ICSST CH70: Performance

After studying the capsule’s structure, it didn’t matter whether Zhou Qi’an was academically gifted or not—he could still tell the difference between OFF and ON.

Without hesitation, he pressed the door release button.

“Brother Pig, I’m here to rescue you.”

The barrier slowly lifted. The pig inside bolted out violently, ramming toward anything living, not caring who or what it was.

Zhou Qi’an was prepared. He calmly summoned the white silk and shook his head. “Repaying kindness with vengeance, huh.”

The tusked pig had been confined for a while, so its speed was diminished.

From behind, the white silk looped around the pig’s neck. Zhou Qi’an seamlessly pulled out the newly acquired cane and struck the pig’s side with it.

The massive creature staggered left and right for a moment before crashing heavily to the floor.

Surprisingly, the cane worked wonders.

Zhou Qi’an marveled briefly, then quickly grabbed the crystal in the semi-open box. The moment his fingers touched it, the mist stopped emitting.

[Cloud Crystal: Lifeform Preservation]
Grade: Special
Usage: High-tech preservation technology. When used on living creatures, can preserve life for 10 to 15 minutes as long as there’s still a breath remaining.

Zhou Qi’an raised his eyebrows. In other words, as long as someone was still barely alive, this thing could forcibly keep them going for another ten minutes.

Bang!

A loud crash.

The school doctor had dropped in. The wounds around his eye sockets cracked open again, and a heavy stench of blood filled the air.

He spun around at lightning speed, locking onto Zhou Qi’an’s position. His muscles tensed to the extreme, like a beast ready to pounce.

This presence was far more savage than before.

A sense of doom surged through Zhou Qi’an. He could feel that the protection of the death rule was about to wear off.

Even if he hadn’t destroyed any major public facilities, he had stolen something.

The skull ring was still flashing red.

Everything in this space probably had value. The capsules behind him were connected to countless power cords—there was no way he could move them, and trying might damage them.

No matter how daring he was, Zhou Qi’an wouldn’t risk violating the death rule head-on.

The school doctor lunged like a black shadow. Zhou Qi’an narrowly dodged and, in the same motion, grabbed the bin of medical waste. He was about to bolt out the door when he suddenly changed his mind.

“Almost forgot about you.”

Zhou Qi’an turned back, leapt onto the pig, and looped the white silk around its thick neck like reins.

The pig furiously tried to buck him off. Zhou Qi’an slapped its rump hard, and the pig reflexively charged ahead.

These pigs, bred with transplantable heads, clearly had higher intelligence than regular animals—and they ran fast too.

He hadn’t planned on leaving the pig behind. For one, if it rampaged inside and damaged the capsules, the blame might fall on him. Secondly, the pig was a valuable school asset. If he encountered another tough NPC on the way out, letting the pig go might distract them long enough to escape.

“Run faster, or we’re both getting butchered.”

Zhou Qi’an looked back.

Under the flickering lights, the school doctor who had been stabbed by the holy item yesterday now had his chest cavity crudely stitched with pigskin. But with his heart likely pierced and blood flow failing, he could only crawl grotesquely on the floor.

A cold chill ran through Zhou Qi’an’s gut.

If he’d been scheduled to work in the infirmary today, his memorial service would be next week.

[Green Emergency Exit Activation Countdown: 00:03:59]

“Faster—run faster!”

__

Dormitory Building.

Shen Zhiyi stood alone at the base of the stone steps after finishing the checkpoint.

The word “lonely” had never applied to him. Even in the bleak cold wind, his aloof silhouette carried no trace of desolation.

Holding Zhou Qi’an’s backpack, Shen Zhiyi waited in silence.

Suddenly, heavy, thunderous footsteps echoed from behind.

Not human. Not hooves.

Shen Zhiyi turned calmly—and in the next second, a young man on a pig charged toward him like a hurricane.

“…”

“Backpack!”

Before the surprise could even register on Shen Zhiyi’s face, the bag was snatched from his hand.

Just meters behind, the school doctor dragged his mangled body in relentless pursuit, leaving grotesque trails of blood across the stone ground.

Shen Zhiyi’s brows furrowed slightly.

Then, without expression, he extended his foot and stomped directly on the school doctor’s hand.

However, he had completely underestimated the school doctor’s hatred toward Zhou Qi’an.

Monsters could remember the taste of blood.

Zhou Qi’an still had unhealed wounds on his body. After being stomped, the school doctor’s hand dislocated completely. Abandoning his shattered palm, he began scraping swiftly against the ground with even more agility, continuing his pursuit of Zhou Qi’an.

Shen Zhiyi fell silent.

Just how deep is this grudge?

__

On the sports field.

The sky was overcast. Players who had just finished breakfast gathered in scattered groups, nervously awaiting the upcoming physical test.

“I wonder if today’s test will still be related to shadows.”

“Probably not…”

“Move! Get out of the way!”

Heavy vibrations pounded the cheap track. Everyone looked up to see Zhou Qi’an riding a massive pig, DuangDuangDuang, galloping laps around the field.

In broad daylight, a blood-soaked monster—no longer even recognizable—was roaring and chasing behind him.

With one hand clinging tightly to the pig’s back, Zhou Qi’an used the other to reach into his backpack and pull out a textbook. He glanced back to confirm that the school doctor wouldn’t catch up right away. Then, lifting his arm high, the corners of his lips curled—

“Everyone—”

He especially glanced at Hao Nan as he said this.

