Chapter 153 - 1

Ronan Valom stood on the edge of the rooftop, then suddenly... he transmigrated.

He could swear to the God that he had just glanced down, with no intention of jumping or falling to his death, but somehow, he fell and transmigrated.

Darkness enveloped him, a never-ending fall, with all reality gradually fading away. When the air disappeared, and inertia ceased to be felt, with no point of reference and no sense of time, it seemed that the very meaning of existence had vanished.

Only the sensation of his palm on his chest, with his heart still beating, reminded Ronan that time was still flowing, albeit tenuously.

But even that reference began to blur. His heartbeat grew weaker, his hands became numb, and his entire body seemed to shrink. Along the way, some inexplicable forces began converging from his limbs toward a singular point on his chest.

What could these forces be? Blood, energy, or perhaps even his very soul...

When Ronan finally realized this wasn't a hallucination, he had already transformed into a newborn baby. The frightened howl in his mouth turned into a high-pitched cry.

The singularity on his chest seemed to have absorbed enough energy. With a flash of light, a blue shockwave erupted in all directions before condensing into a shining point of light that quietly floated within his chest.

As the shockwave spread, Ronan's now-oversized clothes turned to ash. The only things left were a large-screen smartphone, his wallet, and a few hundred dollars in cash. These too turned to ash—a significant loss, but there was no time to feel distressed.

It seemed his journey had finally reached its end. As he fell, the surrounding void dissipated, and Ronan saw the beautiful blue planet once more.

Passing through thick clouds and feeling the water vapor wet his cheeks, he saw the dots of lights below, along with the winding highway beneath them. But all around him was desolation.

And still, he continued to fall.

——So, is my fate after transmigrating to still be smashed to death? Wouldn't it have been better if I hadn't transmigrated at all? At least I could have left a place for my family to mourn.

He thought self-deprecatingly. Just as he closed his eyes, ready to accept his fate, the world seemed to suddenly press the pause button. All the inertia and force exerted on him vanished, replaced by a gentle caress, and he slowly descended to the ground like a feather.

Aside from the sharp pain from the stones on his butt, he was unscathed.

But the danger wasn't over. Although the weather wasn't too cold and Ronan, now naked, didn't feel uncomfortable, the quiet wilderness around him, devoid of any dangerous wild animals, still posed a significant threat to a baby.

Struggling to move his tiny limbs, Ronan turned over and crawled toward his phone.

I wonder if there's a signal in this world? Do the major carriers have branches here? But apart from calling, I have no other way to save myself.

Although being discovered might lead to being treated as an alien, that seemed preferable to dying in such an unknown way.

But the problem was that no matter how much Ronan pressed the power button, the phone screen remained dark.

"This is useless! If I had known better, I wouldn't have bought a knockoff!"

He muttered in his heart.

As if responding to his thoughts, the phone suddenly lit up. Unfortunately, it lit up in a strange way—the screen remained pitch black, but a dazzling flash of light burst from the cracks around the interface. It was like hundreds of kilograms of TNT explosives had been stuffed inside the phone...

Crap! It's going to blow up!

Could it be that I hurt its feelings with my thoughts?

But why would a smartphone have feelings? And how did it learn to self-destruct?

As he tumbled, trying to get away, his plump baby body kept rolling. He hoped to roll far enough to escape the blast radius if the phone exploded, but then the light on the phone suddenly stopped.

Maybe the anger subsided?

All right! You're a mature phone now, it's time to face life on your own. Farewell, no send-off!

Even though it didn't explode, if something like this happened, Ronan wasn't crazy enough to pick up the phone again.

For such unknown things, he always believed in running as far away as possible.

Continuing to roll away, Ronan acted decisively, but the phone seemed reluctant to let go. It even grew two legs and started chasing after him.

That's right, two legs really grew out of it. Not only that, but with a strange "Cool, cool, cool" sound, the body twisted and transformed. Aside from the two short mechanical legs in the lower half, the upper half sprouted two relatively thick mechanical arms, and the phone's high-powered cameras moved up to form a head, along with the signal lights.

The oversized touch screen flipped and split, symmetrically spreading to both sides, forming four small transparent wings.

It looked just like the Nokia Transformers in the first Transformers movie, the little guy that was born due to the influence of the All-Spark, only to meet its end a few seconds later.

Though small, it packed some serious firepower with its built-in machine gun and rocket launcher...

——There was no mistaking it. As the distance between them closed, Ronan tragically realized that he couldn't outrun a small mobile phone. Despite his best efforts to roll away, the phone caught up with its two short legs. Finding it too slow to run on legs, its wings flapped for a moment, lifting it awkwardly off the ground before it clattered down on top of its "beloved" master.

My life is over!

But contrary to Ronan's expectations, the little robot neither shot him with its machine gun nor bombarded him with rockets. Instead, it chirped excitedly, jumping up and down on his chest.

Moreover, it seemed... as if... Ronan could understand what it was saying.

So he asked, "Who are you?"

Unexpectedly, his baby vocal cords weren't mature, and the only sound he made was a cry of "waah waah waah."

But the little robot seemed to understand, and what followed was a conversation that would be nonsensical to anyone else, but them ans he could somehow understand them.

"Who are you? (Wah wah?)"

"I am your creation, oh great master! (Chirp, chirp, chirp!)"

"Creation? Master? (Wah? Wah?)"

"Yes, all glory belongs to the All-Spark, and you are the master of the All-Spark! (Chirp, chirp, chirp...)"

The All-Spark? So the light spot on my chest is the All-Spark from Transformers? So this little robot...

"Are you a Transformer? (Wah? Wah?)" Ronan blurted out.

Although seeing the little robot's appearance and birth had made him suspicious, when the suspicion turned into reality, it still surprised him.

But the little robot's response was unexpected.

"Transformers? What is that? (Chirp chirp?)"

"..."

...

After much questioning, Ronan finally understood everything.

Although the appearance was different, the light spot on his chest could indeed be called the All-Spark, possessing the ability to give life, soul, and wisdom to all mechanical creations.

It could even automatically retrieve Ronan's memories and give the creatures specific personalities, appearances, and skills according to his wishes, but the only thing it couldn't give was memory.

This wasn't hard to understand. The so-called memory is the impression, cognition, etc., that a living being has of its experiences... It's complicated, but if the being didn't experience it itself, any implanted memory would just be false "information."

Therefore, the so-called Transformers, Autobots, Decepticons, and all other names from the Transformers universe would only exist if Ronan introduced them.

But Ronan still decided to name his creations "Transformers."

This represented his nostalgia for his previous world, his affirmation of the Transformers, and... wait, wait, wait!

Absolutely not! Absolutely not! ——It's not that he's too lazy to come up with new names, nor that he's aware of how terrible he is at naming...

Ronan's upper and lower eyelids grew heavy. A baby's energy is limited, and now that he was protected by a small robot, he felt safe.

——Though small in size, don't underestimate its capabilities. Even a dictator as secure as Hitler could have met his end at the hands of a small pocket watch weapon.

Taking advantage of the last bit of clarity before falling asleep, Ronan asked the little robot, "What's your name?"

But aside from instinctively recognizing the master who controlled its life and soul, the little robot was a blank slate.

"Name? What's that? Is it tasty?" The little robot continued to jump excitedly on Ronan's body, oblivious to the fact that its master's exposed skin had turned red from its steps, nor realizing that it had reached the most "crisis" moment since its birth...

"Forget it, I'll give you a name!" "You'll be called 'Smart Guy.'"

Smart Guy...

Although the little robot had no memory of names, it somehow felt deeply wrong at this moment. But before it could question it, its master had already fallen into a deep sleep.

Well, let's end the conversation here. Our protagonist finally seemed exhausted after his day of fantastical experiences and fell asleep.

——Of course, it's also possible that the author is tired of typing "chirp, chirp, wah, wah, wah" endlessly and decided to take a break before readers start thinking the author is just here to mess with them.

——Perhaps it was the latter. After all, people say that anything is possible.

Not long after Ronan Valom fell asleep, a group of men in black uniforms appeared in the wilderness, equipped with various instruments to detect energy.

They activated their devices, left the highway, and began searching the surrounding area. Beforehand, they had already secured the perimeter.

However, even if it hadn't been secured, it wouldn't have mattered much. This stretch of road is deserted, with hardly any traffic passing through on a typical day. If it weren't for the fact that it leads to an important military base, the road might not have even been constructed.

One of the men in black, who was participating in fieldwork for the first time, felt a bit disappointed. He had originally planned to showcase his cool demeanor on this road. He imagined a scene where a group of stylish people in luxury convertibles passed by, and he could flash his badge, saying in a seemingly friendly yet cold tone, "I'm sorry, this road is temporarily closed due to special circumstances. Please take a detour."

And if one of the drivers became annoyed and caused a scene, he could invite them to step out for a chat and demonstrate his newly acquired combat skills, impressing the fashionably dressed women in the car. They would witness firsthand the presence of a "real man."

