The night before last, he had dreamed of being beheaded by a pig-headed man. But last night, he had no dreams at all.
When Zhou Qi’an woke up the next morning, he felt completely refreshed, without the slightest weakness from being drenched in the rain the night before.
He blinked in confusion and found it odd. Upon checking his interface, he discovered that his heart had somehow allocated experience points to itself.
Are internal organs really this self-sufficient now?
Before he could think further, the morning broadcast echoed across the campus—
—”All students participating in the physical fitness test, please gather at the sports field at 7:30 sharp!”
—”Please gather at the sports field at 7:30 sharp!”
The dormitory walls were not soundproof, and the voice from the loudspeaker drifted in along with the cold morning wind. Many students, including Zhou Qi’an, sneezed before hastily getting dressed and heading downstairs.
“The students this year are rather lazy.”
The security guard, holding a loudspeaker, leaned against the railing. His burly frame pressed against it so heavily that the bar seemed on the verge of bending.
The students rushed over as quickly as possible, forming neat rows. Those in the front—players—had particularly grim expressions.
Their bodies weren’t made of iron. For two consecutive days, the cafeteria had served only meager portions of food. If not for their enhanced physiques as evolvers, some of them might have already collapsed from exhaustion.
At precisely 7:30, the security guard began roll call. Once he confirmed everyone was present, he grinned and said, “Today, I’ll be overseeing your physical fitness test.”
“The school encourages both competition and cooperation,” he continued, the brim of his security cap casting a shadow over his fleshy face. “You can choose between two events: ping-pong or the three-legged race. The top two participants in each event will earn the right to ask me some questions.”
“After all, talking to weak students is a waste of my time.”
“You have ten minutes to warm up. Once you’ve decided which test to take, come and register with me.”
Perhaps due to the excess fat on his body, the security guard’s laughter carried a slight wheeze.
The group dispersed, and the sports field instantly became noisy.
Beneath the basketball hoop, Zhou Qi’an and Shen Zhiyi had been together since they left the dormitory. Now, he beckoned Bai Chanyi over.
“Look at this—I spent a fortune on it.”
A figure clad in a black hat and black gloves materialized within their field of vision.
“Is that… the Prophet Wizard?” Bai Chanyi recognized the pricey in-game item from the marketplace.
Few players still purchased it nowadays. In the past, many veteran players had fallen into the trap of buying it, only to receive dire predictions nine times out of ten. Worse still, each activation required 200 points.
Zhou Qi’an nodded. After briefly explaining its function to Shen Zhiyi and the college student, he promptly fed the Wizard 200 points.
“Tell me—what is the fortune of choosing ping-pong?”
He didn’t actually care whether the outcome was good or bad; what interested him was the Wizard’s potential strategic advice.
The college student was surprised—he hadn’t thought of using it this way.
As Zhou Qi’an spoke, the warlock’s unnaturally long fingers twitched like swimming fish. Its glassy eyes remained motionless. A few seconds later, it uttered a single, dry syllable—
“Misfortune.”
Zhou Qi’an waited two more seconds, but the warlock’s arms simply drooped back down.
Frowning, Zhou Qi’an fed it another 200 points and asked the same question.
“Misfortune.”
After repeating the word, the warlock resumed its original posture.
Bai Chanyi stopped Zhou Qi’an before he could waste more points. With a hint of awkwardness, she advised, “You should stop now.”
Seeing his reluctance, she added, “I had a friend who gambled away 10,000 points like this.”
She was so furious that she sold the item on the forum the very next day.
Watching his dwindling points, Zhou Qi’an hesitated. Would it really be a waste…?
Maybe he should do a ten-pull?
Shen Zhiyi stared at the dubious Prophet Warlock for two seconds before suddenly suggesting, “What if you’re asking the wrong way?”
The college student immediately chimed in, “Should we try praying or kneeling instead?”
“Ah, I see.” Zhou Qi’an muttered suddenly.
After a brief silence, he began to summon with an expressionless face.
The next second, the light around them intensified.
