On Saturday night, Ji Zeming had led the amnesiac players in a protest on the sports field before entering the Reflection Hall to prepare for the next batch of players.
It was his first time in the Reflection Hall, and yet—unlucky as ever—he got hit.
He just never mentioned it to anyone because, the next day during the exam, they had a far more urgent and critical mission. The focus had to be on those players.
It wasn’t until after the exam, when his memories were almost completely gone, that he finally spoke up during dinner. Lifting his head as if stating something utterly ordinary, he said, "Hey, I’m about to lose my memories. Someone come take care of me tonight, alright?"
When everyone at the table turned to look at him, he scratched his head. "It’s no big deal. I’m actually pretty lucky—at least I know, right before I forget, that we’ve already figured out how to transfer memories. There’s real hope we can survive this, isn’t there?"
Ning Su gave a noncommittal "Mm."
Ji Zeming looked at him, his voice hoarse. "Ning Su… you have to get the Guild President out of here. No matter what, even if we die, we Yinhua members have to make sure the President escapes this dungeon."
Ning Su nodded.
Ji Zeming grinned. "Quit staring at me—eat, eat!"
Ning Changfeng, who had taken a liking to this rare Yinhua player who treated him well, said, "I wish we could tell you the plan to put your mind at ease before you lose your memories, but… we’ll have to see what happens after the results come out tomorrow."
"That’s enough for me," Ji Zeming said. He scratched his head again. "I’m almost gone."
Ning Su spoke up. "To the Ji Zeming of now—see you in three weeks at the game hall."
Ji Zeming paused, then laughed and echoed Ning Su’s catchphrase: "Yeah, sounds good!"
Ning Su: "…"
This was the most agonizing wait for exam results yet—especially for the seven other players who had actually studied hard, since this test had been much harder than the previous ones.
Ning Su had deliberately underperformed, scoring 542 points this time.
Not only did he perform poorly in Chinese, but he also didn’t do well in math—his usual strong subject. He only managed to answer the first sub-question of the final yazhou and dazhou problems.
It seemed that while he could ace simpler math exams, as soon as they got difficult, he struggled.
The homeroom teacher looked up from his test papers and sighed at him.
Ning Su sadly lowered his little head.
The teacher offered a stiff consolation: "Who knows? Maybe this year’s college entrance exam will be really easy?"
The whole class turned to stare at him in surprise.
Normally, whenever a student’s grades dropped, the teacher would mercilessly scold them in front of the entire class. But this time, not only did he not yell at Ning Su—he actually comforted him.
Ning Su kept his head down and muttered gloomily, "Teacher… if I don’t get into a Tier 2 university, will your bonus get cut by a lot?"
The teacher: "…"
Was that something you were supposed to say out loud?
He didn’t know how to respond.
Ning Su: "Don’t worry, I’ll do my best to get into a Tier 2 university—for myself, for you, and for the school."
The teacher gave a gratified "Mmm," and before leaving, patted his thin, slumped shoulders. "It’s alright. We’ll take it step by step."
"......"
Overall, the entire grade’s scores had dropped this time. Ning Su scored 542, which still placed him within the top 100—97th, to be exact. That would’ve been unthinkable in the past.
"Not a single person scored over 600." After dinner, Ning Changfeng stood in front of the announcement board and declared their total defeat in this exam.
Some had deliberately lowballed their scores, afraid to recklessly break the 600-mark.
But the seven other players—who had vowed to study seriously, staking their lives on the college entrance exam and treating every test as a trial run—definitely hadn’t held back.
The highest scorer among them only managed 572.
Two weeks had passed since that night when they announced they’d focus solely on studying and demanded the other players not disturb them. Yet not only had their grades failed to improve—they’d plummeted.
The college entrance exam was right around the corner.
Panic set in. And along with it, regret.
Especially Jiang Ming. He had risked offending Ning Su to obtain the memories of a second-exam-hall player, finally scoring over 600 points.
He thought he was set for this dungeon. While other players desperately crammed or scrambled to escape, he—a player who could just coast—felt an indescribable smugness and satisfaction.
But who could’ve predicted he’d only score 568 this time?
And now, beyond his worst expectations, he had not only angered Ning Su but also Ning Changfeng and the Gu Witch—every top player who could’ve carried him out of this dungeon.
Jiang Ming’s face turned deathly pale.
The other six players didn’t look much better.
After hesitating for a long time, one player swallowed his pride and approached Lu Yue, who seemed the most approachable. "Lu Yue, uh… you’ve been pretty busy lately, right? Is there anything I can help with?"
Lu Yue: "The only thing I’ve been busy with is studying."
He wasn’t lying. By the sixth mock exam, there were no new amnesiac players left. The others, after a week of care, could at least write their names and handle basic tasks.
All he had to focus on now was his own progress.
The player refused to give up. "I saw some injured players yesterday… What were they doing in the Reflection Hall? Did they find a way to transfer memories there?"
Lu Yue replied, "Last time, six players died in the Reflection Hall, three were severely injured, and two lost their memories. No one even figured out how memory transfer works. The cost was too high—there’s no way they’d try again."
Whether the player believed him or not, his face paled further.
After the group left in despair, Ning Changfeng scoffed, "Why sugarcoat it? Just tell them straight up we’re not carrying them."
Lu Yue smiled wryly—this was the confidence of a top player. "I didn’t want to provoke them. Cornered dogs might lash out and drag us down with them."
Sabotage, schemes… whatever it might be.
Either way, they all knew one thing for certain: they wouldn’t lift a finger to help.
Otherwise, they’d be betraying the six players who had died in the Reflection Hall—the ones they’d abandoned to their faces.
Unless those six dead players rose from the grave and told them to help.
As usual, the bottom 100 students in the liberal arts ranking would be sent to the Reflection Hall for "reflection" on Monday night after the results were posted.
The homeroom teacher said, “The bottom 100 students from this exam will join the bottom 100 ‘players’ from the next one in the Reflection Hall for self-criticism.”
The players immediately realized—the "Reflection Hall" must be under renovation, and it was likely being reinforced to be far more secure than before.
Without knowing the Reflection Hall’s current state, they couldn’t plan their next move. For now, it was unusable. All they could do was wait for the seventh mock exam.
As it turned out, the overlap between the bottom 100 students from the seventh and sixth mock exams was high. The frustrated teachers could only send a combined total of 108 students to the Reflection Hall.
When the amnesiac players returned, they pieced together descriptions of the Reflection Hall like elementary students sketching a house—haphazard, but revealing.
It had indeed been reinforced.
That night, the last six players who still retained their memories gathered on the sports field. They debated their next move—this round might be their final, most critical mission, one that would determine life or death for nearly every player.
Ning Changfeng spoke first. “This time, we cannot afford to fail.”
“The faster and quieter we act, the higher our chances of success. So we should bring all the most skilled players inside.” He paused. “But we still need a contingency plan—in case of failure, or if the players who enter this time lose their memories. I propose leaving two behind.”
Before anyone could object, Ning Changfeng pointed them out. “Yinhua’s Ning Su and Yongming’s He Xin—one male, one female, and both have already been in the Reflection Hall once. The odds of amnesia are higher on a second visit. They’ll stay as our backup.”
Before Ning Su could argue, the Gu Witch cut in, “Agreed. It’s settled.”
The two locked eyes with Ning Su, their gazes heavy with unspoken emotions—yet their resolve was identical, unwavering. “You’re staying behind.”
