(5/10)
Yuying University
Chapter 443: Hello Again
[Your loyal friend Pinocchio: !!!]
[A good person will live a peaceful life.jpg]
[Don’t mess with me: A good person will live a peaceful life.jpg]
[In the fields of hope: A good person will live a peaceful life.jpg]
[Fortress Battle: A good person will live a peaceful life.jpg]
“……”
A few seconds later, the other party seemed to lose patience.
[Hugo: Shut up.]
Having received a definite answer, Wen Jianyan contentedly closed the chat interface. He thought for a moment, then opened the course registration app again.
In addition to elective courses, the app also displayed the required courses they had to take for the academic year.
Since the second year had been compressed into just three days, the required courses had also been rescheduled.
Two professional classes on Monday morning, one PE class in the afternoon.
Tuesday morning was for electives, afternoon for a professional class.
Wednesday morning was a professional class, and the afternoon was moral education.
Wen Jianyan paused, scanned the schedule again carefully.
No mistake. Even though the cycle was shortened to three days and the number of electives was reduced to one, none of the required courses were cut—in fact, the number of professional classes had even increased.
Wen Jianyan narrowed his eyes.
He remembered clearly that in the first academic year, there were only three professional classes. But now, in the second year, that number had increased to four.
For other rising second-year anchors, seeing this course schedule might feel like a relief. After all, professional classes were usually easy enough to sleep through, with little risk to life.
But…
If only it were that simple.
Wen Jianyan stuffed his phone back into his pocket, packed his “professional book” into his bag, and headed downstairs to meet his teammates.
Orange Candy and the others were already waiting downstairs.
After a brief conversation, they quickly discovered that they all had the same schedule.
“Two professional classes in one morning…” Orange Candy tilted her head thoughtfully.
Wei Cheng frowned:
“I don’t think second-year professional classes will be as easy to sleep through as before.”
“Doesn’t matter. Water comes, we dam it; soldiers come, we block them.”
Orange Candy shrugged, carefree as ever.
“By the way, where’s the classroom?”
Wen Jianyan: “Second floor, Zone D.”
“Huh.” Orange Candy turned to look at him, surprised. “Zone D, second floor?”
Wen Jianyan: “Yes.”
Only the moral education class was previously held in the lecture hall in Zone D.
It took some effort for them to even access Zone D, and even then, they were only able to enter the first-floor lecture hall—never the second or third floors.
Wei Cheng: “Looks like the rest of Zone D has been unlocked, just like other hidden maps.”
“Let’s go!”
Orange Candy turned and hopped away:
“Time for class!”
This time, Hugo didn’t act independently as he did last year.
The whole group headed toward the classroom location shown in the app.
Throughout the walk, Orange Candy still acted casually, but only her teammates knew that she never let her guard down—not since the second year began, with more anchors introduced and the potential for PvP activated. It was like she smelled blood in the water and became instantly alert.
She wasn’t the best at solving puzzles or finding items in the dungeon.
But when it came to anchor-versus-anchor fights, no one had more experience than Orange Candy.
Unfortunately, on the way to the classroom, they didn’t encounter any first-year students or ambushes.
Orange Candy stood in front of the teaching building and looked around.
The sky hadn’t fully brightened yet. A heavy darkness lingered, with only a faint hint of dawn on the horizon. Apart from a few scattered second-year students, no other unfamiliar figures appeared.
Not a single first-year student.
Which made sense.
First-years hadn’t yet familiarized themselves with the dungeon. Lacking knowledge, they wouldn’t act recklessly—instead, they’d likely avoid confrontation and maintain distance.
“Tch, cowards.”
Orange Candy clicked her tongue, disappointed, and turned to enter the building first.
“Let’s go.”
Wen Jianyan glanced up at the sky.
“……”
Dawn came later than in the first year.
He paused, withdrew his gaze, and followed his teammates.
Zone D’s first floor was exactly as he remembered.
A narrow, damp-smelling hallway. One side had windows, the other side held tightly closed lecture halls.
The small windows in the doors were pitch black, eerily unsettling.