Under the clear sky and bright sun, the radiance of the sacred artifact was not particularly dazzling. However, its excessively long handle ensured that anyone scanning the area would not overlook it. The sacred and beautiful golden legend was, for the first time, openly revealed under the sunlight.
The college student’s expression stiffened.
Zhou Qi’an said indifferently, “Not too many people will notice.”
At the moment, everyone was preoccupied with their own matters, and their position was not conspicuous. Besides…
The corner of Zhou Qi’an’s mouth lifted slightly. A certain person who had been paying close attention to him would undoubtedly become more anxious.
Not far away, Vikas, who had been smiling just three seconds ago, suddenly froze. At first, he thought he had seen it wrong. When he confirmed it, he nearly fainted.
Is he insane?
Is he insane?!
It was not the first time Vikas had this thought. Who would take out a sacred artifact in public right after obtaining it?
To prevent attracting more competitors, Vikas, despite himself, reacted with complete honesty. Gritting his teeth, he raised his voice, “Teacher.”
As soon as he spoke, everyone’s attention naturally shifted toward him.
“About the three-legged race…” Vikas took a deep breath, grasping for words to divert the crowd’s attention.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Zhou Qi’an gripped the sacred artifact, the tip of the trident pointing directly at the warlock, and once again transferred 200 points.
“Tell me. OK. Start.” He enunciated the last words deliberately, one at a time.
The warlock seemed to pause for a moment. His glassy eyes shifted slightly, and he lifted his head, revealing his prominent cheekbones.
“Misfortune.”
The trident advanced by half an inch.
The dark robe’s surface shimmered momentarily with starlight. This time, the warlock was no longer stingy with words. Generously, he uttered a four-character maxim:
“My advice: stay vigilant.”
Only then did Zhou Qi’an put away the sacred artifact.
The warlock’s head suddenly drooped.
Zhou Qi’an was momentarily startled and quickly opened the interface:
[Prophet Warlock: In hibernation.
The wise warlock has given you a piece of advice. Estimated time until next awakening: seven days.]
As expected.
If it could be used without limit, that would be far too overpowered.
Beside him, Bai Chanyi thought about the 10,000 points that had gone to waste and felt a pang of regret. Damn warlock—only responds to force, not persuasion.
The college student murmured, “If everyone had one…”
Zhou Qi’an shook his head. “The sacred artifact probably only has authority over my personal Prophet Warlock.”
Excess leads to failure.
Zhou Qi’an gazed diagonally ahead, where two ping-pong tables had been hastily set up.
He was willing to share information for free because Bai Chanyi had provided him with an item. But more importantly, the top two ranks in this physical assessment had to be secured by their own people.
As long as they could establish contact with the security guard, the exploration progress of the story’s background would take a qualitative leap.
The ten-minute selection period passed.
Only about a quarter of the students chose ping-pong.
After all, it was a turn-based, skill-intensive event. First, participants would compete in pairs, and winners might have to draw lots for additional matches, increasing the element of unpredictable risk.
In contrast, the three-legged race seemed simpler.
“How is passing the test determined?” a player asked.
The scholarship evaluation criteria had explicitly stated that failing the physical assessment would result in immediate disqualification.
The security guard answered clearly, “For the three-legged race, reaching the finish line within three minutes. For ping-pong, lasting at least twenty rounds without being eliminated.”
Both sounded fairly easy.
The security guard then blew the rusty whistle hanging from his chest. “Class rep, take your group to the track for the three-legged race. I’ll supervise ping-pong. Every year, some students deliberately throw matches in ping-pong.”
The players who followed the class rep collectively exhaled in relief.
Facing the remaining ten or so players, the security guard asked, “Who wants to go first? Based on past experience, the earlier you start, the higher your chances of winning.”
A flicker of hesitation appeared in some players’ eyes.
Zhou Qi’an narrowed his eyes. First, was the security guard’s statement even trustworthy?
After all, his primary role wasn’t that of a teacher, so how reliable was his advice regarding the test?
