"Transfer majors?"
Qi Li had his arm around Kate's fair shoulders. Surprised by her words, he turned his head to look at her.
Kate's expression showed this was no sudden whim.
Gazing at Qi Li, she said earnestly, "I want... to stay by your side from now on, to truly help your career and be a real asset to you. So I've been thinking about transferring to the School of Performing Arts to major in Hero Management."
A degree in Hero Management basically meant working as a superhero agent or talent manager.
Kate was planning to give up her own glamorous superhero career, choosing instead to entrust everything to Qi Li and spend the rest of her life supporting him from the shadows.
It had to be said that, shaped by her past, a subtle insecurity had always lurked deep within her heart.
While this romance matched every fantasy she had ever harbored, filling her with joy, she was also unconsciously plagued by fear of loss—terrified that one day it would all vanish, plunging her back into being that lonely girl hated by her own family.
As a result, she willingly placed herself in a subservient position in this relationship.
To build a better future with Qi Li, she was even ready to switch majors just to support him more effectively.
Qi Li fell silent for a moment before smiling. "Sounds like you want to steal Monica's job."
Kate buried her head deep in the crook of his neck. "I don't care what kind of work it is, as long as it helps you."
Qi Li pulled her a little tighter, his tone turning serious. "If you really want to help me, then don't change majors."
"Huh?" Kate lifted her head, looking at him in utter confusion.
To her mind, if she wanted to support Qi Li, the obvious choice was something like Hero Management that offered practical backing for his career, rather than staying in Crimefighting, where each hero had to fend for themselves.
Choosing the latter meant she wouldn't be able to help him at all—and might even end up competing against him down the line.
She voiced her doubts.
Listening to her, Qi Li sighed inwardly.
Sure enough, every place had its own mental imprint.
Just as the superhero industry in this world possessed a unique mental stamp of its own.
Kate was no exception.
In the eyes of the vast majority of superhumans, a superpower was mostly just a tool.
More fundamentally, it was purely a money-making tool, not an instrument for battle.
Such was the prevailing social ethos.
A superhuman's lifelong achievement was judged by their fame and commercial value.
Most superhumans simply accepted whatever powers they manifested instead of digging deep to unlock their full potential.
More often than not, they poured all their energy into pleasure and, like traditional celebrities, schemed over how to boost their public profile across every platform.
To superhumans of this world, the supervillains in the Marvel universe—who got superpowers and spent all day either seeking vengeance on society or obsessing over world conquest—would just look like lunatics who had too much free time on their hands and took pleasure in making themselves miserable.
With that kind of time, wouldn't it be infinitely more fun and carefree to make promotional appearances, land endorsements, indulge in luxury, throw parties, and rack up fans?
When Qi Li first arrived, he found it completely jarring.
In his view, if superhumans existed in numbers large enough to form an entire demographic, there ought to be no disputing who was strongest in martial prowess—a definitive hierarchy based strictly on combat capability rather than commercial value.
What? Your superpower is ranked fifty-second? Step aside; I'm ranked twenty-second.
You say your power makes you more popular with girls and has higher commercial value?
Get lost!
When did proud superpowered individuals stoop so low as to play the clown on stage for cheap applause?
An utter disgrace to our kind!
With that kind of free time, you'd be better off enrolling in a superpower training camp, properly developing your abilities, and beating down every competitor standing in your way one by one.
When the time was ripe, you could secure an official post within the national defense or scientific research apparatus, rising to prominence through genuine merit.
At worst, if you had grand ambitions, you could strike out on your own or even become a supervillain—at least that was a thrilling path.
In short, superpowers were the ultimate bedrock of your existence; you had to develop them with everything you had. That way, even if things went terribly wrong, you could still bet on yourself and fight your way out.
What on earth was the point of becoming a pop superstar?
All one could say was that values and customs varied drastically from place to place.
Take the hotly debated topic of superhuman military contracts: things had been stalled in America, held up by massive resistance in Congress.
Back in the Eastern Power, there probably wouldn't be all this exhausting, time-consuming bickering; policies would be swiftly rolled out to integrate superhumans into national defense, scientific research, and other state systems.
Having lived here for so many years, Qi Li had adapted. He even quite enjoyed the superstar lifestyle—champagne in hand, a beauty in his arms, adored by millions. But with his Eastern background, he saw things far more clearly than the other superhumans.
Money, power, women, fame—others could give you all of that, and others could take it away.
Only one thing could never be stripped away, something others would always regard with deep dread.
Your superpower.
That was the ultimate guarantee of everything.
And so, as much as Qi Li enjoyed indulging himself, he never neglected the serious business of honing and expanding his superpowers.
It was precisely that daily accumulation over the years that had made taking down his first superhuman so effortless.
His opponent had been capable of hurling lava-like fireballs from his hands. In terms of lethality, a direct hit would have melted a gaping hole even through a superhuman.
Yet from start to finish, the man had zero aim. He did nothing but screech and holler the entire time, firing blindly based purely on feel.
In the end, when Qi Li closed the distance, this "superhero"—whose favorite pastime was burning people alive, especially the elderly, which he euphemistically claimed was reducing the aging population—didn't even have the spine to put up a desperate fight. Terrified out of his wits, he dropped to his knees on the spot, snot and tears streaming down his face as he wailed and begged for mercy.
It was like dropping a relentless grinder into a pack of slackers; naturally, he had torn right through him.
Of course, with so many superhumans out there, it wasn't as if hard-grinding strivers didn't exist at all.
Qi Li had specifically watched Queen Maeve's training videos.
In the footage, she hadn't relied on superhuman strength or speed, yet wielding a single sword, she had effortlessly dismantled an ambush by multiple burly men who were also armed.
Qi Li had watched with gleaming eyes, full of admiration.
And so.
When it came to Kate's proposal to switch majors, Qi Li shot it down.
Having such potent psychic powers and wasting them on being a talent manager would be a catastrophic waste of talent.
After all, what he truly needed at his side had always been strivers, not slackers.
Chapter 36