“What did my mom ever do to you guys? Why are all of you so eager to meet her?”
Zhou Qi’an’s expression was already difficult to describe.
But when he instinctively glanced around the classroom in exasperation, he noticed that some of the students looked even more unsettled than he did—including that carefree youth from earlier.
Most players who could make it into a four-and-a-half-star instance were experienced. It wasn’t normal for them to react oddly just because someone else was in trouble.
If anything, since more deaths meant less competition, even not being happy about it was considered unusual.
Zhou Qi’an hadn’t had time to think deeper about it before—whack!
The exam proctor swung her disciplinary ruler at him.
The ruler cut through the air with a sharp gust of wind but, due to excessive force, slipped from her grip and crashed onto the floor.
Her expression was as cold as concrete.
For some reason, this was the second time today that she had missed her target in such a strange way.
Her anger quickly flared up—”It’s all your fault for pissing me off!”
Shen Zhiyi remained standing like a puppet, silently enduring the scolding. Every time he blinked, his eyelids closed just a fraction slower than normal.
Zhou Qi’an couldn’t help but look at him a bit longer.
In his memory, Mu Tianbai had the same habit—his eyes remained shut just a bit too long, as if he had fallen into a brief slumber.
“Before tomorrow’s night study session, bring your parents to see me!”
The exam proctor’s voice was icy cold.
“And the rest of you—anyone who did poorly must call their parents too.”
After delivering the ultimatum, the two publicly humiliated failing students were finally allowed to return to their seats.
The exam proctor cleared her throat and began reviewing the test papers.
Her sharp voice rose higher and higher in the room.
Zhou Qi’an hadn’t even had a chance to sit down when a system notification popped up—
【Warning: The homeroom teacher’s favorability toward you has dropped to 40.】
【If favorability reaches zero, you will be removed from the class.】
So the exam proctor was actually their homeroom teacher.
A piercing gaze swept over him.
“…This question was practically a giveaway. I can’t believe some students still got it wrong.”
【Warning: The homeroom teacher’s favorability toward you has dropped to 30.】
【If favorability reaches zero, you will be removed from the class.】
She had almost stopped moving entirely, standing right next to Zhou Qi’an.
Through the front door’s glass window, he could vaguely see a security guard prowling outside—his fierce expression full of menace.
His oversized eyes locked onto Zhou Qi’an, practically itching to drag him away.
A chill ran down Zhou Qi’an’s spine, but he forced himself not to react.
Yet, that malicious gaze clung to him like a shadow.
Eventually, the towering security guard even bent down, pressing his distorted face right against the glass.
Then—
Ding ling ling!
The bell rang—a pardon from execution!
Zhou Qi’an let out a long breath of relief.
But before he could savor it—
“Students, I’ll just take up five more minutes of your time.”
The homeroom teacher’s voice rang out again.
And with that, his favorability dropped yet another point.
Shit!
Zhou Qi’an’s lips twitched—he nearly cursed out loud.
Perhaps due to his special evolution path, his evolution coverage was far broader than others’.
As a result, in every instance, he had a higher chance of encountering monsters.
For example—he was only the second-to-last scorer, yet NPCs clearly despised him the most.
【Warning: The homeroom teacher’s favorability toward you has dropped to 10.】
Zhou Qi’an’s expression turned cold.
He could no longer hold back the urge—his hand was already itching to pull out his holy artifact.
Hold it in.
He curled his fingers slightly. It was impossible to decide life and death by scores right at the start.
The homeroom teacher drooped her eyelids, enjoying the sight of Zhou Qi’an’s uneasy yet forcibly composed expression while criticizing the students who had answered incorrectly.
Zhou Qi’an was called out three times.
His favorability began to drop at a rate of one point per instance. When it finally fell to three, the homeroom teacher suddenly stopped talking.
“Alright, that’s it for today’s self-study session.”
Seeing that Zhou Qi’an was fine, the others were slightly disappointed. It had been a good opportunity—just before evening self-study ended, they could have observed what happened when a player was taken away.
Homeroom teacher: “Get ready. The second simulation exam will start in ten minutes.”
Another test?
Many instinctively glanced at the clock, feeling as if they were about to be tested to death.
After dropping that statement, the homeroom teacher strode toward the door, her matchstick-thin legs seemingly on the verge of snapping under the impact of her high heels.
Zhou Qi’an: “Teacher.”
The homeroom teacher turned back, her face full of displeasure at being called.
The last few favorability points teetered on the edge.
Zhou Qi’an: “You forgot to assign homework.”
【Attention: The homeroom teacher’s favorability toward you has increased to 15. Keep it up.】
“Almost forgot something important.” The homeroom teacher muttered, returning to the blackboard and rapidly writing down a dense string of assignments.
Instantly, resentful gazes shot toward Zhou Qi’an like knives. He remained calm in his seat—if he didn’t work on raising favorability, he would most likely face an instant kill at the start of the next round.
Shen Zhiyi’s pale-gray eyes flickered for a moment, as if he wanted to say something.
Zhou Qi’an said indifferently, “A bottom-feeder isn’t qualified to talk to me.”