“What do you think? Is he telling the truth?” someone suddenly asked from the side.
Zhou Qi’an turned to see a player whose face had broken out in acne, likely from stress over the past two days. They had interacted not long ago—his name was Yu Tian, one of the accomplices in a failed exam attempt.
Zhou Qi’an responded coldly, “You betrayed me and reported me, and now you’re asking for my opinion?”
“How did you kno—”
Zhou Qi’an cut him off, “Damn, you really did report me.”
“…”
Realizing how easily he had been tricked into confirming it, Yu Tian’s expression turned to a mix of embarrassment and frustration.
Zhou Qi’an suddenly said, “My advice: wait and see.”
With that, he folded his arms and stood aside, looking completely unhurried.
A ploy? A deliberate provocation?
Yu Tian stared at Zhou Qi’an, trying to analyze his intentions. Then, from the corner of his eye, he suddenly noticed Shen Zhiyi stepping forward.
A realization struck him—Zhou Qi’an wasn’t going himself, but his teammate could!
Yu Tian’s gaze flickered, and after a brief moment of decision, he stepped toward the ping-pong table.
The security guard asked, “You’re taking the test first?”
Yu Tian nodded and rolled up his sleeves, revealing a tattoo on his wrist.
The security guard then turned to Shen Zhiyi. The man shook his head. “Just passing by.”
“…”
Shen Zhiyi leisurely wandered around as if he were merely choosing which ping-pong table to observe.
The security guard sternly ordered him to stop.
Yu Tian felt a vague sense of unease—one that only slightly dissipated when three more players stepped forward after him. Maybe his choice was actually the right one?
Facial expressions could be faked, but Zhou Qi’an’s fingers unconsciously tapped against his elbow when he folded his arms—a clear sign of being in observation mode, indicating that he wasn’t entirely sure either.
The ping-pong paddle was quite old, and its adhesive was nearly coming undone. Yu Tian’s opponent was a female student who was lightly stretching her limbs.
At the other table, two students had also taken their positions, though it was unclear whether they were players or NPCs.
The security guard signaled the start of the game with a whistle.
The first person to step forward had the option to serve. Yu Tian was technically skilled and, noticing that the girl’s grip on the paddle was incorrect, chose to let her serve first.
He had a simple strategy—if she was a novice, he could swiftly end the game with a smash.
At the moment of the serve, the nervousness in the girl’s eyes vanished, and she executed a precise spin shot.
The airborne ping-pong ball seemed to be shrouded in a faint shadow.
Yu Tian cursed.
So she had been pretending to be a novice.
He was almost caught off guard but managed to adjust the angle of his paddle in time to return the shot. When the ball made contact with the paddle, the sound was neither crisp nor sharp—just a dull, muffled thud.
[Stay vigilant.]
Zhou Qi’an didn’t have extra eyes to observe everything, so he had to “borrow” them.
Before the game started, Shen Zhiyi had not only been toying with Yu Tian but had also subtly indicated that he would keep watch on the left and right, while Zhou Qi’an would cover the upper, middle, and lower zones.
Meanwhile, Bai Chanyi and the college student monitored the other table.
At that moment, the sun briefly peeked through the clouds, and Zhou Qi’an squinted against the sudden brightness.
He turned back to Yu Tian.
Yu Tian was left-handed, and his paddle didn’t seem to suit him well, making his movements look somewhat strained.
Only three rounds in, sweat was already forming a thin layer on Yu Tian’s face. He focused intently on the small yellow ball that could determine his fate, feeling his arm grow heavier with each stroke.
What kind of useless paddle was this?
Its rebound power was decreasing, forcing him to use greater force just to return the ball.
His head throbbed, dizziness setting in. The ball was coming at him again!
He couldn’t afford to lose.
With a fierce counterattack, he sent the ball flying.
Zhou Qi’an’s pupils contracted sharply.
From his perspective, Yu Tian’s movements were fluid, yet his body was completely out of sync. His torso and limbs reacted accordingly, but his head was still tilted in the opposite direction.
