careful movements. Standard stadium seating had never bothered Leo before. Today, every slight adjustment sent fresh waves of discomfort radiating through his lower half. His stomach lurched, unhappy about last night's Quadruple Bypass Burger.

"Why in the world did we agree to get spanked?" Mike rubbed his face with both hands. His complexion had a faint greenish tint.

"That was the dumbest idea we've ever had." Leo gestured toward the field below, where the Penn State Nittany Lions were finishing their warm-up drills.

"Well, Thad went first. And he's playing today, so we couldn't exactly let him suffer alone." Leo turned to Arthur.

"What's worse is that your Hurt-Be-Gone cream didn't even work. In fact, I feel like it stings even more now." Arthur crossed his arms and huffed.

"It must be what you young ones call it again. Oh yeah, shrinkflation. They probably made it worse since I last used it in the eighties."

"But most of all," Mike said, leaning forward and immediately regretting it, "Vegas was yesterday. Why does it hurt more today?" Arthur and Leo nodded in solemn agreement. It did not make sense.

"There must be something on that formation." Mike's eyes lit up with sudden interest.

"Leo, let's go back and take a look. You're good with formations. Figure out what they did to us." A chill crawled up Leo's spine. The memory of that paddle flashed through his mind, bright and unwelcome.

"I'm not going back." Leo shook his head.

"Nope. Not going back."

"What are you boys talking about?" Ella appeared at the end of their row, navigating past knees and bags with three hot dogs and a parfait balanced in a cardboard carrier. She passed the hot dogs around and settled into the seat next to Leo. She wore just a black tank top and dark jeans, but the simplicity only made her striking features harder to ignore. Leo's chest tightened for half a second before he forced his attention back to the field.

"Care to fill me in?" She stuck a fork into her parfait.

"What exactly did you guys do for Leo's birthday yesterday?"

"Nothing," all three said at once. Leo held the hot dog in his lap, the smell of processed meat and warm mustard wafting up toward his face. His stomach clenched in warning. He kept the hot dog in hand anyway, because setting it aside would invite questions. Mike and Arthur followed his lead, playing it cool. Although Mike's knuckles had gone white around the paper wrapper. And Arthur was trying not to gag at the sight of the relish and mustard mixing. Ella's violet eyes narrowed. Leo pointed at the field.

"Oh look, the band is coming out." The UCLA Marching Band flooded onto the field in a wave of blue and gold, their formations shifting with military precision as brass instruments caught the afternoon light. Cheerleaders sprinted across the grass behind them, giant flags streaming in their wake. The flags spelled out U-C-L-A in shimmering letters thirty feet tall. Formation arrays woven into the fabric made each letter pulse with golden light, the blue backgrounds rippling like water.

The cheerleaders planted the flags in a line as the band split around them, creating a corridor of color and sound that led directly to the home tunnel. The UCLA Bruins exploded onto the field. Flyers shot from the tunnel mouth in a tight arrowhead formation, their swords blazing with school colors as they rocketed skyward. The defensive units followed at ground level, Soldiers and Gunners sprinting to their positions at the home fort while the crowd roared its approval.

"GO BRUINS! GO BRUINS! GO BRUINS!" The chant rolled through the home sections like thunder. Then the away tunnel opened. Penn State's Nittany Lions burst onto the field in a blue and white wedge, their Flyers launching in perfect synchronization. Five figures shot toward the sky and immediately broke into a spiraling ascent pattern that carried them around the stadium perimeter. Thad flew point position. Even at this distance, Leo caught him wince as he banked hard.

Every turn looked just a little stiffer than it should. His flourishes weren't strictly tactical, but he hid his discomfort well. Leo bit back a grin. At least he wasn't the only one paying for yesterday's stupidity. The Penn State section erupted.

"WE ARE! PENN STATE!" The stadium announcer's voice boomed across the arena.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please stand for the national anthem." The UCLA cheerleaders reformed behind their fort, holding their flags stationary in a formal line. Formation arrays in the fabric activated, transforming the blue and gold before Leo's eyes. In seconds, a row of American flags stood at attention, rippling gently in the California breeze. Leo, Arthur, and Mike shot to their feet. Conveniently they accidentally dropped their hot dogs, ruining them. Mike glanced sideways at Arthur.

"Since when do you stand for the anthem? Last game you said vets get a pass."

"Just supporting my boy Thad." Arthur stared straight ahead at the flags, his posture rigid.

"Need to show him and his sister some respect." Ella remained seated, watching the ceremony with polite interest. When the anthem concluded and the crowd began settling back into their seats, she looked amused watching the three men lower themselves with careful precision. Leo's face tightened as he made contact with the plastic. Mike let out a small hiss through his teeth. Arthur gripped the armrests and descended one centimeter at a time. Ella watched this performance and hid her laughter behind her hand.

"This is going to be a great game," Mike said, his voice slightly strained.

"Oh, what do you mean?" Ella asked.

"I felt like a lot of Thad's previous games weren't that exciting. Some of them seemed pretty one-sided. Either he dominates, or they counter him." Mike explained.

