Chapter 77 - Campus World - Mingxi Middle School

Chapter 77: Chapter 76: Campus World - Mingxi Middle School...

Before entering the game, Wang Xingkong was just an ordinary college student from Dragon Country.

He had always diligently attended school, from elementary to junior high, and from high school to college. Study and exams, study and exams, living under the surveillance of teachers and the supervision of his parents... It seemed every child in Dragon Country went through this, everything so ordinary and common.

He liked anime, virtual streamers, Aruba, and also horror games, though he himself didn’t dare to play them, he dared to watch other streamers play... He once really liked a streamer whose ID was Ming’an, a skill-based streamer who never showed his face. He liked to watch this streamer make ghosts cry out in fear, and this streamer’s recordings and live broadcasts had accompanied him through many nights of doing makeup homework.

... And then, since he entered the World game, he sensed something was off.

Why did the voice of this legendary Number One Player sound so much like that streamer’s?

Upon connecting the two names together,

It felt like he had discovered something.

He suddenly felt a thrilling surprise as if he had grasped onto a strong support, and immediately started to follow Su Ming’an’s exploits. After learning all he could, he began to suspect—was this person really just a home-grown student?

Later, he saw that video that went viral on the World forum.

In the video, a young man faced Mizushima Kawa Sora, smiled, and thrust his hand directly into his own chest, splashing blood all over the ground.

A surge of violent phantom flames suddenly swelled in his eyes, momentarily leaving people breathless.

Wang Xingkong suddenly found it hard to breathe.

Until the beginning of the Third World, he still found it hard to believe that the scene he saw had actually happened—even though the First Guild had officially announced his death and had started training a new Number One Player.

With a heart full of doubts, he entered the Third World—a school world.

He opened his eyes and immediately felt the warm breeze of a summer’s heat, the ceiling fan overhead making a "squeak squeak" noise, the marks of a red pen smeared into a blob on the homework book in front of him, the hypnotic drone of the teacher’s microphone coming from the desk, and just entering such a scene made him unconsciously start to feel sleepy... This was probably the instinct of a student.

But soon, a system notification sounded:

"Don’t engage in futile efforts, the College Entrance Exam’s 40-90 Method: 40% of the exam points are from often and must-test topics, accounting for 90% of the exam scores, we must thoroughly understand the syllabus, and avoid attacking a sea of questions. Many of you think that after the first mock exam, constantly brushing up on questions will make it easier, but it’s not true, the mistakes that should occur will still occur..."

The person on the stage was a middle-aged Chinese teacher, with deep-set eyes and bushy eyebrows, and a look of constant worry. His body was thin, his knuckle joints were thick. Although he was a Chinese teacher, his gloomy eyes, made Wang Xingkong instinctively a bit wary, though the teacher’s words sounded overly familiar, he couldn’t ignore the sense of crisis in his heart.

He flipped open his textbook, and the name written on the title page was "Wang Han" — not his name. The clothes he wore were also a summer school uniform fitting his size; it seemed to be a world that had a set initial identity right from the start, unlike the previous apocalypse and sci-fi scenarios where one appeared in the world like an outsider — he was now a student of this school.

...He heard each instance would have about a hundred players, who might, like him, become members of this school.

He observed the expressions of others, and indeed, some students had expressions that were off. Clearly, these were players who, like him, had just entered the world.

"—Now let’s start our weekly writing practice," the Chinese teacher suddenly said, retrieving a stack of essay papers from the podium.

Wang Xingkong began to sweat profusely and felt his scalp explode.

—He was a science student, and an extremely biased one at that. Although his English was passable, Chinese was simply a devilish subject that trampled him into the ground; every essay was written as if he was constipated, squeezing out so few words over a long time, and even during the final exam, he only scored in the twenties out of sympathy.

"The theme is unlimited, predominantly argumentative essays, the content must be positive and uplifting. You may refer to the materials you’ve accumulated," the Chinese teacher, unconcerned with his inner turmoil, began distributing the essay papers.

Wang Xingkong noticed several players also stiffening up; some of them even struggled to hold a pen properly, and others stared blankly at the title page of the book, as if they still hadn’t grasped the situation.

The essay papers were distributed from the front to where he was, Wang Xingkong, suppressing his discomfort with writing essays—he had been in college for over three years now, who still remembered how to write a final exam essay. But thinking of the teacher’s requirement for content to be "positive and uplifting," he managed to squeeze out a few phrases:

He was struggling to continue.

He feared that the intimidating Chinese teacher would tear him apart alive.

As soon as the bell rang for class to end, the papers were passed forward, and his expression was somewhat despairing.

"Next class we’ll start the reviews," the Chinese teacher pushed up his glasses and left the classroom with a stack of essays.

The classroom instantly became lively when class ended—students moved around to chat, and many slumped over their desks, falling asleep. High school seniors really needed to seize every possible moment to catch up on sleep.