The flesh around his neck appeared looser than that of an elderly man, like an overstretched rubber band that had lost its elasticity.
Sensing something amiss, Zhou Qi’an’s gaze snapped upward—just in time to catch the security guard grinning eerily at him.
The game’s mechanics, combined with the low favorability from the homeroom teacher, had resulted in the security guard harboring more hostility toward him than toward other players.
Yu Tian was still hitting the ball with all his strength. As an evolved player, he had significant power. The ball, now feeling as heavy as a ten-pound weight, soared under his full-force strike.
He had made it through another round!
A triumphant smile spread across his face—until he caught sight of Zhou Qi’an’s shocked expression, the security guard’s sinister smirk, and another player’s look of horror.
His perspective kept shifting. It was only then that Yu Tian belatedly realized he could see behind himself.
In the distance, the three-legged race was still in progress.
His eyeballs sluggishly rolled in their sockets. Then, the next second, his pupils dilated in shock.
He saw himself—standing right there.
The man at the ping-pong table still wore his neatly buttoned school uniform. The collar was soaked in blood, and above his shoulders, there was… nothing.
“Ah!”
At last, one of the players on the scene let out a scream.
The ping-pong ball suddenly transformed into a severed human head.
At the table, the headless schoolboy continued striking his own head back and forth, his mouth twisted into a ghastly grin.
Panic surged instinctively.
Players, by nature, were like startled chickens. Whatever was happening over at the three-legged race, it too had triggered screams.
But in the end, the head failed to clear the net.
Yu Tian lost.
His opponent, the female student, fought to suppress her horror.
“Congratulations,” the security guard approached her and offered his congratulations.
She had won!
That’s right—she had won!
The girl forced a stiff smile.
Thud.
A few seconds later, her head fell off.
The severed head hit the ground beside the ping-pong table, blood gushing into the rain-drenched mud.
The entire venue fell silent.
At the other table… Zhou Qi’an abruptly turned to look at the other match and saw another headless corpse standing there, still gripping a paddle in its hands.
Did the first players to step up all die?
No—that wasn’t right. The two tables hadn’t started at exactly the same time, so there was no way three people should have died.
The security guard’s voice snapped everyone’s attention back to him. He looked at the only remaining student.
“You didn’t last twenty rounds. You fail.”
Everyone’s faces changed.
They had assumed that the “twenty rounds” mentioned by the security guard only applied to the weaker side.
Now it was clear—it was a mandatory requirement. A swift victory was not considered a victory at all.
The security guard gestured toward the headless corpses, then turned back to the surviving student. “Never mind, this isn’t the first time you’ve done this. These two students aren’t feeling well. Go call the dorm supervisor and take them to the school infirmary.”
The implication was clear—this student had to be an NPC.
The dorm supervisor arrived quickly, pushing a small cart.
The corpses were tossed onto the cart like garbage. The two staff members each grabbed a handle and wheeled them away toward the infirmary.
“The test has started. No whispering,” the security guard barked, his gaze sharp as he suddenly shouted at Bai Chanyi. “Trying to coordinate and throw the game?”
Despite the reprimand, Bai Chanyi calmly stepped forward to the table, seemingly ready to take the test.
Zhou Qi’an, on the other hand, had almost no room for choice.
No matter where he moved, the security guard was always lurking nearby. With this level of scrutiny, even observing his surroundings became difficult.
“You’re not going to play?” The security guard asked, his tone more of a command than a question.
The mass of flesh was continuously closing in on him. Zhou Qi’an had a vague suspicion, which became clearer as he realized that this event was intentionally being prolonged. However, he wasn’t sure if he had seen it correctly.
Shen Zhiyi calmly stepped in front of Zhou Qi’an, blocking the security guard’s malicious gaze. “I want to take the test.”
Zhou Qi’an moved to the opposite side and picked up a ping-pong paddle as well.
On the other table, Bai Chanyi chose to compete against the college student.
If the situation became uncontrollable, one person forfeiting in time could at least preserve the other. At worst, they would just fail the test.
