Restricted Lovers [Complete] - 4

Chapter Two of Episode Two: The Spying

Man. I'm a light sleeper.

While that's not an excuse for waking up immediately, I have to keep pretending to be asleep to prove I'm not completely stupid.

Someone picked the window lock and leaped into the room like a cat. I noticed immediately and froze, playing dead.

The wolf is coming.

I'm pretty sure that even with my eyes closed, I know a normal person wouldn't sneak in through the window.

There are no absolutes in this world; it's best not to be too sure of anything in the future. But the biggest question lingering in my mind right now is: how did he get in? His

extremely light breathing was right beside me. When he saw me, he paused for a moment.

It's all my fault for accidentally falling asleep on the pretty landlady's bed. Now, I'm completely immobilized until that person's gaze leaves me. I have no choice but to remain still and observe his actions first.

Suddenly, I felt a weight on my chest, a suffocating pressure that made me tremble with tension.

He grabbed me, rolled me over, and tentatively pulled at my hands and feet.

Damn, that hurts! I was furious but dared not speak out.

He was definitely questioning the pretty landlady's taste; collecting vibrator dolls was a strange hobby. Even though I wasn't some kind of soft-bodied creature inside him, I could guess he was thinking the same thing.

After playing with me for a while, he put me down and got off the bed.

Finally, he was about to strike!

I rolled over, but saw that he didn't immediately open the door and leave. Instead, he turned his back to me and rummaged through the room.

Hey… are you from the photography club or the news agency? Don't tell me there are other exciting things in the room besides me?

But this was a golden opportunity. Counting on my fingers, it'd been over five hours since I transformed. Why not give him a good whack from behind, knock him unconscious, and then let him face the school rules? He'd never know who attacked him!

Hmm, good idea!

After knocking him unconscious, as long as I made a little noise, the pretty landlady and the others wouldn't miss it. My only worry was the one-hour transformation restriction after I turned human. Where would I hide then?

Besides, if one strike fails to render the voyeur unconscious, and we unfortunately alert the beautiful landlady and her family, things will be even more dangerous! The voyeur might escape, but I can't! I'm not going to do something as stupid as leaving myself as a scapegoat.

Okay, let's execute Plan B!

I looked at the traditional camera in front of me and sneered.

Naturally, he wouldn't find any pornographic items. He dusted himself off, picked up his tools, and prepared to get to work.

Good luck!

I didn't move, but

secretly I was gloating. Go ahead and shoot, shoot as hard as you want, it's all a waste of time!

But I was probably too happy too soon. Before the malicious pleasure had cooled, he returned, a triumphant smirk on his lips. With the camera hanging around his neck, he slid down the drainpipe, hugging the wall, in less than ten minutes.

That's terrifying speed!

The villains these days are truly extraordinary; whether they're kidnappers or voyeurs, they all have extraordinary skills. Of course! If he wanted to commit evil, he'd definitely suffer a terrible fate without some serious skill, but unfortunately, his wicked plot wouldn't succeed.

I tossed the film in my hand, a smug smile on my face.

Victory belongs to the one with superior skill!

I unrolled the film, the long, brown strip exposing itself in the moonlight.

Now even your previous hard work has been wasted!

"You think I didn't notice?" A mocking voice echoed in the empty room.

I froze, my hands still holding the film flat, caught red-handed.

How could this be!

My wrist jerked.

An unfamiliar male voice, unmistakably coming from behind me.

"Oh, found something interesting!" This time, he came in through the front door.

"You..." I was so shocked I almost stammered.

The whole world seemed to collapse, like shards of glass from the Twin Towers crashing down on my head. This is serious. Besides the beautiful landlady, a third person has discovered my true identity. Thinking of the gatekeeper's terrifyingly muscular physique, I think it's better to just kill myself by banging my head against the wall before he smashes me to pieces.

"How did you know?" I turned around, feigning composure.

The voyeur was dressed in all black, his face covered with a black cloth, and he held two rolls of film in his hand.

"Without the weight of the film, how could I not feel it? This situation was expected. This voyeur mission is all or nothing; I have to keep the variables to a minimum." He answered my question simply and clearly, but he persisted, asking, "What exactly are you, a monster?"

"I don't know!" I plopped down, crossed my arms, and didn't bother to look at him.

The beautiful landlady's enemy is my enemy, and there's nothing to say to an enemy, let alone reveal secrets.

"I remember there's a widely circulated legend in Japan... Ah, could you be a Kujukami or a tsukumogami?" He completely ignored me, offering his self-centered speculation.

"Are you out of your mind?" No need to ask, it was obvious. "Who would treat a vibrator like a family heirloom, let alone use it to the point of it becoming sentient? Don't you know there are hygiene concerns?"

"Oh?" His face was blank.

No, he really doesn't understand!

I sighed, rubbing my forehead.

It was like casting pearls before swine—a complete waste of effort, like advocating for clean governance, calling for anti-nuclear policies, or praying for world peace.

Oh well, as Confucius said: teach according to aptitude. Therefore, I decided to use a simpler method to make him understand.

"Let me put it another way…here!" I grabbed the instruction manual and slammed it against his face.

He straightened his back defensively, pulling his neck back, creating a small gap, just enough for me to triumphantly flip to the last page of the instruction manual with a "snap."

"Manufacturing date: November 5, 2006?" He naturally read out the small print I had highlighted in yellow.

"That's right, so I'm not some second- or third-hand used item!" Brand new!

