Ji Linfan arrived at the fifth floor of the teacher’s office building and saw Gu Jiu grabbing a young girl and forcefully kissing her.
He froze momentarily but quickly regained his composure.
So they were in that kind of relationship. No wonder during last night’s operation, he had felt the two girls’ relationship was unusually close—turns out it wasn’t just his imagination.
The science-oriented straight man adjusted his glasses, realizing he wasn’t entirely hopeless when it came to such matters, and walked over.
Ji Linfan’s partner saw him and complained, “Old Ji, why are you so late? We were almost killed by the ghosts in the detention room!”
Ji Linfan asked, “There are ghosts in the detention room?”
“Not just one, but a ton of them.” His partner’s face showed traces of fear. “No matter how we tried to escape, we couldn’t get out. It’s like an endless purgatory full of ghosts…”
The others shared his sentiment, their faces pale with lingering terror.
When they were locked in the detention room, they lost sight of the others, as if they had been thrown into a place overflowing with ghosts, forced to battle endlessly. At first, they thought the ghosts were part of an illusion—perhaps a feature of the detention room designed to break their spirit. Someone even used an item specifically for dispelling illusions, but it didn’t work.
It wasn’t an illusion. The injuries they sustained were real, and the ghosts were real too.
The detention room itself was a purgatory for ghosts. Anyone trapped inside was forced to encounter ghosts again and again.
The only way to leave the detention room was either for the detention time to end or for the dean to personally release them. This authority was granted to her by the Reincarnation School.
After hearing about their experience in the detention room, Ji Linfan asked in astonishment, “Gu Jiu, how did you manage to get them out?”
Gu Jiu explained, “Your assumptions weren’t wrong. The detention room is indeed full of illusions. But because the illusions are tied to the rules of reincarnation, they cycle endlessly. Even if you use items to break the illusion, you’ll enter another one before you can fully awaken. Furthermore, if the ghosts in the illusion injure you, the injuries become real. That’s one of the characteristics of the detention room.”
Everyone was stunned, finally understanding the truth.
So their guesses hadn’t been entirely wrong—they were just misled by the detention room’s unique characteristics.
“Then how did you break it?” Chai Yingying, standing next to Gu Jiu, asked coyly. “Tell me, big sister—I really want to know~”
Gu Jiu brushed her hand across Chai Yingying’s beautiful face. But when she noticed her boyfriend’s expression turn gloomy, she heartlessly pushed Chai Yingying away. Then she explained, “It might be because I wasn’t personally put in detention by the dean. So although I also encountered a lot of ghosts, the illusions didn’t affect me much.”
When she entered, she had seen a red light flashing in the darkness—the force maintaining the detention room’s rules. She destroyed it with a single arrow, and the detention room returned to normal.
Pei Yongyong couldn’t help but ask, “Could the detention room’s rules be related to the reincarnator?”
“It’s possible,” Ji Linfan replied. “In this game world, our main objective is to find the reincarnator. The detention room clearly operates under reincarnation rules, and the dean has the authority to punish students using it…”
His partner added, “Old Ji, are you saying the dean might be the reincarnator we’re looking for?”
Ji Linfan paused and gave him a cold look. “Are you an idiot?”
His partner snapped, “…Can you talk properly? Stop personally attacking me!”
Ji Linfan explained, “If she were the reincarnator, we would have already cleared the game. There’s no way we’d still be stuck here.”
“…”
Others who had also speculated whether the dean might be the reincarnator secretly felt relieved they hadn’t voiced their thoughts. Otherwise, they might have been the ones Ji Linfan called stupid.
How embarrassing that would’ve been.
Although many were seriously injured, B-level players had exceptional physical resilience. Coupled with the medicines from Boundless City, they recovered quickly enough to continue with their plans.
Since they had rested sufficiently, they decided to leave the teacher’s office building to avoid running into the dean again, not knowing when she might return.
Ji Linfan reassured them, “Don’t worry, someone lured her toward the northern district.”
The teaching building was in the southern district, and with such a significant distance between the two, it was no wonder everyone hadn’t been in a hurry to leave earlier.
“Gu Jiu, thanks for earlier.”
The group of players expressed their gratitude to Gu Jiu and her team for rescuing them. While it was part of their agreement, the fact that Gu Jiu had rushed back to save them without delay still earned their appreciation.
It was already 8:30 in the evening, and the self-study session had not yet ended.
However, no one planned to return to the classroom. Having exposed themselves to the dean when they ran to the detention room earlier, going back to class might increase the chance of running into her. This time, she probably wouldn’t just send them to detention but might publicly tear them in half instead. It was better to avoid her entirely.
Pei Yongyong called out to Chai Yingying, “Sister Chai, how about we head to the back mountain now?”
“We’ll come too.”
Hearing this, Chai Yingying and the others turned to see Ji Linfan and his partner approaching, indicating they wanted to join them.
Chai Yingying tilted her head, guessing Ji Linfan probably thought they’d encounter many ghosts and wanted to see if their luck would hold out.
Pei Yongyong welcomed them warmly, saying, “Brother Fan, your sharp observation skills might help us discover something useful.”
She had heard of Ji Linfan’s impressive performance in B-level scenarios and had considerable confidence in him.