Though they knew the moral education class wasn’t in session and the rooms should be empty, last night’s psychological trauma made them wary. They chose to walk along the windowed side instead.
Soon, they passed the lecture halls and went up the stairs.
The second-floor classrooms were no longer large lecture halls but regular classrooms, similar to other areas.
Following the app, they found the professional classroom and sat down.
Anchors trickled in, and before long, the classroom was nearly full.
Three minutes before class started, the door opened.
The man who once called himself their “advisor,” Teacher Zhao, walked in. Behind him were two student council members with armbands. Just like last time, he carried a thick book, his features flat and complexion pale, exuding a sweet, rotten smell.
“Welcome to your second academic year, everyone.”
He scanned the classroom with his murky eyes.
“I’m sure you all memorized my phone number,” said Zhao. “Refer to page 19 of the student handbook for details.”
Last time, it was page 18.
Apparently, the handbook had been updated, shifting some page references.
The classroom filled with the rustling sound of turning pages.
Wen Jianyan didn’t bother.
He had already checked that section last night.
The information about the advisor hadn’t changed—it still said students could contact their advisor for help with study or life issues.
However, Wen Jianyan also keenly noticed a small blurry patch after that line.
He wasn’t sure what it was, but it was clearly ominous.
Some rules had changed—and they didn’t know how yet.
“To help you all advance to your next year—second or even third year,” Zhao’s gaze lingered a little longer in their direction before shifting, “please attend classes and avoid absences.”
He continued:
“Starting today, student council members will take attendance. Excessive absences may result in failing grades, which could impact your advancement.”
Students exchanged discreet glances.
This was different from the previous year.
Soon, roll call began.
One council member called out ID numbers; the other checked them off in a notebook.
After four or five minutes, roll call was done.
The student council bowed to the teacher, then left the classroom.
“Ding-ling-ling!!”
The familiar class bell rang.
As it faded, darkness crept in from outside, swallowing all the light.
Inside the room, every anchor tensed instinctively, waiting silently.
“All right.”
Zhao set the thick book on the desk. “Let’s begin.”
At that moment, a familiar chill swept over them.
Then—an irresistible drowsiness.
“?!”
Wen Jianyan was shocked and instinctively looked at his teammates.
They, too, looked surprised.
They had prepared for all sorts of dangers this class might bring, but hadn’t expected… they’d just fall asleep again?
That’s it?
But before they could communicate further, their eyelids—heavy as lead—dropped, and consciousness faded.
When they awoke, the bell was ringing loudly.
Zhao: “Class dismissed.”
He looked at the time. “Next class starts in ten minutes. Take a break.”
He picked up his book and left the room, leaving a classroom full of bewildered anchors.
“That’s it?”
After a few seconds of silence, Tian Ye couldn’t help but ask.
The others: “……”
They didn’t know what was going on either, but Tian Ye had voiced the question everyone was thinking:
That’s it??
They had all mentally prepared themselves for any possible danger in second year—and then nothing happened?
“How much SAN did you lose?”
Su Cheng asked.
“10 points.”
After checking their stats, they responded gravely.
Now they felt the real threat.
If each professional class costs 10 SAN points, then not failing would require 40 points a week minimum.
Add to that the nightly SAN drain of 15 points.
Even if nothing else reduced SAN, the fixed loss would still be 85 points per week.
A person’s max SAN was only 100.
That was cutting it close.
“This is forcing us to go to the convenience store,” Orange Candy said grimly, tapping her fingers on the desk.
After entering the second year, the mini-mart was also unlocked.
Only there could they buy bottled water to restore SAN.
Unfortunately, they didn’t part on good terms with the store owner—more accurately, the owner tried to raise prices on the spot, only to be reported by Wen Jianyan to school authorities.
Not quite a blood feud… but close enough.
Wen Jianyan looked out the window.
Through the glass, the sky outside was a dull gray.
He pointed to the door: “Wanna go for a walk?”
They had naturally had breaks between classes before, but they had never experienced this kind of recess time.
“Alright.”