Pages ripped loudly in his hand, torn paper crumpled and scattered into the air like snowflakes.

Zhou Qi’an firmly believed that the others would understand his message. After all, anyone who went through compulsory education had done plenty of reading comprehension.

“I’m on vacation!”

As he passed by Ying Yu, Zhou Qi’an tossed his jacket and the trash bin to him in one bundled throw.

Everyone except Ying Yu scrambled to dodge out of the way.

It was unclear whether they were avoiding the pig, the monster, or the player who now looked even more deranged than the monster.

[Green Emergency Exit Activation Countdown: 00:00:59]

Fifty-eight seconds.
Fifty-seven seconds…

Sheets of paper dissolved under the darkened sky.

The thick textbooks were relentlessly destroyed.

An envelope slipped out, and Zhou Qi’an caught it with sharp reflexes.

The school doctor finally caught up and reached out with his remaining misshapen, relatively intact arm.

[Green Emergency Exit Activation Countdown: 00:00:01]

As the final second vanished, the sun broke through the clouds for a brief moment—and the young man on the pig’s back vanished into thin air, leaving only an empty backpack that fell to the ground and was violently shredded by the school doctor in frustration.

Those familiar with Zhou Qi’an—like the college students—were already somewhat prepared for this. But many other players were left visibly stunned.

“He’s gone? Did destroying books trigger a death rule?”

“That kind of disappearance couldn’t be from just that.”

In truth, they all had the same suspicion. They just didn’t want to believe it.

After all, the last instance had barely ended and most were still suffering in purgatory—yet someone had already left with such flair.

The gap between people might be vast—but it shouldn’t be this hopeless.

Voices rose in speculation—shock, envy, relief… everything mingled, even briefly drowning out the school doctor’s howls of rage.

Hao Nan stood amid the crowd, stroking his chin—not too worried about the raging school doctor, since none of them had broken any death rules.

What concerned him more was Zhou Qi’an. Something told him this wasn’t just a flamboyant exit.

It felt like Zhou Qi’an was trying to leave them a message.

“Destroying books…” he muttered, frowning. Though he didn’t fully understand it yet, he committed the moment to memory.

Perhaps, in a critical moment, this image would guide him.

__

Elsewhere.

Bai Chanyi, walking from behind, quietly reminded the college student, “Be wary of knowledge.”

“Huh?” the student replied in confusion.

Bai Chanyi, known for her keen insight, added, “He’s warning us not to get greedy.”

Seeing the student still bewildered, Bai Chanyi used an anti-eavesdropping device and slowly explained:

“If we manage to survive and escape, the knowledge in those textbooks will help us greatly in future instances.”

“But based on the story’s setting, the material we’re learning now is what the game staff are expected to know. What if this kind of incubation base isn’t the only one?”

Her voice turned serious. “Players who already grasp this knowledge could easily trigger related high-difficulty instances.”

The student shivered.

That made it sound like the game had no intention of letting them go easily.

Bai Chanyi continued, “So there are two possibilities. First—and this one’s brutal—once you master enough knowledge, it’s like being marked by the game. Eventually, you’ll be sent to another incubation base.”

“The second possibility is more lenient. When we clear the instance, the game might offer two options: abandon the experience points or score and keep the knowledge, or keep the rewards but lose all learning-related memories.”

“When that time comes…” Her eyes darkened. “Never retain the memories.”

Dying in a related instance would be far more horrific than being killed by a ghost.

To be transformed into a monster while still alive—never to be reborn.

The college student straightened up solemnly. “Understood.”

---

Heavy fog.

Zhou Qi’an was directly teleported into a field of mist.

He was already used to this. He casually picked a direction and walked.

“They should’ve understood my message by now…” It was only after completing all the checkpoints that Zhou Qi’an realized that mastering too many knowledge points might cause the game to tag him as potential staff material.

His gaze turned slightly cold.

The most insidious part was the game giving an unnecessary countdown before teleportation.

If a player let their guard down out of joy and tried to share escape methods or instance info, they’d be dead for sure.

The very first instance description had stated: “Any player who clears the instance must not reveal any information about it, or their game account will be erased.”

And right after Zhou Qi’an completed the final checkpoint, the game broadcasted: [You have cleared this instance].

Basically, a giant flashing death flag.

With a cold chuckle, Zhou Qi’an finally heard the delayed reward notice:

[Four-and-a-half-star instance “Boundless Sea of Blood” cleared.]

[12,000 points awarded and added to inventory.]

[You’ve gained 12,300 experience in this game. Would you like to use all of it for personal evolution?]

“Yes.”

Besides the already known evolution traits, a new upgrade had been added based on his train ticket choice:

[Calf (Intermediate Evolution): Increases balance and stability; enhances pressure absorption and shock resistance. Greatly reduces joint and bone stress during falls from height.]

[Heart (Five-Star “Fish Eye” Dormant State): On hiatus. Overfed.]

“…”

Zhou Qi’an nearly thought his heart had gone into retirement—scared him half to death.

As the mist slowly cleared, the wounds on his body gradually healed.

Zhou Qi’an took a deep breath, quickened his pace, and walked without looking back—toward the real world.