"You're in for a treat today. Both teams are known for their kickoff style of play. They rush at the opponents full speed right from the starting horn. And when two kickoff-style teams play against each other..." He brought his hands together quickly.

"Boom." The stadium began to pulse. Feet hammered against concrete. First the student sections, then spreading outward through the bowl like a wave. The whole stadium sustained a climbing "ahhhhh" as both teams' Flyers flew faster and faster in the air. Penn State's formation circled the stadium clockwise. UCLA circled counterclockwise. The two groups accelerated, blue-and-gold blurring past blue-and-white with each pass. Leo's pulse picked up.

He'd studied enough game tape to know what kickoff-versus-kickoff matchups looked like. And Thad, stubborn as he was, would throw himself right into the center of it. The crowd noise climbed. The circling sped up. The formations contracted into dense rings of color, ten Flyers becoming two missiles aimed at opposite sides of the arena. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. The kickoff cannon fired. BOOM. The rings intersected.

Ten Flyers slammed together in a burst of spiritual energy and flashing steel. Bodies scattered in every direction, tumbling through the air as they fought to recover control. Two flashes of white light. One Flyer from each side, eliminated in the opening second. Then a pulse of black light erupted from the chaos. Thad exploded forward. His flying sword trailed dark energy as he carved a jagged line through the remaining defenders, the same lightning-bolt pattern that Leo had made famous.

But where Leo's movements were precise and economical, Thad's were raw and aggressive. Each direction change came with a flare of oblivion-aspected qi that made the air shimmer. Leo leaned forward, his discomfort forgotten. The UCLA Soldiers opened fire. Rifle formations cracked across the field, beams of compressed spiritual energy lancing toward Thad's trajectory. He zagged through the barrage, black light flickering around him as near-misses scorched the air where he'd been a heartbeat before.

Flak explosions burst around Thad in brilliant orange and white, the concussion waves visible as ripples in the air. One detonated close enough to rock him sideways. He rolled with the impact, converted the spin into momentum, and dove into the fort. Three Soldiers converged on his approach vector. Their barriers snapped up in overlapping layers. Thad didn't slow down. He punched through the first barrier in a spray of fragmenting formation energy.

The second Soldier tried to intercept and caught a shoulder check that sent him tumbling. The third raised his weapon and Thad hit him with a face full of oblivion-aspected qi that made his targeting formations go dark. Thad touched down inside the fort. His sword swept out in a wide arc that tagged two defenders before they could react, and quickly made short work of the rest.

"TOUCHDOWN NITTANY LIONS! 12-0!"

"THAD! THAD! THAD! THAD!" The Penn State section was on their feet, fifty thousand voices screaming the name in unison. The chant rolled across the stadium, drowning out the UCLA crowd's stunned silence. Leo was standing. Arthur was standing. Mike was standing. Even Ella was standing.

"THAD! THAD! THAD! THAD!"

The cultivators of the world were, in general, a pretty astute bunch. Long lives meant a wealth of experience. And those who lacked insight could always call someone who had it. Ever since the IMO concluded, not a single word had come from the International Formations Institute. Many people correctly believed that the government kept expectations low because they expected the team to lose at the Grand Formation Summit.

So when the government started subtly promoting the upcoming Grand Formations Summit, people started noticing things. People started paying attention. It started in late March. Three of the nine members of the team training at the International Formations Institute were sent home early in a grand ceremony. The government framed it as a big thank-you and provided them full rides to the Ivy League school of their choice.

In the end, Park Junhyun, Natasha Zabiiako, and Arjun Krishnamurthy were sent off with smiles and handshakes. Interestingly enough, when press decided to track down the three students, they found that they were all uncontactable. Apparently they were on an all-expenses-paid trip to Hawaii and were enjoying time 'off the grid'. The press dug a little deeper and found out that 'off the grid in Hawaii' meant last seen getting escorted into Naval Station Pearl Harbor. No one had seen them since.

Oddly enough, none of their families or home governments protested. And when the press tried to get a hold of any of the six final members of the formations team, all of them, as well as most of the trainers, were uncontactable too. Various buildings across Pittsburgh were locked down and closed off to outsiders. Most notably, the Pittsburgh Steelers had their Flying Aces stadium closed off. Organizers rescheduled all concerts and Dao Discussion fights, and no one was allowed anywhere near.

The fact that the government was so careful about this squad of Qi Refining juniors was unusual. Suddenly, a lot of interest was drawn to the event. The biggest question was: how in the world did they expect to win? Time and time again, formation experts appeared on national TV, and many times analysts brought up past problems from previous Grand Formation Summits. Every formation expert identified the same problem.

It was difficult but reasonable to get three points by deriving all of the intermediate formation problems. But deriving forbidden formations was basically impossible. In fact, an extremely daring and enterprising reporter actually made it all the way into the Boston Catacombs and went down to the Oblivion Cult to ask the cult directly. Interestingly enough, the cult themselves were just as surprised at America's confidence as the general public.

