The Young Uncle of the F1 in the Elite Academy - Chapter 1

Now, it was Song Xingqiu’s turn.

“Did you hear? Our school is getting a new transfer student.”

“Oh! You mean Young Master Song’s relative or whoever?”

With just a brief, casual glance from him, the two students whispering to each other felt as if they had been seized by the scruff of their necks. Their eager, gossiping voices came to an abrupt halt.

The youth walking past them was tall and limber, clearly in the middle of a growth spurt where all his nutrition was dedicated to his height. He was quite thin. His finely tailored black uniform clung closely to his lean frame. Rather than looking weak, he exuded a vibrant, resilient, and youthful energy.

His face was handsome with deep, defined features, and his eyes held a depth that did not match his age. This gravity tempered his youthful aura, adding a layer of steady composure. Hearing people discuss him, a faint, indiscernible smile played at the corners of Song Xingqiu’s lips. It was not playful or mocking, but rather a peaceful sense of amusement.

It was a pure, top-down gaze: a calm look that contained the weight of absolute dominance. It was the naturally curious glance of someone simply hearing a discussion about themselves. However, the two students reacted like herbivores locked in the sights of a natural predator. They froze instantly, the hair on their necks stood up, and all sound died away. Only after Song Xingqiu’s silhouette faded into the distance did they remember how to breathe.

They exchanged a look. No words were spoken, but their terrified eyes said everything. The transfer student they assumed would be a pushover was anything but. The academy was likely about to get very interesting.

Walking further away, Song Xingqiu took in the sights of this historic academy filled with ancient architecture. It was an elite institution located at the very heart of the Empire’s culture, standing in silent opposition to the Empire’s center of political power: Exlonya Academy.

Exlonya Noble Academy was built five centuries ago. To maintain its five-hundred-year glory and heritage, the academy spared no expense, investing massive sums into meticulous repairs and renovations every year.

In the Empire, both middle and high school consist of four grades. Song Xingqiu was this year’s transfer student. Based on his age, he should have entered the third year, but to escape the academy’s shackles as soon as possible, he chose the highest grade: the fourth year.

Entering the building, he was met by a wide corridor. Light slanted in through the arched windows, sliced into warm beams by the sturdy frames. Song Xingqiu looked up and saw tiny dust motes floating in the air before his gaze passed through them to rest on the heavy rosewood doors.

With the backing of immense wealth, the academy’s antiquity did not feel heavy. Instead, it felt imbued with a modern lightness, much like the true nature of the school itself. It effortlessly buried the most primitive laws of survival and bullying beneath the warm stone slabs underfoot.

Song Xingqiu stepped forward. The heels of his leather shoes struck the old stone floor with a dull, lingering echo. Classrooms lined both sides of the hallway, yet it was so quiet that only the resonance of his footsteps remained. His heart remained as still as an ancient well as he pushed open the classroom door.

The brightest morning sun streamed through the massive arched windows, only to eventually sink into the gloom in the depths of the classroom. As a noble academy for elite education, classes were naturally small. Only about a dozen students sat in this room. They wore black uniforms, each impeccably dressed. The poise nurtured by a life of privilege made them appear elegant and composed.

“They certainly look the part,” Song Xingqiu appraised.

If Song Xingqiu had not transmigrated into this book and read the entire novel, a shallow glance might have convinced him that these were indeed a group of decent, well-bred heirs. Instead, the gazes that snapped toward him were like wolves hidden in the dark: thick with a viscous, excited malice. They scanned him nakedly from head to toe like a silent judgment, completing a covert mockery in the stillness.

Song Xingqiu scanned the room and immediately spotted the only unoccupied seat. Ignoring the jeering eyes of everyone present, he walked straight toward the empty spot.

The harsh sound of a chair being pulled back rang out. Unsurprised, Song Xingqiu watched as two short, sawn-off chair legs went rolling across the floor. Had he sat down without checking, falling flat on his back would have been the least of his problems.

