Zhou Qi’an carefully packed the mushrooms into his schoolbag and continued on his way to school.
He absolutely refused to go hungry.
On the way, the two of them happened to run into Bai Chanyi. She brought up the issue of the files: “Last night, I unsealed three files other than my own. When I opened the third one, the alarm went off.”
She had rushed to open them as quickly as possible, hoping to determine the limit on how many files could be viewed.
“It’s hard to distinguish between players and NPCs just from the files.”
At least, they all seemed fairly normal.
Zhou Qi’an sighed. “Looks like using student records to learn about the story’s background won’t be easy.”
The negative effects of blood loss still hadn’t faded, and on top of that, he hadn’t eaten much. By the time he reached the classroom, he was already feeling a bit dizzy again.
The sun hadn’t fully risen yet, and the classroom lights were on.
Whether real students or players, almost everyone was already there—more than forty people in total—yet the atmosphere was utterly lifeless.
Around eight o’clock, a tall girl with a thick stack of books walked in, her ponytail swaying with each step.
She had a slight limp and repeatedly moved new textbooks into the room. The other students acted like they didn’t see her, so Zhou Qi’an, feeling the urge to help despite his own discomfort, stepped up to assist.
Before long, a corner of the podium was stacked high with heavy textbooks.
After moving the books, the ponytailed girl began collecting homework in a dull, mechanical manner.
“Cripple!”
“The teacher’s lapdog.”
Zhou Qi’an was resting with his eyes closed when he heard the taunts. He suddenly spoke up: “Shut up.”
The murmuring stopped.
The ponytailed girl acted as if she hadn’t heard the insults. When she reached Zhou Qi’an, she looked blankly at him and said, “There’s a telephone at the security booth for student use.”
Since students weren’t allowed to have mobile phones, the only reason to use the phone would be to contact someone outside.
Was she telling him how to call his parents?
After a brief pause, Zhou Qi’an said, “Thanks.”
The tall girl responded, “It’s the class monitor’s duty.”
She forced out an encouraging yet twisted smile. “Zhou, as long as you’re willing, your grades will improve quickly.”
With her limp, her walking posture was a bit strange. She supported herself on the desks as she left the classroom.
The last student to enter was actually Vikas. He arrived just in time, his bloodshot eyes revealing his exhaustion. Dark circles hung under his naturally pale skin, making him look even more fatigued.
Several players actively greeted him, subtly forming a small group.
Zhou Qi’an frowned at the sight.
Having allies was definitely not a good thing for him.
Nearby, Bai Chanyi was examining the textbooks stacked on the podium. “People with an awakened spirit medium physique might enter the dreams of the dead and gain useful information. It’s normal for others to want to befriend him.”
“Dreams?” Zhou Qi’an said. “I had a dream too.”
Vikas had sharp ears. He smirked and asked, “What kind of dream did you have, Zhou?”
There had only been a thin veil between them before, and last night, when Vikas had tried to tempt Zhou Qi’an into opening the senior students’ file cabinet, that veil had already been torn away. There was no need to pretend to be friendly anymore.
Zhou Qi’an said, “It was about the pig-headed man.”
Vikas’ expression stiffened.
The surrounding players looked at him in surprise.
Did Zhou Qi’an guess correctly?
Zhou Qi’an certainly didn’t know as much as Vikas, so after dropping the words, he didn’t bother to press further.
Vikas reined in his smile and prepared to return to his seat.
As he passed by Shen Zhiyi, the class’s worst student was diligently reading aloud: “I take pleasure in killing people in my dreams.”
Vikas’ steps faltered as he recalled how he had nearly died in a dream last night.
Shen Zhiyi continued reading his classical text, as if he had simply stumbled upon that line by chance.
…
At exactly eight o’clock, the homeroom teacher entered, wearing the same professional suit as the day before. Her collar was filthy, and her unwashed hair clung to her scalp.
She directed the class monitor to distribute the books.
The tall, limping girl repeated the same task patiently, just as she had carried the books over earlier, now handing them out one by one.
The players secretly sighed in relief.
Distributing books one by one took up a lot of time, which indirectly cut into class time.
But as the process dragged on, their initial relief turned into unease.
There were a total of ten subjects.
“Shifting Shadows,” “Ghost Scripture,” “The Art of Beast Taming,” “Spiritual Chicken Soup: The Joy of Deception,” “Prayers and Offerings,” “Poison Manual,” “Fundamentals of Athletic Training,” “Rewritten Fairy Tales,” “Medical Canon,” “Appreciation of Classical Poetry: Beginning with ‘The Difficulty of Shu Road’.”
These were completely different from yesterday’s test subjects.
Each book was incredibly thick—so hefty that they could easily be used as bricks to bludgeon someone.
Looking at the ten massive tomes that wouldn’t even fit in his backpack, Zhou Qi’an felt a fleeting realization, but before he could fully grasp it, the thought slipped away.
He rubbed his temples and heard his stomach growl.
Lack of food and sugar was slowing his brain down.
[You have disrupted classroom discipline. The homeroom teacher’s favorability toward you has dropped to 12.]
Was she insane?
My stomach growled once, and she docked three points from my favorability?
Zhou Qi’an was furious but dared not say anything.
