Not everyone could have a built-in motor. Without the protection of a Holy Artifact, players didn’t dare to charge ahead too recklessly.
Both staircases led upward. Vikas, keeping a steady expression, said, “Take the left.”
As a spirit-sensitive being, he had a naturally sharper sense of danger.
On the other side, just as the players reached the second floor, Zhou Qi’an had already sprinted to the fourth.
The sharp scent of disinfectant filled his nose. White bricks, white walls, and a distinct sterile smell lingering in the air—it almost felt like stepping into a hospital.
Squelch.
It seemed like he had stepped on something, but Zhou Qi’an didn’t bother to check. Stabilizing himself, he immediately kept running.
Despite his speed, not a single drop of sweat formed on his body. The chill seeping from the walls lingered around him, surrounding him with an eerie cold. The radiant glow of the Holy Artifact drove away the darkness, and trapped between absolute light and deep shadow, Zhou Qi’an had the unsettling feeling that he would eventually be ground into a pool of blood.
At the next stairwell turn, he suddenly halted.
The golden light illuminated something, causing it to flicker.
A strange figure stood ominously ahead.
The metallic emblem on its chest reflected the light, forcing Zhou Qi’an to momentarily squint. When he focused again, he saw a figure wearing a school uniform with an oversized iron helmet covering its head. In both hands, it clutched an absurdly long and razor-sharp pair of scissors.
Snip.
The blades snapped shut, aimed straight at Zhou Qi’an’s slender neck.
The momentum almost drove him directly into being cut in two.
“This is too much.”
The white silk ribbon wouldn’t be effective against this kind of bladed weapon. Without hesitation, Zhou Qi’an threw his Holy Artifact.
In an instant, the stench of blood burst into the air—the Trident speared straight through the attacker.
【Your HP has dropped by 40.】
The eerie figure wobbled, then collapsed against the wall. Its upturned neck revealed a grotesque row of stitches, writhing like a centipede.
Zhou Qi’an moved closer. It really looked like its head had been severed and sewn back on.
The school uniform was identical to the ones they wore. Judging by the height and build, this might have been the player who had sat behind him, the one dragged away by security for cheating.
Just as he reached out to remove the iron mask for confirmation, an unsettling noise echoed from the depths of the darkness.
Zhou Qi’an hesitated for a moment—then chose to keep running.
If a major enemy showed up, using the Holy Artifact again would wreck his body.
The radiant glow of the Holy Artifact made him a beacon in the darkness, which had both advantages and disadvantages. Every lurking monster could instantly pinpoint his location, but at the same time, it instilled fear in some of them.
Whatever was behind him did not pursue.
Zhou Qi’an felt lightheaded and dizzy, but he didn’t dare slow down.
He had no idea how long he had been running on autopilot, but when he finally caught sight of a blurred, difficult-to-read number “13”, he exhaled a cold breath of relief.
Ninth Floor.
Vikas frequently switched his route—sometimes taking the leftmost staircase, sometimes the far-right, eventually moving to the emergency exit.
His heightened senses helped him avoid dangers time and again. He didn’t reject Bai Chanyi and the others following him; his calm and considerate demeanor further increased the trust the group placed in him.
In contrast, Zhou Qi’an—who had selfishly rushed ahead, relying on his speed and items—seemed much more despicable.
The college student felt a little concerned for Zhou Qi’an. But then again, Zhou Qi’an had never been popular to begin with. What others thought of him probably didn’t matter anymore.
The emergency exit signs in the complex building were still glowing, and the hallways weren’t entirely pitch black. Suddenly, a sharp, familiar noise rang out from above.
The distinct sound of a lock being broken!
That meant Zhou Qi’an had reached the archives.
Vikas’s expression changed slightly.
“Pick up the pace.”
After rushing as fast as they could, they finally reached the thirteenth floor. Vikas immediately pulled out a flashlight, set it to the lowest setting, and aimed it inside.
Wherever the light swept across, rows of tempered glass cabinets gleamed with an eerie sheen. They resembled acrylic display cases, divided into dense, individual compartments, each holding a photo of a new student.
A living cemetery in structure.
As the group stepped inside, Zhou Qi’an hurried in from another area—clearly, he had just been snooping through someone else’s file.
At this moment, he had already put away his Holy Artifact. Most people’s dissatisfaction with him overpowered their curiosity about the light they had seen earlier.
“Shameless.” Someone muttered under their breath.
Zhou Qi’an didn’t care. He took his time retrieving the frame containing his own file.
Each class’s student photos were placed together on a shelf. Nearby, Bai Chanyi also found her own frame. With a flick of her fingers, the frame came apart effortlessly, revealing a small kraft paper envelope hidden inside.
The others quickly followed suit.
Shen Zhiyi had been lagging behind earlier and arrived late. He found his file neatly tucked inside the frame, showing no signs of having been hurriedly flipped through.
He let out a sigh.
Zhou Qi’an hadn’t peeked at his file.
Bai Chanyi skimmed through her documents. “It’s mostly the same as real life, and the age matches too.”
However, the records were significantly condensed.
She frowned slightly. “I’ve been through two school-themed instances before, but this is the first time I’ve encountered something like this.”
In those past experiences, everyone was given a fixed identity and an age-appropriate role.
“Enrolling under our real identities… interesting.”
The flashlight beam swept across the cabinets behind them. Vikas said, “We should check the records of past students to confirm.”
