WTNL Chapter 440

Yuying University
Chapter 440: Young students

Outside the Administration Building.

Although the instance had entered a safe period, the sky remained eerily dark, as if no light could penetrate it.

The gray-white, three-story building stood silently in the darkness. The front doors were tightly shut, and every window behind them appeared pitch black. The entire structure was shrouded in a suffocating stillness.

From the outside, it gave off a deeply unsettling, almost sinister vibe—like something instinctual was warning them to stay away.

Yet now, the very group that had just escaped from within was doing everything they could to get back in.

The moment they realized Wen Jianyan hadn’t exited the building with them, they immediately understood the vice principal’s intent—by forcibly creating a physical distance, they were trying to exhaust him to death.

It sounded absurd.

But it was terrifyingly effective.

Even worse, the anchor’s innate abilities couldn’t activate during this window, so no time reversal, no overpowered skills—everything was locked down.

The longer this dragged on, the more anxious they became.

Every wasted second chipped away at the hope of saving him.

“F*ck… goddamnit!”

Orange Candy lifted her leg and kicked furiously at the tightly shut glass door.

However, the seemingly fragile glass door was like a fortress wall—completely unshaken even by a full-force kick from a top-tier anchor.

The atmosphere was suffocating.

Each member wore a different expression, but all of them shared the same feeling of helplessness.

Knowing a teammate was in danger but being unable to do anything—it was an infuriating kind of despair.

Orange Candy’s expression darkened as she stared at the glass door, clearly ready to kick it again.

Hugo stepped forward and gently pulled her back, choosing his words carefully:

“Calm down, this isn’t—”

Suddenly, a voice from behind interrupted him.

“Quiet.”

Everyone froze and turned toward the source of the voice.

It was Su Cheng.

In fact, this was only the second time he had spoken since leaving the administration building. He had remained unsettlingly silent during the entire door-breaking attempt. So his sudden words now shocked everyone.

Su Cheng raised a finger and made a “shh” gesture.

His eyes were fixed on the distant glass door, his gaze flickering. “Listen.”

Instantly, everything fell into dead silence—even breathing halted.

“?!”

Everyone tensed, hearts racing. They weren’t sure whether to fear an imminent threat or hope for something impossible.

Creak—

The sound of a door hinge breaking the silence.

A blood-soaked, pale young man appeared behind the door.

Most of his body was drenched in blood. His face looked as pale as death. His blood-stained fingers tightly gripped the door handle, and he was panting heavily—as if this one act had drained the last of his strength.

It was Wen Jianyan.

Even though they’d mentally prepared when Su Cheng had spoken, seeing this person—whose chances of survival seemed so slim—standing there alive still stunned them. For a moment, no one knew what to do.

The man struggled to lift his eyelids. His dazed eyes slowly scanned the faces before him.

He forced the corners of his mouth up into a weak smile.

“…What? Missed me?”

With that, Wen Jianyan staggered and collapsed.

Hugo reacted first. He lunged forward just in time to catch him before he hit the ground face-first.

“What’s wrong?” Orange Candy rushed over nervously and peered closer.

“Is he okay?”

The young man’s eyes were shut. His face was as pale as paper, his breathing weak and uneven, and blood soaked his hair and clothes—he looked half-dead.

After a quick examination, Hugo finally gave his assessment:

“He’s fine. Just passed out.”

The others exhaled in relief, tension melting from their bodies.

Though unconscious, just making it out of the building alive was a miracle in itself.

It was unbelievable—how terrifying must his willpower be to keep moving in that condition, even making it down a floor on his own?

But either way, the outcome was what mattered.

Orange Candy looked around, made a quick decision:

“We need to leave. This place isn’t safe.”

“Where to?” Wei Cheng asked.

After glancing at the unconscious Wen Jianyan and thinking for a moment, Orange Candy said decisively:

“The dorms.”

“Dorms?” Tian Ye froze, a bad feeling rising. “Wait, which dorms?”

“Where else?” Orange Candy rolled her eyes dramatically. “The boys’ dorms, obviously.”

Orange Candy’s Livestream Chat:

“?”

“?”

“???”

---

Soon, the group arrived at the boys’ dorm building.

In the distance, the dorm stood silently in the night.

Dim lights glowed faintly behind each small window, barely pushing back the heavy darkness outside—if anything, the contrast made them feel colder and more distant.