He shifted his gaze from the chair to the desk. On the surface of the expensive wood, a faint reflection was visible if one looked closely: fresh glue, poured only moments ago. If he had placed his hands on it, he would have lost a layer of skin trying to get free. As for the desk drawer, Song Xingqiu did not even bother looking.

It was a low-level “welcome gift,” yet it was the first glimpse of the bloody, filthy oppression hidden beneath the polished elegance of this noble academy. Song Xingqiu looked at it with genuine interest. Was this the standard operating procedure described in the novel for dealing with scholarship students and outcasts? It was truly shallow and boring.

Five years ago, Song Xingqiu, a first-generation entrepreneur who had been expanding his business empire, transmigrated into this world without warning. It was a “Mary Sue” novel set in a noble academy. The story followed Shen Qianyan, a resilient girl from an ordinary family who enrolled as a scholarship student at Exlonya Academy, a school established solely to groom the heirs of the Great Houses. There, Shen Qianyan became entangled in various emotional conflicts with the elite heirs.

Song Xingqiu had read the book with a permanent frown. Aside from the melodramatic tropes, what bothered him most was the depiction of the academy. It did not resemble a modern educational institution. It felt like a coliseum under a slave system: rigidly hierarchical, barbaric, and full of exploitation. Sometimes it was worse than slavery, operating purely on the law of the jungle.

To put it kindly, it stripped away the shell of civilization to reach the core of human nature. To put it bluntly, it was a regression to primitivity. Before entering the glitzy world of power, these nobles were allowed to release their inner malice away from the gaze of secular morality and law. Their debauchery was wrapped in high-class arrogance, but they were essentially just a group of notorious teenagers.

Standard teenagers commit antisocial acts by exploiting legal loopholes for minors. These noble teenagers committed antisocial acts by exploiting class privilege. There was no fundamental difference. Both relied on a form of immunity to bully others.

Song Xingqiu was well-acquainted with people who sought thrills and pleasure through the humiliation of others. Before transmigrating, he was a self-made man who had risen from the bottom. He had seen every dark facet of humanity: those struggling to survive, those grasping for wealth, and those protecting their status. In his eyes, the methods of these nobles were amateurish and their motives were hollow, reflecting the empty spiritual worlds of these pampered sons.

After reading the book, he had not planned on taking it to heart. When he first arrived, he was in the Federation, while the academy was in the Empire, separated by an ocean. As long as he did not return to the Empire, he would not have to deal with the school. As for being in a “book world,” Song Xingqiu did not care. Whether it was the real world or a fictional one, as long as he was real and his life proceeded normally, there was no difference. Perhaps his previous world had been a book written by someone else as well.

Song Xingqiu maintained his original pace of life. Setting aside the problematic students at the academy, the original owner of the body he inhabited was not a saint either. The original Song Xingqiu was the young uncle of “F1,” the leader of the school’s “F4” clique. He was the half-brother of F1’s father.

Song Xingqiu’s biological mother was twenty years younger than her husband and successfully married into the family as the second wife. Even after her husband’s grandchildren were born, she managed to give birth to a son of her own. She happily thought she had secured her future. After all, in a wealthy family, brothers usually meant inheritance wars. As the Elder’s biological son, he would surely get a massive fortune or even control of the company.

But the age gap between the brothers was too vast. While this younger Song Xingqiu was still a toddler, his older brother was already the second-in-command of the company, having secured his position through ruthless efficiency. How could Song Xingqiu compete? Not only could he not compete, but he was also sent abroad during elementary school under various excuses, completely isolated from the center of power. Being sent abroad at such a young age without parental guidance was not cultivation; it was abandonment and exile. It was a recipe for a ruined life.

Elder Song did not stop it. When he was young, he might have enjoyed watching his children compete, but in his old age, he just wanted peace. He did not want to see his sons locked in a bitter struggle, nor did he want the company’s reputation damaged. Since the eldest son was capable and the matter was settled, the second son had to be sacrificed for family harmony.