“…”
Zhou Qi’an turned away and instead spoke with the top student who was approaching.
Bai Chanyi took the initiative to invite him: “Want to team up?”
As she spoke, she discreetly slipped a nearly transparent magnetic card into Zhou Qi’an’s palm.
【Disguise Card: Can scramble a player’s identity.
Usage Guide: The effect duration is limited. If the target’s strength vastly exceeds the user’s, the duration will fluctuate between three to five minutes.
Quality: Three-and-a-half stars.】
With this item, Zhou Qi’an had a chance to avoid the trouble of having his parents called.
After thinking for a moment, he asked, “Pardon my bluntness, but with your skills and resources, why do you still prefer teaming up?”
Bai Chanyi answered sincerely, “Unity is strength.”
Zhou Qi’an was momentarily speechless.
The college student nearby couldn’t hold back a chuckle.
Break time was short. Before long, the ominous bell rang again. This time, Bai Chanyi returned to her seat early.
The homeroom teacher came back, distributing test papers like falling snow onto the players’ desks.
Zhou Qi’an’s hand, holding his pen, froze the moment he saw the questions.
Identical.
They were exactly the same as before!
He had been under constant surveillance by the security guards outside during evening self-study, and his favorability had kept dropping. He had barely listened to the latter half of the lesson. Now, the real horror story unfolded—every question felt familiar, yet he couldn’t recall a single answer.
Lifting his eyes slightly, Zhou Qi’an saw the homeroom teacher watching him with a chilling smile.
“Begin the test.”
Shifting his gaze away, Zhou Qi’an’s eyes landed on Shen Zhiyi’s shoulders in the distance—suddenly, they looked particularly reliable.
He knew that this man definitely hadn’t listened either.
Taking the same test twice, yet not a single student was writing smoothly. Instead, everyone was more cautious than ever.
The exam had long ended past midnight.
The night was frighteningly dark. During the break, Zhou Qi’an walked to the window for some fresh air and noticed a faint streak of blood-red light hidden in the starry sky.
The classroom had fallen into near silence—two consecutive major exams had left everyone physically drained.
Half an hour later, evening self-study resumed.
The homeroom teacher announced the test results.
Shen Zhiyi did not disappoint Zhou Qi’an’s high expectations, securing his place firmly at the bottom.
Yet, surprisingly, the homeroom teacher did not erupt in anger. Instead, her demeanor became much more refined.
“Mei Guo, sixty-two points.”
“Yu Tian, sixty-five points.”
…
Several students who had previously ranked at the top had, for some unknown reason, dropped straight to the bottom few.
Meanwhile, Zhou Qi’an had soared to the remarkable achievement of sixth from the bottom!
The homeroom teacher never explained the same set of questions twice. Looking down at the students with their varied expressions, she seemed to be in an excellent mood. “Tomorrow morning, new textbooks will be distributed. Make sure to arrive early.”
Then, shifting her tone, she addressed the players whose scores had plummeted: “With this kind of negligence, I need to have a serious talk with your parents.”
With a slightly better ranking in the second exam, Zhou Qi’an’s physical discomfort had eased somewhat.
Once the homeroom teacher left, students gradually packed up and left the classroom. Only about ten remained—people who didn’t mind openly revealing their player identities.
A laid-back young man broke the silence first, introducing himself: “Since we’ve met, it must be fate. Folks, my surname is Hao. Just call me Hao.”
The girl who had collected the test papers wore a school uniform that had been washed many times, almost certainly a standard NPC. She addressed everyone as “X-classmate”—a safe way to mimic NPC speech.
A foreigner casually glanced at Zhou Qi’an, not bothering with such formalities.
He smiled and said, “Vikas.”
But when his gaze landed on a certain figure moving around the room, Vikas’ smile faded, and a hint of wariness flashed in his eyes.
Following his gaze, Zhou Qi’an saw that Vikas was watching the student who had ranked first in both exams. When handing out the test papers, the homeroom teacher had uncharacteristically softened her expression and even called this student by name. Zhou Qi’an vaguely remembered his name—Ying Yu.
The group took turns introducing themselves.
Shen Zhiyi and Zhou Qi’an didn’t need to—after the first exam, their names were already well-known among the players.
Vikas, his handsome face full of sincerity, extended an invitation: “Everyone, I have a spirit-sensitive constitution. Anyone interested in teaming up?”
Whether someone had a spirit-sensitive constitution could be determined by the color of their shadow.
Players with this trait had lighter-colored shadows and were incapable of lying. Although some had previously suspected him, hearing him confirm it in person still brought visible delight to their faces.
No matter how the competition unfolded later, a spirit-sensitive player had significant value in the early stages—an excellent choice for cooperation.
Unfortunately, Zhou Qi’an didn’t give Vikas any face at all. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and left with Bai Chanyi, the college student, and Shen Zhiyi.
Vikas narrowed his eyes and soon followed with a group of players.
As they walked out of the teaching building, Vikas trailed behind Zhou Qi’an at a steady pace. But since he had a spirit-sensitive constitution, no one suspected he was tailing Zhou Qi’an—most simply assumed he was gradually sensing his surroundings.