Ignoring the worried look on Tian Ye’s face, Orange Candy walked straight up and pushed open the dorm entrance labeled [No Girls Allowed].

Her voice called impatiently from inside:

“What are you waiting for? Come on!”

The male members: “…”

Well, alright then.

Still carrying the unconscious Wen Jianyan, they followed carefully into the dormitory.

The first-floor lobby was eerily quiet.

Likely due to the recent abnormal changes in the instance, most anchors hadn’t returned to the dorms yet. The only sound came from the ceiling light above, flickering with a faint buzzing.

From a small room nearby, a pale, expressionless face peered out from the darkness. Black, soulless eyes stared at them directly.

The dorm supervisor.

Even though they’d braced themselves for it, the sudden appearance still sent a chill down their spines.

Standing partway up the stairs, Orange Candy waved casually:

“Come on already!”

“…”

Braving the supervisor’s cold gaze, they hurried across the lobby.

“What?” Orange Candy glanced at them in confusion. “Isn’t this a six-hour safe zone? Why are you all so scared?”

Everyone: “…”

Somehow, not everyone had nerves of steel like you do.

Maybe Hugo came close.

Looking at Wen Jianyan, still out cold, he asked, “Anyone know which floor he lives on?”

Su Cheng: “I do.”

He was the only one who had visited Wen Jianyan’s dorm, so he led the group upstairs.

They soon arrived at Room 404.

The door was locked, the window dark—clearly, no one was inside.

“The key should be…”

Su Cheng turned toward Wen Jianyan.

But before he could finish his sentence, Orange Candy raised her slender leg and—BANG!—the wooden door slammed open. The fragile lock nearly came off. Splinters fluttered through the air like dust.

The others: “…”

Su Cheng slowly withdrew the hand he had extended toward Wen Jianyan’s pocket and sighed:

“…That works too, I guess.”

Once inside, they found the small dorm room empty.

“Which bed is his?” Orange Candy asked.

Su Cheng pointed silently to the top bunk in the far corner.

“What?” Orange Candy frowned. “That one?”

In the real world, bunk choice didn’t matter much—but in an instance, the lower bunk was clearly better. It was easier to move quickly—sometimes, that made the difference between life and death.

She looked around the room, then walked over and pointed at the bottom bunk below:

“He’ll sleep here from now on.”

Just like that, without knowing, Wen Jianyan ended up back in the bed he originally wanted.

Soon, they laid him down flat.

His body was still soaked in blood. His face was ghostly pale—he looked like a corpse. But compared to earlier, his breathing seemed slightly steadier.

Su Cheng leaned over and quietly tucked the blanket around him.

From nearby, Orange Candy called out:

“Hey, Prophet, meeting time!”

“Coming,” Su Cheng replied, turning from Wen Jianyan and joining the others.

At the front of the dorm, the group gathered—some standing, some sitting—staring at each other.

“Alright, everyone’s here. Meeting starts now,” Orange Candy said lazily, dramatically clapping her hands.

She nodded toward Hugo. “You start.”

“What the hell happened on your end? Didn’t you go to the third floor? Why no item? Why did you suddenly tell us to regroup on the second floor?” Her questions came fast and sharp, one after the other.

Hugo leaned against the wall, idly spinning a metal lighter.

Only after Orange Candy finished did he glance up:

“You done?”

Orange Candy: “…”

Why you little—

“We did make it to the third floor,” Hugo said before she exploded. He started answering each question calmly. “But we didn’t get the item. Because between the vice principal’s office and the principal’s office, our Sleeping Beauty chose the vice principal’s.”

He gestured toward the unconscious Wen Jianyan.

[Hugo’s Livestream Chat]:

[Hahahahaha I knew that nickname came from that guy’s persona back at the hotel.]

[Sleeping Beauty and Pinocchio—both fairytale names. This guy’s got a knack for nicknames.]

“Vice principal’s office?” Orange Candy frowned. “Why?”

After listening to Hugo’s summary of the situation, she looked thoughtful.

She, too, had gone to get clues from Snow White, and had seen the clue: Right. But clearly, Wen Jianyan must have had his own reasons for acting on that hint so suddenly.

She nodded.

“And then?”

The rest of the story was simple enough. Hugo summed it up in just a few words.

All in all, everything was clear now.

The small, old dorm room fell silent once more.

As the team captain, Orange Candy rested her chin on her hand, eyes lowered, clearly deep in thought.

It was Tian Ye who finally broke the silence, hesitantly speaking: “So… we’re all second-year students now?”

