For a moment, the area around the Reflection Hall fell silent. Under the moonlight, the lake looked like a stagnant pool of black, lifeless water.
A small white snake appeared at the door of the Reflection Hall, trying to slip inside through the gap.
A bright blue light flashed.
"..."
Two instructors immediately walked over. Another guard behind them asked, "What’s going on?"
One of them pinched the snake’s head and lifted it for the others to see. "It’s actually a white snake. Dripping wet—must have crawled out of the lake. Weird. In two years, this is the first time I’ve seen anything alive in this lake."
"Throw it back in the water and stay alert."
As the instructor took two steps forward and raised his hand to toss the snake into the lake, its tail suddenly stiffened like a dagger and pierced straight through his throat.
In the darkness, the man didn’t even have time to scream before his throat was torn open. His eyes could only widen in terror.
The little white snake transformed into a long-haired man with a high ponytail. He stood before the dead instructor, supporting his body, and carried him behind the Reflection Hall.
Ning Changfeng reached for the black tree whip in the instructor’s hand, but the whip suddenly twisted like a tentacle, ready to attack him on its own.
A figure flashed in front of him and snatched the black whip away.
In Ling Xiao’s grip, the black tree whip immediately calmed down.
On the roof of the Reflection Hall, Ning Su watched thoughtfully as the whip gradually went limp in Ling Xiao’s hand.
This dungeon was specifically designed to target Ling Xiao. Here, all his abilities were restricted—he couldn’t even sense the presence of monsters inside the Reflection Hall.
Yet, he had always grown stronger through death, as if drawing power from it. That power might come from resentment, hostility, or unwillingness lingering in death.
So, was his sudden control over the black tree whip simply because the instructor’s death had strengthened him?
Though Ling Xiao had lost his memories, under Ning Su’s guidance, he remained a terrifying killer.
Holding the black tree whip, he moved silently toward the other nine instructors, the long whip slithering like a snake across the wooden floor.
Just as the whip suddenly lashed out toward four instructors—
Two blades shot down from the roof.
Ning Changfeng flipped behind Ling Xiao and snapped an instructor’s neck.
When another whip was about to strike him, two more blades, wreathed in dark energy, flew from the rooftop.
Four black-tinged blades sliced off the heads of four instructors. Several players rushed to catch the falling heads, afraid the sound of them hitting the ground would alert the school’s teachers and staff.
Ling Xiao’s black tree whip moved faster than the instructors, coiling around the four severed heads. With a sharp pull, the four instructors, who had been struggling just a second ago, went blank-faced. That momentary blankness went unnoticed in the darkness before their necks snapped, their lifeless expressions buried in the players’ arms.
Ning Su froze, wanting to take a closer look, when Ning Changfeng whispered from below, “How’s it looking up there?”
The instructors outside the Reflection Hall had been dealt with.
Both of them turned their eyes to Ning Su on the roof.
The Reflection Hall had been completely reinforced. The technology in this world was advanced—the walls were fortified with some unknown metal. Without skills, relying solely on human strength, it would be nearly impossible to break in silently.
The entrance was out of the question—not only was the door reinforced, but there was also a blue warning light.
Ning Su remembered what Gui Sheng had described seeing from the second floor: the fruit hanging from the trees on the roof.
The second floor was likely directly covered by these tree-like structures without any other barriers, which was why Ning Su suggested trying the roof first.
Ning Su looked down at these tree-like things.
These unknown entities that could suppress Ling Xiao, specialized in devouring memories.
The campus at past three in the morning was dead silent, the pale gray moonlight spilling down, casting a dull white glow over the dark, smooth surface of the tree-like structures.
Up close, he realized they weren’t as rigid as they appeared from a distance—there was a subtle, squirming movement.
The movement came from within. Inside the dark tree-like forms, something even blacker slithered slowly, like the sluggish flow of a thin stream.
Ning Su watched quietly, a layer of dark energy gathering around his hands.
His eyes darkened, his lips pressed together as he gripped two of the tendrils.
The clash between the black energy and the black tree-like structures sent a sharp jolt through his chest, making his heart pound violently.
The players surrounding the Reflection Hall felt the structure tremble, as if from an earthquake.
The dark energy grew thicker, the black tree-like forms hardening in response, writhing fiercely in his pale grip. The blackest substance inside seemed to roar in silent fury.
Ning Su’s brows gradually furrowed, the black veins on his face becoming more pronounced under the moonlight, giving him an eerie, almost sacrificial appearance—like a youth summoned from an ancient ritual.
The two intertwined "branches" were slowly pried apart, the gap widening bit by bit.
Ning Su: "Go!"
The amnesiac players scrambled up toward the roof, squeezing through the opening he had forced and dropping into the second floor of the Reflection Hall.
When Ning Changfeng moved to follow, Ning Su warned him: "Don’t touch these things!"
Ning Changfeng froze.
It suddenly occurred to him—the dungeons’s black tree-whip had the ability to extract memories. And that whip looked strikingly similar to the things on the roof.
His heart panicked, and he jerked his head toward Ning Su.
Ning Su: "I'm fine—hurry inside."
He yanked harder at the "branches," tearing one apart. Dark liquid splattered across his face, seeping into his eyes.
In that instant, all the tree-like structures seemed to lose vitality, wilting and loosening.
The black liquid stained Ning Su’s clear eyes. For some reason, Ning Changfeng thought even the eye untouched by the fluid had darkened, swirling with something unreadable.
It was the first time he’d seen such an expression in Ning Su’s gaze.
This perpetually lazy, easygoing young man—who’d always been content as long as he had food and money—now wore a look of solemn, seething hatred.
There was no time to waste. Ning Changfeng didn’t dwell on it. He leapt through the opening without hesitation.
Ning Su blinked, the black liquid clinging to his lashes. In that flicker, fragmented images flashed before him—
Perhaps snippets of someone’s cherished memories.
Alone, he knelt on the blackened rooftop, grip unrelenting on the twisted branches. Dark veins crept across his hands and face, stark as fissures against pale skin.
He turned, one eye tainted black, the other still clear, and fixed his gaze on the school in the distance.
***
The moment the clock struck three, Lu Yue, He Xin, and Jia Chang sprinted toward the infirmary.
Inside, three amnesiac players—who’d been recovering from severe injuries and never left—opened the door for them.
Their wounds had mostly healed, but the lucid players had instructed them to feign lingering illness and stay.
That night, after roughing out the plan on the field, Ning Su had said, "Let’s take the students who lost their memories during the exams too."
The others froze.
Every time Ning Su pulled a book from the hollow, his fingers brushed against the carvings inside—
The dreams of a high school senior who’d studied relentlessly for over a decade.
For these seventeen- or eighteen-year-olds, the college entrance exam was everything. Their dream university was everything.
Maybe they’d studied past midnight, whispering a school’s name in their sleep. Maybe their worst nightmare was failing the one test that decided their future.
Before the college entrance exams, stripping away their memories was an act of cruelty—something horrifying and bleak.
