In the dark solitary confinement room, Feng Hao didn’t know how long he had been there, nor when it would end.
He only knew this seemed to be a very small room on the fifth floor, and it was deathly silent.
His props had lost their ability to calm his mind. Feng Hao felt that his death this time was inevitable, but fortunately, his points were enough for one revival.
The endless darkness was easily capable of destroying a person’s spirit; Feng Hao even felt that before dying here, he would go insane first.
It was in this moment of despair that Li Xin walked in.
He stood with his back to the only light source behind him, looking down from above; the blue gemstone at his ear was the only hint of color on him.
In that instant, the psychological comfort brought by the “bridge effect” even outweighed the fear.
“Do you want to come with me?” It was a rather nonchalant inquiry, and before Feng Hao could reply, he added with a light chuckle: “Of course, you don’t have the qualification to refuse.”
…
Yu Suheng didn’t see Li Xin again for the rest of the afternoon. In the entire classroom, only the Rabbit Teacher sat on the podium, idly doing nothing.
He seemed entirely unconcerned about whether they were recalling their regrets as required, and there weren’t even any detection facilities to verify it.
Yu Suheng lowered his eyes, realizing that they likely had other methods of monitoring.
And regardless of what those results were, they were happy to see them.
But this wasn’t normal.
Yu Suheng had a bad feeling.
Sure enough, after the so-called “Meditation Class” ended, Yu Suheng stood at the back of the classroom and saw three pairs of dazed, lost eyes. What was worse was that their shadows seemed to be coalescing into physical forms, with thin, long fingers tightly clinging to their ankles.
These things had sensed some kind of summoning and were already beginning to stir.
Because of their vigilance, the players hadn’t followed the rules, and the assimilation process had been interrupted—but this hadn’t stopped the anomaly of the shadows. They seemed tired of waiting aimlessly and were preparing to forcibly devour them whole.
In this state, they wouldn’t even last until the third day.
Even Yu Suheng himself wasn’t in good shape. His consciousness was rapidly sinking; he had to concentrate hard just to ensure he wasn’t being influenced.
Perhaps because he hadn’t stayed in the dormitory for long last night, and because he hadn’t fallen asleep, he had bypassed the pollution of the dreams and was relatively less affected.
However… he would be soon.
There were no classes tonight, which counted as a brief breathing space the dungeon gave them.
At 6:00 PM, Yu Suheng appeared on the fifth-floor corridor as promised.
Li Xin hadn’t arrived yet. Yu Suheng leaned back against the cold wall and slowly closed his eyes.
Everything was happening too fast. He had assumed this scenario would appear tonight or tomorrow during the day.
It was too early; it didn’t fit the style of the “Rules” category.
Unless… someone had triggered something he didn’t know about.
“…Li Xin.”
“What are you thinking about?”
A familiar light chuckle came from beside his ear. Yu Suheng slowly opened his eyes and met those pitch-black eyes only inches away.
Li Xin had just come upstairs and seen this person standing at his door with eyes closed.
In the darkness, grey hair clung obediently to the man’s face, softening his usual sharp edge.
This scene was a rare sight. Li Xin deliberately softened his footsteps, wanting to see at what distance he would be discovered.
However, unexpectedly—
Even before his breath fell against the man’s ear, Yu Suheng didn’t open his eyes, yet he spoke the name Li Xin hadn’t told anyone yet.
Restraining the emotions in his eyes, Li Xin took a proactive half-step back, returning to a “social distance,” and naturally changed the subject: “You guys shouldn’t have been to the fifth floor yet, right?”
“No, we haven’t. The progress of this dungeon is too fast.” Yu Suheng didn’t show anything unusual, answering simply: “Why did you call me here?”
“To explore. It’s a perfect dark and windy night for it,” Li Xin said nonchalantly.
Yu Suheng didn’t answer that.
The Dean’s office was at the end of the fifth floor. The high-quality mahogany door looked out of place in this building.
Li Xin twisted the door handle—unlocked, just as he expected.
