The four players exchanged looks. The girl asked, “What kind of method? Is it dangerous?”
“It’s not dangerous, but I can’t guarantee it’ll work.”
Fu Changxun’s gaze swept over the group. “Decide quickly. There’s not much break time left.”
The two male players muttered to each other, then shook their heads. “We’ll do the calisthenics. What if another monster shows up if we skip?”
They clearly didn’t trust unfamiliar players—especially now that Fu Changxun had noticed their hostility, and his teammate had arrived. They were even less inclined to stick together.
The other male and female player hesitated too.
“Alright then. Be careful,” Fu Changxun said simply.
He wasn’t some self-sacrificing saint determined to drag everyone along.
He and Director Qiu broke off from the little player clique and headed down to the first-floor stairwell, where a chalkboard hung with a line of handwritten text—“Leave of Absence List.”
Qiu Yi blinked. “You even knew about this?”
“This place is a perfect copy of my actual high school,” Fu Changxun replied. “I suspect the entire instance was modeled off it. Now I need to test that theory.”
He turned to Qiu Yi. “Director, this next part is up to you. Make your best guess—does it want us to write our player ID or our real name?”
Qiu Yi stammered, “Huh? But—”
His ability was jinx! Wait, don’t tell him this little punk wanted to reverse-use his power to guess the right answer? Actually… that might just work.
“Quick,” Fu Changxun pressed. “ID or name?”
“ID!” Qiu Yi blurted, eyes squeezed shut, going with his gut.
Fu Changxun grabbed a piece of chalk and neatly added “Qiu Yi” and “Fu Changxun” to the bottom of the list.
The chalkboard rippled like water for a moment before their names were absorbed into the list, confirming the trick had worked.
They were now officially excused from doing exercises.
Qiu Yi let out a relieved breath. “Thank god. Looks like my ability’s still useful after all. So, where do we look for the others now? I scoped out a bit earlier—this campus is huge. If only we had an intercom system…”
The contact button on the game panel was grayed out, as always. Team members couldn’t reach each other directly—only by physical means within the instance.
As he spoke, Qiu Yi turned to leave—but Fu Changxun yanked him back. “I know where the broadcast room is. Don’t wander off.”
“Wait—seriously?”
They followed Fu Changxun’s mental map up to the fifth floor. Qiu Yi trailed close behind, watching in awe as Fu Changxun navigated confidently without a hint of hesitation.
At this point, Director Qiu was starting to believe it too. Maybe this really was a replica of his real school.
All the student and teacher NPCs were already outside doing calisthenics. The teaching building was now completely empty, letting them reach the broadcast room unchallenged.
The door was unlocked. No one inside.
Perfect.
Fu Changxun adjusted the equipment and motioned for Qiu Yi to start the broadcast.
“This is an urgent announcement,” Qiu Yi intoned in his deep, authoritative voice. “Student Dong Zi of Class 2-9, your guardian is waiting for you on the fifth floor of the teaching building. Please report there immediately. Dong Zi of Class 2-9…”
His voice had the exact tone of a stern school administrator. Shockingly, not a single NPC seemed to notice anything strange.
Fu Changxun gave him a silent thumbs-up.
No wonder Director Qiu had been in leadership for so long—guy had a script ready for everything.
They ran the announcement twice, then cut the mic—no need to attract extra attention from the system.
Still, no one came.
Fu Changxun moved to the window and peered outside.
The student NPCs were neatly lined up, doing calisthenics on the field.
“Now begins Routine Nine! March in place—one, two, three, four…”
The broadcast voice echoed across the yard as rows of student NPCs swung their arms and legs in perfect sync. A few were noticeably clumsier than the rest—and upon closer inspection, Fu Changxun recognized them instantly.
Those were the four players from earlier.
They may have skipped the calisthenics, but the four players who didn’t were clearly unfamiliar with the routines. Their movements were clumsy and frantic, barely managing to keep up.
Fortunately, the patrolling NPCs didn’t call them out. Only a few sluggish student NPCs were singled out and dragged to the front to do the routine under everyone’s eyes.
It didn’t seem like a big deal—at least, that’s what everyone thought.
But the very next second, reality slapped them in the face.
The student NPCs, as if possessed, began to move faster and faster. Their limbs whipped through the motions, their faces drenched in sweat, veins bulging and ready to burst—but they kept going, unable to stop.
And then, just a few minutes later, their movements halted abruptly.
In front of the players’ stunned eyes, the NPCs dropped to the ground—dead.
A closer look confirmed it: no signs of life. No pulse, no breathing.
The teacher NPC didn’t react with surprise. Calmly, as if this were routine, they walked over and dragged the bodies away.
“Holy shit.”
None of them could’ve predicted that slacking off would result in death. The players who had chosen to do the calisthenics were now full of regret.
Upstairs, Qiu Yi couldn’t help but worry. Could the remaining players be trusted? And what about the other seven they still hadn’t found?
But when he turned to look, he realized that Fu Changxun’s expression was even more tense than his own.