"So, you're a newly born monster?" He continued to bombard me with questions, oblivious to my intrusion.

"That's a foolish notion, a misclassification. Not all conscious non-living beings are either ghosts or monsters. I'm a..." Wait, what am I saying?

He stared at me with intense curiosity, and I immediately realized something was wrong.

Thank goodness, I almost fell for it!

"A Heavenly What?" He interrupted the topic I'd just gotten to, somewhat displeased.

"I'm going crazy, I can't keep spouting nonsense!" I snapped, shutting my mouth that had almost caused a disaster.

"What's the difference? Your existence has been exposed, so what difference does it make?"

"Dying a natural death is a huge difference from dying a horrible one," I said.

"Don't be so formal, how about we become friends?" He smiled, holding up a negative in his hand, as if to exchange it with me.

"No way." I defiantly turned my head away. Who knows if it's empty inside?

"Even your personality is so tough, truly consistent inside and out." He smiled innocently, then suddenly and swiftly reached out and grabbed me.

"What are you doing?" I exclaimed in surprise. "If you don't let go, I'm going to yell!"

"Then I'll just have to surrender to you!" He hummed a little tune as he leisurely pried open the battery cover, revealing two AA batteries instead of the film in his hand. "Want to reconsider?" His expression was very serious.

I quickly assessed the situation.

"Since you've asked so sincerely, I'll mercifully tell you." I gave in cowardly.

"That's more like it. A true man can bend and stretch." He released my grip.

Helpless, under his relentless questioning, I had no choice but to recount the whole story in detail. Before I could finish, he was already clutching his stomach, collapsing onto the bed, laughing like a shrimp having a seizure.

"You're kidding me, aren't you?" He tried his best to control his laughter.

"It's the truth." Please! This isn't a joke; it's a touching and heartbreaking story, okay?

"Sorry, I just didn't expect such an unexpected turn of events." He suppressed a laugh, wiping away a tear from the corner of his eye that had nothing to do with sadness.

"Believe it or not, it's up to you. I've said everything I needed to say. Give me the negatives."

"Negatives?" That damned bastard, pretending not to know.

"Are you trying to go back on your word?"

"Of course not. It's just that transactions are originally based on equal conditions. You only agreed because you were at a disadvantage, so naturally the discount has to be reduced." He put the negatives into his pocket right in front of me.

"The photos still have to be taken. The midterm exam questions are related to my reputation. How about this, let's just consider it making friends. You decide which girl in this dormitory you want to photograph!"

"You think I'll agree?" I said fiercely, but my mind was carefully filtering through potential candidates against my conscience.

Sama has been kind to me, the beautiful landlady is my landlady, Yotsuba and Oto seem very fragile, I'm afraid they can't handle the shock, Fuuka's figure isn't very good... that leaves only Hiizuki and Ryua.

Those who know my secret, I'll eliminate them one by one. I need to think carefully: should I send him to his death at Fei Yue's place, or let him be slowly dismembered by Liu Ya?

"If you don't tell me, I can choose myself!" he threatened, raising his camera.

"Fine, I choose!" His repulsive face made me steel myself. "The one living alone on the fourth floor!" The eerie laboratory, chilling to the bone, surpasses the armory and earns its place on my list of most terrifying places.

Go ahead and seek death!

"Living alone on the fourth floor? Well done!" He's oblivious and still managing to laugh.

“Yes, if she calls for help, it will take the others some time to get there.” I offered a few suggestions, then, fearing he might find it too tempting and suspect a trap, I quickly added, “You have to keep your word and don’t try anything with anyone else.”

“I keep my word.” He gave me a high five, opened the door, and said, “Although it’s called doing some immoral things, the photography club isn’t as lewd as you think. Taking nude photos is just a form of training. Who says you have to take frontal shots?” “

!”

“See you later.” He waved his sleeve.

He seemed indifferent to life and death, his smile lingering.

The door closed.

The wind howled, the Yi River was cold.

Only then did I realize that his smile was actually full of determination.

Could it be that I had misunderstood him?

“Wait!” I rushed off the bed, trying to call back that desolate figure, but when I reached the door, I hesitated.

He was an admirable man, courageous in his pursuit of self-improvement, even defying societal norms. Even if I were the one who instigated his suicide and then regretted it, what reason would I have to stop a hero's advance?

I can only mourn.

"Can even divine artifacts fall asleep?"

Before the task was even complete, the impossible voice reached my ears.

Only three minutes had passed.

"Failed?" Amazing, she wasn't torn to pieces.

"Like drinking porridge." He couldn't quite manage a smile. "What a strange person. Before I even spoke, she'd already undressed herself."

"What?" This was less believable than a cow becoming a musician, corruption becoming history, nuclear-armed nations abandoning their weapons, or world leaders declaring an indefinite cessation of hostilities.

"Are you kidding me?"

"That's the truth," he said.

A miscalculation, a complete miscalculation!

I snapped out of my confusion between good and evil. Reason told me I couldn't blindly trust the photography club.

What puzzled me was Ryua. Why did she so casually undress? Was it some noble act of self-sacrifice?

"Let's go." He capped the lens on his precious camera, pushed the glass open horizontally, and stepped out the window.

"Take care."

"Okay." He casually shoved me into his small bag.

"What are you doing? Let me out!" I struggled, and he immediately fastened the snap. "Where are you taking me?"

"Shouldn't good friends stick together?" The bag bounced violently.

"Who said we're good friends?" A liquid poured into the bag, which was immediately absorbed by the fabric, but the evaporating liquid made me dizzy and nauseous. "What... is this?"