Maybe he wouldn't feel so lonely after work...

But now, this assignment felt more like a chore. He couldn't even tell what they were looking for. Had he known it would be this dull, he might as well have stayed in the car and slept.

The man absentmindedly twirled his ID, which bore the large, bold letters: "Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division."

—Commonly referred to as "S.H.I.E.L.D."

----

"Name?"

"Ronan Valom."

"Age?"

"Six years old."

"Gender?"

"…Don't you know all this?"

"Please don't change the subject!" The middle-aged man sitting at the desk slapped the documents in his hand, his frustration evident. "Tell me, how many times has this happened? It's rare to find a child like you—adopted four times in a row, only to be returned each time! Congratulations, you've set a new record for Robert's Home."

"Hmm… is that a compliment?"

The man rolled his eyes in exasperation, nearly losing his breath in the process.

"Ha, let's see what the reason is this time." He flipped through the documents angrily, his expression quickly confirming his suspicions.

"Yes, it's the same reason again!—destroying household appliances!"

"Tell me, you little rascal!" He glared at Ronan, his stern gaze boring into him. "Why do you have to tear apart other people's electrical appliances every time you go to a new home?"

"Sir," Ronan shrugged helplessly. The six-year-old boy looked oddly adorable making such an expression. "I told you, it's a talent. Do you believe me?"

"Talent!?" Destruction is a talent!?

As the current director of Robert's Home, Mr. Hanason's anger threatened to explode from his shiny bald head, with a terrifying intensity that seemed to scorch the sparse hairs surrounding it.

Fortunately, he remembered his responsibilities, suppressed his anger, and continued to glare at the child in front of him, as if willing him to reform.

"Child, we're like your family here. No matter what problems you have, we can help you. But first, you must learn to be honest with us," he said sternly.

Ronan could only remain silent. He wasn't lying. The reason for his destruction of those appliances was indeed due to his "talent"...

Ever since he transmigrated to this world, the All-Spark embedded in his chest had been malfunctioning, occasionally going berserk.

Whenever it went out of control, it would absorb energy from all nearby electrical appliances, from tiny watch batteries to massive car TVs. After the energy was completely drained, those appliances would be left damaged, with their casings shattered and parts scattered everywhere…

It did look as if they'd been forcibly taken apart...

The explanation given by the Smart Ghost was that the All-Spark required energy absorption to convert it into a super energy body, necessary for transforming Transformers and sustaining itself.

It seemed that the All-Spark embedded in his body was not only different in appearance from others, but its function was also incomplete. Even the energy collection had to be done manually.

While Ronan drifted into thought, Hanason's face grew darker, the silence in the room thickening. Just as Hanason was about to explode again, a sudden knock on the door rescued Ronan from his predicament.

"Mr. Hanason, may I come in?"

"Please do." Hanason barely suppressed his anger, addressing the door. Then, turning to Ronan, he said, "We'll settle your account later. Now, get out of here."

"Okay, sir!"

Ronan hurriedly exited, passing Jennifer, who opened the door and walked in. He flashed her a grateful smile as she gave him a knowing look.

Jennifer, the nurse, had always taken good care of him. She'd been the one to help him out whenever he was scolded by the director. Ronan couldn't help but feel a wave of gratitude wash over him.

Outside, the sounds of children playing filled the hall. Ronan, harboring the soul of an adult, naturally avoided associating with these "little brats." He found a secluded spot to sit and switched on the Smart Ghost's interface, starting up a single-player game on his phone.

Unfortunately, in this early 21st-century timeline, wireless networks were nonexistent. This often led to Ronan lamenting the lack of opportunities to fully utilize his smartphone's potential.

After being discovered by S.H.I.E.L.D. agents in the wilderness, Ronan, who had no identification, was placed in this children's welfare home.

Although it was a coincidence, the agents didn't suspect that the special object they were searching for was a tiny baby. After all, the 'unknown flying object' that had suddenly appeared in the atmosphere, plummeting at extreme speed without being detected by any radar or telescope, was assumed to be either a meteorite, a missile, or perhaps even a UFO...

This allowed Ronan to escape detection, but only temporarily. If they ever discovered his unique situation, it would be impossible to avoid coming under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s scrutiny once more.

Just like now…

There was no other choice but to have Smart Ghost make another move tonight—hacking into the police station's system before S.H.I.E.L.D. could find out, deleting the alarm records, and tampering with the documents in Hanason's office.

It wasn't that difficult, given that Ronan had done it before, so he was already quite familiar with the process.

As Ronan pondered whether he had exposed any flaws, a volunteer, who looked like a college student, slowly approached.

It was obvious that this was his first time visiting the orphanage. He didn't recognize Ronan, who was known as a 'troublemaker' among the staff. Seeing him sitting alone in the corner, the volunteer asked directly, "Is everything okay? Can I help you?"

The volunteer was very earnest, but…

"With all due respect, sir, I'm afraid you can't help with my problem."

"Why don't you tell me about it?" The volunteer persisted.

"Alright then," Ronan sighed. "Sir, do you have Wi-Fi...?"

"…"

Ahhh! I just want to connect my phone! I want to play games! I want to watch short videos!

As the volunteer stood there, clearly at a loss, Jennifer emerged from the office, beckoning Ronan aside with a grateful look toward the volunteer.

"Stop teasing them, Ronan, and don't give poor old Hanason any more grief. I know you'll be a good boy!"

Mmm! Mmm! Mmm!

Ronan nodded quickly. He truly believed he was a good boy, but the All-Spark in his body evidently had other opinions. I swear, it's all its fault, not mine. Do you believe me?

As for Mr. Hanason, Ronan never intended to make him angry. Others might not know the full story, but Ronan, who often let Smart Ghost sneak into the director's office at night, was well aware of how much Hanason had "sacrificed" for the orphanage…

Middle-aged weight gain, hair loss, and three failed marriages were just the beginning.

He evaded taxes, tampered with government documents, flattered politicians, licked the mayor's boots, and on Christmas Eve, dragged orphans around like door-to-door salesmen, begging for donations. He even agreed to rent out the first floor of the orphanage, after renovations, to an adult product store…

On Halloween, he refused to give candy to trick-or-treating kids. He never tipped at fast-food restaurants. He claimed to be on a business trip to avoid paying a decorator's bill. And yes, he even groveled to avoid compensation…

Hanason's life was like that of an unkillable cockroach. Ronan believed his own little troubles barely registered as a blip on Hanason's radar.

But… Hanason had never embezzled a single cent of the orphanage's public funds. Every penny of his own money was invested into keeping the orphanage running. Even that time he groveled, it was because of Ronan…

Though the adoptive families were pre-vetted by the government, that didn't guarantee they were all kind-hearted. Faced with the damage caused by Ronan, some families were unwilling to pay out of their own pockets, choosing instead to demand compensation from the orphanage—a brilliant way to dodge financial responsibility.

Of course, the orphanage could refuse compensation, but if those families took them to court, regardless of the outcome, Ronan, as the cause of these incidents, would undoubtedly have a significant mark placed on his record. This would affect his chances of future adoption and even his life beyond that.

While Ronan didn't care, Hanason clearly did…

As a result, Ronan still owed Hanason "three thousand, one hundred dollars and eight cents." This was the exact amount Smart guy had extracted from the documents, yet Hanason had never mentioned it to him...

Sensing Ronan's silence, Jennifer gently patted his head and whispered, "Ronan, can you promise me something?"

"Okay, I'll try my best."

There was a brief silence before Ronan looked up and asked, "Are you leaving, Jennifer?"

"Yes, Joe was transferred to the police department in New York, and we both agreed that the city would offer better opportunities for Susie and Billy's education. So, we'll be moving to New York soon."

Joe Baker, Jennifer's husband, was an American police officer. Susie and Billy were their children, aged eight and three.

"Good luck, Jennifer."

"Good luck to you too."

Watching Jennifer's red Ford slowly drive away, leaving only a trail of dust in its wake, Ronan couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness. Jennifer had been his caregiver for the longest time since he arrived at the orphanage. Now that she was gone, he wasn't sure when they would meet again.

New York was indeed a wonderful place.

Turning around, he had barely taken a few steps before running into Hanason once more.

"Ronan, you need to pack your things."

"Huh?"

---

Get up, brush your teeth, stuff your homework into your backpack, and your ordinary day as a time traveler begins again. Since the All-Spark absorbed enough energy and truly awakened ten years ago, Ronan Valom has started living his life like an ordinary person.

In fact, he can't even think of being extraordinary...

Although enough energy was absorbed on the train, that energy seemed to be used to maintain the existence of the All-Spark itself. If he wanted to transform other Transformers, he would have to start collecting energy again, which means—add money!