The morning passed in a daze, and then, suddenly, the homeroom teacher’s sharp voice rang out: “Someone pried open the lock of the Comprehensive Building last night!”
Zhou Qi’an’s heart skipped a beat, but his expression remained unchanged.
“To prevent this from happening again, the school will be installing a new batch of surveillance cameras today. If anything like this happens again, don’t expect me to show any mercy.”
Finally, she issued a warning: “And those of you who are falling behind—if you need to call your parents, then call them.” She narrowed her eyes dangerously. “I don’t like forgetful children.”
As soon as the class ended, Zhou Qi’an got ready to take care of the parent-call situation.
He looked at Shen Zhiyi. “Coming with me?”
The other shook his head slightly. “Don’t worry about me.”
Seeing how calm he was, Zhou Qi’an didn’t probe further and instead turned to find a few other players who, like him, were at the bottom of the rankings.
“I know a way to contact the outside world.”
These players had already sensed the tension between Zhou Qi’an and Vikas. It seemed like they were competing to recruit teammates. As beneficiaries of this rivalry, they were more than happy to see this kind of competition escalate, so naturally, they didn’t refuse.
The college student looked puzzled.
Brother Zhou never let people take advantage of him for free. Even when forming teams, there was always some kind of benefit exchange, like with Bai Chanyi.
But Zhou Qi’an did just that. Leading the group, he rushed off to the telephone booth.
Lunch break was only half an hour. When they returned, Zhou Qi’an’s expression seemed slightly off.
The college student quickly asked, “What happened?”
Zhou Qi’an: “My mom told me to get lost.”
“……”
His voice wasn’t too loud or too soft, and the college student felt like this remark wasn’t meant just for him.
Before he could think further, his palm suddenly felt cold.
Zhou Qi’an had shoved an identity card into his hand.
The college student asked, “What’s this?”
Zhou Qi’an glanced at the time. “You’re my dad.”
The college student nearly dropped to his knees in shock.
Zhou Qi’an, seeing his horrified expression, calmly explained, “During the break before night self-study, you’ll pretend to be my dad and meet the homeroom teacher. Are you scared?”
The item he had given him was none other than the [Face-Changing Card] Bai Chanyi had given him earlier, which allowed temporary identity alteration. The student records only listed parents’ names without specifying if they were deceased. This was a feasible way to dodge the “call your parents” requirement.
The college student’s lips moved. He should be scared, yet for some reason, the role-playing aspect of it made him even more nervous.
He reluctantly nodded.
After lunch, afternoon classes proceeded as usual.
Just like the previous day, as soon as it passed four o’clock, the sky darkened instantly, bringing the same eerie chill of an impending storm.
A noise unlike the dead silence of the classroom arose—a kind of restless commotion.
“Excuse me, is anyone here?” A tentative voice called out.
The homeroom teacher opened the door. Standing outside were four people, male and female, of varying ages, all looking bewildered.
Not long ago, they had all experienced the same thing:
They had received a call from a family member asking them to come to the school. After that, their memories blurred. The next thing they knew, they had woken up in an unfamiliar environment.
Among them, the girl was the calmest. She looked at the homeroom teacher’s eerily cold face and was about to ask something when her eyes landed on someone inside the classroom.
Suddenly, she cried out excitedly, “Xiao Nan!”
The player surnamed Hao forced a smile as the girl ran over, fuming, “This is another one of your pranks, isn’t it? How much money did you spend this time—”
Hao interrupted her and instead addressed the homeroom teacher: “My family was busy, so they sent my sister to supervise my studies.”
Zhou Qi’an rubbed his temples gently, massaging away his headache while quietly watching the scene unfold.
Yesterday, the homeroom teacher had initially emphasized calling parents, but later, her wording had shifted to calling family members.
This loosening of restrictions felt more like a deliberate lure.
“It doesn’t matter. As long as someone came, that’s good enough,” the homeroom teacher said generously.
Then she addressed the three people still standing at the door, her tone carrying a faint threat:
“Mei Guo, Qian Yang, and Lin Tianguo—these three have suffered a severe drop in grades within a single day. They require family supervision. If you refuse, please proceed to withdraw them from school immediately.”
The three looked at their respective relatives. After exchanging glances, they hesitantly agreed.
The homeroom teacher then laid out a series of requirements for the accompanying guardians, strictly emphasizing that they, too, must take exams and study alongside the students.
“We’re about to start a new course. If your grades are too poor and you fail to set a good example for the students, you’ll be expelled from the school.”
“Now, there are only two students whose parents haven’t arrived,” she said, her gaze locking onto Zhou Qi’an.
Zhou Qi’an assured her, “They’ll be here before night self-study.”
Shen Zhiyi: “Same.”
The newly arrived guardians sat beside their respective players. In this unfamiliar environment, they instinctively clung to their only source of familiarity.
Zhou Qi’an rubbed his fingers against the book pages, suddenly understanding everything.
This was an exchange.
If a player was willing to sacrifice their first-day grades and offend the homeroom teacher, they would have the opportunity to gain an additional game account.
With billions of people worldwide, and fewer than 200 million players granted entry so far, failed satellite launches, extreme weather changes, and other crises signaled the accelerating arrival of the Water Era.
What would happen to those left behind?
However, recklessly bringing family members into a four-star dungeon was by no means a good thing. It might even be a deliberate trap set by the game itself.
