Star University’s freshman underground city combat major had sixty-six students total. Due to the specialty’s unique nature, students generally had high levels—even the worst were B-level.
This meant everyone’s Spirit Realm systems were at relatively high standards.
The higher the level, the stronger the awakening abilities, the larger the Spirit Realm system’s space, the more complex its variations, and the more knowledge it could accommodate.
Combat power, mental strength, and memory would also improve with Spirit Realm system enhancement.
This was why Awakened ones who gained fifth-tier abilities would gradually lose humanity and become divine.
Because by then, the mental power they possessed was no longer something mortals could comprehend.
Therefore, when Awakened ones needed to eliminate distractions and focus on improving a particular ability, utilizing the Spirit Realm system was the best method.
The reason Oliver could hide in past beautiful dreams to escape reality was because his Spirit Realm system was powerful enough.
And Lance’s photographic memory and formidable learning ability were naturally related to his already god-level Spirit Realm system.
Compared to other classmates, Zhan Pingchuan’s S-level Spirit Realm system naturally had advantages.
However…
He closed his eyes in the study room, consciousness gathering between the frontal and temporal lobes of his brain. Soon, he entered his own Spirit Realm system.
Zhan Pingchuan opened his eyes.
He stood on a reef with waves lapping and washing at his feet. Behind him was a pitch-black, steep cliff, and before him stretched endless blood red.
The churning seawater was red, the rising mist was red, and even the hanging sun on the horizon was the bleak evening red of deepening dusk.
The seemingly layered mountains behind him, if examined carefully, revealed that the gaps and cliffs between mountains had been brutally split open by sharp weapons, leaving hideous, jagged scars.
Beyond this, everything was deathly silent, devoid of life.
When Zhan Pingchuan awakened at sixteen and first entered his Spirit Realm system, he nearly laughed from speechlessness.
Those who didn’t know might think this place had been bombed by nuclear weapons.
He had previously planned to explore these ruins, but rowing couldn’t reach the end of the blood sea, and turning back, those hideous gaps forbade entry.
So to this day, he still didn’t know what lay behind the mountain walls, in the depths of those wounds.
However, other functions were completely unaffected. Compared to those warm, comfortable S-level Spirit Realm systems, this place just lacked environmental advantages.
Zhan Pingchuan lazily lay down on the reef, pillowing his head on his arm, basking in the bleak red sunset while fully immersing himself in complex review materials.
Three days passed in a flash.
Zhan Pingchuan and Lance left the dormitory together, heading to different exam venues.
Before parting, Zhan Pingchuan deliberately grabbed Lance, emphasizing once more: “Baby, first in major—my reward.”
Lance glanced around, confirming no one was nearby, before obediently responding: “I remember.”
Satisfied, Zhan Pingchuan quickly kissed Lance’s lips before releasing him, then resolutely plunged into the exam room.
Lance stood in the corridor, watching Zhan Pingchuan’s retreating figure, suddenly feeling uncertain.
Little idiot couldn’t really get first place, could he?
As soon as Zhan Pingchuan entered the exam room, he heard complaints everywhere—
“Sigh, I really went crazy studying. Is it reasonable to highlight an entire book?”
“An entire book being highlights is one thing, but five exams in seven days—is this humanly possible?”
“Don’t mention it. I’ve been soaking in my Spirit Realm system for two weeks. It was originally a Baroque-style manor, but these past days I tore off all the wallpaper and replaced it with exam points. The manor became a haunted house.”
“Hilarious. I transformed mine into a landscape garden style. These past days, even the koi swimming in the water ask me short-answer questions. When my Omega from the Attributes College got emotional and entered my Spirit Realm system, even her heat got dampened.”
“Damn, you let Omegas casually enter your Spirit Realm system?”
“We’re childhood friends with high compatibility. We’ll definitely marry in the future—what can’t she enter?”
…
Knock knock knock!
The proctor heavily knocked the table twice, his face exceptionally stern: “Silence. Let me introduce myself first. I’m a Biochemistry College lecturer, enhancement system A-level Awakened one. Anyone in my exam room shouldn’t dream of cheating—I can clearly sense your emotional fluctuations.”
The proctor surveyed the entire classroom, sneering: “Just now, forty-two examinees felt guilty. Last chance—hand over your cheat sheets. If I discover them during the exam, there’ll be campus-wide notification and it’ll go in your records.”
“Ahhhh—”
The classroom groaned in unison. Some students dejectedly pulled miniaturized cheat sheets from their pockets, slowly submitting them to the podium.