After ten years of Ronan's efforts, in addition to Smart Ghost, he finally succeeded in transforming two other Transformers. One of them is the leader of the Autobots—Optimus Prime!

Yes, that's right! The red and blue stripes, the powerful appearance, coupled with the classic voice, the unyielding soul of a warrior...

Now he was swearing to maintain the peace of the world. With his howling, he launched a relentless charge towards the 'evil robot' that looked exactly like himself. His metal fist hit the enemy's face hard, and he was stunned. Before he could launch a counterattack, he kicked him to the ground, followed by a left hook, a right hook, and another left hook...

This is really a hearty battle. The only problem is that they seem a bit small...

The efficiency of converting energy on Earth into super-energy bodies is too low. The energy saved over the years is too little. It is simply not enough to transform into any large-scale Transformers. The 'body' of Optimus Prime before his transformation was Brother Billy's toy robot, height...

Only about twenty centimeters...

...

It's such a sad story...

...

What's even sadder is that Ronan had to buy a new robot toy and planned to return it to Billy. Seeing that Optimus Prime was about to dismantle the robot opposite him, Ronan hurriedly picked up a piece of eraser from the table and threw it towards him.

'Boom'!

The rubber hit Optimus Prime's head. He shook twice and fainted to the ground. It took him a long time to wake up.

"I'm warning you, if you dismantle this robot, I'll pay you back to Billy!"

"Optimus Prime doesn't like imps!"

I don't know whether it's because they were born too recently or because of the All-Spark. Although the newly transformed Transformers are all shaped according to Ronan's memories, their personalities and combat awareness are exactly the same, but their... IQ seems a bit low…

"Optimus Prime, you stupid guy! Idiot!" The Smart Ghost on the side was much smarter. When he saw Optimus Prime being scolded by Ronan, he immediately jumped out and laughed.

"Optimus Prime hates Dodgers!"

"Smart guy hates Optimus Prime too!"

Seeing that the two were about to quarrel again, Ronan shook his head, put on his schoolbag, and opened the door.

Seeing this, the Smart Ghost immediately fluttered its wings and quickly flew to Ronan's schoolbag, opened the zipper, and jumped in. Optimus Prime seemed to want to go too, but unfortunately, he couldn't fly, so he had to grab Ronan's trousers and climb up, but Ronan shook his legs and easily shook him off.

"You stay at home and don't run around!"

"Optimus Prime needs to get out too!"

"No!"

Seeing Ronan speak so decisively, Optimus Prime, who felt that he had been abandoned, slowly retreated into the corner with his legs in his arms.

"No one likes Optimus Prime..."

Ronan felt like he was in kindergarten...

"I'll take you out on Sunday, okay? I have to go to school now, and I can't put a big toy in my backpack!"

After finally comforting Optimus Prime, Ronan had just closed the door and turned around when a tiny red dot poked his face.

"Hey, Billy, don't point your toy gun at me, okay?"

"We are the Howling Commandos. If you're scared, give me my robot back!"

"Of course!" Ronan handed Billy the robot toy he took when he went out and explained: "I found this on the sofa downstairs. You'd better not throw it away next time..."

"No! You must have stolen it! You big bad guy!"

This silly boy is so smart that he guessed it right.

"How can you say that? I'm your brother!" Ronan put his hands on his hips and argued angrily.

"You are not my brother!" Billy looked down at the robot in his hand, suddenly threw it to the ground, and shouted: "This is not my robot, I only want my one!"

Jennifer seemed to have heard the quarrel above and asked loudly downstairs: "What's going on?"

Ronan quickly replied: "Nothing!"

It's best not to bother Jennifer with such a small matter. He already owes her enough. He sighed helplessly, lowered his head to pick up the robot, and asked, "Isn't this your robot? Look, it's exactly the same!"

"It's different. My robot has markings on it."

"What mark?"

"It says 'My master is Billy' on its leg, and I wrote it myself."

Ronan looked through it and found that there was indeed no writing on the legs of the robot in his hand. After all, this is a new one, and the real one has become Optimus Prime.

...By the way, did Optimus Prime actually have such disgusting things written on his body?

Ronan couldn't help but shudder and thought—otherwise, he might as well give Optimus Prime back to him!

...This is of course impossible, so Ronan had to try to 'persuade' Billy...

"Don't you have any other more obvious marks on your robot? For example..."

Ronan took out ten dollars, folded them, and stuck them between the robot's elbows.

"...For example, your robot actually has ten dollars or something on it..."

Billy's eyes blinked. He didn't expect Ronan to be so shameless and wanted to bribe him with money.

but...

"You're right, this is indeed my robot!" He took the toy again, and of course, he stuffed the ten dollars into his pocket.

The two people looked at each other and walked down the stairs tacitly, the matter was resolved perfectly.

Downstairs, Susie was putting her slender legs on the dining table, eating breakfast and watching TV. Her tight-fitting jeans were stretched straight. Since she entered college two years ago, Joe and Jennifer have been a little bit out of control. Live her.

"Hey, Ronan, is Billy disobedient again? If so, tell me and I'll beat him up for you!" She rolled up a magazine next to her and hit Billy on the head mercilessly for a moment.

"Hey!" Billy yelled in dissatisfaction, rubbing his head but not daring to resist at all. It wasn't until he saw Jennifer that he secretly ran over to complain.

"I'm going out!" Ronan would not get involved in the affairs between the two siblings. He greeted Susie with a smile, then picked up the sandwich Jennifer had prepared, opened the side door, and walked into the garage.

He walked to his motorcycle.

It was a second-hand yellow scooter with a popular appearance, less than 1.5 meters in length, peeling paint at the corners, and traces of impact on the back of the butt, all indicating its age.

The only advantage of a typical small-displacement motorcycle is that it consumes less fuel, but this seems to be of no use to Ronan...

He chose this because it was cheap enough—150 US dollars, which was totally the price of scrap metal. Moreover, if he hadn't insisted that the owner of the car repair shop complete all the parts on the car body, it would have been even cheaper, only ninety dollars. Of course, in that case, the motorcycle would really be scrap metal.

I have never heard of a motorcycle that is missing an engine and can still run...

After taking two bites of the sandwich in his hand, Ronan was about to throw his schoolbag on the motorcycle when he saw the its's lights suddenly flashed twice and then automatically took two steps back.

Ronan hurriedly swallowed the food in his mouth. Ronan turned around and looked around. Seeing that there was no one around, he hurriedly squatted down and asked in a low voice: "What's wrong, Arcee?"

"Beep."

"No, how could it be? No one has ever said you are ugly! It's those people who don't know how to appreciate it. They can't see your beauty at all!"

"Beep?"

"Yes, of course this is true. How could I lie to you..."

"Beep?"

"No, absolutely not! Good girls never need to dress up. I know you can scan other vehicle forms, but what I bought is just a second-hand motorcycle, not those Harleys and BMWs! What do you want me to do? Explain to my family?"

"Beep beep beep beep beep!"

"I'm not lying. Those are just bewitching 'Bitches. You are the only one who is truly beautiful. You must be confident. Do you understand..."

Arcee, the third Transformer created by Ronan Valom, is a motorcycle. Despite being designed to fit his memories, this female Transformer has an inexplicable fondness for beauty.

Perhaps it's because the motorcycle Ronan chose for her transformation was so unappealing that even the Transformers couldn't accept it...

But this bike was inexpensive!

Well, it's quite charming in its own way!

Arcee is the largest of the three Transformers currently owned by Ronan. To gather enough super energy for her transformation, Ronan spent a night hidden under a high-voltage electricity tower, enduring the cold wind and causing several high-voltage distributors to fail, leading to widespread power outages. For three days, he survived on takeout!

The outage also affected their home, so it wasn't until three days later that the power was finally restored.

After finally calming down the irritable Arcee, Ronan realized that he had only 10 minutes left before his class started and was at risk of being late.

His first class of the day was science, and if he wanted to avoid being ridiculed by the Indian teacher, he needed to hurry.

With the accelerator at maximum, the motorcycle roared towards the school.

Unfortunately, he was still late. As he parked Arcee, a brand-new sports car deliberately pulled up beside him, causing Arcee to fall over with a thud.

Arcee's enraged voice seemed to roar in Ronan's ears. He struggled to suppress her transformation urge through the connection with the All-Spark. Before Ronan could react, a young man in a designer jacket emerged from the sports car.

Walker Warren, known as a playboy in school, is a wealthy second-generation student with a tall, sunny demeanor. He resembles a prince from a fairy tale and is the president of the school's radio club, a true campus celebrity.

His only drawback is his poor attitude and disdain for everyone, which paradoxically attracts many hot girls. After all, this is an American high school...

— This is what hot girls call personality, isn't it?

---

If there were a list of people at school that Ronan Valom hated, Walker Wallen would definitely be on it.

Just like in those high school dramas, no matter how sunny and beautiful the school is, there will always be a few guys who specialize in causing trouble...