“I thought you had gotten the key.” Yu Suheng stood not far away, watching, his tone ambiguous: “So we have to go find the key first?”
“Let’s pick the lock.” Li Xin clapped his hands and took a hairpin out of his pocket, introducing its origins: “Borrowed from a lovely girl. You should have seen her shadow puppetry this morning.”
“If you’re referring to the one holding a mouse tied with a kite string,” Yu Suheng paused, then added, “I think she might be quite a bit older than you.”
Li Xin was silent for a moment, deciding to pretend he hadn’t heard that.
The lock-picking process was very smooth; in less than a minute, the two pushed the door open.
The Dean’s office wasn’t quite what they had imagined. There were no lights inside, and it was covered in spiderwebs and dust. Behind the desk was a bookcase packed with documents, some of which had dried bloodstains on them.
Li Xin stepped over a chair leg blocking the doorway and found the switch on the desk.
The long-neglected ceiling light flickered a few times before finally squeezing out a little bit of brightness.
“Looks like it’s been abandoned for a long time. I hope these documents haven’t been eaten by rats.” Li Xin patted the dust off his hands, suddenly recalling his own “mansion” in a similar predicament, and the distress on his face became more genuine.
Yu Suheng was looking up at a painting hanging on the sofa wall. Hearing this, he replied: “What do you want to find?”
“It should be ‘what do we want to find’.” Li Xin really wanted to lean against the desk, but the thin layer of dust discouraged him. He walked over to Yu Suheng and began: “Our goals have been consistent all along.”
Liar.
Yu Suheng glanced at the arm draped over his shoulder, having no intention of calling him out for now.
Seeing no reaction from the other, Li Xin spoke as if he were used to it: “I met the school doctor this afternoon.”
This time, Yu Suheng finally reacted; he tilted his head, waiting for Li Xin’s answer.
Li Xin laughed, let go, and walked toward the bookshelf, saying as he walked: “He gave me a file regarding that ‘perfect case study’.”
“Threatened him with the box you pilfered from me?” Yu Suheng said coldly.
Holding a grudge, I see.
Li Xin felt a bit helpless: “Don’t dwell on small mistakes. Didn’t I come here to exchange information?”
Yu Suheng remained non-committal.
The labels on the shelf were blurred. Li Xin could only look through them one by one. The items were arranged by date, from twelve years ago up until last year.
The latest information wasn’t there; in all likelihood, it was in the basement where the Dean stayed.
“Your current state shouldn’t be great—increasingly aligning with a child’s state: self-denying emotions, as well as the ubiquitous hints and mental interference.” Li Xin’s fingertips paused on a spot, and he pulled that file out. “I saw Li Feng on the way up. He seems to be on the verge of being captured; they are ready at any moment to replace you.”
Placing the file on the desk, Li Xin suddenly looked up at Yu Suheng: “But generally speaking, if assimilation isn’t completed within three days, the cycle takes at least half a month. Theoretically, if you just honestly follow the dungeon’s rules, surviving for three days would be a breeze.”
At this point, his tone changed: “However… you didn’t meditate last night or today, did you?”
It was a statement, not a question.
Yu Suheng didn’t hide it: “We didn’t.”
“Then that’s terrible.” Although he said it was terrible, Li Xin looked up at Yu Suheng standing opposite him with a smile, his fingertips daringly resting on the man’s long, slender neck.
Yu Suheng lowered his eyes, not avoiding the touch.
“Your pulse is accelerating.” Li Xin sighed: “You’ve stepped into the dungeon’s trap. These shadows that haven’t been fed are already stirring, wanting to eat you ahead of schedule… but you don’t look nervous. Why?”
“Aren’t you the same?”
Yu Suheng took a step back, breaking away from his hand. He didn’t answer the question but instead stared at those eyes that were feigning sadness, throwing the question back at him.
“What?” Li Xin didn’t understand.
Yu Suheng was expressionless: “The patterns are already showing.”
Li Xin was struck dumb for a moment. In a place he couldn’t see on his own neck, black lines, resembling blood vessels, had quietly spread. From Yu Suheng’s angle, it looked like a series of shattered cracks.