Wei Cheng glanced at him and nodded.

“Yes.”

Thanks to Wen Jianyan’s actions, they had triggered an unprecedented storyline. In what was originally a one-academic-year instance, they had advanced to their second year. The instance’s exploration rate had also skyrocketed, shockingly reaching nearly 70%.

The original, relatively simple rules for clearing the instance had now become uncontrollable.

“I remember the system notification mentioned,” Su Cheng spoke up, “that in the second academic year, hidden maps would be unlocked, and more anchors would be introduced.”

“Yes,” Hugo nodded.

He stared at the flame flickering in his lighter and said,

“That’s both good and bad.”

With the instance upgraded and more anchors being added, it meant more people entering the game. But their understanding of the instance was still incomplete, making its future developments even more unpredictable.

Still, from their observations, the Administration Building was one of the hidden areas unlocked in the second year, so they no longer had to worry about it disappearing like before.

In other words, they now had more chances to return to the instance’s central hub.

Unfortunately, the specific rule changes would only become clear once the six-hour countdown ended.

“How much time is left?” Orange Candy lifted her chin.

Wei Cheng looked at his watch:

“Less than five hours.”

Still a while to go.

“Forget it,” Orange Candy stretched lazily and said, “then we might as well take the chance to rest.”

Although the next five hours might be tough to get through, for them—having survived five intense days in the instance—this break was exactly what they desperately needed.

After all, most nightmare instances didn’t last longer than three days. Yet this time, not only had they already been here for five days, it was clear they’d be staying even longer… To handle whatever came next, they needed to rest and reset.

Just then, Hugo’s eyes suddenly flicked upward, his expression shifting.

He raised a hand, signaling for silence.

Then, he suddenly yanked open the door.

A few unfamiliar faces stood at the entrance, staring in shock at the people inside, clearly not expecting to be caught.

But still, out of habit, they assumed defensive stances.

“Who are you? Why are you here?” Zhao Ze demanded, trying to sound threatening, though his back was stiff with tension under Hugo’s sharp gaze.

In fact, he had returned first.

After the “Ideological and Moral Education” class, their entire team had been left baffled by the sudden, drastic change. None of them understood why the instance would alter so drastically right after the last class of the first year—its difficulty even spiking from A to SS.

It had scared them stiff.

An SS rating.

Even in the Nightmare system, instances of that rating were exceedingly rare. For mid-tier anchors like them, SS instances were basically death traps.

What was worse, they couldn’t even use their credits to leave anymore.

Then the system announced a six-hour “safe time.”

But even so, the announcement did little to ease their fears or explain what had happened.

Since they had never experienced anything like this before, they had tentatively wandered around the instance. Aside from the familiar school areas, they spotted some new buildings—structures that hadn’t existed before. But perhaps due to the current “safe time,” they weren’t allowed to enter.

Realizing exploration wouldn’t yield anything, Zhao Ze and the others gave up on roaming.

After a quick discussion, they decided to head back to the dorm.

But the moment they got upstairs, they realized something was wrong.

There were people in the dorm—and not just one.

While they hesitated, Tiger and Panther also returned. The group exchanged glances and quickly understood the situation.

If all of them were here… who was inside the dorm?

After a brief strategy talk, they moved closer to investigate, but hadn’t expected to be caught the moment they reached the door.

“…”

Hugo stood at the door, hand braced on the frame, towering over them. His grey eyes, shadowed under his brow bone, were expressionless yet intimidating, making it difficult to meet his gaze.

Zhao Ze swallowed hard. Under that crushing gaze, his tough act felt like a balloon slowly deflating.

Then, a surprised voice rang out behind Hugo:

“Oh, it’s you guys?”

Zhao Ze turned toward the voice.

It was Orange Candy, head tilted, peeking from behind Hugo. When their eyes met, she even smiled and waved sweetly.

Zhao Ze: “………………”

That innocent-looking smile somehow sent a chill down his spine.

He remembered—this was their dormmate’s team captain.

Hugo: “You know them?”

Orange Candy: “Of course!”

But before Zhao Ze could relax, Orange Candy beamed and said cheerfully, “Come on in! Don’t let them run off.”

The group at the door: “…”

Hugo stepped aside with a gesture that said “after you.”

Tiger and Panther looked bewildered, glancing helplessly at Zhao Ze. He gave a slight shake of his head.