"Chlorophenone." He said indistinctly, with a slight nasal tone. "Excessive inhalation can cause liver, kidney, or heart and lung failure, but for you, it should be fine."

"Get lost!" I pounded the inside of the bag, realizing with horror that my wrists were becoming increasingly weak.

"Silicone really does absorb less than the human body." Ignoring my swaying consciousness and strong objections, he took it upon himself to leave.

"Do you know the consequences of doing this? What if more people..."

"Have you heard of Murphy's Law? What's meant to happen will happen, and the more you don't want something to happen, the more likely it is to happen. Open your heart and accept it all; you'll live a more carefree life!" he said magnanimously.

"Hmph, it's easier said than done. No matter how carefree it is, it's only for three months. I just need to get through it safely." I absolutely didn't want to leave the dormitory. Even if I were to go out into the world, it had to be of my own volition.

"Living in the moment is the positive attitude towards life. Your perspective is too negative; even with great power, you won't be able to use it effectively," he said. "Even a thoroughbred horse needs a discerning eye. Believe me, outside of the Women's Dormitory, you can achieve even greater things."

"Stop talking nonsense. I know myself best." His voice stretched and contracted in my brain like rubber bands. I bit my tongue hard, the tingling pain feeling like an electric shock. "Your photography club's arrogant behavior isn't living in the moment; it's just hedonism that only bothers others!"

"Say what you will. Our club is not afraid of the world's opinions. To be a hero, you must have the magnanimity." His voice was already fragile and beginning to crumble, probably because of my ears.

"It's about time, right? You should get some sleep."

Without fresh air to clear the chloroform smell from my body, I couldn't utter a single word, only able to let him do as he pleased like a puddle of mud.

When I regained consciousness, I felt weak all over.

"You're awake," came the voice of the paparazzi.

I was taken aback by his direct statement, especially since it was a statement of fact.

I stubbornly refused to open my eyes.

"Your leg just twitched."

"...I was awake." I finally admitted.

Since they've already said that, it would be too fake to keep pretending, and besides, this hard bed would only needlessly abrade my body.

I sat up, ready to settle the score with him, but when I opened my eyes, I realized there was more than just him and me here.

Two rows of people on either side of the long table were staring at me strangely, all dressed in serious school uniforms, as if they were holding a military court meeting.

What did they want to do? Execute me on the spot?

I was so scared I wanted to lie back down, but my pride wouldn't allow it; that would be too ostrich-like!

"What are you looking at!" I mustered my courage and said in a lewd tone.

Oh no, although they didn't restrict my movements, my limbs were still weak. I could escape, but I was afraid I couldn't escape their grasp.

"He really can talk!"

"This guy is much cooler than the toilet beggar!"

"Take a picture, take a picture, everyone line up."

The atmosphere suddenly became so relaxed, which made me very uncomfortable.

"Wait a minute!" I shouted, finally shutting up their gossipy mouths.

"What, is there a specific pose?" The paparazzi, sitting steadily directly in front of me, with an impressive appearance but still slightly less striking than me, asked.

"How could that be!" I shook my head vigorously. After changing out of my black clothes, I only recognized his face by his voice. "Is this the photography club office?"

"Yes."

Well, now I've been brought to the enemy's evil headquarters!

"No matter what you ask, I won't say a word!" I sat cross-legged, making it clear from the outset. No matter how much torture you endure, I will never reveal the privacy of my beautiful landlady and the other girls.

"Don't worry, we will respect property rights. Okay, meeting! Meeting!" The paparazzi clapped his hands twice, and the room immediately quieted down.

"...Are you the club president?" I asked, puzzled.

"No, the president is currently traveling, and I'm temporarily taking over," the paparazzi said.

So that's basically acting as president!

He walked around the long table, placing a document in front of each member in turn. I didn't get one, nor did I need it, because the person lying across the photograph, resembling evidence from a crime scene involving dismemberment and a murder, was me—my personal file.

"I believe everyone is clear about the theme of this meeting. Please express your opinions in turn, and then we will vote."

Returning to his original position, the paparazzi pulled out a chair, clasped his hands, and said, "So, first, let's discuss the midterm exam results and reviews..."

While they discussed details and gave a pep talk, I took the opportunity to survey the area. I discovered it was a spacious activity area created by combining several rooms, with a deliberately high ceiling.

Several large, ivory-white columns, reminiscent of Greek architecture, stood in the room, clearly not part of the building's structure. Gilded artificial vines clung tightly to the columns, blooming with unknown purple flowers.

About half of the room's floor had sunk, creating a boundary between land and water. Hot water flowed continuously from the mouth of the Sphinx at the edge of the pool, and flower petals and herbal packets floated on the surface, emitting a strong floral and medicinal fragrance.

Gazing at the intoxicatingly fragrant pool, I kept swallowing hard. If I added some salt, MSG, and other seasonings, and then simmered a few old hens over a low flame, it would be incredibly nourishing, wouldn't it?

This isolated island in the pool, supported by the inverted pyramid, resembled a secluded, autonomous little country. The only passage between it and the floor was a series of upright, sharpened wooden stakes. Crossing them would probably require immense courage and tough feet, or perhaps swimming. But…

glancing at the judges, not a single one of them had a drop of water on their clothes… Did they really walk here using those damned wooden stakes? Could their shoes have been lined with thick iron plates?!