“It seems the Dean doesn’t trust you either.” Yu Suheng withdrew his gaze, his voice very cold: “Is your heart still holding up?”
This was no longer just poking at each other’s scars; it was tearing them open.
The two who were probing each other stood on opposite sides, stripping away their well-dressed masks, leaving only raw, bleeding flesh.
After a brief standoff, Li Xin reached out to tug at his collar, looking somewhat resigned: “I didn’t think it would happen so fast. Judging by the current situation, I should die before you do.”
In fact, since noon, the wound on Li Xin’s neck, which had only occasionally stung, had started to spread. The feeling was strange, like a group of spiders pulling threads inside his body, forcefully tearing open a path, carrying unknown toxins to slowly surround his heart.
“Not great. It hurts.” Li Xin answered Yu Suheng’s initial question. He couldn’t be bothered to care about his pants and jacket getting dirty and finally leaned against the desk. Since he had been exposed anyway, he didn’t want to waste the effort to cover it up anymore.
“I think if this continues, it will ‘eat’ me, which is why I said our goals are aligned.” Li Xin shrugged. “But I guess you still don’t intend to believe me, so let’s put other things aside for now and focus on the business relevant to our interests.”
Yu Suheng didn’t reply, simply hiding the flash of contemplation in his eyes.
Li Xin flipped through the file, pulled one out, and placed it before them both: “This is it. This is the identity file of that ‘perfect case.’ I got the dates from the school doctor.”
Yu Suheng picked it up; the name at the beginning was Chen Dan.
This was his complete trajectory tracking report here.
“This report lasts for half a month, which fits the cycle I told you about just now.” Li Xin flipped through another document to supplement: “His trajectory was mostly the same as other students, and the relevant pollution data wasn’t much different, but there must be a part that was different.”
Yu Suheng: “What about his pre-admission information?”
“Here.” Li Xin handed it to him: “His identity when he was admitted was an ordinary writer, writing suspense, especially fond of content related to chemistry and poisons. When he entered here, the ‘Life Correction Goal’ he wrote down was—Chemist.”
“Hobby was painting?” Recalling the abstract painting skills, Yu Suheng found it hard to describe: “I feel like he shouldn’t have suffered much in the interest class.”
“He didn’t. So he gave up his hobby quickly, accelerated the assimilation, and moved to the next stage.” Li Xin said, “But he isn’t an isolated case. There was someone similar during the same period, but that person failed.”
Yu Suheng: “Compared the two people’s trajectories?”
Li Xin nodded: “The only difference appears here.” He reached out and tapped a line, repeating flatly: “If your interest is not up to standard, you get locked in solitary confinement all night, but Chen Dan didn’t know what method he used to escape that.”
Yu Suheng frowned: “Solitary confinement shouldn’t be the point. The point is what happened in the confinement room.”
“Bingo.” Li Xin snapped his fingers, “This is also what the Dean wants to know. If I find this reason, I will have a reason to take you to see him.”
This sentence made Yu Suheng subconsciously look up at him, but he remained unmoved by the words: “Why would I want to see him?”
“Because you want to kill him.” Li Xin answered with a smile. He had long since seen through Yu Suheng’s thoughts; this level of disguise in his eyes was no different from covering up something you want to hide.
Moreover, this guy was too lazy to even put effort into his disguise.
“Neither you nor I have much time left.” While saying this, Li Xin’s attractive eyes curved into a beautiful arc, not sparing any effort to share his own clues: “The shadow is the Dean’s ability. We can’t kill the shadow, but we can resolve the root cause.”
“Why cooperate with me?” That smile caused Yu Suheng to lose focus for a second. He pursed his lips and looked away: “Don’t you already have a plan?”
“Because I’m a pitiful newcomer. I don’t have any special ability props, and even less experience in killing.” This psychopath, who could ruthlessly shoot himself, skillfully retracted his sharp edges and skillfully played the victim with his tone:
“So… please help, big shot.”