Others whispered below.
“Pfft, he actually brought cheat sheets, yet told me he finished reviewing.”
“Damn, my roommate brought them too, told me he didn’t have any. What a dog!”
“Fuck, miniaturization—how did I not think of that? No wonder he went out playing ball while I was desperately reviewing.”
“Tsk, still need to be A-level. Look, both A-levels in our class didn’t move.”
Just as the words fell, Ashlen stood up red-faced, fingers clenched tight. Walking to the podium, he angrily submitted a stack of cheat sheets.
Seeing this teacher proctor, he knew he was doomed. Upperclassmen had spread word—this teacher never used rare lead ore to interfere with ability-based cheating during exams because he himself was the best detector.
The proctor looked disappointed: “Ashlen, you’re A-level. Your Spirit Realm system already has advantages over other classmates. Why still think of copying?”
Ashlen was embarrassed: “I—”
The proctor suddenly pointed at Zhan Pingchuan, eyes full of approval: “Look at your classmate Zhan. From the start, I’ve sensed his exceptionally firm will, with persistence and ambition for this exam far exceeding ordinary people. What’s this called? This is respect and desire for knowledge, strict requirements for one’s A-level status!”
Zhan Pingchuan looked up: “?” Who has desire for knowledge? Who has self-requirements?
The proctor rarely smiled: “Teacher senses you’re ashamed. No need for shame or modesty—teacher is praising you!”
Zhan Pingchuan: “…” OK. Fine.
Ashlen was furious with embarrassment, glaring viciously at Zhan Pingchuan before returning to his seat dejectedly under everyone’s schadenfreude gazes.
Papers were quickly distributed. Zhan Pingchuan scanned the questions and knew his days of lying corpse-like in the blood sea finally paid off. He immediately wrote furiously, finishing the entire paper in an hour, then put down his pen, stood up, and directly submitted it.
The next five exams also didn’t exceed his review scope.
Time quickly came to the second week.
Zhan Pingchuan rarely had an exam in the same venue as Lance—this course was He Jing’en’s “Introduction to Ability Attributes.”
The proctor happened to be He Jing’en himself.
Unlike other proctors, He Jing’en seemed much more easygoing.
He wore a black long robe, shuffled in slippers, carried his well-used thermos, and walked into the exam room with a smile.
The classroom was noisy, no one paid him attention, so he talked to the air.
“Sigh, other teachers can use abilities to proctor. I don’t have such strong abilities. What to do? Can only ask you to follow discipline.”
Though he said this, school staff immediately brought in two huge pieces of rare lead ore from outside, placing them front and back in the exam room, directly blocking abilities.
He Jing’en watched them arrange things while sipping tea and expressing regret: “I trust you, but the school doesn’t trust you. I can’t help it.”
He Jing’en remained the same as before—good-tempered, full of smiles, leisurely, slacking off and amusing himself.
But Zhan Pingchuan immediately put down his pen, raised his eyes, and scrutinized He Jing’en with examining gaze.
From Yan Qili, he learned of He Jing’en’s deep teacher-student bond with Oliver. He Jing’en becoming this slacker appearance was inseparable from Oliver’s ordeal.
But with the Federation government openly announcing Oliver’s death, He Jing’en’s emotions showed no change whatsoever. This was very abnormal.
He could tell He Jing’en wasn’t forcing happiness but truly had no worries. Even that round, bald head had been recently groomed.
Could he not be dead?
This thought suddenly emerged in Zhan Pingchuan’s mind.
Assuming Oliver wasn’t dead and had no relatives left, after leaving Blue Pivot, he would inevitably contact He Jing’en, the only person in this world who cared about him.
Zhan Pingchuan’s pupils contracted tighter and tighter, his gaze becoming increasingly sharp.
He could be certain that He Jing’en didn’t have the ability to enter Blue Pivot—otherwise, he would have entered long ago during those fourteen years.
He suddenly remembered that night when he infiltrated the ventilation ducts and heard the sound of a door opening.
Zhan Pingchuan’s heart skipped slightly.
He hadn’t personally witnessed Oliver’s disappearance. It was outsiders who said Oliver turned into snowflakes, broke through constraints, and nourished all things.
Although anything was possible in this era of rampant abilities, Oliver’s [Virtual Realm] could precisely deceive everyone’s eyes.
But who could take away a special prisoner trapped in thorns under the restricted zone’s heavy guard and Blue Pivot’s strict surveillance?