To a family like theirs, that sacrifice was nothing. By the time the second son grew up and returned, the company would be entirely in the hands of the eldest. Regarding Song Xingqiu’s mother, she was from an ordinary background and truly believed her husband when he said studying abroad was for the child’s own good. She actually fantasized about her son returning from abroad to dominate the scene. She did not even put up a fight; she happily sent her son away.

Song Xingqiu was only eleven when he was sent to the Federation. The school system there was slightly different: six years of elementary, four years of middle school, and four years of high school. Adulthood was at eighteen, and university began at twenty. Though he was alone, the Song family did not ignore him. They provided a live-in tutor, a driver, and a nanny. The tutor supervised his life and studies constantly.

However, the original Song Xingqiu was already a “bad seed.” Once he was free from the cage of home and parental discipline, he fell in with the wrong crowd and let himself go entirely. Even a gold-standard tutor with a five-million-credit salary could not fix him. When the current Song Xingqiu transmigrated, the fourteen-year-old original owner had just finished a three-day bender with his friends. His neglected body could not handle the strain, and he died of a sudden cardiac arrest.

Song Xingqiu spent his first month in the hospital. It took him a full year to break the original owner’s bad habits, rehabilitate the body, and get his vitals back to normal. At fourteen, the original owner was less than 1.6 meters tall. Through careful maintenance, Song Xingqiu finally made up for years of indulgence. His growth spurt came late. Last year, at eighteen, he started growing rapidly, finally breaking the 1.8-meter mark this year. He grew so fast that he looked quite thin, but thin did not mean weak. He had taken plenty of boxing and combat classes.

In the five years since his arrival, Song Xingqiu had not just been exercising. In his previous life, he was a self-made man who had clawed his way out of the slums. He had fallen into countless traps and endured endless nights to reach his position. He had not expected to die of overwork only to become a wealthy heir who could not lift a finger. He had no sympathy for the original owner. A person like that was better off dead; it was the original’s greatest contribution to the world. However, he was satisfied with the original’s background.

When he asked his father for money to start a business while recovering in the hospital, Elder Song transferred 100 million Federation credits without a word. Elder Song knew about his son’s messy life, but he had seen too many lost-cause playboys. He thought it was impossible to fix him. Out of guilt for the eldest son’s dominance and his own absence, he just swallowed the cost of raising him. Elder Song was numb to his son’s antics. This latest heart attack from partying was just the final straw. He had decided to give up on the boy entirely, until things took a turn.

Perhaps a brush with death had changed him. Hearing that his son wanted to start a business, the Elder supported it completely. Whether he succeeded or not did not matter. As long as he was occupied and not killing himself, it was fine. Money was the one thing the family did not lack. Song Xingqiu was shocked when he checked his account. Is this what it feels like to be the son of the Empire’s richest man? A fourteen-year-old says he wants to start a business, and his father gives him 100 million. He had never fought a war with such a massive budget.

Song Xingqiu: “Being a rich kid is amazing!” Song Xingqiu: “I want to be a rich second-generation kid in my next life, too!”

The man who had suffered his whole life had never seen anything like this. “Money makes money” was not a joke; it was a cold reality. He used to hate people with safety nets, but now, he wholeheartedly loved his wealthy parents. With his expertise and his father’s relentless support, Song Xingqiu amassed a net worth of 10 billion Federation credits in just five years, becoming a legend in the Federation’s business circles.

When Elder Song first received a call from him later on, he assumed the boy had squandered the money and was asking for more. He sounded almost relieved that at least his son had not died: “Out of money? I will transfer another 50 million.”

“Father, the market value of the new energy company I invested in last year has doubled.”

They both stopped talking. Elder Song tried to process the words. He had not looked at his son’s accounts since giving him the money. He had left it to subordinates because looking at it usually just upset him.

“What did you say?” Elder Song asked in disbelief.

Song Xingqiu pivoted smoothly, his voice full of unshielded joy: “Oh, dear Father, thank you. I love you. You are the kindest, most wonderful father in the world. I happen to need that 50 million. Are you sending it today or tomorrow?”