Wang Xingkong wiped the sweat of exhaustion from writing essays and was the first to slip out. He walked onto the corridor and saw that the room number was "Senior Year (4) Class," located on the fourth floor of the teaching building. Numerous students who had stepped out to enjoy the view were resting in the corridor, appearing to be NPCs.

The area was filled with noisy chatter from students communicating densely. He leaned on the railing and looked down to see the distant playground, sandpit, and the vaguely visible dormitory buildings and cafeteria. It seemed to be a boarding school.

He intended to gather some information but felt it too strange to rashly ask "where is this place." Since the basic quest was "Survival", it implied that this seemingly peaceful school... may harbor many unknown dangers.

"—This is Mingxi Middle School, located in a secluded town’s isolated school. Students can go home twice a year. Since the town is mainly known as a ’Holy Land of Education,’ all resources are directed towards this school." Suddenly, he noticed someone leaning on the railing beside him, also a student, looking lazily disheveled and inexplicably started conversing with him.

"Are you a Player?" Wang Xingkong asked.

"Yeah, and you are too, right?" The student smiled and said, "Hello, I’m Su Jian."

"Wang Han..." Wang Xingkong hesitated, facing the stranger who had approached him out of nowhere, he did not reveal his real name: "How did you find out this information?"

"Ah, my role is the class president of class four." Su Jian pointed to the classroom door behind him: "I checked the original occupant’s phone and documents, and that’s how I understood."

"...You still have a phone?" Wang Xingkong was stunned.

"Indeed, it’s a surprising find, considering the leader of the class breaking school rules, keeping a phone secretly..." Su Jian rested his chin on his hand: "Tell me, if I were to sneak a phone into a Player’s bag and then report it to the teacher, what do you think would happen to that Player..." Noticing Wang Xingkong’s expression, he raised his hand and laughed to himself:

"...Ah, haha, you look so uncomfortable, I’m just kidding, don’t be scared."

Wang Xingkong let out a long sigh of relief, feeling a bit strange about this person’s over-familiarity and somewhat unwilling to get close to him. Luckily, the class bell rang at that moment, and he quickly returned to his seat.

The sound of chairs dragging was shrill, and the fan overhead continued to squeak; he twirled his pen irritably and glanced over at Su Jian’s seat.

The moment Su Jian opened his book, Wang Xingkong saw that the title page of Su Jian’s book was filled with messy scribbles, the lines tangled together, contorted into a mass. On Su Jian’s notebook, laid full of the name "Shen Xue"—the crazed handwriting made Wang Xingkong’s scalp tingle.

...How bizarre, why would Su Jian’s notebook be filled with a girl’s name? Was that really a Player?

Wang Xingkong even doubted whether the other party was an NPC sent to deliver a message.

But at that moment, the tall figure of the Chinese teacher came in, momentarily blocking the doorway’s sliver of daylight; the lively classroom eerily quieted down instantly, as if all vitality had been suddenly sucked out.

It was clearly a summer afternoon, yet Wang Xingkong shivered involuntarily... he actually felt a chill.

"This class we’ll correct the essays from last class. Groups of students will exchange and review, noting good phrases and correcting faulty sentences, and particularly good ones can be recommended for discussion," the teacher started distributing the essay papers.

Wang Xingkong had no idea whose ill-fated hands ended up with his elementary-level essay writing; he received a neatly written essay paper, the handwriting appeared practiced, with strokes sharp and precise.

He looked at the name on it: Su Jian.

...It was that guy.

He looked again at Su Jian, discovering that Su Jian held in his hands Wang Xingkong’s own essay—with his own crawling handwriting vividly exposed, he suddenly felt a difficult-to-describe sense of embarrassment.

Suddenly, a piece of chalk struck his head. He looked up to meet the dark gaze of the Chinese teacher. His eyes were like hooks, unnervingly black and terrifying.

"...Don’t look around, hurry up and review!" The teacher’s voice was chillingly cold.

Wang Xingkong shivered again on this dog days’ afternoon, his hand trembling slightly as he held the pen, looking at Su Jian’s essay.

Upon reading the first sentence, Wang Xingkong was stunned.

Su Jian’s essay wasn’t long, but the more Wang Xingkong read, the more alarmed he became:

[Because life reaches its end, stars fall from the sky, and the confused travelers place their own desires onto a being that cannot even save itself... It must be said, what a selfish act this is

—This is precisely the proof that humans pin their hopes and expectations on each other. People tend to settle into specific environmental forms during communal living thereby preferring "stability." However, social control should not suppress peoples’ legitimate competitive behavior. The world is changing, and the real authority and efficacy of the system and law are not in mere enforcement but firstly in education and inspiration

— For humans to confront themselves has always been a difficult task. They have already confined themselves to the role of "Travelers," unable to break free from the shackles of changing times, carried along by the intentions of those above, even forgetting the ridiculousness of their actions... Such individuals could never become "Lighthouses", even if they attract the world’s attention...]

This style, how familiar it looks... It’s almost as if it’s engraved in human DNA.

Wang Xingkong suddenly stood up.

...He seemed to realize which Player Su Jian might be.