Orange Candy didn’t mind. She jumped down from her seat, and the group followed Wen Jianyan out of the classroom.
Although the daylight wasn’t particularly bright, it was at least daytime.
There weren’t many people in the corridor, only a few anchors standing outside.
Through the window, one could see the gloomy university campus shrouded in an ominous atmosphere.
The lawn had already withered, and a wooden sign marked “Please Do Not Step On” had toppled over. In the distance were several other teaching buildings—although they were separate from Zone D, they weren’t far apart.
If they guessed correctly, the new batch of freshmen should be inside right now, experiencing the same crisis they had once gone through.
Because the open space outside was so vast, one could see everything at a glance, which made the figures standing outside the teaching building particularly eye-catching.
“Wait a second, is that…”
Su Cheng paused, seeming to recognize the person at the front.
“Yes,” Wen Jianyan frowned slightly, “It’s him.”
“The Bricklayer.”
The cold sunlight streamed through the windows onto their bodies, but brought no warmth.
In the distance, the Bricklayer seemed to sense someone watching him and turned his head.
Across the hundred-meter distance, his gaze met Wen Jianyan’s.
However, upon seeing someone familiar, the Bricklayer didn’t look surprised.
He smiled.
He raised his hand and waved in their direction.
“……”
Even from a great distance, Wen Jianyan could clearly feel the cold, sticky, unsettling gaze the Bricklayer cast upon him, like he was being greedily eyed.
Standing beside Wen Jianyan, Su Cheng also frowned. He had always been highly perceptive, and after becoming a Seer, that sensitivity only grew.
“What’s going on? Is there some history between you two?”
He stared at the Bricklayer in the distance, his pitch-black eyes flickering slightly.
“He seems to have… bad intentions toward you.”
Before Wen Jianyan could answer, Orange Candy interrupted:
“Huh? The Bricklayer’s here?”
She stood on tiptoe, trying to look over the window ledge that was slightly too high for her: “Where is he?”
Suddenly, Su Cheng’s voice turned cold: “He’s coming.”
That’s right.
After “greeting” Wen Jianyan from afar, the Bricklayer began walking slowly toward them.
“Let him come.”
Whether out of annoyance from being provoked, or frustration that she couldn’t see anything from her angle, Orange Candy’s face darkened, and she said:
“Let’s go down.”
Then she rolled up her sleeves, looking eager for a fight.
Wen Jianyan quickly intervened: “Don’t! We only have a few minutes of recess—”
Amidst the chaos, Hugo stepped forward.
He placed his hand on Wen Jianyan’s shoulder and gently pulled him back.
Wen Jianyan glanced at him and allowed himself to be guided aside.
Hugo walked to the window, his weary gray eyes silently gazing outside.
“……”
In the distance, the Bricklayer stopped walking.
From so far away, Wen Jianyan couldn’t see his face clearly.
After a brief, suffocating silence, the Bricklayer gave a deep bow in their direction, exaggerated and theatrical, more mocking than respectful—like a silent form of ridicule. Then he turned around and left, disappearing into Building A with his companions.
“He’s gone.”
Hugo stepped away from the window, a cigarette hanging from his lips.
“Class is starting.”
“……”
Wen Jianyan looked at him thoughtfully.
He remembered that before the secret council meeting, when the Bricklayer saw Orange Candy disguised as Hugo, he had also stopped, unwillingly backing off from harassing him further.
It seemed the Bricklayer was somewhat “afraid” of Hugo.
And Hugo clearly knew this.
That suggested their connection ran far deeper than it appeared on the surface.
At that moment, Teacher Zhao approached from a distance, holding a stack of books.
He looked at Hugo, frowning:
“Hey, students aren’t allowed to smoke.”
“……”
Hugo paused, then expressionlessly took the cigarette from his lips.
He looked quite reluctant.
In the [Integrity First] live room chat:
[Damn, I wasn’t expecting that.]
[LOL! An adult being punished by school rules—Hugo: speechless.]
“Class is starting, and you’re still loitering outside?” Teacher Zhao scolded sternly. “Get inside.”