As for his good news report, he acted like he never said it. That was the thick skin he had developed in the business world of his past life. Since that first 100 million, he had perfectly stepped into the role of “Song Xingqiu.” His happiness was not an act. Who would not be happy about a free 50 million?

Elder Song: “…”

The Elder quickly calmed down. He suspected the kid was lying to scam more money. He hung up and opened the reports from the tutor and the investigators. Everything Song Xingqiu said was true. His youngest son had come back from the brink of death and turned into a business prodigy. Elder Song was overjoyed. He knew his son could not be a fool. He was just a late bloomer. He immediately sent another 100 million. If the child was learning, no amount of money was a waste.

Song Xingqiu did not let him down. Over five years, he built a fortune of 10 billion. Just as he thought he was free from the plot of the novel, his older brother, Song Cheng, the father of F1, contacted him. Song Cheng wanted him to return and transfer to Exlonya Academy. The reason was simple: F1 was becoming increasingly arrogant and incompetent. As a father, Song Cheng could no longer control him. He only had one child, and it was too late to have another one now. He could not trust the company to F1.

Hearing that his younger brother had achieved great things in the Federation, he had a bold idea: use the uncle to stimulate the nephew. He would announce that Song Xingqiu was a legitimate contender for the inheritance of the Song Group to force F1 to work harder. In reality, the company would still go to F1.

To secure Song Xingqiu’s cooperation, he offered terms he could not refuse:

1. The future rulers of the Empire all attend Exlonya. If Song Xingqiu wanted to expand his business in the Empire, he needed those connections.
2. Regardless of the outcome, Song Cheng would give him a company worth no less than 5 billion.
3. If F1 actually changed for the better, Song Cheng would give Song Xingqiu 2% of the Song Group’s shares.

It took Song Xingqiu one second to agree. No one hates more money, especially easy money. But he had one condition.

“What condition?” Song Cheng asked.

“I want ownership of Exlonya Academy,” Song Xingqiu replied bluntly.

Exlonya was family-owned, currently held by Song Cheng. It was F1’s greatest source of power at school. Song Cheng hesitated. The academy’s market value was not the point. Its true value lay in its status as the cradle of the Empire’s future ruling class. Song Xingqiu saw him waver and stepped back: “Give me management rights for one year.”

Song Cheng breathed a sigh of relief. “One year is fine.” He then laughed. “You are quite cautious.”

“Caution is a virtue,” Song Xingqiu replied.

Looking back, it was a 100% correct decision. Song Cheng was curious: “But only one year? You are nineteen. You should be in the third year. You have two years left of school.”

“One year is enough.”

Song Cheng soon found out why. As soon as Song Xingqiu got management rights, he used the back door to skip the third year and enroll directly into the fourth year. He compressed his time at the academy into a single year. Song Cheng: “Fine. As long as he is happy.”

Song Cheng twitched. He had offered better terms because he thought he was wasting two years of Song Xingqiu’s time. He had been waiting for his brother to haggle. Instead, the kid just took management rights for a year and skipped a grade. He realized his brother had not succeeded in the Federation by accident.

Now that Song Xingqiu had arrived, he had no intention of playing house with a group of teenagers. He looked up, his calm gaze sweeping the room as he asked directly, “Who did this?”

The students had been disappointed when he did not fall for the trap. Hearing his naive question, they almost burst out laughing. “Just like the rumors said: half-peasant blood.” He spoke just like a commoner. He had been exiled for so long that he actually thought he was being cultivated. These heirs did not see an exile as one of their own.

Encouraged by F1’s silent approval, the students looked at him with mockery and contempt. Only a fool would answer. The classroom remained silent, but a secret, restless excitement thrummed in the air. This was how they always toyed with the scholarship students. The victims would get bullied but find no culprit. Their attempts to demand safety were met only with cold stares and intensified torment. The nobles loved watching the scholarship students’ mental walls crumble, from initial anger to total, isolated terror.

Now, it was Song Xingqiu’s turn.

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