"Look, who is this?" Walker Wallen sauntered over with a contemptuous smile on his lips. "I seem to have knocked down your motorcycle. Do you need compensation, Ronan?"

Ronan retorted without backing down: "As long as you stop loitering around in front of me with that disgusting face of yours, that's the biggest compensation you can give me!"

"Hmph!" Walker Wallen scoffed coldly, as if he was disgusted. He lightly tapped Arcee, who was lying on the ground, with his toes and mocked, "You're still driving this ugly old motorcycle."

—Arcee is about to explode!

The parking lot incident was finally resolved, and Ronan no longer had time to pay attention to Walker Wallen, an idiot. For him, comforting Arcee, who was about to blow up, was the top priority.

But after such a delay, he ended up being late.

As expected, Ronan was severely reprimanded by Milton and was warned that next time he'd have to face his parents. He was then sent back to his seat.

Ronan had long been used to this, but Sander, who was sitting next to him, seemed a bit aggrieved.

His father was also a policeman and a colleague of Ronan's adoptive father Joe Baker, so the two had known each other since childhood and were considered best friends.

As a black man, Sander was often reprimanded by Milton.

"If it was a white person who was late, Milton would never act like this," he said.

It was no secret at school that Milton was a racist.

Ronan was often troubled by him!

"Are you free this afternoon?" Sander asked.

"What do you want?"

"Of course, there's something good!" He leaned in and whispered, "There's a basketball game this afternoon, and our club will be going. How about it, do you want to come? It's a great chance to get close to some beauties..."

Before he could finish, he was already laughing.

Sander is a black man. Although basketball is a strong suit for many black people, he didn't join the basketball team but rather a 'cheerleading team'...

That's right, a cheerleading team full of beauties. As for Sander, he's responsible for logistics. He helps the team members carry bags and deliver water when there's nothing else to do. When something happens, he cleans the venue and lifts heavy objects, which is commonly known as 'Jig'.

If it weren't for this, the cheerleaders would never let Sander, a chubby guy with an obnoxious smile, join their club.

It's a pity that Sander is too unattractive. He looks like he's in close contact with good fortune, but in reality, he has no chance at all.

Looks really do determine life! Unlike me...

The reason Sander wanted to invite him was obviously because he had too much work recently and was too busy to handle it. Ronan wasn't going to be fooled into working for free.

"I'm going to work, you know."

He's been saving money recently, and that's not an excuse. To work part-time, he even quit the robotics club he joined before.

Sander had no choice but to shake his head regretfully, lowering his head and wondering where to find the next 'white worker'. While calculating, he continued to chatter to Ronan.

"It's such a pity that you can't come. The cheerleading team recently got new uniforms—suspenders and midriff-baring outfits paired with miniskirts. When those seniors put them on..."

"Really?"

"Of course, it's true!"

It feels like a pity not to go...

The two continued their inappropriate conversation. Finally, someone seemed unable to bear it any longer and turned around, snorting coldly: "Although it's rude to interrupt your conversation, I think your 'boring' and 'dirty' topics are inappropriate. There's no need to continue! Milton has already looked at you three times. If you don't want to go to the office after class, you'd better pay attention."

This statement was more of a warning than a reminder. If it came from someone else, it might have led to a conflict, but the owner of the statement...

— Ivy Reubens, the girl sitting in the front row from Ronan, wore large glasses every day, with long auburn hair and bangs that hung down to her glasses. Her cheeks were dotted with a few small freckles. She rarely communicated with her classmates and, when she did, would usually cut them off with sharp words.

Ronan knew very little about her, except that she had also joined the robotics club. Shortly after Ronan quit, she did as well, and then seemed to have joined the volunteer club organized by the school.

Most importantly, Ivy's father was also a policeman, working in the same station as Joe and the others. However, he was the head of the special investigation team directly under the command of the director, holding a much higher official position than Joe and the others, and had command over them.

This dynamic seemed to continue into school life. Every time Sander saw Ivy, he appeared a little timid.

Thanks to Ivy's reminder and under Milton's watchful eyes, Ronan and Sander managed to survive until the end of class. A few more basic classes followed. Once the day's lessons were over, Ronan grabbed his schoolbag and rushed out of the school gate.

High schools in the U.S. typically between 2:00 and 2:30 PM, making it the busiest time for fast-food restaurants near the school.

—Papa Roche's Fast Food Restaurant may not offer anything different from other fast-food joints—burgers, fried chicken, fries, the usual—but thanks to the owner's excellent barbecue skills, the business was unexpectedly thriving, outshining many competitors.

Ronan, a temporary employee at Papa Roche's, officially started his shift after donning an orange uniform.

Taking orders, handling payments, delivering food, and occasionally using a faulty wire to steal some electricity...

It wasn't too hectic, but it was definitely not relaxing. Ronan worked like this until 6:30 PM. As night fell, the fast-food joint gradually quieted down.

Despite its name, the restaurant was actually owned by a middle-aged man. Once the rush subsided, the owner quickly left under the pretense of "restocking," leaving Ronan to manage the store alone.

Restocking was just an excuse to go play video games. Today's adults are quite "irresponsible"! There are fewer and fewer people as serious and committed as Ronan.

Ronan stepped on the broken wire under his feet, feeling a tingling sensation throughout his body. The electric current left him feeling pleasantly numb, so much so that he didn't notice someone ordering food—and even gave out a few extra dollars in change...

It didn't matter. He could always claim he had been robbed. After all, robberies happen daily in the United States.

Just as Ronan was enjoying himself, the doorbell rang, and a man and a woman walked in.

The man was Playboy Walker, and the woman was Tina Lopez, the campus radio host. Young, beautiful, and enthusiastic, Tina was rumored to be the reason Walker became the radio club president, conveniently pursuing her.

Tina was also Ronan's childhood playmate—one could even say they were "childhood sweethearts"...

Ronan's unique nature made him independent, never feeling lonely. To him, childhood was a distant memory, but this world was full of wonders. Tina was the one exception.

Her blue eyes seemed to glint with intelligence and cunning. From the moment she saw Ronan, her eyes curved into a warm smile.

With slender eyebrows, a slightly raised nose, and pink lips that parted slightly, Tina's smile revealed her white teeth.

She wore a sleeveless T-shirt, capri jeans, and white sneakers.

Her slightly curly brown hair draped over her shoulders like satin, covering her bare shoulders. She looked just as beautiful as she did when Ronan first met her ten years ago.

"Hello, my name is Tina, Tina Cersi! You better remember it because I'm going to be the most famous female reporter in the world someday!"

The words she had once shouted at the sun seemed to still echo in Ronan's ears, full of pride and devoid of timidity.

It was a beautiful moment, that sunset...

Unfortunately, after Tina moved away, the two gradually lost contact. Even when they met again, the intimacy they once shared was gone.

However, Tina's attitude toward Ronan remained special, and in the eyes of some, this specialness became an unbearable "threat."

Although Ronan had never actively pursued Tina, Walker, who had been repeatedly rejected by Tina, saw Ronan as his main rival, blaming him for his many failed attempts to win her over.

Clearly, the pair had come to eat. After Tina greeted Ronan, she and Walker sat down at a nearby table. Walker, on the other hand, kept glaring at Ronan as if declaring his territory like a "wild dog." If Ronan made any affectionate move toward Tina, Walker looked ready to intervene at all costs.

It was an unfortunate encounter. Had Walker known Ronan worked here, he might not have followed Tina inside.

In fact, Walker had already reserved a seat at a Michelin-starred restaurant, but Tina rejected the idea of a date-like dinner, even when he used the excuse of "celebrating the successful basketball game and radio broadcast," she still declined.

So, Walker settled for Tina's suggestion of this ordinary "roadside restaurant."

But perhaps meeting Ronan here wasn't all bad. After all, he was just a lowly fast-food worker now.

With this in mind, Walker said in a seemingly calm but showy tone, "Tina, maybe after dinner, we could go for a drive. I just bought a sports car yesterday—600 horsepower, top speed over 300 kilometers per hour, and the body is made of some kind of 'space metal.' You really should see it."

He spoke loudly, clearly wanting Ronan, who was nearby, to overhear. Unfortunately for him, Ronan didn't care, and Tina simply declined, "Thank you, but I promised my parents I'd be home before eight. You know how parents worry about their kids."

"It's fine!" Walker quickly replied. "We won't go far, just a short walk nearby."

"That's not possible. Because of the basketball game, I skipped my pre-college class this afternoon, and I have to catch up tonight. I'm sorry, but I really don't have time."

Despite Tina's clear refusal, Walker persisted, "What about tomorrow? Surely, you can make time tomorrow?"

"Walker, we're students. Right now, I'm focused on my studies and don't have time for other things." Unable to bear Walker's persistence any longer, Tina got up and headed to the restroom, not giving him another chance to speak.

Rejected again?