Following behind Teacher Zhao, the group returned to the classroom.
Soon after they sat down, the class bell rang.
As darkness spread, drowsiness overtook them once more.
Before falling asleep, Wen Jianyan hazily remembered the beckoning fortune bell he had left in the administrative building—if only it were here.
He didn’t even have time to feel sad before he fell asleep again.
By the time he woke up, another class had already ended.
Teacher Zhao stood at the podium and closed the thick book: “Next class is tomorrow, don’t forget it at home.”
With that, just like before, he left carrying the book.
Wen Jianyan sat in his chair, feeling as though his whole body was enveloped in a deep chill. His limbs felt heavy, as if filled with lead, and the familiar sluggishness made him feel like his senses and body were detached.
He glanced up at the top right corner.
His SAN value had risen from 48 to 50 while he was asleep, but after two professional courses, it had dropped back to a miserable 30.
How frustrating.
He let out a long sigh and stood up from his seat.
Looks like they really needed to visit the campus convenience store soon and stock up on some water.
Because they had two classes in a row, they missed the cafeteria’s open hours. But that wasn’t much of an issue—they had plenty of credits saved from “studying hard” in the first year, and still had some food left from their last purchase.
However, without bottled water, these foods—while good for restoring health—also reduced SAN, making them nearly useless. If they were to be used, it would have to be with caution.
“So what’s next?” Tian Ye asked.
Wen Jianyan turned to look at the others and said, “Let’s check the administrative building.”
After all, “searching for tools” was still their ultimate goal.
And now that the administrative building had reopened, it was naturally their top priority.
Besides… Wen Jianyan had a few private thoughts that no one else knew about yet.
The others had no objections.
They packed their bags and left the classroom.
Whether it was because Hugo’s earlier intimidation had worked, or the Bricklayer had gotten busy with something else, they encountered no more trouble as they left the teaching area and headed to the administrative building.
It was a smooth journey.
However, whether it was the difference between day and night or something else, the same path felt completely different.
Wen Jianyan stared at the scene ahead, and his mind suddenly blanked out.
A momentary lapse, a skipped frame of memory—within less than a second, an eerie, incomprehensible, indescribable image flashed through his mind.
Red.
Massive.
Deformed—
He staggered, caught quickly by Su Cheng.
“What’s wrong?”
Su Cheng frowned. “Is it your SAN?”
Wen Jianyan opened his eyes again. The hallucination had already vanished. He sighed helplessly:
“Yeah.”
He wasn’t sure if it was just bad luck, or if this dungeon simply hated him—his SAN value was always in a dangerously low range.
He shrugged.
“But it’s fine. I’m used to it.”
After declining Su Cheng’s offer to help, Wen Jianyan followed Hugo, who was leading the way, and they soon arrived at the administrative building.
Just as he remembered, it was still a small gray-white building with only three floors.
It stood quietly in the campus, seemingly insignificant, yet as they approached, they could feel the cold, ominous energy radiating from it.
What had happened there a day ago was still fresh in their minds. It was as if the smell of blood still lingered in the air.
Though no one spoke, their expressions grew tense. They exchanged glances and continued forward.
Strangely, no one came out to stop them.
The murky glass doors were right in front of them.
Through the filthy glass, they could vaguely make out the familiar lobby inside, along with that massive full-length mirror.
Orange Candy, who was at the front, reached out and placed her hand on the door.
“Creak—”
The door that had refused to open no matter what last night, swung open effortlessly.
A familiar, damp, sickly-sweet scent drifted out from within.
The group exchanged looks—half surprised, half excited.
Orange Candy stepped in first.
But the moment her foot hit the lobby floor, a hoarse, grating voice rang out:
“Do you have an appointment?”
“!!”
The voice came so suddenly that it startled everyone. They instinctively turned toward the source of the sound.
A few meters away was the dark security room.
But unlike last time, this time… someone was inside.
In the pitch-black room sat a hunched figure, its appearance hard to discern.