On the white chairs by the wall, numerous glittering gold artworks were displayed. The space, a blend of white and gold, possessed a fashionable yet subtly classical style, demonstrating impeccable taste and distinctive decor. However, the only proof of this place's identity lay in the thirteen high-end wooden cabinets across the pool, each engraved with the school emblem, and the photographs on the wall.

What should have been masterpieces by renowned artists had all the female figures replaced with real people—and in a sexually suggestive, adult-themed version, stripped of their clothes.

I only recognized "The Birth of Venus," Leonardo da Vinci's "Mona Lisa," and Millet's timeless "The Gleaners," a painting depicting a busy farming season. But now, Venus on a clamshell, the seated Mona Lisa, and the three bent-over peasant women were all naked, young, and beautiful young ladies.

Most egregiously, the figures' movements and long hair cleverly concealed their vital parts, leaving them partially hidden, neither fully visible nor fully exposed.

With great effort, I finally managed to pull my gaze away from the painting and examine the cool, rustling table.

Besides the detachable spinning wheel and the ambiguous semi-circular pattern, the tabletop was divided into large and small squares by white lines. The small squares contained neatly printed numbers, while the two large squares, each occupying the area of all the smaller squares, were labeled "Large" and "Small."

Ironically, I was sitting right on the "Large" square.

At each of the four corners of the table was a round piece of foam, the same color but a different material as the edge. At first glance, it wasn't particularly noticeable; could it be that this table was used for gambling and also for playing billiards?

"...Alright, then I'll start. The Mysteries of Life Club." The voice of the paparazzi pulled me back to business.

"The Paranormal Research Club." Member A.

"The Mysteries of Life Club." Member B.

"The Mysteries of Life Club." Member C.

"The Divination Club." Member D.

"The News Club." Member E.

"Wait, what are you all talking about?" I yelled. If I didn't stop them, the club office felt like it was about to be swallowed up by endless darkness and desire!

"News Club." Member F.

"Life Mystery Club." Member G.

"Life Mystery Club." Member H.

"Paranormal Research Club." Member I.

Nobody paid any attention to me; the proposals continued.

"News Club." Member J.

"Life Mystery Club." Member K.

"That's it, six votes in favor, so it's decided that it's the Life Mystery Club." The paparazzi said.

"Hey you guys, don't ignore me—"

"What is it, Mo?"

Good, I finally managed to get the paparazzi's attention back a little.

"What are you all up to?" I said angrily.

"You don't need to worry about that, we'll handle it." He had a "leave it to me" smile on his face, as if he would take care of everything if the sky fell.

Who would believe your efficiency!

“I’m a party involved! And what exactly is this Life Mystery Society?”

“It’s a society that explores the truth of life, of course.” He said casually, clearly being overly euphemistic.

“It’s definitely not just that!” I raised my right hand, swearing on the honor of my great-great-great-grandfather.

“Of course, only that, don’t be too nervous.” He always responded with that completely unbelievable smile, “The truth of life is hidden in the structure of life. The main activities of the Life Research Society are actually not much different from those of the Chemistry Society; they are both engaged in the sacred work of discovering, analyzing, and reconstructing complex chemical formulas.”

“…You’re going to sell me to the Anatomy Society?” I finally understood.

"Don't put it so harshly. This is a club exchange, and it's not that serious. It's just taking a formaldehyde bath, maybe even doing a small experiment. Besides, to protect your rights, we'll sign a confidentiality agreement so no one else knows your secret."

"Thank you for your kindness," I said sarcastically.

This was practically a one-way trip. Even if my body was only slightly cut, even if it wasn't fatal, there was no guarantee my soul wouldn't leak out through the crack.

"I believe they'll be very interested in you. To ensure the extreme sports club's sustainable operation, we need a large sum of money. You know, for a club like ours with a history of misconduct, applying for funding is always difficult. Although our allowance is plentiful, we need a proper reason to use it. Nobody wants their family constantly asking questions."

"So you sold me out? You despicable scoundrel!" I said angrily.

"We had no other choice but to resort to this, we're sorry to have wronged you." He bowed his head earnestly in apology. "No matter how hard it is, it's only for two and a half months. If this can't resolve your resentment, we're willing to give you a nominal advisory position and frame your photo to hang on the club office wall—the highest honor for our club."

"No thanks!" I immediately rejected this useless suggestion.

"It's okay, just let me know if you change your mind." He took out a Polaroid camera. "Let's take a group photo first, and then we'll discreetly escort you to your destination." A

funeral procession after a portrait?

Hey... stop it! This isn't a pure campus romance story, is it? How did it turn into this?

"Don't touch me!" I struggled to resist the ever-reaching claws.

This guy was serious. His eyes were like those of someone looking at a cup on a table, showing no rejection or friendliness. He only kidnapped me because he was after the large sum of money behind me. Staying in the club office wouldn't benefit them at all, but right now, I couldn't return to my dorm and was at their mercy.

The flashbulbs pounded on me, capturing my valiant resistance as I was constantly pushed and shoved, my face nearly distorted.

Nourished by blood, tears, and the stench of sweat, coupled with the abnormal, radiant heat, the room was teeming with mutated bacteria of the same kind; just breathing was nearly suffocating me. These evil creatures pounced on me like tigers pouncing on a sheep, hugging, kissing, and embracing, producing photos that were utterly obscene.

"Get out of here! I have no interest in the BL world!" I kicked away a lecherous jerk who was stroking my head like I was a cat or dog, making me want to erupt like a volcano.