Walker's face paled. His eyes flickered to Ronan, and as if by some strange coincidence, a surge of anger flared in his heart—if Ronan were in his place, if Ronan had asked Tina out, she surely wouldn't have refused!

Damn it!

His lips trembled as he angrily spat at Ronan, who was sitting at the counter, "In this world, strength is everything! The capable sit here and get served, while the incompetent can only serve others. Tina will realize this eventually!"

His words were clearly meant as a provocation, but Ronan merely frowned, not bothering to engage.

As the owner, Roche, was out on business, Ronan was left to manage the store. He had no interest in arguing with customers while working, and besides...

The concept of strength is nebulous. Strength can always be overpowered by even greater strength. When the Chitauri army invades Earth in a few years, try telling that to their spaceships!

Rather than waste time arguing, Ronan preferred to focus on absorbing more energy. Maybe he could create a few more Transformers to protect himself.

—How about building a Bumblebee next? Save up for a second-hand car, then let it scan the form of a Chevrolet Camaro. A million-dollar difference, over and over again…

The thought made Ronan tremble with excitement, nearly knocking over the wire he was using to 'borrow' electricity.

Perhaps due to nearby office buildings shutting down for the night, the electrical flow was strong this evening...

Sweet!

Ronan's face lit up with pride, a sight that only deepened Walker's anger.

When Tina returned from the restroom, she saw a strange scene—Walker sat pale-faced at his seat, seething with anger, while Ronan trembled at the counter in what appeared to be excitement from...overcharging?

For Walker, today couldn't get any worse.

Jingle Bell!

Walker's phone rang. With trembling hands, he pulled it from his pocket, answered, and brought it to his ear.

"Hello? ...The parking lot? Yes, that's my car... What did you say!?"

He leaped from his seat, ignoring Tina as she approached, shoved open the fast food restaurant's door, and bolted toward the school parking lot.

"My car!" he yelled as he ran.

Tina stood there, blinking in confusion.

"The guy who invited you just ran off. Looks like you're dining in tonight," Ronan remarked, amused.

"Yeah, quite unlucky... but maybe a gentleman will offer to treat me?"

"Really? You think there's someone that foolish?"

"Who knows?" She blinked her big eyes at Ronan.

"..." He ignored her.

"..." She kept blinking.

"Fine, you win! A meal for one—it's all I can afford."

"That's okay, I don't mind."

Even though it was a standard meal, Ronan couldn't help but make some modifications.

Double the fries—high-calorie food makes you gain weight! The burger patty was thickened, ensuring she'd regret this when trying to lose weight. And, of course, extra ketchup…

If she weren't a girl, he'd have added the boss's devil chili peppers for good measure!

It's not like he was doing this for her own good! Absolutely not!

When Ronan handed the oversized meal to Tina, she pushed the fries in front of her and said, "There's too much food. Could you join me? I'm not used to eating alone..."

How much food was in that single meal? And...

"You girls are so demanding!"

--

It was completely dark, the school day had ended, and even the fast-food restaurants were closing up early. As the owner, the middle-aged man left first, and Ronan Valom quickly pulled down the rolling shutter door after tidying up the restaurant.

As he walked toward the parking lot inside the school, he hummed a tune to himself:

"I've got a little motorbike, but I never take a ride... You want to ask me why? 'Cause it's got a flat tire... I've got a 520 in my hand, and I..."

—Wait a minute! Where's my bike?

It was the same old spot, the same parking space he always used, but instead of his familiar, beat-up bike, there was a 'blue, modified motorcycle' parked there. And by the looks of it, the modifications were... eccentric.

Thick metal plates, a massive frame, spikes protruding like a monster's fangs, an extended swingarm, and colorful flashing lights all over the body, with two enormous rocket thrusters on either side of the exhaust vents…

It looked like a beast on wheels, a monster you wouldn't want to mess with!

This bike was really something. But who would have a bike like this?

Wait a minute... that's not the point...

—Where's my bike?

The empty street, the cool autumn breeze, and his miserable life, all without his motorcycle. Ronan couldn't help but doubt his own sanity.

—Did I ride my bike this morning?

—Yes!

—Did I park it here?

—Yes!

—Could it have just driven off on its own?

—Well… not exactly!

So, where was his bike?!

Looking around, he saw the familiar guardrail in front, the two big trees outside the guardrail, the sidewalk behind, and Walker Valen's new sports car parked nearby... Wait, what happened to that car?

The sports car that Walker Valen had bragged about, claiming it was made of "space metal," had completely changed its appearance.

The vehicle's metal shell was stripped off, the engine dismantled into pieces, and various wires that should have been hidden inside the car were now exposed. The strongest part of the vehicle's frame was missing, and the only thing still intact was the glass on the windows and the leather seats inside...

At least the comfort level hadn't been compromised... What a joke! This car would probably never run again!

No wonder Walker Valen had suddenly dashed out of the fast-food restaurant earlier. If it were Ronan, he'd have lost his mind too.

Where was he now? Could he have been so devastated that he'd ended up in the hospital?

It was unimaginable! In broad daylight, with everything clear, these thieves dared to be so brazen. Was there any justice in this world?

—Hell is empty, and the real devils are here on Earth!

If he caught them, they should be shot a hundred times! A hundred times!

Fortunately, Ronan's motorcycle was a Transformer, so he could get it back later. But what was going on now? If it was convenient, it would be nice if Arcee could pick him up quickly. Taxi fares in the United States weren't cheap...

So, he called out in his mind:

"Arcee?"

"Beep!" The lights on the modified motorcycle next to him suddenly flashed.

Whose crazy bike was this? Why was it making such noise?

"Arcee?"

"Beep beep!"

Huh?

"Ah...?"

"Beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep…"

Well, that's right! It seemed the owner of this bike... was him!

"How did you end up like this?"

"Beep beep beep…"

"What? You upgraded to a new body? But where did you get the upgrade materials?"

Although Transformers are born with super-energy bodies that can automatically transform their metal components to strengthen themselves, that kind of transformation is based on the original materials and cannot create something out of nothing.

It's like taking an iron ingot; you can forge it into a very sharp weapon, but you can't make it into the outer shell of a space shuttle because its main material is titanium, not iron.

The super-energy body could increase the hardness of iron to its limits, but iron has its limits... and what Arcee was doing now was altering her composition, changing her primarily iron-based alloy into something far superior.

But what was this new material? Where did it come from? He needed to get to the bottom of this!

After hearing Ronan's question, the bike lights on Arcee turned on, then automatically focused on Walker Valen's dismantled sports car nearby...

—Report to the authorities, I've found the guy who should be shot a hundred times!

The truth was revealed.

But Ronan frowned. Although Transformers could indeed transform their bodies, they needed his permission, and he had to channel super energy from his body into the Transformer to assist in the transformation…

As if sensing Ronan's question, Arcee's horn sounded again.

"Beep beep beep."

"What? With my permission? When?... When it was almost dark?"

Ronan thought back, remembering that he had felt pretty great while absorbing electricity. He did recall sensing Arcee's call, but he had waved it off without a second thought at the time...

Realizing this, he quickly immersed his consciousness into the All-Spark in his chest. Upon closer inspection, he found that the super-energy reserves that had been building up for years had dropped by [87]%. Only a few scattered sparks remained in the entire inner space of the All-Spark.

This bit of super energy might be enough to transform a USB flash drive, if he were lucky. As for the car...

Goodbye, my Bumblebee! Goodbye, my Camaro!

—"Arcee, you energy vampire!"

--

It was hard enough to keep thieves at bay day and night, but Ronan didn't have time to teach Arcee a lesson. If he had the energy, he'd rather leave the "crime scene" as quickly as possible once no one was around.

He hopped onto Arcee, pressed the accelerator, and the "specially modified motorcycle" roared out of the parking lot.

Despite the spikes and rough edges, the seat was surprisingly comfortable, complete with its own heating system that warmed his entire seat. He wondered if it was something borrowed from that sports car.

Arcee seemed to know her master was in a foul mood, so she wasted no time trying to cheer him up. Not only did she turn on the heating, but the seat also activated a massage function. Then the dashboard flipped over, revealing a small display screen with scantily clad women singing and dancing. Two robotic arms emerged—one holding a bottle of red wine, the other holding a tall wine glass.

She didn't learn how to be classy, but she sure picked up the "bad habits" of luxury cars!

Noticing his eyes widen in irritation, Arcee quickly reacted. The wine bottle was flung out of the car, hitting a passerby on the head, the massage feature deactivated, the heating cooled off, and the display screen flipped back.

"This isn't working!"

"Leave the screen on!"

"..."

Arcee was still too young and clearly didn't understand her master's true preferences.

"Let me ask you, did anyone see you while you were upgrading just now?"

"Beep."

"No? What about roadside surveillance?"

"Beep."

"Taken care of in advance? Good! By the way, can you change your appearance?"