So far, failing didn’t seem to be fatal.
The whistle blew again.
As the security guard signaled the start, he simultaneously walked toward Zhou Qi’an, his voice carrying a chilling undertone as he uttered three words: “Take it seriously.”
Zhou Qi’an steadied his wrist and chose to serve first.
As Shen Zhiyi returned the ball, his slightly long hair swayed. He possessed a scholarly air, but the contrast when he suddenly moved with athletic precision was striking.
Zhou Qi’an raised an eyebrow—he had to admit, it was unexpectedly captivating.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the security guard approaching. He swiftly shifted to the other side of the table. Shen Zhiyi’s ball control was impeccable; the trajectory of the ball seemed to follow Zhou Qi’an’s movements precisely.
Anyone paying close attention would notice that each time the ball passed through Shen Zhiyi’s hands, it seemed to pause ever so slightly in midair. However, no one was observant enough to pick up on this detail at the moment.
Zhou Qi’an had to remain aware of both the security guard and the game.
The security guard rarely glanced at Bai Chanyi’s table. Instead, he was staring at Zhou Qi’an with eyes wide open, monitoring him like a surveillance camera.
The longer this dragged on, the more dangerous it became. But neither Zhou Qi’an nor Shen Zhiyi showed any intention of stopping. After seven or eight exchanges, they continued playing with composed expressions.
The sun occasionally broke through the clouds, only to be obscured again moments later. The security guard, watching the game up close, paced slowly around the two tables, muttering under his breath, “Don’t let me catch you throwing the game.”
Then, suddenly, he raised his voice sharply, “Why are you playing so slowly?”
The players watching from behind flinched in surprise.
Anyone with weaker nerves would have faltered. Zhou Qi’an’s natural reflexes weren’t particularly strong, but aside from a slight jolt in his heartbeat, he showed no reaction and returned the ball steadily.
More than ten rounds had passed.
Reaching twenty rounds meant passing.
Both tables were still progressing without issue, but the security guard seemed to grow impatient. His pace quickened.
“So that’s it…” Zhou Qi’an pressed his lips together and took a step back to return the ball.
Under normal circumstances, a ping-pong player would focus on the ball and their opponent. However, the Prophet Warlock had specifically advised him to observe other directions, implying that he needed to be aware of not only the immediate game but also the sky and ground.
The real key was the shadows.
Whenever the sun appeared, and the security guard’s shadow happened to overlap most of a player’s shadow, something would happen.
Of course, this overlap wasn’t instantaneous. Given that Yu Tian hadn’t died immediately, there must be a specific duration—a countdown. Once exceeded, the player would meet a grisly fate.
As for the security guard’s repeated accusations of match-fixing, they were merely an excuse to legitimize his interference.
Shen Zhiyi precisely controlled the ball’s trajectory. Each time the security guard tried to approach Zhou Qi’an, Shen Zhiyi would send a long diagonal shot, allowing Zhou Qi’an to move to the opposite end.
The security guard no longer bothered to hide his intentions, his movements eerily shadowing Zhou Qi’an’s every step.
Zhou Qi’an cursed under his breath.
Speed was a major advantage in this game. His agility allowed him to maintain his distance, practically turning the match into a game of chase while still managing to return each shot.
But this relentless evasion was physically draining. Zhou Qi’an’s breathing grew heavier, and exhaustion crept in. When the security guard approached once more, grinning viciously, he found himself cornered.
As the security guard’s massive shadow loomed over him—
A sharp slap echoed from across the table!
The test’s required rounds had been completed. Shen Zhiyi casually released his paddle, letting it clatter to the floor.
The game was over.
The security guard’s face twisted with fury. Had they held out just a little longer, exhaustion alone would have sealed their fate.
Shen Zhiyi glanced at the security guard indifferently. “My hand slipped.”
Since there were no explicit rules against forfeiting, there was no need to continue pretending.
His tone carried an unmistakable air of disdain, and the security guard, realizing he had been played, was seething. Though he longed to lash out, he was helpless—none of the players had triggered the death conditions.
