Hong Zhenjiang let out a sigh of relief. Before his memories faded, he repeated word for word what Lin Jiaze had seen and told him:
"A black, tree-shaped syringe… covering the entire head… placed inside a black tree trunk."
Ning Su had mentioned that he could hear sounds from the Reflection Hall, but with all the chaos, Hong Zhenjiang wasn’t sure if Ning Su had caught every word.
He had recited this sentence dozens of times in his mind, terrified of forgetting it. Now that he’d finally spoken it aloud, the weight lifted from his shoulders.
It felt like he’d accomplished something monumental—like he could die without regrets.
Combined with what Gui Sheng had overheard, Lin Jiaze’s words made the memory transfer process almost completely clear.
Ning Su nodded.
Ning Changfeng stepped forward and clapped Hong Zhenjiang on the shoulder. "You’ve done enough, brother. Leave the rest to us. I’ll keep my promise—I’ll do everything in my power to get you all out. You can… go ahead and lose your memories in peace."
......
"Go ahead and lose your memories in peace"?
Hong Zhenjiang didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
But it was true.
He blinked his sore, tired eyes, an indescribable emotion swelling in his chest.
That night in the library study room, he’d seen the players mid-memory-loss—their eyes filled with sorrow and despair. He’d thought that soon, he’d be just like them: facing a blank, uncertain future, dying in some way he couldn’t even anticipate.
Seeing their desperate, quietly pleading expressions, Hong Zhenjiang had stepped forward and declared he’d take them to the Reflection Hall to find answers.
He refused to end up like them. Their hollow stares unsettled him—better to risk it all than surrender to that fate.
And against all odds… they’d succeeded. More than that, the outcome had been far less brutal than he’d feared.
Through their own efforts, they’d clawed back a chance to survive.
Not groveling, not shamelessly clinging, no need to live in humiliating fear.
Hong Zhenjiang wiped his overly damp eyes—somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
Ning Changfeng asked, "How’s the situation inside?"
Hong Zhenjiang replied, "Maybe five or six players died. The rest should be fine."
For the amnesiac players, the black tree whip had lost its most terrifying function—stealing memories—leaving only physical wounds. The players’ natural resilience was strong; if they endured and didn’t die, they’d recover.
As for those who had died…
The Black Forest fell silent for a moment.
"It’s still better than we expected, isn’t it?" Hong Zhenjiang said.
When he’d led them into the Reflection Hall, he’d prepared himself for the possibility that only a handful would make it out alive.
Just as they were about to check on the other amnesiac players, the school broadcast crackled to life:
"Attention, students. A fight recently broke out in the Reflection Hall. The situation has been contained, and the school is handling the matter. Please remain calm and return to your exam halls immediately."
"All students—including those in the Reflection Hall—must return to their exams at once!"
A few players let out sighs of relief.
They knew what this meant: The school was rushing to clean up the Reflection Hall, sweeping the incident under the rug.
Hong Zhenjiang held out a hand to Lin Jiaze. "Come on, I’ll take you back to the exam hall."
Lin Jiaze—her hair in a high ponytail, her face smeared with grime and dried blood—stared at him blankly for a second.
Slowly, she stepped closer to the only person she recognized now, the one who had carried her out of the dark room, the one who had held her hand through the water.
"I’ll help you with the exam," Hong Zhenjiang said. "Then tomorrow, when I lose my memory, you can help me, okay?"
"But… you’ve already taken one exam. Even if you don’t write a single word this time, it’s fine. Just rest, let your mind go blank. Doesn’t that sound nice?"
He was tall and broad, nearly 190 cm.
She was small and thin, barely 150 cm.
Like an adult leading a child, they walked away slowly, unhurried, at peace.
Meanwhile, on the other side of campus, Ji Zeming and Lu Yue were guiding a group of amnesiac players toward the exam halls.
“They were just injured from banging on the door. Three others who were badly hurt were sent to the school infirmary, but they should be fine. Six still haven’t come out,” Lu Yue said heavily.
Over the past week, Lu Yue had been the one taking care of the twenty amnesiac players. Whenever they saw him, they would gather around, smiling as they reassured him they were okay. They’d even share fragmented details about their situation—things even they didn’t fully understand.
Most of the severe injuries and deaths had been among those who rushed to protect Lin Jiaze. Without hesitation, they had thrown themselves in front of the cowardly boy, shielding him from the lashing black vines and pulling him free.
Lu Yue was both moved and heartbroken as he listened, his voice thick with emotion.
When they entered the exam hall, every one of them glanced back toward the direction of the Reflection Hall.
It seemed even darker now, the surrounding black mist thicker, almost coagulating into faint humanoid shapes that drifted specter-like around the room.
“Ding ling ling!—”
“Examinees, begin answering!”
Once again, the sound of frantic scribbling filled the exam hall.
Each student wrote diligently, quickly pouring their hard-earned knowledge onto the pale answer sheets—proof of their competence, their only source of security.
The remaining three exams of the sixth mock test series ended without incident.
Yet, even after the exams concluded, the school felt no lighter.
Ning Su and Ning Changfeng followed Lu Yue to the infirmary to check on the three amnesiac players. The doctor assured them there was no life-threatening danger.
“Is it because they’re young? Their bodies are unbelievably resilient—they’re recovering way too fast!” the school doctor muttered in disbelief.
“…”
Do you really not know why?
The three players brightened when they saw Lu Yue, who praised them and carefully repeated his instructions.
“How’s Zeze doing?” one of the amnesiac male players asked.
Lu Yue pressed his lips together. “She’s fine, just resting after the shock. Focus on recovering, and you’ll see her soon.”
“Yeah!”
Relieved that the three were safe, they left.
On their very first day in this instance, they had taken the first mock exam. Over the next two months, there would be nine in total—the rest of the time, the students would prepare for the final college entrance exam.
The sixth mock exam was over, which meant they didn’t have much time left.
The good news was, on the day of the sixth mock exam, they finally learned how to transfer memories.
The bad news was, six players died that day—and three more lost their memories.
Those three players were: Lin Jiaze, whose memories were instantly ripped away by the black tree whip; Hong Zhenjiang, who was doomed to lose his memories after three trips to the Reflection Hall; and Ji Zeming.