This current look—a late-stage ghostly apparition—really didn't match his "low-key, luxurious, and tasteful" persona.

Unexpectedly, Arcee became anxious after hearing this.

"Beep beep, beep beep beep… beep beep beep… beep beep beep beep beep… beep beep… beep beep beep…"

"Stop, stop, stop! Speak slowly! Why don't you want to change?"

"Beep beep beep..."

"Good-looking? Beautiful? Cool?" Ronan looked down at the ferocious spikes and flashing lights on the bike, failing to see any appeal, and fell into deep thought.

—Is it really that I'm falling behind?

...Nonsense! He'd come back in time from the future. It's no exaggeration to say his taste was at least ten years ahead of this era!

"Who said it looks good like this?... Susie said that while on the phone with her boyfriend? What, it would look better with some skull patterns? I say, if you're going to be so good, why not imitate something clean and decent instead of picking up all this nonsense from them!"

Susie's new boyfriend was a speedster, and Joe often caught the two of them when on duty nearby, getting increasingly annoyed each time.

Seeing Arcee, like Susie, edging closer to the "wild side," Ronan couldn't help but shudder.

If Arcee really turned into a little rebel... he didn't want to end up like Joe, patrolling the streets every day just to "catch troublemakers" and bring them home!

No! Absolutely not!

"It seems I need to educate you on human common sense so you understand what real 'beauty' is!"

"Beep?"

"What? What is beauty? Beauty is something people genuinely like, understand? And you're not beautiful at all!"

"Beep beep?"

"Bikini? Swimsuit?—That's not... okay, okay, that's indeed quite beautiful, but you can't learn that! It'll lead you astray!... What? Why do I like it? This... this... In short, don't worry about that! Real beauty is something more sophisticated, got it?"

Sophisticated?

The display that had been playing a song and dance automatically switched to an internet search page. After flipping through a few images, it stopped at one.

The woman in the picture was elegantly dressed, with clear features and a beautifully decorated face. She wore no extra adornments except a pair of small gold-rimmed glasses perched on her nose, exuding an air of knowledge and wisdom.

"There, this is what real beauty looks like."

If Arcee modeled herself after this, she wouldn't pick up any bad habits!

—Learn it!

Seeing the pleased look in Ronan's eyes, Arcee resolved to carry out her master's wishes. After carefully studying the picture, she... conjured up a pair of metal frames and placed them on her headlights.

"What are you doing?"

"Beep."

"...Huh? These are supposed to be glasses?..."

Hmm...

Maybe it's time to go back to the drawing board and rebuild her? With Arcee's brain and IQ, it seems like she might be beyond saving!

Ronan had an epiphany: a leader needs to assert authority to maintain control over unruly subordinates. With this realization, he decided to take action against Arcee.

He... scratched Arcee's paint job.

"Beep beep beep... beep beep beep... beep beep beep..."

Arcee's alarmed protests didn't deter Ronan from his "evil deeds." She eventually had no choice but to give in, agreeing to all of Ronan's demands, albeit tearfully.

"Alright! Take off these spikes, remove the unnecessary lights, and what about these two exhaust pipes... What? They're not exhaust pipes? Rocket thrusters? Why does a motorcycle need such advanced technology? Just remove them..."

By the time Ronan was finished, Arcee had reverted to a more conventional appearance. Unfortunately, her once streamlined figure was now bulky and far from her former state. Realizing that his old, yellow motorcycle could no longer accompany him, Ronan said goodbye.

How was he going to explain this to Jennifer and the others? Should he tell them that a rich man damaged his bike, and the new one was compensation?

What kind of rich fool would do such a thing? Do they have money to burn?

Riding his newly modified motorcycle, Ronan headed home, burdened with a heavy heart.

Arcee was indeed smart. Although she retracted her other services, the dashboard display remained active, and lively music continued to play. Clearly, she had figured out Ronan's preferences.

...

No matter how much you try to avoid it, some things have to be faced eventually.

As soon as he got home, Ronan gathered his family in the garage and pointed at the revamped Arcee, explaining, "You guys know Tony Stark, right?"

Yes, that's right! He's the wealthy fool...

"This way... this way..."

"Oh!"

"That way... that way..."

"Oh?"

"And then...then..."

"Ah."

After Ronan's "explanation," everyone finally understood the situation.

"So, Mr. Stark hit your bike, and he compensated you by buying a new one, right?"

"Yes."

"Then why didn't he inform us? As your guardians, we have the right to know anything that might threaten your safety," Jennifer said sternly.

"Maybe... because he's a public figure and didn't want to make a big deal out of it. Any more questions?"

No one raised their hands. Stark was a distant figure to them, and such an experience felt almost fantastical. Although Ronan's story seemed exaggerated, in the world of the rich, where the incomprehensible becomes normal, who could say?

Just as Ronan was about to send everyone back to bed, someone finally succumbed to curiosity and timidly raised a hand.

"Did you ask Mr. Stark if it's true that he slept with twelve Playboy cover models over the past year?"

Ronan did, in fact, know the answer to this. Well... how to put it—no, one of the models couldn't be scheduled, and another month's cover featured twins...

But when Ronan turned and saw Jennifer's fiery eyes, he immediately abandoned that train of thought.

"No! I don't know! Please don't ask me such questions! Thank you!"

Three denials in a row!

Joe, how dare you ask such a lewd question to an innocent guy like me. If I asked that on your behalf, wouldn't that make me just as vulgar?

It's hopeless. I'll just prepare for the durians tonight. Farewell!

"Any more questions? No? Good! Meeting adjourned, off to bed. Billy, don't leave yet—take some money and head to the supermarket to buy a durian, a big one! We might need it later..."

...

Ronan wasn't sure if Joe knelt in repentance afterward, but Joe did end up sleeping on the living room sofa that night, covered with only a thin blanket, and the air conditioner turned down to the lowest setting.

They said it was a "normal" method to cool down a brain overheated by a beauty.

Jennifer, who had earned her nursing license not long after arriving in New York, had declared it so, and no one dared to disagree!

Of course, Joe didn't dare object, but the kids... well, they enjoyed the show.

Those ungrateful kids!

...

Walker hadn't shown up at school for three days, but Ronan didn't care about him. What puzzled him more was Sander. This guy might have gotten his head stuck in a door or something!

From the moment Ronan stepped into the classroom, Sander had been staring at him with his head tilted. When his neck got tired, he propped it up with his hands and continued to stare...

"What's wrong with you?" Ronan finally asked.

"Between you and me, who do you think is more handsome?" Sander asked, incredulously.

It's over. This guy's head really must've been crushed by a door...

—How dare you compare yourself to me!

Ronan casually smoothed his bangs with his fingers. He wouldn't boast about anything else, but when it came to looks, Ronan had no doubts about his superiority.

"Not as handsome as me, right?" Sander confirmed.

Eh? How did you come to that conclusion? Don't you want to hear other people's opinions first? Or... are you serious?

—Is the aesthetic difference between us really that big?

Could it be that, in some people's eyes... I'm not actually that handsome?

Ronan couldn't help but touch his face. His smooth, pale skin was sharply defined, his heroic eyebrows slightly raised. Under his slightly curled lashes were deep, dark eyes. A handsome, tall nose, passionate lips, and that naturally mischievous, yet sexy smile...

If this isn't handsome, then where's the justice in the world!

Forget it, as long as I know I'm handsome, I don't need anyone else's validation. Better not crush Sander's confidence...

"Am I right?" Sander asked again.

"Haha... As long as you're happy!" Ronan didn't argue

Memory updated

Here's a revised version of the passage you provided:

"That's right! You're not as handsome as I am..."

Ronan gritted his teeth and endured it... all for the sake of friendship!

"You're not as tall as I am!"

Ronan couldn't argue with that. If it weren't for his height, Sander wouldn't have been dragged into the cheerleading squad to do the heavy lifting. And since I'm still growing, I'll catch up sooner or later.

"You can't run as fast as I can!"

"You're not as good as I am at basketball!"

That was true. Ronan had never touched a basketball. How could basketball be so exciting? You can have as much as you want, and you can have whatever flavor you want...

"Unde—"

"Let's not compare now. What exactly do you want to say?"

Ronan was taken aback. Although he still had some confidence, he wasn't about to be fooled! Not a hundred times in a small dark room, not a hundred times!

"I'm talking about those jerks down there. They said someone saw you on a date with Tina from the next class at a fast food joint. I laughed so hard! She's the school beauty; how could that be possible?"

Ronan smirked. Not many people knew about his connection with Tina. When they crossed paths at school, they only exchanged hellos and nods. They never acted like close friends, so seeing them eat together might lead to misunderstandings.

They were just friends, not lovers, as long as that was clear.

But what Sander said... why did it sound so pitiful?

"Actually, we were... indeed on a date that day!"

Ronan almost said it but changed his words at the last second.