Although Orange Candy had barely spoken to them before, Zhao Ze hadn’t forgotten how effortlessly she had crushed one of his teammates.

And now they had Hugo, too.

He didn’t look like someone you’d want to mess with.

So, under the watchful eyes of this “gang of thugs,” they stiffly stepped inside—though this was technically their room, they now felt like outsiders.

There was a faint metallic tang of blood in the air, putting everyone further on edge.

Orange Candy rested her head on one hand, tilting it slightly as she stared at Zhao Ze with amused interest. She didn’t speak at first.

Zhao Ze broke into a cold sweat under her gaze.

Meanwhile, Hugo quietly closed the door behind them.

Click.

The quiet sound of the latch made Zhao Ze flinch.

“Phone,” Orange Candy said sweetly, holding out her hand.

Zhao Ze complied.

“Unlock it,” she added, tone a little firmer.

Zhao Ze’s fingers trembled slightly. After a pause, he unlocked it and handed it back.

Orange Candy took the phone and started scrolling.

The room was deathly quiet.

Zhao Ze sat like he was on pins and needles.

He swallowed and glanced around—but didn’t see Wen Jianyan. That made him even more nervous. Not only was the only familiar face gone, but it also made him wonder what this group’s purpose was in waiting for them.

Could it be… revenge?

Suddenly, Tiger blurted out: “Hey, uh… where’s that little guy of ours?”

“!!!”

Zhao Ze nearly passed out, wishing he could leap over and slap a hand over Tiger’s mouth.

Could you be any worse at reading the room?!

Orange Candy paused, raising her eyes.

“…” Zhao Ze forced a strained smile.

After a few seconds, Orange Candy flicked her wrist, tossing the phone back. Zhao Ze fumbled to catch it.

“All right, you can go.”

Orange Candy spoke lazily.

“…?”

Zhao Ze blinked, holding his phone, not quite processing what just happened.

Tiger and Panther looked just as confused.

“The little guy…” Tiger began.

“He’s over there resting,” Orange Candy gestured to one of the beds. “That bed is his from now on, got it?”

Zhao Ze instinctively nodded.

At the door, Hugo raised his hand and reopened it. He didn’t say a word, but the message was clear: you can leave now.

A few seconds passed before Zhao Ze finally realized they weren’t going to be hurt—and Wen Jianyan was alive and well. So, the idea that this group was here for revenge clearly didn’t hold water.

He let out a long sigh of relief.

Crisis averted, Zhao Ze tried to lighten the mood:

“Haha, you guys were way too intense just now. I thought you were gonna skin us alive!”

Orange Candy gave him a sly smile: “Next time.”

Zhao Ze’s smile froze: “…”

Uh…

Huh?

After sending Zhao Ze and the others out, Hugo turned to Orange Candy: “Did you find anything?”

“Not much,” she shrugged. “But one thing stood out.”

She tapped her chin thoughtfully.

“They didn’t level up to second-year like we did.”

After Wen Jianyan’s stunt in the Administration Building, everyone in their team had their identity cards updated to say “Year 2 student at Yuying Comprehensive University.”

“Seems normal,” Tian Ye chimed in. “They didn’t fill out the promotion form, after all.”

“But they’re not listed as first-years either.”

Orange Candy lay back on her bed, staring at the bunk above, and added,

On their identity cards, their “Occupation” no longer said “First-Year Student at Yuying Comprehensive University,” but simply “Student at Yuying Comprehensive University.”

They didn’t yet know what that meant, but as experienced, high-ranking anchors in the Nightmare system, they all sensed there was some deeper mechanism at play.

“Anyway, we’ll have to wait until the five hours are up before the instance opens again,”

Orange Candy waved a hand. “Pick a bed and get some rest. Safe times like this don’t come often—make the most of it, folks!”

Everyone exchanged glances, then nodded. Each picked a bed and lay down.

Soon, the room was filled with steady breathing in the darkness.

Live Broadcast Room:

“……”

“Wait a minute, I just realized something—those people who got kicked out earlier were actually the original owners of that dorm room!”

“Why are you all acting so natural about this?!”

“A bunch of robbers!!”

---

Wen Jianyan floated in darkness.

He vaguely knew he was unconscious, but his eyelids were unbearably heavy, as if filled with lead—impossible to lift.

In his ears, indistinct murmurs echoed. He couldn’t tell who was speaking or make out the words, yet he could clearly feel an overwhelming discomfort that chilled him to the bone.