His rage was palpable; his neck seemed to swell in anger.
Shen Zhiyi walked over to Zhou Qi’an, withdrawing a hand from his pocket and lightly tugging at Zhou Qi’an’s sleeve, silently signaling him to leave the table area.
Meanwhile, Bai Chanyi and the college student had finished their match as well.
The college student, like Shen Zhiyi, had deliberately failed to return the ball. However, he had masked his actions well enough to make it look natural.
Now, only two players remained untested.
One of them had briefly formed an alliance with Vikas. He was a skilled ping-pong player.
Since he and Vikas had chosen different events, their chances of obtaining clues also differed.
By now, Zhou Qi’an had fully grasped the security guard’s killing mechanics.
The remaining player exuded confidence. His opponent’s expression was unreadable, but judging by their demeanor, they were likely an NPC.
The match commenced.
After an intense battle, the player’s superior skills secured him the win.
“Should we draw lots for the remaining matches?” A player eagerly asked the security guard.
With only three players left, and given his skill level and understanding of the rules, he was confident that even if he didn’t get a bye, he could easily eliminate the other two in succession.
“No need.”
The security guard’s pale pinkish skin now resembled an overinflated balloon, with every vein beneath the surface clearly visible.
He was fuming.
“The two winners of the ping-pong event have already been decided.” His disdain for Zhou Qi’an, who had deliberately stalled, was evident. However, he had no choice but to follow the rules.
The player was anxious. “But the final match hasn’t—”
The security guard’s murky eyes shifted slightly. “I told you before, those who go first have an advantage. Do you have a problem with that?”
Zhou Qi’an raised an eyebrow. So it was true.
It seemed the game’s design was quite fair—those who played early had a higher risk of death, so the victory conditions compensated for that.
Under the security guard’s piercing glare, the player’s heartbeat pounded like a drum, nearly leaping out of his chest. “N-no problem.”
After the three consecutive deaths at the start, the ping-pong event ended earlier than expected.
He exhaled in relief.
Bai Chanyi walked over. “It rains every day at this school. It’s a protective mechanism.”
Zhou Qi’an nodded.
It seemed that in future events, he would need to pay close attention to other NPCs’ shadows, including those of students. The last time he experienced hallucinations in the exam room, it all started when he noticed something off about the homeroom teacher’s shadow.
Shadows under sunlight were far more terrifying than those under artificial light.
At least the homeroom teacher couldn’t kill directly through shadows.
Zhou Qi’an suddenly thought of Mu Tianbai. That guy was a shadow manipulation expert, capable of separating his shadow from his body and controlling it independently. If he were here, he would probably scoff at the NPCs for their crude techniques.
A light breeze lifted Zhou Qi’an’s bangs. After the exercise, his entire demeanor exuded a youthful energy.
The college student was momentarily taken aback—Brother Zhou actually looked more like a college student than an actual college student right now.
Zhou Qi’an maintained his stance, listening to the system notification:
[You have completed the physical assessment and achieved victory.
You finally passed for once.]
Zhou Qi’an’s eyelid twitched. What’s that supposed to mean?
His strong suit had always been athletics. Zhou Qi’an had a clear self-perception: to be the most dominant athlete, the fastest runner in any insrance.
It was only the classroom setting that had limited him.
Perhaps still holding a grudge from earlier threats, the Prophet Warlock suddenly revived for a moment and provided a free prophecy:
“This will be the only time you pass.”
With that, he collapsed back into hibernation.
Zhou Qi’an: “…”
__
Author’s Note:
college Student: I mean, not to be rude, but most companies have high academic requirements. Brother Zhou, you graduated from a top college. How did you manage that?
Zhou Qi’an: Special admissions.
The college student looked confused.
Zhou Qi’an explained calmly: Simple. I excelled in my field. By high school, I had already won numerous domestic and international awards.
The college student turned to Shen Zhiyi.
Shen Zhiyi, indifferent: Same. Just heavily specialized in certain subjects.