Under the dim light, they could just barely see a pair of cloudy, almost inhuman eyes. Just being looked at by them gave a deep sense of unease, like cold air was rising from their feet and creeping through their entire bodies.
“Do you have an appointment?”
The figure asked again.
Wen Jianyan steadied himself. “No.”
“Then you can’t come in,” the voice replied.
Orange Candy took a second step.
Instantly, Wen Jianyan’s face went pale. His hair stood on end as he jerked his head toward the security room.
It hadn’t moved.
It was still sitting there in the darkness, doing nothing to stop them.
But from their previous experience, Wen Jianyan knew—this seemingly normal “security guard” was terrifying, on par with the school administration, maybe even bound to the rules themselves.
Wen Jianyan suddenly reached out and stopped Orange Candy.
“Don’t.”
His voice was very low.
“?”
Orange Candy looked over silently, seeming a bit puzzled.
Wen Jianyan shook his head.
—They couldn’t confront it head-on.
“Sorry for the interruption,” Wen Jianyan said politely.
Then he grabbed the doorknob and backed out of the administrative building’s lobby.
Only after leaving the lobby did the intense, bone-chilling cold finally fade. As the sunlight fell on his body, Wen Jianyan felt as if he had just come back to life.
He let out a breath of relief.
“That bad?” Orange Candy asked with a frown.
“Yes.” In just a few seconds, cold sweat had already formed on Wen Jianyan’s forehead, and his face was pale. He nodded. “It was that bad.”
Among everyone present, only he had the lowest SAN value, and only he truly understood how close they had just been to death.
“We can’t go through the front.”
Wen Jianyan took a deep breath and said slowly.
“Huh?” Orange Candy’s eyebrows shot up. “Then what do we do?”
In fact, Wen Jianyan had already had a feeling—especially when the dungeon so generously told them the method to clear it. He could even say he had expected this outcome.
“According to the rules, we’re supposed to come here on the final day of the second academic year to handle the advancement procedures,” Wen Jianyan replied honestly.
Orange Candy’s face fell. “Wait a sec—then how is this any different from last time!”
During the first academic year, they had also only found the chance to enter the administrative building on the final day during the moral education class. After nearly dying, the dungeon had finally mutated and unlocked the second academic year. Only then did the administrative building—once a hidden area—become accessible.
And now, after all they had risked and sacrificed, this was the outcome?
Not only couldn’t they break in directly, but they still had to wait until the very last day…
Isn’t that exactly the same?!
“There’s still a difference,” Wei Cheng said analytically from the side. “This time we only need to wait three days. More importantly, the administrative building is officially open according to the rules, so we don’t need to pay a huge price just to locate it like last time. We can even access the second floor without an appointment…”
He was right, but that didn’t make the disappointment any easier to swallow.
For a moment, the atmosphere turned heavy.
Suddenly, Wen Jianyan spoke without warning:
“What time is it now?”
“…?”
The question was so abrupt that everyone was stunned.
Su Cheng was the first to react. He looked down, glanced at his phone, and said,
“It’s a little past 3:20.”
They still had a PE class that afternoon, though it wouldn’t start until 6 PM.
So there was a long stretch of free time before that.
“Looks like it’s almost time, then.”
Wen Jianyan smiled slightly.
“???”
Everyone was confused.
Huh??
Time for what?
What was he talking about?
Just as everyone was still bewildered, Wen Jianyan turned around and waved.
“Let’s go.”
While the others were still staring blankly at his back, Yun Bilan and Su Cheng followed as if it were perfectly normal.
After all, this wasn’t the first time their team leader had acted like a cryptic riddler.
What else could they do?
Just follow him.
Led by Wen Jianyan, the group left the area near the administrative building and returned to the vicinity of the teaching buildings.
It was class time, so Zones A, B, and C were completely deserted.
The surrounding low-rise buildings were deathly quiet.
Every window was shrouded in darkness, impossible to peer through from outside—like a series of empty, black eye sockets. Even just glancing at them made one feel uneasy.
Wen Jianyan seemed to know exactly where he was going. He walked calmly and confidently.