Exhaustion, fear, confusion, madness.

They whirled like a hurricane inside his tattered, wounded body.

In a daze, it felt like he was back in the administration building again—bleeding out silently in a forgotten, pitch-black room.

All his resentment and rage were trapped inside his heavy body, like a swamp dragging him deeper, trying to assimilate him into the same sludge.

A slow, creeping death.

Suddenly, cold fingers fell on his burning eyelids, and a voice—unidentifiable, sounding both distant and whisper-close—brushed his ear:

“…Sleep.”

And then Wen Jianyan knew nothing more.

He didn’t know how much time had passed.

“!”

Without warning, Wen Jianyan jolted awake, eyes snapping open.

It was pitch black in front of him, so dark that he doubted whether his eyes had opened at all.

Still, as he woke, the hallucinations from the dream faded. Perhaps because he was now in a safe zone, the side effects of his lowered sanity value (san) had eased a little. Though the whispers hadn’t completely disappeared, they were noticeably fainter.

Wen Jianyan frowned and slowly pushed himself up, looking around.

The scene before him was familiar.

His dorm room.

It was quiet—giving the illusion of safety.

What happened in the administration building felt like a nightmare, fading with consciousness.

He lowered his gaze and looked at his hand.

On the base of his finger, the Ouroboros ring still glinted.

But only he knew—it was now useless.

The entity once bound within had found a way to break free. There was no longer any way to seal it back using the same method.

Wen Jianyan stared at the ring, lashes casting shadows on his pale cheeks, looking somewhat dejected.

It was hard to say exactly why.

Was it because he had lost the control he’d painstakingly gained? Or because he no longer had a powerful tool to back him up during risky maneuvers?

Both, probably.

But there was also a deeper, inescapable reason…

Perhaps loneliness.

The “Imprisoned Wu Zhu” had always been a terrifying double-edged sword. Using its power meant risking his own life. Unless absolutely necessary, Wen Jianyan would never rely on it.

And indeed, he hadn’t—he’d never truly used it to save himself.

Still, in the endless cycles of terrifying instances, where he walked alone time and time again… that ring meant more than just a tool.

It represented a second option in desperate moments. Another shadow in the darkness.

Wu Zhu was no companion. Wen Jianyan had never let his guard down.

But no companion could follow him into that darkness—so deep no light could reach. He wouldn’t allow anyone to go with him. He pushed them away again and again, always walking alone.

He was used to being alone.

He had long since cut off hope, severed trust, and avoided anything that could give him a sense of reliance or belonging.

And yet…

There were still moments of loneliness.

“You’re awake?”

A joyful voice sounded nearby—Su Cheng.

Wen Jianyan pulled his gaze back and looked over.

The brief moment of distraction lasted only seconds. As he raised his eyes, he was fully composed again, like water on hot pavement in summer—gone in a blink.

“…Yeah.”

But as soon as he spoke, even he was startled.

His voice was hoarse to the point of being unrecognizable—even to himself.

Su Cheng quickly stepped forward, pulling back the curtain and helping Wen Jianyan sit up.

“How are you feeling?” he asked quietly.

Wen Jianyan cleared his throat, but it didn’t help much:

“…I’m okay.”

“How long was I out?” he asked.

“About five and a half hours,” Su Cheng replied without hesitation.

“You pretty much slept through the whole safe period,” a fluffy orange head peeked down from the top bunk, startling Wen Jianyan.

It was Orange Candy.

“But you woke up just in time—we’re about to move.”

There was half an hour left in the safe period. Once it ended, the temporary rule suspensions would likely reactivate. So they needed to get out of the campus buildings and find an open, safe spot to wait for the nightmare system to issue new rules.

Yun Bilan sat on the bed across from him. Her cheek was paler than ever, and the bloody thorns on her face looked even more vivid—likely a side effect of overusing her ability.

“What’s your status?” she asked, cold voice unable to mask her concern.

Wen Jianyan glanced at the top right corner of his vision and gave a wry smile.

“HP 21, san 13.”

Honestly, better than he expected. Normally, at such low sanity, there’d be almost no natural recovery. Hallucinations would usually worsen, dropping it further.

But somehow—maybe because he’d slept through the safe period…

His sanity hadn’t dropped. It had even increased a little.

He wasn’t sure if that was really the reason.

He blinked. The icy touch on his burning eyelids still lingered like a hallucination.

“Not bad, not bad.”

Orange Candy grinned, peeking over at him.

