It was also a statement of their determination and dignity: they wouldn’t give up hope that every player could survive, nor would they shamelessly beg others to take care of them—this group of useless, forgotten people.
Hong Zhenjiang said, “That’s it. With so many of us together, we’ll definitely break through and see the way forward.”
“By the time the next mock exam comes, they’ll have lost their memories, clueless and needing guidance.”
Pointing to the female player who had been to the small Reflection Hall twice, just like him, he said, “Lin Jiaze and I will lead them.”
He turned to look at the few remaining intact players in the classroom, one by one. "You, who have rarely been to the small Reflection Hall, are rare and precious players. Do not go to the small Reflection Hall easily again. You are our last hope, regardless of whether we succeed this time or not."
Ning Changfeng glanced at Shi Tianzhu, who was frowning in thought, and then at the players holding the written pledges, their eyes filled with both longing and despair.
He walked over to the confused Liu Kun, taking the pledge he had been holding in his hand. "If you can find a way to transfer memories, I promise I will do my best to help you recover your memories and get you out of the instance."
For most of the players who had lost their memories, the signs of memory loss had lasted over ten hours by now.
Before they completely lost their memories and entered a world of blank confusion, hearing Ning Changfeng’s words made several players break into tears.
Finally, they had heard a glimmer of hope.
Players who entered a Level 6 instance were generally unafraid of bloodshed and violence. But what they feared was this gradual loss of memory and ability—becoming like a useless fool, abandoned in the unknown, dying in a state of blank confusion and helpless loneliness, without even understanding how it happened.
Ning Changfeng collected each pledge and walked to Ning Su, looking at him.
Ning Su glanced at the pledges, a mix of handwritten words and pinyin, with many spelling mistakes, and then looked at the other group of players, who had long since lost their memories and now appeared to understand little to nothing.
These players hadn’t agreed to go to the small Reflection Hall, so naturally, they couldn’t be brought into it.
“As for me,” he said.
Hearing this, the previously memory-lost players turned their blank and innocent eyes to him.
“If I can get you out of here, each of you owes me one million points!”
“……”
After finishing his words, Ning Su asked Ning Changfeng, “The players who can enter a Level 6 instance should all be from moderately wealthy bases, right? One million points shouldn’t be an issue, correct?”
Ning Changfeng replied, “...It’s doable.”
By the time it passed 11 p.m., they still hadn’t left.
The closer they got to complete memory loss, the stronger the creeping fear became. Having so many people accompanying them seemed to make it slightly better.
In the silence, one by one, the players lost the last of their memories, becoming blank slates, knowing nothing at all.
Two players who had been to the small Reflection Hall twice walked quietly through the self-study room. Each time a player completely lost their memory, they would place a sticker on their wrist.
The stickers bore the players' names, class, student numbers, and dormitory numbers.
This was suggested by Lin Jiaze, the quieter of the two female players. With so many people suddenly losing their memories, it was impossible to take care of them one by one, and in some cases, they didn't even know who they were dealing with. This solution would make things much easier.
They grouped people by dormitory or class, seating them together.
While they were organizing this, Ning Changfeng said to Ning Su, "I made the promise to them. The main responsibility lies with me, so you don’t need to get too involved."
Ning Su replied, "I know why you’re doing this."
Ning Changfeng was a lone wolf, someone who never liked dealing with such matters. Before making his promise, he had been observing Shi Tianzhu.
He was helping Shi Tianzhu complete something she couldn’t finish herself.
What Shi Tianzhu had mentioned last time in this self-study room was more than just having memory-lost players help memory-keeping players hold positions in the bottom 100. It was about memory-keeping players shielding those who had lost their memories.
The core of what she said was that memory-lost players shouldn’t give up on themselves, nor should they cling to life without dignity. Instead, memory-lost and memory-keeping players should cooperate, utilize their respective strengths, and clear this dungeon together.
Even if memory-lost players didn’t have memories, knowledge, or skills, they weren’t entirely useless. They still had value to contribute.
For example, by holding positions in the bottom 100, they now no longer feared being sent to the Reflection Hall. They could enter it as many times as needed.
The key to what Shi Tianzhu advocated was cooperation.
On the first day of entering the dungeon, they had figured out that the “memory” in the dungeon’s title, <Shared Memories>, referred to their memories. That day, Shi Tianzhu had asked them to consider what “shared” meant.
Perhaps “shared” implied cooperation, a hint from the system that this was a collective dungeon and that cooperation was essential for clearing it.
Ning Su added, "I feel the same way."
"And who knows? Maybe there are points to earn, too, huh?"
Ning Changfeng: "..."
At this point, Hong Zhenjiang and Lin Jiaze had completed their statistics on the memory-lost players and joined them to discuss entering the Reflection Hall.
Lu Yue asked the two of them, "Are you really sure you want to go into the Reflection Hall? It’s life-threatening, and losing your memories is a certainty."
He continued, "You both scored in the bottom 100 before, so there’s still a chance you could retain your memories."
Hong Zhenjiang said, "You don’t need to ask again. I’ve already thought it through."
He tapped the stack of promises on the table. "Just like those who wrote these promises, they already knew in their hearts they might have to become meat shields."
“Regarding what you said about scoring in the bottom 100 every time to preserve your memory, that’s unlikely.”
He said, “The reason I was able to score in the bottom 100 during the third test was because I relied on what I’d been rote memorizing since entering the instance, and because this test was relatively simple, with many questions straight out of the textbook.”
“But I heard some news: the difficulty level of the preliminary tests we’ve had so far is lower than the actual college entrance exams. The tests one month before the college entrance exams will increase in difficulty, and relying solely on rote memorization won’t be enough. What’s more, those wealthy students who were originally in the bottom 100 will likely jump to the top 30 in the grade rankings, making it even harder to score in the bottom 100.”
“So instead of clinging to my memory, I’d rather lead them into the black room while I still have my memories intact and try to find a way to transfer them. Someone has to take the lead.”
The news that the exams would get harder was significant.
Ning Changfeng said, “Before every test, the teachers usually give us some information about the exam. At least for this week, they haven’t said the test will be more difficult. If we don’t hear anything from the teachers, then let’s hold off on entering the black room.”
Ji Zeming agreed, “Yeah, this way we can observe and prepare for another week. The key is that you must do well on this test. You can’t end up in the black room again.”
Hong Zhenjiang hesitated for a moment before nodding.
Then they all turned to Lin Jiaze.
Lin Jiaze was a petite and quiet girl. She rarely spoke, and when she did, she kept her head down. When sitting, she placed her hands on her knees to press down her skirt, making her seem timid and reserved.
None of them expected her to take the initiative to suggest entering the black room, where she would inevitably face the instructors’ black tree whips.
Lin Jiaze seemed to know what they were thinking. She pressed her lips together, lowered her head, and said, “My situation with the exams is about the same as Hong Zhenjiang’s. I’ve been clumsy since I was a child, overly sensitive, introverted, and timid. I don’t know what kind of person I’d become after losing my memories.”
Among the many memory-erased players, she had already noticed that players who completely lost their memories became extremely sensitive and uneasy.
If she, who was already sensitive and timid—someone who would cry when people got too close as a child—were to lose her memories, what would happen to her then?
When those six memory-erased players jumped to their deaths, she had stood in a small corner, staring at their bodies the entire time.
She thought to herself that maybe this would be her fate too.
Lin Jiaze clenched the hem of her clothes and smiled faintly, her head still lowered. “In that case, I might as well shine brightly before the end.”