"What... how is that possible!" Sander's eyes widened, as if his heart had taken a direct hit.

—Sorry, Sander! Don't blame me for hurting you; you chose to hurt me first!

"Yes, that's right!" Ronan pretended to be the perfect boyfriend and said affectionately, "Tina loves fries, so we ordered double portions, with thicker patties, and she even got a devilishly spicy burger... She's always loved that stuff, what a cheeky girl."

"Oh my God! How could she fall for you? Why wasn't it me?" Sander wailed, slumping onto his desk and pounding his chest.

"If you want to know why, maybe it's because I'm more handsome!" Ronan flipped his hair, trying to look cool.

"That should've been me too! Is there really that much difference between how white people and black people see beauty?"

Hey! Ronan didn't like that! —You're the one with a skewed sense of aesthetics! Have you taken a good look at yourself?

—How can you compare to me? I'm so stunning , I had my previous body shrunk in this world . I was lady killer then . Now under the influence of energy in my body , Its growing even beautiful...

In Sander's sad eyes, Ronan eagerly awaited the end of the school day. The way Ivy, the bespectacled girl in the front row, kept glancing at him made him feel uneasy...

But whatever, just ignore her and head to the fast-food restaurant!

Putting on his backpack, Ronan transformed back into a cheerful, hardworking part-timer.

When he entered the fast-food restaurant, he noticed something new—a new colleague in uniform.

"Roche, it looks like you've hired some new staff," Ronan called out to Roche, who was busy in the kitchen.

"Oh… well… things have been pretty hectic lately," Roche replied hesitantly, taking a puff from the cigarette hanging from his lips before making up his mind. "Ronan, come over here for a second."

"What's up?" Ronan asked, suddenly feeling uneasy. This didn't sound like the prelude to a promotion or a raise.

Sure enough, Roche pulled an envelope out of his pocket, hesitating as he handed it over. "Here's your pay for this week. I've included an extra hundred dollars. I hope you don't mind."

"Today's not payday, is it?" Ronan joked.

The extra hundred dollars nearly covered his weekly salary, which was unusual.

"Someone put in a word. They don't want to see you here again. You know, this is just an ordinary restaurant…"

"You don't need to explain," Ronan patted Roche on the shoulder, smiling. "I understand."

Ronan had already figured out what was happening. The only person who might want to get rid of him was Walker Warren, the spoiled son of a state legislator.

If it had been anyone else—even some street punks—Roche would've grabbed the sawed-off shotgun he kept hidden behind the kitchen hood and shown them why they shouldn't mess with him.

But Walker Warren's father was a state legislator, and just a word to the Community Health Bureau could cause no end of trouble for Roche. Even though the U.S. has a system of separation of powers, it doesn't stop people from cozying up to those in power.

Ronan had felt a little guilty about taking Walker Warren's sports car, but now he realized he'd just been naïve.

He took the extra hundred dollars out of the envelope and handed it back to Roche. It wasn't that Ronan didn't need the money, but he only wanted what he'd earned.

Roche didn't owe him anything, and Ronan didn't want to owe Roche anything either.

Goodbye, my friend.

…

As the only boy on the school's cheerleading team, Sander's high school life was a mix of pain and pleasure.

After finally finishing his tasks—managing the audio equipment, lighting, material transport (mostly water bottles...), and more—he dragged his exhausted body over to catch the senior girls' dance routine. But the prime spot he had secretly reserved behind the speakers was already taken!

Ronan was lying back on a small folding chair with soft cushions. He watched the cheerleaders dance and sweat while occasionally munching on a handful of corn flakes. After a few sips of mineral water, he casually tossed the half-empty bottle aside...

Chic and comfortable!

This spot was perfect—closer than the first row in the auditorium, with no guardrails blocking the view. Whenever he felt like it, he could lean down, grab something, and then glance up...

But hey, he was still young, and even his body had its limits!

—The only downside was the ugly guy who wouldn't stop staring at him.

"Why are you here? Didn't you say you wanted to work?" Sander asked.

"I thought about it carefully and realized that spending time with the watching seniors legs is far more appealing than any part-time job."

"Alright then. After the training is over, help me lift the equipment."

"No problem!" Ronan extended his right hand and said, "Ten dollars, please."

"You expect payment?"

"It's just a joke. But seriously, who would work for you for free?"

"But the snacks you're eating are the ones I hid here!"

"Oh, those? Consider them my dinner. Providing food during work hours is a federal law, after all." Ronan reached for a new bottle of water. Just as he was about to open it, Sander snatched it away.

"Are you robbing me now? You're even charging me for food and drink?"

"What's the point of robbing you? But if you ever need to, I'll help with the heist, and you can handle the loot. We split it fifty-fifty." Ronan was clearly joking, but the fact that he could even joke about something like this showed how desperate he was.

"Are you that broke?" Sander asked curiously.

"Aren't we all?"

The efficiency of converting electricity into super-energy forms is too low. If Ronan wants to create new Transformers and strengthen his forces, he'll need to find more efficient energy sources.

Such energy is usually in the hands of government agencies or high-end research institutions. To access it quietly, he'll need the right credentials, like a researcher or assistant.

Now, he needs to seriously consider how to steal these energy sources.

But first, he needs the right qualifications—meaning he has to go to college.

Ronan will graduate from high school next year, but he's only saved a little over $2,000 so far. Considering the tens of thousands of dollars needed for college each year, it's just a drop in the bucket.

Although he could apply for student loans, how much would that cover? He'd still have to come up with most of the money himself.

Jennifer is willing to cover part of the cost, but Ronan already owes her and her husband enough. If he doesn't want to burden them further, he really needs to think of a way to make money.

But what can a high school student, who hasn't even graduated yet, do to earn tens of thousands of dollars in a year?

Ronan thought for a long time...

This is tough! Should I just rob a bank?

When the time comes, he could confront the police. Smart Guy would handle unlocking and disabling surveillance, and Arcee could blast open the safe with an ion cannon. As for Optimus Prime...

He'd probably just end up cheering from the sidelines—he's too short!

Perfect!

The only problem... is that I'd probably die a horrible death.

There's no way around it; the summoner's body is too vulnerable! If the police snipers manage to hit me, Arcee and the others would likely meet a bad end too.

Ronan sighed, but Sander suddenly remembered something and excitedly clapped his hands. "I've got it!"

"What did you think of? One hundred and eight ways to rob a bank?"

——The bankers in the U.S. are in for a tough time. It seems like robbing banks has been on Ronan's mind for a while...

"No, listen! Before I joined the cheerleading team, a lot of clubs at school extended an invitation to me!"

Seriously? Are you bragging to me right now?

And which club would be foolish enough to want you?

"The drama club!"

"Drama club?"

"Yes! Their instructor thought I was perfect for acting in plays and strongly encouraged me to join. I hesitated for a long time between 'seniors in uniforms' and 'seniors in cheerleading' and finally chose the cheerleading team because I felt the senior cheerleaders needed me more! So, I resolutely..."

"Wait a minute!" Ronan interrupted. "Didn't you say that you joined the cheerleading team because the senior students here wore less clothing?"

"Uh..." Sander looked at Ronan, crestfallen...

——Can we even continue this conversation?

--

The instructor of the drama club was Leslie, a guy who had a penchant for creating "big scenes."

The club's activity room had to be the largest, the stage had to be the largest, and even the props had to be the largest...

"So, they really found a huge tree, cut it down, and turned it into a prop. And apart from those muscleheads in the football team, you were the only one who could lift it?"

Sander nodded honestly.

Yes, if he joined the drama club, he would be destined to be the designated heavy lifter...

"Is this teacher out of his mind?"

"He's not crazy!"

Why the obsession with big scenes?

According to a chubby guy named Sander, who wished to remain anonymous, as long as the production was grand enough and drew a large enough audience, it was easier to secure "activity funds" and money from the school and the parents of the students. Not to mention various "private donations"...

This wasn't Ronan's idea. If he wanted to keep someone quiet, he would first need to find a guy with a big mouth.

This time, Leslie decided to put on a spectacular drama performance for all the "comrades" in the community. All proceeds from the performance would be donated to charitable organizations within the community. The show would take place in the central square...

"So, they're short on people?"

"Yes, Teacher Leslie decided to recruit extras from the whole school."

"Will I get paid?"

"Of course! The school has approved this, and the payment will be processed directly by the school office. It counts as part of the 'on-campus job.'"

"Alright, I'm in!"

"Hold on a sec!" Sander's expression turned unusually serious. "I suggest you read the script first..."

The new play the drama club was staging was called "The Prince and His Big Tree." It was said to be a student reinterpretation of the original work.

The original story, "The Boy and His Big Tree," simply replaced the boy with a prince, or so it seemed. But when Ronan opened the script, he quickly realized how wrong he was...