In contrast, Gu Jiu and Lu Ji, who had only recently advanced to B-level scenarios, were relatively unknown. Even though Chai Yingying’s reputation as a “Point-Hoarding Witch” in C-level scenarios preceded her into the B-level scene, Gu Jiu and Lu Ji didn’t garner much attention.
For this reason, despite their outstanding performance earlier, Pei Yongyong didn’t regard Gu Jiu and Lu Ji too highly.
Chai Yingying noticed Pei Yongyong’s dismissive attitude toward Gu Jiu and Lu Ji. Smiling knowingly, she thought to herself that it was only a matter of time before Pei Yongyong would eat her words.
The group made their way toward the back mountain.
The back mountain was in the northern district. Worried about encountering the dean, they moved cautiously, even using detection tools.
Pei Yongyong controlled a bamboo dragonfly that flew ahead, constantly monitoring the feedback it sent back. She assured the group, “No sign of the dean so far. Relax.”
Watching the bamboo dragonfly hover through the night sky, Chai Yingying remarked, “Eldest Miss, doesn’t that bamboo dragonfly remind you of Lu Ji’s paper creations?”
Gu Jiu nodded at first but then said, “Ah Ji’s paper creations are much better than this.”
She had an inexplicable confidence in her boyfriend’s paper creations.
Hearing her praise, Lu Ji’s lips curled up slightly, and the dark, brooding aura around him seemed to dissipate somewhat. His mood clearly improved, and the way he gazed at Gu Jiu became both fiery and pure.
Despite the eerie atmosphere of the campus, Chai Yingying felt as if the two of them were on a romantic date in a park—except with a lot of third wheels tagging along.
Pei Yongyong overheard their conversation.
Unable to resist, she glanced back at the trio, her gaze lingering on them briefly before regretfully looking away.
Pei Yongyong was a B-level player from the Jiuhua Group.
The leader of the Jiuhua Group was an S-level player from the Star District 0. With an S-level player at the helm, the Jiuhua Group held a high status in Boundless City, which also meant its members had access to plenty of resources—points, items, and more. However, the privilege came with an obligation: whenever the leader issued an order, members were required to comply immediately.
Recently, their leader had unexpectedly traveled from the Star District 0 to their headquarters in the Star Zone 56 and issued an order: find a specific player within the game worlds.
At the time, a member asked, “Leader, who is this player we’re supposed to find? What’s their name?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do they look like?”
“I don’t know.”
“What’s their gender?”
“Male!”
“What about their personality?”
“I don’t know.”
“What level are they?”
“…”
Pei Yongyong vividly remembered the indescribable expressions on the members’ faces as they silently questioned whether their leader had gone crazy. How else could someone issue a task to find a player when the only detail they provided was the player’s gender?
Perhaps noticing the dissatisfaction on their faces, the leader emphasized, “This person is very unique. When you see him, you will undoubtedly feel a sense of recognition.”
“Leader, there are so many players in Boundless City. Plenty of them are unique. Every time I enter a game world, I feel like the players I meet are pretty unique too.”
“Not that kind of unique,” the leader clarified. “This person will give you a feeling of true uniqueness. It’s not because of what he does, but because he doesn’t need to do anything for you to feel it. Just look for someone who feels special—remember them, and report back to me.”
In truth, the leader wanted to say that this person’s uniqueness might even provoke a sense of fear. However, thinking of the turmoil in the Star District 0, the leader decided not to drag the group members into unnecessary trouble.
“He might appear in the B-level field, or the A-level field, or even the S-level field. Just keep an eye out. You don’t need to do anything when you find him.”
Pei Yongyong naturally followed the leader’s orders. After all, finding someone didn’t require much effort, and there was a substantial reward if they succeeded.
It would be a lie to say she wasn’t tempted by the reward.
As a B-level player with limited resources, Pei Yongyong naturally wanted to earn that prize. But after searching for a while, she still couldn’t identify any male player who stood out as uniquely special at first glance. Plenty of female players seemed unique, though.
At the time, someone had raised another question: “Leader, are you sure it’s a male player? What if they’re deliberately disguising themselves as a woman?”
“Impossible!” the leader declared confidently. “Given his identity, he would never stoop to such trivial tricks.”
Pei Yongyong summarized the information they had: a man who would strike you as special at first glance. He was likely a proud individual who wouldn’t bother with disguises, entering the game world openly as a man.
In the end, Pei Yongyong sighed. It seemed she wasn’t destined to strike it rich.
The male players in this game world didn’t seem particularly special. Although Ji Linfan, the engineering guy, was somewhat unique, he already had a certain reputation among B-level players in Boundless City and was definitely not the person the leader was looking for.
—
The back mountain wasn’t particularly steep and was covered in a dense forest.
At night, the forest appeared thick and eerie, giving off the illusion that once you stepped in, you’d never find your way out.
Chai Yingying took out her Nine Yin Compass. The pointer on the compass trembled faintly, spinning very slowly—unlike the frantic spinning that happened in areas filled with ghosts.
“Looks like this place is pretty clean.”
As soon as she spoke, something zipped through the forest with a sharp sound.
Gu Jiu abruptly turned her head, locking eyes with a pale, ghastly face. The face wore a bizarre, unsettling smile.