The constant clicking of the cameras made me incredibly uncomfortable. I didn't want to stay here, nor did I want to go to that damned Life Mystery Society. The choice between these two evils, so agonizing, was unbearable.

Damn it, all I wanted was to get through these three months peacefully—wasn't that even a small request allowed?

Three months, ninety days—for students, even eating, sleeping, and messing around isn't enough time. Why was it so harsh on me?

After taking the last group photo, they were done having fun, and I was done too.

The paparazzi took a long black bag from the locker, emptied out a tripod, and prepared to cover me.

I felt suffocated by his gaze, filled with a kind of genuine admiration for a hero's self-sacrifice. Even the other club members looked on with a solemn expression, as if they wanted to bow three times.

Don't look at me like that, and don't make me think my sacrifice is noble. Wouldn't that be a clear indication that I'm doomed? What about all those promises?

If I don't want to die, I need to find a way out quickly, but what can I do? Resist? Speak up? Yes, at least I can say something.

But what's there to say? Swear? Beg for mercy? Or just stay silent?

My thoughts were a jumbled mess. In times of crisis, time is like a damp towel—it's full of water, but you can't squeeze anything out. What miracle could I possibly pray for?

In those cruel, realistic few seconds, trapped in the enemy's heart within the cramped office, my means of self-rescue completely blocked, what inspiring doctrines could I possibly utter to cleanse their evil hearts?

I was truly finished!

With a "bang," I was subdued, my face pressed against the table, flattened like freshly baked dough, my twitching legs mercilessly bitten by the bag.

"Stop..."

I kicked and struggled in vain, the bag flooding up to my lumbar spine.

If there were no gods in this world, perhaps I wouldn't have become so cynical. But there are, and these gods sit in their heavenly offices, self-righteously reforming laws, indifferent to the lives of their mortal subjects.

This utterly meaningless existence has a name in the human world, specifically used to describe those irrational, idle, and violent worms in some sham public institutions.

Thinking about it this way, the austerity of the clouds is most likely just a facade of integrity.

My face sank into darkness, not giving up the struggle, but death was inevitable.

A predicament with no chance of turning things around.

The zipper on the body bag was sewn shut inch by inch, the serrated buttons on both sides tightly locked, not allowing any light to enter. The sky went from wide to narrow, from narrow to nothing, and all that remained in my heart was a hopeless expectation.

What expectation?

They said there was no hope, so what was the point of saying that?

My name would probably have to leave the register of names ahead of time!

Wait, leave ahead of time?

My eyes widened!

Could it be that this rotten policy of descending to the mortal realm was actually a trap to reduce the number of souls?

Thinking about it calmly, things really didn't seem right.

Even if they used the excuse of planning a new residential area, there was no need to send all the souls back to earth. After three months, the possession objects would definitely be worn out, and the ascension rate couldn't be 100%.

Souls don't eat, drink, tire, or sleep, so why not just designate a temporary area on the edge of heaven for centralized management? Why bother with this tactic of descending to the mortal realm?

There's only one reason—Heaven can't bear such a huge burden, or perhaps it never intended to accept all souls in the first place.

From God's perspective, the outcasts of Hell are all heretics who don't believe in Him. While they're better than the evil spirits who brazenly remain in Hell, relentlessly pondering the true meaning of violence and lust, they're still difficult to reason with, let alone someone with supreme power.

Accepting souls who don't agree with His beliefs would be like contradicting Himself; the "wise" Him must do everything He can to eliminate them, otherwise He wouldn't have launched a campaign to purify hearts by prohibiting the worship of idols other than His own.

The credibility of this deduction grows layer by layer. If this is truly "His" purpose, I will never let Him succeed, at least not become one of the pawns He wishes to sacrifice. I will try my best to live, return to where I belong, and receive the treatment I deserve. I must live!

Bearing pressure from all sides, I set three goals for myself:

Long-term goal: Return to Heaven.

Mid-term goal: Survive the three months in the mortal realm.

Short-term goal: Escape danger and escape my current predicament.

That's right, if we can't get rid of these people, our medium- and long-term goals are just wishful thinking!

Desperate for a way out, I reached up, and the zipper snapped shut, causing me to yell in pain.

"Hey, he's trying to fight back!"

"Whatever, hurry up and pack a bunch and send them out, I want to play video games."

My hand was shoved away by a tremendous force. As if to avoid further trouble, they immediately zipped up their jackets. Undeterred, I reached out with my other hand, but the zipper jammed again, and I cried out in pain once more.

"You're really annoying! A true man should bravely face death. What's the use of being a coward?" a voice said impatiently from among the group of strangers.

This was my last chance! I knew it.

What should I say? What would elicit a reaction from them? What would dissuade them? What did they, as members of the extreme sports club, want to hear? This was

the final battle; every word was precious, every word a gem, a fight to the death.

I took a deep breath, my voice booming with carbon dioxide, "Wh...what is extreme?"

The noisy club office instantly became like a morgue.

Had I succeeded? Or...had I said the wrong thing?

The people around me vanished in an instant, their energy dissipating without a trace.

I slowly unzipped the bag and peeked out, only to see all the members' expressions change drastically. They all stared at me with robotic, cold eyes, their gazes radiating an eerie light.

"Say it again if you dare."

I... I didn't dare.

"Say it again if you dare!"

"I... I..."

I finally understood what it was like to be tied to a bed and wait to be dissected by aliens. I had violated their taboo, and now I wouldn't be going to the Society of Life Mysteries anymore; I would be dismembered into sixty-four pieces.