The Oblivion Cult confirmed that Thad and Ella did not have any special abilities that would contribute to forbidden formation derivation aside from their extremely high divine sense. The answer, whatever it was, would stay secret until the Summit began.

Acrisure Flying Aces Stadium, Pittsburgh"In evolution, there's a process called adaptation. Over thousands of years, species naturally evolve to be better suited to their environment. Many people believe that the human form is the best vessel for using spiritual qi and cultivating. After all, the divine infant of a Nascent Soul looks awfully like a human newborn."

"In addition, Spiritual beasts attain a human form after forming their Nascent Soul, not the other way around. And the Earth and Catacombs evolved in completely different realms and environments, yet the only thing that differs between the humans on them is their language and fashion sense." Wang Liyang, the formations student from China, cleared his throat and continued his rant.

"My point is that humans are meant to do human things. Not crane things. What we're doing is fundamentally wrong. It goes against science. We are literally disgracing and reversing all the work our ancestors did to get us here." Leo rubbed his temples. The kid had a point. The problem wasn't that these were crane formations, those were easy enough to learn. The problem was that these were AI generated crane formations. Ella looked up from adjusting her black lace sleeves.

"Park Junhyun was sent home and you weren't. That must mean you're more suited to crane formations than he was." She tilted her head.

"Perhaps one of your ancestors had a romantic encounter with a crane." Wang Liyang glared at her. Everyone sighed. It was hard to tell if they were sighing in annoyance or sympathy. Cranesong AI was really good at generating formations for cranes that were just barely doable. The problem was that "barely doable" always sat just a few steps above impossible for the formation team. They had been drilling crane formations for the past month at the Steelers' Acrisure Flying Aces Stadium.

The Flying Aces field had been converted into a massive formation practice ground, with array plates scattered across the artificial turf and spiritual sensors mounted on every goalpost to track their every mistake.

"Maybe we should create a new AI," Vivian suggested.

"A Humansong AI that generates more reasonable, humanlike movements. Something we could actually replicate." Morimoto vetoed it immediately.

"The entire point is that cranelike movements are difficult to replicate. We cannot rely on a confusing final formation alone to win. Remember, during the drawing phase of the Grand Formations Summit, every team can use their divine sense to inspect and memorize what we're doing." He paused, eyes lighting up.

"But I do have something that might help with the training." Before anyone could respond, he ran off to the sideline.

"Nobody asked for help," Leo called after him. Morimoto returned carrying a large cardboard box. He set it down and pulled out six pink tutus, each one covered in glittering sequins and white feathers.

"Children!" Morimoto announced, holding the box up with obvious pride.

"Perhaps these will assist with your formation work. I acquired them from a local ballet studio. They were very happy to donate to the cause." Thad snickered and turned to his sister.

"You should wear one. I'd love to see what a tutu does for your engagement numbers." Ella's violet eyes narrowed.

"You are aware there are six tutus, Thadelion." Thad's grin vanished. He glared at Morimoto.

"Morimoto, can we go back to stuffing people in duffel bags? That worked great in Berlin." Danyl Shevchuk, the formations student from Ukraine, backed up and held his hands up.

"Count me out, Thad. If you're planning to stuff the best and brightest of the Catacombs into a duffel bag, at least give me a heads up before their Monarchs and Eternals come looking for us." Professor Vogt's voice cut through the chatter. Everyone fell silent.

"There is no shortcut." She looked at each of them in turn.

"Remember what is at stake. This will make it so when you reach Foundation Establishment, you will jump to fifty thousand Si instead of twenty thousand Si. This will save decades of grueling formation work for some of you." She made sure to look directly at Wang Liyang.

"A little pain now saves a great deal of pain later." Wang Liyang's shoulders slumped. He looked at the tutu in Morimoto's hands, then at the formation plates scattered across the field, then back at the tutu.

"Fine," he muttered.

"But I'm not wearing the pink one." Morimoto beamed.

"They're all pink."

A soft knock came at Leo's door.

"Psst. Leo." Leo looked up from the formation diagrams spread across his desk. He walked over and opened the door. Wang Liyang stood in the hallway, glancing left and right like a man being hunted. His usual confident demeanor had been replaced by something decidedly more sheepish.

"How much would it cost," Wang Liyang said quietly, "to get you and Thad to delete the pictures you took of me?" Leo leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms.

"You know, information is a fascinating thing, Wang Liyang. In the modern economy, data is more valuable than oil. Pictures, especially embarrassing ones, represent a form of social currency that appreciates over time. The longer you wait, the more valuable they become."

"There's also the matter of scarcity. These are the only photos in existence of you in a pink tutu. That makes them essentially priceless. And then you have to consider the network effect. One photo shared becomes ten becomes a hundred. The potential reach is enormous. Really, when you think about it, I'd be doing myself a disservice to even put a number on something so inherently..." Wang Liyang just stared at him.

"So how much?" Leo smiled.

"You're a smart kid. What do you think?" Wang Liyang's eye twitched.

"You're not going to delete them, are you?"

"Consider it an object lesson." Leo patted him on the shoulder.

"You should stop taking what people say at face value." He closed the door.