But he didn’t move.
Neither did Zhou Qi’an, who glanced over with an ambiguous smile before tossing a small hammer into Vikas’s hands. “Alright, you break the locks.”
Non-weapon or high-quality items could be used by others even without a formal trade.
Vikas remained standing still. Zhou Qi’an casually took the hammer back. “Guess you’re not that interested in past student records after all.”
Under the moonlight, the usual smile that Vikas always wore faded significantly.
Zhou Qi’an didn’t linger. He turned and left first. Shen Zhiyi, watching from the corner of his eye, noted Vikas’s expression but looked away before their gazes met.
Meanwhile, Bai Chanyi stayed out of the conflict, quietly flipping through the files of other students in their class, trying to identify which ones might be players.
Twelfth Floor.
Leaning against the staircase railing, Zhou Qi’an was drenched in cold sweat.
The college student hurried after him. “Brother Zhou…”
“Help me downstairs.”
But before the student could even lend a hand, someone had already picked Zhou Qi’an up.
Lying on Shen Zhiyi’s cold back, Zhou Qi’an felt lightheaded and feverish but didn’t bother struggling.
His eyes remained sharp—not clouded by blood loss—but coolly warned the eager college student, “Hope you understand what ‘renewable resources’ means.”
The student, who had been about to drain himself to heal Zhou Qi’an, froze, then quickly nodded.
Healing skills had strict limitations. Minor injuries could be instantly cured, but serious wounds required health transfer.
To sum it up: Heal 1000, lose 800.
In the end, the college student only transferred half of Zhou Qi’an’s injury. His legs trembled, and his lips turned pale.
He couldn’t help but admire Zhou Qi’an—even in this state, the guy had the nerve to roast Vikas.
Zhou Qi’an ordered, “Move faster.”
Everything had limits. Pushing too far might trigger the game’s rules.
Like how Vikas had tried to bait him into breaking the locks.
The cabinets at the back were all locked with combination codes. Each compartment had specialized anti-peep film on the glass, making it nearly impossible to see the photos inside—even when pressed up close. Forcing the locks could easily trigger unknown dangers.
By that logic, checking too many records might do the same.
If too many people looked through files, and some—like himself—wanted to peek at others’ data, it was only a matter of time before it escalated into something worse.
Experienced players relied on their accumulated knowledge. Even knowing that certain actions might cause problems, they would still take risks to gain more information.
And just as expected—a piercing alarm shattered the darkness!
Zhou Qi’an’s stamina had recovered a little. “Put me down.”
Shen Zhiyi: “The wind is too strong.”
He didn’t hear anything.
“……”
To be fair, the wind while running really was strong.
But Shen Zhiyi moved like a casual stroll, his figure eerily shifting several meters ahead in an instant.
The college student didn’t notice this strange scene, gritting his teeth and sprinting forward.
The school had extensive greenery, and the night wind, damp and heavy, carried moisture as it swept past the water channels.
Once they left the Comprehensive Building, they didn’t stop and continued toward the dormitory.
Shen Zhiyi knew Zhou Qi’an’s limits well—so when they neared the dormitory, he took the initiative to put him down.
Zhou Qi’an glanced at him.
The way he handled things with such perfect control, it was hard to even nitpick.
“Brother Zhou…”
The college student had firmly memorized his earlier words—never overdo anything.
Recalling the files they had just seen—unlike traditional handwritten records, everything was in printed text. Any alterations would be immediately noticeable.
So in the end, looking at the files drained health, offended people, and didn’t even solve the “calling the parents” problem—probably not worth it.
Before he could even finish his thought, the system notification arrived first:
【New Location Unlocked: Archive Room】
【Current Story Background Exploration: 10%】
【Important Checkpoint: 1/4】
【Head to more dangerous places! Strive to unlock the Green Escape Route as soon as possible.】
The college student shut his mouth awkwardly.
Zhou Qi’an asked for their dorm room numbers: “I’m in 514. What about you?”
Back during the exam break, he had already checked his backpack.
A plain black bag, with a thermos tucked in the side pocket. At the very bottom, a rusty key lay inside an unzipped compartment.
A strip of white tape on it had three numbers scribbled messily.
The college student answered, “504.”
Zhou Qi’an regretted not being in the same room.
“Don’t be discouraged,” Zhou Qi’an said. “Once my roommate dies, your chance will come.”
Given how this instance targeted him, he was probably rooming with some kind of monster-classmate again.
Trash game, I’ve already figured out your tricks.
He turned to Shen Zhiyi. “What about you? Where are you staying?”
Shen Zhiyi pulled out his key. The number 514 was clearly engraved.
Zhou Qi’an: “……”
Sorry, game. I misjudged you.
In the blink of an eye, Zhou Qi’an swiftly changed the topic: “Let’s get back to the dorms. If there’s a curfew, we’ll be in trouble.”
Dormitory Entrance.
The dorm supervisor was a fat middle-aged man, dozing off. Every time he snored, his entire body heaved like a rolling hill.
But he woke up fast. Seeing the three of them walking in quietly, he spoke up:
“New kids, make sure to study hard.”
His words were encouraging, but his eyes held an inexplicable resentment.
Zhou Qi’an scurried upstairs like a little rat.
Once he reached the fifth floor, he headed straight for the water room at the corner.
After a few gulps from his thermos, his energy noticeably improved.
“Alright, time to go home.”