"Want to know what the limit is?" Member A grabbed my neck, revealing a sinister smile. "Very well, then I'll tell you."

Chapter 3 of Volume 2 What is the Limit

? What is the limit?

I think the limit refers to endurance! So when Member A (let's call him that for now!) said menacingly that he would tell me "what the limit is," I, who was afraid of death and pain, rolled my eyes on the spot, wanting to faint, but I was terrified awakened by the nightmare of the Ten Great Tortures of the Qing Dynasty.

The sun was blazing outside, making the playground feel like the Sahara Desert, but many students, passionate about sports, were still relentlessly pouring out their youth and sweat.

With a resounding "thud," the ball shot high and far, disappearing rapidly into the horizon.

For a moment, many stopped moving, their eyes following the arc of the white ball towards freedom, lingering on the point of its disappearance, utterly silent.

Then came a burst of cheers.

"Amazing!"

"A home run loaded!"

"Hero!"

The breathtaking hit left the opposing team wide-eyed. Although their next two batters were easily struck out, it didn't matter; the game still ended in a glorious fashion.

Two hours earlier, when club member A earnestly requested the game, citing the prospect of making history, the baseball club, currently playing a friendly match, had looked rather sullen. Now, they were all laughing like madmen, making their opponents look even sullen.

Thanks to him, the scoreboard displayed a glaring 150-0 score. I cautiously hid in my sports bag, using my V8 camera to capture this world record-breaking score.

The track and field and soccer clubs on the sidelines, seeing this surreal score, simultaneously breathed a sigh of relief.

The title of "best loser" could be relinquished!

Their scoreboards also bore shameful scores, all marked by the triumphant marks left by A's.

There was really nothing to be proud of. The score in this game was determined by dice, multiplied by five. After deducting home runs and one or two RBIs, the number of balls hit wasn't actually that many; only the numbers looked good.

This inflated, artificial result was just for show, to inflate self-confidence.

Calling it history-making wasn't entirely untrue; at least what he did was in line with the essence of history.

I covered my "Strong Baseball Beginner's Guide"—a disguise I used for added camouflage—and sighed.

The book wasn't very thick, but member A, who was too lazy to read it, only recited three ironclad rules from beginning to end:

"1. Baseball is about scoring!"

"2. Scoring other than home runs is just a lowly way for worms to show off their self-worth!"

"3. After the ball is hit, if it hits first, second, and third bases in sequence and then returns to home plate, it scores a run."

Although the half-motivational, half-hypnotic way of reciting the rules was ridiculous, and it made our team look like we didn't know him, A really did dominate the game with home runs, and with the first three batters being quite strong hitters, he earned the glorious title of "bases loaded" for more than half of his home runs.

For a beginner to perform so well, it's undeniable that baseball is a simple and easy sport to pick up, isn't it?

Turning off the V8, I secretly hoped this was the last stop.

To truly understand "what the limit is," as soon as the midterms ended, A shouldered his wandering sports bag and took me to challenge each sports club one by one.

He was an athlete; although he valued scores, his methods were very upright. Having challenged over twenty clubs so far, he didn't disrupt opponents or exploit loopholes in the rules (because he hadn't finished watching), always playing fair and giving his all.

Except for the opposing pitcher on the baseball team, who couldn't bear the huge score difference and constantly cursed and insulted, prompting him to leave an angry hole in the scoreboard with the ball to shut them up, everything else was peaceful.

As for me, I was forced to act as the filmmaker, responsible for producing a glorious documentary of the hero's exploits to be passed down to future generations.

After the game, the baseball club president, like the other club leaders before him, enthusiastically invited him to join the club. The answer, of course, was "no," because heroes don't stay in one place for long (except perhaps the extreme sports club), and he had to rush to the next place to create another miracle.

But I was almost at my limit. The swaying and carrying heavy loads for hours made me just want to call it a day.

I decided to surrender.

"Enough… I already know the true meaning of the limit, can we go back now?"

"Not yet!" A said coolly. "The limit only appears when you're near your physical breaking point. Before that, everything you see is an illusion. The journey is still very long!" He brushed his wet short hair aside, looked up at the setting sun, and said passionately, "It's so hot! Okay, next place is the bowling club!"

"…"

Here we go again. No matter how I try to show weakness, his optic nerve always seems to strike at the right moment, letting the white flag wave in vain, mocking my wishful thinking.

I sighed.

If I used the excuse that the V8 was out of battery, I wonder if he would give up?

...

"Want some food?" Compared to A, that bull-like, headstrong guy (by the way, his nickname is Awei), club member B gently handed me a can of beef jerky.

"Th...thank you, I...I'm not hungry." I shivered, my face streaked with icy snot, almost turning into an icicle.

Eating was unnecessary for me; in fact, B's food was only enough for himself, and any extra consumption would only create a heavy burden.

The firelight illuminated Member B's face. He opened three tin cans of food, spooning in chunks of beef and fish sauce, showing no signs of loss of appetite.

"Eating is very important," he said, finishing his dinner in ten minutes with a 500cc glass of water.

According to him, oxygen deprivation is a climber's greatest enemy. At high altitudes, the air is thin, requiring frequent breathing to obtain enough oxygen, which invisibly depletes water and body heat with each breath.

Worse still, the brain weakens due to oxygen deprivation, reducing sensitivity to basic needs, making climbers unaware of hunger or thirst, leading to gradual hypothermia and dehydration.

