More importantly, everyone's mental strength was at least A-level, with only a few at the bottom being B+.
It should be noted that even most officers in the Allied military only possess A-level mental strength!
The majority of the soldiers were either B- or B- grade.
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In addition, the remaining unique titles often reflect the individual spiritual attributes of the ten leaders.
For example, Angelina, who ranks first, has a dazzling title: "The Second Mother Tree of the Elf Race".
If I make it to the finals, what title will I get...?
Lu Mingming shook her head, shaking off the unrealistic thoughts in her mind. She hadn't even gotten a spot with Xing Fuxing yet, and she was thinking too far ahead!
The next second, Lu Mingming's thoughts couldn't help but drift away again: If he reached that level, no, it should be said that just securing a spot on Xing Fuxing would allow him to give his children a better life with the prize money. His own illness should be easily resolved, and perhaps Xue Gao's genetic disease could also receive some improvement solutions.
Lu Mingming currently has some assets in her account, far from being a wealthy person, but slightly better off than most people in Xingfuxing.
It's not the best, but it's not the worst either; it's still not enough to cover her treatment for her genetic disease.
Lu Mingming clenched her small fists, silently cheering herself on.
The two boys, however, were quite well-behaved and didn't seem worried at all.
According to the two experts, anyone who can soothe the mind must have an extremely high level of mental affinity.
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They weren't nervous at all from the start, but seeing Lu Mingming's enthusiastic demeanor, they couldn't help but be infected by it, and they all stretched out their little paws so that Lu Mingming could hold one in each hand and cheer them on together.
Lu Mingming is incredibly efficient; she had already prepared her own food and water well in advance.
That afternoon, they closed the door and began studying the video recordings of the previous competition, clearly determined not to open the door until they had a result. The two little rascals chose not to disturb them.
The little Samoyed lay quietly on the sofa, watching the little white tiger brazenly transform into Prince Oranar, whom it often saw in the Alliance news, right there in the living room. Then, it raised an eyebrow, its mental energy manifesting as a clear, scholarly male voice:
"Your Highness, if I may be so bold as to ask, what brings you here?"
Orannal adjusted the jeweled cufflinks on his sleeve, and upon hearing this, glanced expressionlessly at the little Samoyed. Morian instinctively felt a sense of foreboding.
Sure enough, the next moment the man grabbed her by the back of her neck, firmly restraining her movements, and the magnetic male voice above her was full of sarcasm.
"Negotiation. Aren't you supposed to be very clever and enjoy watching the show every day? Then come along with me."
No one would have imagined that the genius strategist, admired and feared throughout the interstellar world, would join the Alliance heir's side under such circumstances.
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