“Now that the new map’s open and the little convenience store is available, there’s definitely some new way to restore sanity. Worst case—Hugo can just chop off another finger.”

As her voice fell, slow, steady footsteps approached. Hugo walked over silently.

Expressionless, he glanced at Orange Candy.

She raised her brows—what, got a problem?

“……”

Hugo looked away.

The moment Wen Jianyan saw him, memories from the third floor of the admin building returned.

He remembered how he had forced Hugo to follow his plan.

Cold sweat instantly ran down his back.

Crap. His cover was blown.

And he’d done it himself.

Still, if time rewound, he’d do it again. He couldn’t share his information and perspective with Hugo. Under those circumstances, there was no other way to make Hugo cooperate.

But now…

How the hell was he supposed to explain this?

Just as Wen Jianyan’s mind spun, Hugo met his gaze and said calmly, “Time to go.”

Wen Jianyan sighed in relief.

Thank god Hugo was a decent guy.

He knew it wasn’t the time to talk—and didn’t seem keen on revealing Wen Jianyan’s true identity to the others either.

Su Cheng reached out a hand:

“Can you stand?”

Wen Jianyan let him pull him up. The sudden change in height made his head spin.

He wobbled, but waved off Su Cheng’s second offer to help.

“I’m fine.”

Orange Candy didn’t bother with the ladder. Agile as ever, she jumped down from the bed and landed more steadily than Wen Jianyan.

“Alright, let’s go!”

Under the dorm matron’s cold gaze, the group left the dorm.

They weren’t the only ones. The open space outside was quickly filled with anchors pouring out of the building.

“Let’s find a better spot,” Orange Candy said.

In high-difficulty instances, crowds didn’t mean safety—just more idiots, and more dangers drawn by them.

Soon, the group reached a main road on campus.

Behind them was the teaching building. To the left, the sports field. Right led to the cafeteria and more dorms. Straight ahead stood the tightly shut campus gate—a location with high mobility and tactical value.

The sky was still dark.

Only streetlights provided faint light.

Orange Candy sat on a planter edge, swinging her legs.

“How much longer?”

“Ten minutes,” Wei Cheng checked his phone.

Time passed faster than expected.

The six-hour safe period was nearly up, and a new challenge was about to begin.

“Relax,” Orange Candy said lazily, “the difficulty’s not that much higher for us.”

Since entering the [Yuying Comprehensive University] instance, their every move had looked suicidal to others. They’d long bypassed the A-level boundaries, diving into the darker, scarier layers of the instance.

Now, the only change was making that darkness the actual main quest—and opening it even further.

“But not everyone’s so lucky,” she added.

Those who’d avoided the dark side, opting for passive survival—what was coming would be far beyond their expectations.

Fear of death wasn’t wrong.

Taking safe, conservative routes wasn’t wrong either.

But the Nightmare system was too cruel. For “ratings” and “drama,” it wouldn’t allow boring, low-risk clears.

It would create conflict, sow danger, and breed violence.

If this instance was a stagnant can of sardines, then Orange Candy’s squad was the “catfish” tossed in to stir chaos.

Neither side had a choice.

All were dancers on stage—performing for the audience’s pleasure.

As top-tier anchors, Orange Candy, Hugo, and Wen Jianyan all understood:

Playing it safe only led to meaningless death.

Only by gambling—by charging forward—could you find even a sliver of hope.

And after this round, any remaining anchors would also learn this truth.

A survival law carved from flesh and blood by the Nightmare itself.

As long as it exists, its twisted malice will never fade.

The air grew still. Everyone waited in silence.

Ten minutes flew by.

When the final second of the six-hour mark ticked past, the familiar mechanical voice echoed in everyone’s ears:

Ding!

“Congratulations! You’ve advanced to the second year at Yuying Comprehensive University!”

“Compared to the first year, the second year will be halved in duration—three days total.”

“Due to instance mutation, successful clears will now earn 300% increased rewards!!
And even more hidden benefits await!”

A tense silence fell. Everyone held their breath, trying to extract useful information.

“Hey, look…” Tian Ye pointed.

Everyone looked in the direction he indicated.

Outside the tightly closed school gate—on the plaza that had just been empty—silhouettes now stood in dense rows, as if they had always been there, silently waiting.

Even though they had expected it, everyone felt their breath hitch.

The instance had expanded.

New anchors had been deployed.

These were the new freshmen—their “underclassmen.”

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