“I lost Dong Zi.” Fu Changxun’s voice was taut with anxiety. “He’s not here.”
Qiu Yi tried to keep him calm. “Don’t panic. Maybe he just got placed somewhere else, and we haven’t regrouped yet—”
“No.” Fu Changxun shook his head, eyes sharp. “Even if he didn’t react at first, he would’ve come the moment he heard the broadcast. But he didn’t.”
It had been nearly ten minutes since the announcement—long enough for an adult man to run two kilometers.
This was their familiar high school campus. Dong Zi wouldn’t get lost. And he definitely wouldn’t ignore a callout from the loudspeakers.
There were only two possibilities: either he wasn’t on campus… or something was stopping him from getting here.
And that… was bad.
Fu Changxun couldn’t imagine what could hold back Dong Zi with a full 100 HP.
But the fact was—they’d lost all contact. Neither his items nor Xiao Hei nor the dandelion could get through.
“Forget it. Let’s go downstairs. Break time’s almost over.” He gave it one last minute, watching as the student NPCs began returning from the field, then finally made the call.
Qiu Yi understood his worry. “Don’t stress. Dong Zi and Lulu are strong. They’re not the type to go down easily.”
“I’m not worried about Dong Zi,” Fu Changxun said grimly. “I’m worried about Xiao Xiao. She’s never been alone before. Her items…”
Before he could finish, a thunderous boom shook the ground. Dust billowed outside.
Startled, both men rushed to the window—just in time to see a warehouse collapse about fifty meters from the teaching building.
Dust that had been gathering for years erupted in a cloud, thick as fog, plunging the area into near-blackout. The scene was like a sandstorm from hell.
It wasn’t just the players who were stunned—the NPCs were baffled too. This hadn’t happened before.
Then Fu Changxun’s eyes widened. “It’s Xiao Xiao! That was her building block item!”
It meant she was alive—and not just alive, but conscious enough to use her props.
But it also meant she’d been in enough danger to need to.
The two adults immediately rushed downstairs to find her. Xiao Hei had already leapt ahead of them.
Moments later, the black cat silently returned and met Fu Changxun at the first-floor hallway.
“Ge!”
A voice called out from the far end of the corridor. Xiao Xiao came running, panting and disheveled, hair a tangled mess. She looked a bit roughed up, but not injured—her eyes still sparkled with life.
Fu Changxun rushed over and scooped her into his arms. “Are you okay? Hurt anywhere? Are you alone?”
Xiao Xiao nodded. “Yeah. I woke up in that warehouse—there were chairs and desks everywhere, but no people. And I couldn’t get the door open…”
She’d been stuck there for dozens of minutes. Finally, she heard the announcement calling for Dong Zi.
But her game panel couldn’t connect to any of her teammates. No one answered her. In the end, she’d been forced to use the item that caused structural collapse.
Right after activating it, the roof nearly came down on her. She’d barely crawled out of the debris when something slashed at her. She never saw what it was, but she was lucky—today, she was wearing a thick coat. Only the outer layer got cut.
She didn’t dare stay there. As soon as she saw NPC students nearby, she bolted.
That’s when Xiao Hei arrived.
With the black cat by her side, she’d finally felt safe enough to run full-speed—straight into Fu Changxun’s arms, shaken but relieved.
“All right, all right. You’re okay now. Ge’s here,” Fu Changxun said, gently patting her back.
Xiao Xiao calmed down a little. Then she peeked out from his embrace and looked around. “Where’s Dong Zi-ge? And Lulu-jie?”
Qiu Yi answered, “I didn’t start off in the same classroom as Dr. Fu either. I think the instance scattered all five of us.”
Fu Changxun nodded. “Yeah, just like the rest of you. We got separated. But they still haven’t shown up—”
Ding—
The school bell rang.
All three of them jumped. No words were needed—they were already sprinting up the stairs, two steps at a time.
Fu Changxun knew this school bell lasted twenty-six seconds. He’d timed it back in high school.
We can still make it—
“Reporting in!” he called, as he stepped into the classroom right at the last second. Qiu Yi, in better shape, had already dashed into the neighboring room.
Silence fell outside the classroom.
He didn’t need to check. That monster was back.
Fu Changxun struggled to calm his pounding heart. Being out of shape hurt.
But at least they’d made it.
He shut the door and gently set Xiao Xiao down. Still catching his breath, he turned to the NPC at the podium—an exact replica of his old English teacher—and said evenly, “Teacher, I found a young student wandering outside. She looked lost, so I brought her back. That’s allowed, right?”
The English Teacher NPC: “……”
What kind of logic was that? It sounded full of holes—and yet somehow made a weird kind of sense.
First of all, picking up a little girl—was that something high school students were supposed to do?
Second, if a child was lost, shouldn’t they be turned over to a teacher? Why would you bring her here?
And finally… the girl really did exist, and this guy really was a teacher. Everything lined up so neatly… Too neatly.
What the hell is this player trying to do—overheat the NPC’s CPU?