·
Outside the teaching building, the night was even darker.
The entire campus was small, its layout easily visible at a glance.
After school, most students headed south, suggesting that the dormitories were in that direction. Ahead, a cafeteria could be seen. The nearest building to the teaching hall was the comprehensive building, standing less than two hundred meters away.
At a glance, the comprehensive building was at least twenty stories high, shaped like half an ellipse. The top had a slight concave design, and its glass exterior was distinctly different from that of the teaching building. Under the hazy moonlight, the three characters for “Central Comprehensive Building” flickered faintly in and out of sight.
Zhou Qi’an remarked, “What a futuristic design.”
It looked like the head of a dead fish gazing at the stars.
“Pretty clever,” Vikas commented when he noticed Zhou Qi’an studying the comprehensive building. That meant Zhou Qi’an intended to go there.
Where a person chose to go could be a direct measure of their intelligence.
Taking a test under one’s real name implied that the records in the archives might also be real. Whether someone wanted to learn more about themselves or gather information on others, this was an excellent opportunity. If luck was on their side, they might even alter their records to escape the dreaded call to their parents—such as by changing their status to “orphan.”
Perhaps due to an instinct between similar individuals, Vikas could already sense Zhou Qi’an’s suspicion and hostility toward him. He also recognized that Zhou Qi’an was someone full of schemes and cunning. That was why Zhou Qi’an was so eager to check the records—to verify his suspicions and ensure he had a thorough understanding of his opponent.
However…
Vikas slowly curled his lips into a smile.
He was quite curious—how would Zhou Qi’an find an excuse to shake off the others and reach the archives first? According to the intel, Zhou Qi’an hadn’t played many games before and had limited tools and points at his disposal.
“Clever, but pitiful.”
Vikas gave him the same evaluation that Mu Tianbai had before—possessing a precious treasure yet unable to use it, forced instead to keep it hidden.
At that moment, Zhou Qi’an was still standing at the entrance of the teaching building, seemingly hesitating.
If he had only been 30% suspicious before, Vikas tailing him had raised it to 70%.
“Quite an unfriendly visitor,” he muttered, shaking his head. This time, he didn’t bother hiding his gaze as he openly stared at the tightly locked doors of the comprehensive building.
The next second, Zhou Qi’an sprinted forward, pulled out a [Little Hammer], and smashed the lock open with a single, violent strike.
The reckless action stunned the people behind him.
Right at the entrance was a directory board. Zhou Qi’an swiftly located his target: Archives Room, 13th Floor.
But instead of heading there immediately, he unexpectedly turned around, walked up to Vikas, and whispered, “I’m going to sneak a peek at your records.”
As soon as the words landed, he activated [Marlin Potion], instantly accelerating at insane speed.
Like a whirlwind, Zhou Qi’an dashed up the stairs.
Not just Vikas—his teammates and the other players were all momentarily frozen.
The comprehensive building had a strange architectural style and was clearly a place filled with hidden dangers. Although the first night was usually the least dangerous, this level of recklessness was still insane!
As they stood there in shock, a golden light suddenly spilled down from above.
The glow was anything but ordinary—it felt as if it could cleanse one’s soul.
“What is that? A flashlight?”
“No, it’s something else. This light is… unsettling.”
Standing in the darkness as if he had merged with it, Shen Zhiyi suddenly chuckled.
People experienced fear and excitement differently. Under the deep night sky, Vikas quickly realized what that light was. His handsome face twisted for a moment.
Is he insane?
Is he actually insane?!
That was Vikas’ first thought. He was almost certain that the radiant golden glow belonged to a Holy Artifact.
As someone with a spirit-sensitive constitution, he could feel its suppressive aura even from a distance.
If one possessed a Holy Artifact, wasn’t it best to keep it secret?
Seeing the shifting expressions of the other players, Vikas had a brief moment where he wanted to advise Zhou Qi’an to be more discreet. Unfortunately, he couldn’t. Instead, he had to help divert everyone’s attention to prevent more people from realizing what was really happening.
Beside him, the college student also wanted to say something to cover for Zhou Qi’an. He thought to himself that if only Brother Zhou had given a heads-up, it would’ve saved them all the trouble of thinking up an excuse on the spot.
As he was racking his brain, a sudden sharp voice snapped everyone out of their thoughts.
“What are you all standing around for?”
Vikas interrupted their hesitation. “The archives room is probably up there. Or do you want everyone else to see your personal records first?”
Snapped back to reality, the others immediately forgot about the eerie golden light and rushed forward.
Less than thirty seconds had passed. The main hall and the staircase were some distance apart, and each floor had over twenty steps.
But by the time Vikas led the charge into the comprehensive building, Zhou Qi’an was already nowhere to be seen—only the sound of rapid footsteps echoed from upstairs.
A player couldn’t help but exclaim in astonishment, “Are his feet shaped like hooves?”
Vikas’s mouth twitched. Forget hooves—even if he had a motor installed, he still shouldn’t be this fast.
__
Author’s Note:
Zhou Qi’an: Charging forward with my Holy Artifact, let’s go!
Vikas: ￥%@#@￥……*（）&