The others followed behind, their curiosity growing stronger by the minute.
Just as Orange Candy ran out of patience and was about to say something, Wen Jianyan stopped at the perfect moment.
“……”
Everyone paused.
Not far ahead was the plaza in front of Zone A’s teaching building.
They were very familiar with this place. After all, it was where they had first arrived when the dungeon began.
Just like they remembered, a “Welcome New Students” banner hung on the gray building, with empty tables and chairs nearby. Not a single person was around.
“Huh?” Tian Ye poked his head out and looked in the same direction as Wen Jianyan, puzzled. “What are we looking at?”
“Just wait…”
Wen Jianyan glanced at the time and said, “Almost.”
Soon, at exactly 4:00, a corner of space ahead tore open without warning, and a winding path extended outward.
Pale-faced, cold-breathed students emerged from the path carrying tables and chairs.
Within minutes, a full club recruitment setup had been completed.
At the same time, more people began to gather at a distance.
But none of them tried to approach—they only watched from afar.
“Why aren’t they going over?” Tian Ye asked in confusion.
Wen Jianyan smiled mysteriously: “Just wait a bit longer.”
Finally, someone made a move.
But instead of going up themselves, they used an item.
A scarecrow took stiff steps forward, but the moment it entered the recruitment area—it vanished into thin air.
Just like last time.
“!”
The crowd was visibly shocked.
They huddled into small groups, whispering to one another.
In the distance, inside the club area, the students behind each desk were growing more and more sullen.
But they clearly couldn’t leave the recruitment zone due to restrictions. So they could only remain there silently, guarding the empty booths.
“What’s going on?” Tian Ye asked, dazed.
The others didn’t reply. They were glancing around, eyes thoughtful, slowly realizing what Wen Jianyan had done.
Hugo: “There are no freshmen.”
To be precise, everyone here was either a second-year or about to become one.
He raised an eyebrow at Wen Jianyan:
“That’s why you did what you did last night.”
It was a question in tone, but his voice was firm.
Wen Jianyan shrugged modestly.
“Not entirely. Call it killing two birds with one stone.”
In the [Integrity First] live room chat:
[?! Holy crap.]
[Yeah! He drove off that female student in charge of recruitment last night, so no one went to mark the new students!]
[Right, and without being marked, freshmen can’t wake up from their required classes and enter the club fair safely.]
[Oh my god, was this all part of his plan?!]
[But what’s the point? Doesn’t this just stop the clubs from recruiting? Doesn’t seem to affect them directly…]
Just as the chat exploded with speculation, Wen Jianyan moved again:
“Let’s go.”
Orange Candy seemed reluctant:
“Huh? We’re leaving already?”
She hadn’t had enough of watching those students’ gloomy faces.
“Yes,” Wen Jianyan nodded. “We just needed to confirm something.”
Wei Cheng: “Where to next?”
Wen Jianyan smiled, a strange gleam in his eyes:
“Time to visit an old friend.”
“Creak.”
The classroom door swung open. Dust scattered through the air, and a damp, musty smell rushed out.
The group stepped inside.
They walked straight to the back of the classroom like they knew it well.
Wen Jianyan placed one hand on a desk, bent down, and crouched.
Beneath the desk was a man, tightly bound—even his mouth was stuffed so he couldn’t make a sound.
Who knew how long he had been down there? His face was pale with fear. The moment he saw Wen Jianyan, he began screaming “Mmm! Mmm!!” and thrashing wildly, desperate to be noticed, terrified of being forgotten again.
Wen Jianyan: “We meet again.”
“The club recruitment for this year is a bust, but I’m sure… they still need manpower, right?”
More importantly…
The club activity rooms were on the first floor of the administrative building.
Once someone became a club member, even without an appointment—
Wouldn’t that grant them access to the admin building?
The young man stood with the light at his back, pale-colored eyes narrowed slightly, concealing the cunning glint within.
“I just need a little favor from you.”
The weasel-like man: “Mmm! MMMM!!”
Wen Jianyan grinned:
“You won’t say no, will you?”