The blood, gradually losing water, becomes thick, clogging blood vessels and damaging bodily functions until the climber collapses in the snow, unable to move further.

"Almost there," he said softly, gazing at the howling blizzard outside the cave.

I hoped so too.

The campfire on the Himalayas was like a match in an icebox—it just wouldn't warm us up.

Unlike A, his perceived limit was conquering the treacherous nature, which was also the biggest source of my predicament being kidnapped to this desolate mountain wilderness.

Before reaching the summit, I didn't even expect him to send me back.

"K2 (Note), is my dream. It's also a place I can't reach." He was pale, his eyes vacant and unfocused. "My limit is here." His

desolation made one want to shed a tear of sympathy.

I thought so too.

It was all someone's fault for insisting on not coming up from the easiest south slope, resulting in a full seven days spent reaching this small snow cave halfway up the mountain. Although it was an impossible speed for ordinary people, I still felt as if I had inexplicably encountered a disaster.

"As long as you keep climbing, you'll reach the summit someday." This was his catchphrase, and it also conformed to general principles, but unfortunately, in this special place, the declaration sounded like empty boasting.

Today was the seventh day spent in the wind and snow, the future was completely uncertain, with no sense of east, west, south, or north, only up and down. In this icy and snowy world, besides him and me, there wasn't a single animal that could run and jump.

Thankfully, although not a single climber had passed by, the summit was at least within reach.

"Half a day more, a day at most," he said, roughly measuring the distance with two fingers.

"Great!" Celebrating the end of my ordeal far removed from material civilization, and to avoid upsetting him, I feigned anticipation.

"Rest well tonight," he said with a warm smile, but in this isolated, silvery-white world, it had no effect whatsoever.

He pulled his blue-black backpack, filled with six or seven cans of food, tightened his warm feather coat, and lay down comfortably, soon snoring.

I silently took off my cloak, stepped outside the cave, and faced the biting cold.

If I weren't a massage stick, I probably would have caught a cold, developed a fever, and turned into pneumonia by now, but at this moment, I could only grit my teeth and transform into an even more vulnerable human.

Cold! Absolutely freezing!

I shivered as I frantically did gymnastics like a madman.

To avoid being discovered as a transformation, I have to run outside into the cold wind every time he falls asleep. That's how I've been getting through the last few days.

My movements are stiff and robotic, and as I dance, the background music, at the level of a baby, is also overly kind enough to accompany me in my head…

One, two, three, four, two, two, three, four, come on—raise your hands!

One, two, three, four, two, two, three, four, come on—draw a circle.

Three steps to the left, clap once; three steps to the right, clap once!

Hands on hips, legs slightly bent, wiggle your butt and sway your hips.

Twisting, twisting… twisting, twisting…

Damn it, I've lost face to the Himalayas! Why is it that what I remember now isn't the popular dance moves, but the daily idiotic morning exercises I did at seven in kindergarten? Has

the poison of my childhood left such a deep shadow in my heart, or is it because my brain has less information and my hazy memories have become clearer?

In short, it doesn't matter. As long as this hour passes quickly and this endlessly playing childish background music stops, I'll be thankful!

Thankfully, this snowy night, disconnected from modern civilization, had no surveillance cameras or paparazzi disguised as trash cans or fast-food restaurant spokespeople secretly recording me. Otherwise, this embarrassingly stupid activity would only rob me of my will to live.

When I'm alone, the feeling of inferiority isn't so strong. After finishing one round, I grit my teeth and do it again. This crazy person dancing naked and clumsily on the bitterly cold snow mountain is truly unique.

As I danced, my body felt a little more comfortable. It wasn't exactly warm, but it was much better than my muscles being stiff the whole time.

The low temperature wouldn't freeze me to death, but the zombie-like inconvenience of movement was very uncomfortable. Nobody likes to become disabled, especially the kind of disabled that people find shameful—a disabled person with perfectly good hands and feet.

"Rustling."

Turning around, I was startled to find B staring intently at me, his backpack half-buried in the snow, his hand clutching only a limp shoulder strap, silent for a long time.

Time didn't stop, the world continued its relentless cycle, only the two of us remained, like a pause, guarding the rules of tranquility, silent and still, as if upholding the laws of life.

I raised my hands, forming a "Y" shape to freeze in place, letting the wild, untamed wind slap against my crotch, creating a chaotic, disordered rhythm that echoed around us.

This unconventional roar also caught his unfocused gaze.

Embarrassed, I reached out to subdue my restless little brother, incidentally blocking his visual assault. As soon as the sound was cut off, he seemed to flip back on his own, slowly turning around, dragging his backpack and swaying towards the mountaintop, like a walking corpse.

I immediately rushed back into the makeshift shelter made of snow blocks, grabbed the little cloak that held so much significance, and, like a corpse-driver who had been usurped, tumbled and staggered behind this living dead man.

Oh well, occasional mistakes are inevitable, and it wasn't the first time anyway!

Pulling my feet out of the snow, I followed step by step.

Sigh, I don't know what's wrong with him today, or if he's just too excited, but he's "woke up" so early. Normally, after the transformation time is over, I could easily slip into his backpack for a ride, though that would require considerable courage.

Yes, that's just who he is. No wonder he climbs mountains faster than most; when his brain is resting, his body rebels and refuses to submit, insisting on taking charge and acting alone, resulting in this sleepwalking—a win-win-win situation.