In the original story, the big tree longed for the boy's company. The boy asked the tree for fruit, branches, and finally the trunk, as he grew from a child to a young man to an adult. In the end, when he was old and tired, he returned to the tree, which had been reduced to a mere stump, but the tree welcomed him back with open arms.

The tree was a metaphor for parents.

This was a fable about family. The original story only had two characters, but after the drama club got their hands on it...

The boy became a prince. He used the tree's fruit as military rations to quell a rebellion, then used its branches to craft weapons to defeat his enemies.

By this point, he should have become a wise ruler. But the third time, he got greedy and demanded the tree's trunk to build warships to conquer other nations. When the tree refused, the prince grew furious and chopped it down.

The tree died, and the prince built his battleship.

The ship set sail, carrying all his soldiers, but it sank in a storm. The prince, who had lost everything, was hanged beside the tree's roots by an enraged populace.

In the end, a skilled craftsman made a coffin from the tree's dead roots and buried the prince...

Yes, this story had been transformed into an 'anti-war' piece...

This was certainly a 'hot topic' in the United States at the moment, but why did it feel so strange?

—It would've been better to just stick with the original!

"The original? No, no, no! The original won't do!" Sander said hastily. "The original only has two characters, the scale is too small. How else are we going to get the money..."

Wait a minute.

…Isn't this exactly like those directors in the USA who only care about big scenes and big productions, regardless of the quality of the script?

Ronan suddenly understood!

—Alright, you've successfully convinced me!

Without saying another word, after a quick chat with the cheerleading coach, the two of them hurried over to the drama club. They discovered that the club had temporarily moved to the gymnasium near the central square for the upcoming performance.

So they turned around and headed to the gymnasium. After a lot of bustling around, they finally met Leslie, the director of the drama club.

Leslie eyed Ronan for two seconds, declared him a good fit, and immediately cast him as an ordinary soldier—a character who would wear a helmet and never show his face. His main job was to cheer during the prince's battles.

In other words, he was just an extra, background filler, a disposable character...

--

"Why does he insist on hiding my face? Does he think I'm unattractive?"

Ronan couldn't help but touch his chin, feeling self-conscious about his appearance for the first time in more than a decade.

"Ridiculous! Just because you don't show your face doesn't mean you're ugly," Sander scoffed, unwilling to entertain Ronan's thoughts. He stood up and walked over to the prop designed to resemble an apple tree, ducking behind it.

The apple tree is undoubtedly one of the key elements of this play. Not only does it converse with the prince, but it's also responsible for providing various props to the prince. It's quite a 'showy' role.

Unfortunately, two people are required to operate this prop. One person gets to show their face, while Sander is left with the task of holding up the prop from behind...

No lines, no movements, not even a costume change—just squatting there to keep the prop stable. When the cast list comes out, the audience might even miss counting him among the characters.

It seems I'm not unattractive. If I were, Leslie would definitely have me as a prop. I must be too good-looking, and he's worried I might steal the spotlight from the lead, so he had me wear a helmet!

Yes! That must be it!

Ronan regained his confidence, but his eyes couldn't help but drift toward the classmate playing the prince.

With fair skin, golden hair, and a gentle face, this classmate, Evan, is the perfect candidate to play the prince, despite being a bit timid and submissive on stage.

This guy named Evan seems to be a bit prettier than me. It seems, maybe... I don't have to worry about upstaging him, right?

...

Sander's role is nothing more than a laborer's job. His presence or absence in rehearsals doesn't matter as long as he shows up on the day of the performance. Before the rehearsal ended, he returned to the cheerleading team to be with his senior sisters, who couldn't bear to be without them.

Although Ronan's role wasn't significant, he was too embarrassed to leave early on his first day. After the rehearsal, he helped clean up the venue. By the time he left the gym, the sky was pitch black.

Even though this was technically a part-time job, it couldn't be compared to real work, so the pay was meager. Despite the low wages, many students applied for the job.

College admissions are highly competitive. They not only consider students' academic performance but also their participation in extracurricular activities.

Having a charity performance on his resume would be a significant advantage in the admissions process. Ronan was probably the only one there just for the money.

I still need to find a way to earn more!

—A penny stymies a hero. Before I transmigrated, I heard that Falcon's family was on the brink of bankruptcy. I don't want to end up like that...

Boom, boom! The sound of commotion echoed from the alley ahead, mixed with someone's muffled groans.

—Probably a robbery, right?

This is not uncommon in the New York Go check it out. If it's a woman, call the police. If it's a man, forget it.

If something goes wrong, I could get dragged into it...

Slowly approaching, Ronan saw a young man in a short-sleeved T-shirt huddled in the alley corner, surrounded by three men with skull tattoos who were punching and kicking him.

When the three thugs noticed Ronan, one of them shouted, "Get lost!"

Hey, I have a short fuse!

—Fine, I'm leaving. Not gonna see you off!

He was about to turn around and leave, but then he recognized the victim. It was the handsome Evan from the drama club.

This is bad! If his face gets messed up, the club will have to replace the lead! It's fine to change the lead, but the performance is just a few days away—I don't want to be stuck rehearsing all night because of this!

"Um... could you let him go? I don't want to interfere, but he is my classmate," Ronan shrugged and said, "So, please let him go!"

"What did you say?" The three men looked at each other and then laughed as if they'd heard a joke.

The leader, a white guy with sharp features and a silver cross necklace, kicked Evan hard in the stomach, leaving him retching on the ground. The leader then led his men to surround Ronan.

"You seem like a nosy type. Who do you think you are, Captain America?"

They all laughed, but Ronan calmly replied, "I'm not Captain America, but—have you heard of Mystic Martial Arts? It's said that a skilled practitioner can even harness 'qi,' the lifeforce."

Ronan took off his backpack and slowly placed it on the ground.

—It looks like I have to show my 'real skills'!

"Kung Fu? Bruce Lee?"

The three robbers exchanged glances, and seeing Ronan's serious demeanor, they took half a step back, assuming fighting stances, and asked cautiously, "You know kung fu?"

"No! I'm just bored and needed a topic," Ronan said, pulling a small silver pistol from his backpack, pointing it at the three thugs. He tilted his head and added:

—"Times have changed, my friend!"

...

The three thugs walked away with sour expressions, but before they left, they grudgingly demanded Ronan's 'name.'

Ronan wasn't afraid. Without hesitation, he replied, "My name is Walker Warren, male, 16 years old, a sophomore from a nearby high school. I live at XX Road, XXX Avenue, Lexington, New York... Wait a second, let me give you my student number too..."

 --

After the three thugs left, Ronan signaled to Arcee, who had been silently observing from the sidelines, to retreat discreetly. In the United States, where firearms are legal, his confidence naturally didn't rest on just a small pistol.

Approaching Owen, who was still lying on the ground, Ronan asked, "Are you okay?"

"No...I'm fine, thank you!" Owen replied hesitantly.

Noticing Owen's frequent glances at the silver pistol in his hand, Ronan chuckled and reassured him, "Don't worry, this gun is just a toy."

To prove his point, Ronan aimed at the ground and pulled the trigger. Instead of a bullet, what emerged from the muzzle was a familiar melody:

"I remembered black skies, the lightning all around me… I remembered each flash as time began to blur…"

"New Divide" by Linkin Park had been released last May, and it seemed that Smart Guy had a particular fondness for the song...

Casually, Ronan tossed the silver pistol, which had been playing music, into his backpack. As soon as it landed, the pistol began to rotate and twist, transforming into a large-screen smartphone that quietly settled in the corner of the bag.

——Yes, Smart Guy is a rare 'Triple-Transformation Robot'. This was a unique feature of Ronan's first creation!

And of course, the silver pistol wasn't just a music player...

"Do you need me to call the police for you?" Ronan inquired.

"No... no, thank you!" Owen's head hung low, his demeanor resembling that of a timid rabbit.

He was no longer the prince on stage, stripped of noble status, the soldiers' support, and the admiration of the crowd. He was like a necklace that had lost all its jewels, leaving only the core—iron? Or copper?

So cowardly and insecure, this boy in ordinary clothes was the real Owen, in stark contrast to the prince in shining armor he portrayed on stage.

Much like Cinderella at midnight, forced to leave her beloved prince, when the rehearsal ended, Owen returned to being the timid, overlooked boy he always was.

"I...I'm going home!" He struggled to his feet, bowed to Ronan, and tried to walk away.

But after just a few steps, he groaned, the movement aggravating his injuries, causing him to stumble and nearly fall.

He can't go home like this!

——It seems the prince needs to call for a ride.

It's a shame he isn't a 'princess'; otherwise, a very handsome 'knight' might have gladly offered her a ride home on his motorcycle...

"Did you bring any money? Want me to call a taxi for you?" Ronan asked, feigning kindness.

"My money... they took it..."

——Of course, I forgot about that!

Watching Owen struggle forward despite his injuries, Ronan sighed in exasperation.

"Forget it, get on the bike!"

...