At least in Ghost Eye Guild, no one’s ability could achieve such deception.
Black Lantern Society?
When Erdiff vanished behind him out of thin air, his body was found in a river a hundred kilometers away the next day. He could confirm the Black Lantern Society had someone capable of teleportation.
But the Black Lantern Society was clearly a killing organization—why rescue Oliver?
Competing to do good deeds?
Zhan Pingchuan didn’t dare make assertions. He could only plan to tell Ghost Eye Guild his discovery after finishing exams, to see if they could extract any more information from Yan Qili.
An hour and a half later, the exam ended.
He Jing’en organized the collected papers and sealed them in an archive bag, then held his empty cup and called to Lance: “That student, could you help teacher return this water cup to the office?”
Lance met He Jing’en’s gaze and walked forward to take the cup.
He Jing’en deliberately explained: “I need to go to the Academic Affairs Office to scan papers. Just put it on my desk.”
Lance adjusted his glasses and nodded quickly: “Yes, teacher.”
This request was reasonable and didn’t attract anyone’s attention. Even Zhan Pingchuan thought it normal for Lance, who had once wanted to transfer to the Attributes College, to be closer to He Jing’en.
But Lance knew He Jing’en had something to say.
Indeed, not long after Lance reached the office, He Jing’en returned from the Academic Affairs Office.
Lance had already shed his student restraint and assumed White Pharaoh’s demeanor.
“You’re acting too relaxed.” Lance coolly reminded He Jing’en. His gaze fell on He Jing’en briefly before calmly moving elsewhere. “If someone with ulterior motives sees this, they’ll guess Oliver isn’t dead.”
He Jing’en slapped his bald head, looking regretful: “I just had a video call with him recently. I’ve indeed been somewhat lax lately.”
He had heard Oliver’s voice again and seen his appearance. Though still heartbreakingly thin, his golden hair was well-trimmed.
Oliver wore egg-yolk yellow onesie pajamas, lived in a warm, cozy room, and had a thriving butterfly orchid beside him. For a moment, it was just like eighteen years ago.
Oliver no longer harbored death wishes and even told him about friends he’d made in the Black Lantern Society. He Jing’en clearly felt his spiritual wounds slowly healing, the cracks in his spirit continuously mending.
He Jing’en was truly overjoyed—this joy was almost impossible to conceal through willpower.
His eighteen years of obsession, eighteen years of concern and unwillingness, finally had a decent outcome.
“What do you want from me?” Lance knew He Jing’en was also clever and wouldn’t repeat such mistakes, so he cut straight to the point.
He Jing’en said: “Last night, I received a call from Yan Qili.”
Lance suddenly frowned, his gaze quickly returning as he straightened: “Yan Qili?”
He Jing’en raised his slightly whitened eyebrows, looking wistfully out the window: “Yan Qili apologized to me about concealing the autopsy report. With Oliver dead, he feels very sorry to me. He had countless opportunities to help Oliver, but he was cowardly, fearful, and didn’t act. Now his conscience torments him—consider it a prayer to me.”
Lance didn’t care about Yan Qili’s repentance. In his view, any repentance or guilt was merely a means to achieve peace of mind thereafter, worthless to victims.
“Where is Yan Qili? Who took him away?” Lance pressed.
The person who infiltrated the underground third-floor archives obviously also held Yan Qili in their grasp. Because of him, Si Hongche suddenly awakened in grief and vomited blood, and the Federation government was forced to overturn the ironclad case from years past.
The opponent’s ability to silently take Yan Qili from his home indicated considerable power behind them.
Fortunately, from Yan Qili’s words, the opponent didn’t know Oliver was still alive.
He Jing’en shook his head somewhat hesitantly: “I probed indirectly, but he won’t say. He only said he’s very safe now and told me not to contact him again. However—”
“However what?”
“Though Principal Yan is cowardly, lacking responsibility and achievement, as a friend, he’s still decent. We’ve had friendship over the years, often meeting to play chess, exercise, and mahjong. Every time he invited me, he knew to avoid work and meal times. But this time he called me at six in the evening.”
Lance had already guessed what He Jing’en was going to say.
He Jing’en squinted: “I suspect his new location has a time difference from the capital city, and he forgot about this. So when it was six o’clock here, it should have been between seven and ten o’clock there.”
“Time difference.” Lance clearly repeated these two words, then let out a light laugh.
##
(advanced chapters available on kofi)
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