I still remember that first night. Na?ve and unaware of his dark side, I woke up in the middle of the night to find him slithering along a high-wire rope on the edge of a cliff, his luggage dangling thousands of meters in the air. The path was only fifty centimeters wide. He walked with the gait of a drunkard, a dazed smile on his face, as if he might let go at any moment. I was so terrified, I almost fainted on the spot, my backpack still inside.

Because of this, I vowed to be independent and self-reliant, no longer clinging to his help. But that vow crumbled within a day—climbing mountains is just too exhausting.

Although it was disgusting, it also helped me understand myself better: laziness, betrayal, and lack of perseverance—I possessed all three flaws.

Considering my self-awareness since my amnesia, I realize I'm a terrible person: bad at school, bad character, even my cause of death was so ridiculous! I meet all the criteria for a scourge.

The only reason I haven't become a social outcast is probably because I still retain a kind heart!

With a sigh, he wobbled across the three-meter-deep crevice. The snow and wind constantly hindered his balance, making the scene extremely dangerous. I frantically tried to step forward to steady him, but he had already passed through safely, unknowingly brushing past death.

Out of sight , out of mind. If he were awake, he'd probably wet his pants

by now. It's truly a miracle that such a dangerous person hasn't died in a mountain accident; he must have accumulated countless lifetimes of good karma to have such good fortune.

I glanced at his watch; forty minutes to go. I sighed and grabbed his backpack, taking one step at a time towards the end of the journey.

"Are we there?" he blinked, his eyes still bright with anger.

"Yeah." I collapsed, lifeless, on the summit.

"When did this happen?"

"You can tell from how heavily I'm breathing; it was just now." I couldn't go on... even talking was too tiring.

"It feels amazing to be at the top. Let's take a picture! To celebrate that we've conquered Mount Everest!" He excitedly picked up his camera.

He's a member of the extreme sports club completely brainwashed by the photography club.

"No, you can take your own picture." Now, anyone who tries to force me to move, I'll turn on them.

"You're the first 'masturbator' to climb the world's highest peak, aren't you excited?" Seeing my lack of enthusiasm, the joy on his face turned to bitterness.

Even without him saying it, I knew I didn't want to be associated with the title of "world's first 'masturbator'" in a fictional history textbook, much less be hated by suffering students.

"It's inevitable. No matter how early or late I arrive, I'm the only 'masturbator' in the world that can climb this far." If any man could climb this far with his penis, I'd kowtow a thousand times to him.

"I'm sorry I didn't show enough elation, but when can we come down?" Life is better when it's ordinary!

"Don't you want to enjoy it a little longer?" B was somewhat disappointed.

"Just say the words I want to hear."

...

"Okay!"

"Thank you."

I swallowed hard, and as soon as I took the jelly-like crab leg meat, I couldn't wait to take a big bite.

Oh... the taste of hell.

After parting ways with B, the ensuing "Extreme Pursuit Trip" was an ecstatic experience beyond my imagination. Before the long-awaited crab leg meat was grilled, I couldn't resist peeling and eating two sea urchins. The oily and rich taste made me daydream for twenty minutes, and when I came back to my senses, the king crab was served.

Being with C was the most enjoyable so far. We ate and drank to our hearts' content, and didn't know what hunger was. I don't know if we came here for a vacation or to play a survival game. Every meal was full of meat and fish, and we ate more like royalty. It's a pity that the deserted island story only lasted three days. Since going back would just mean waiting to be tortured by others, I really wish I could stay here longer.

But happiness is always fleeting. Before I become numb to this extreme lifestyle, it's better to go back.

A few lively but unlucky lobsters were thrown into the boiling water. It's just that they chose the wrong coral reef to sleep on, which is why C, who was fishing for sea urchins, was able to bring them ashore.

As for the king crab, I didn't want to delve into whether C personally caught it or smuggled it in his private boat. As long as it tasted good, that was enough.

"Great!" C swallowed the crab roe in one gulp, then hooked a fish he hadn't seen before with his toe.

"That's enough, we won't be able to finish it." I mumbled, continuing to attack the next crab leg. I couldn't help it; with such delicious food in front of me, not eating would be a sin. Even if I vomited a lot in the middle of the night, it was a minor matter.

A typical woman's dieting mentality.

"No problem." He kicked the fish back into the sea. "Want to try some wild game tomorrow?"

"No, I'm very satisfied with the food." I reached for the fragrant rabbit skewered on a branch.

If he agreed, he promised he'd actually run into the forest tomorrow and fight a bear. The ocean was right there, food was plentiful, there was no need to be a daredevil.

"Expert, to be honest, freshly caught seafood is much better than wild game!" He tossed aside the crab shells and started digging for raw oysters.

"Of course." I took a small portion from him and ate with relish.

There was no use in being frustrated anyway; one should live in the moment. When you realize protesting is futile, you'll accept your fate and let nature take its course.

"You're doing very well, you haven't shown any signs of maladjustment yet," he praised.

"Please, what's the point of talking about maladjustment with non-humans?" My stomach was almost full, but I still ate heartily, still wanting more.

“Haha, you’re right.” Realizing the absurdity of the question, he laughed loudly. “So, do you even understand what the limit is?”

“A tiny bit.” He asked an interesting question. “The limit is a matter of opinion; everyone has a different viewpoint and different ideas. I can’t give you a correct answer.”

This was his insight gained from being thoroughly battered and bruised.

“That’s true.” He said, “But it’s precisely because it’s just an abstract term without a unified approach that it’s so interesting. Everyone wants others to agree with them. If their way of pushing the limits resonates with the entire club, then they are undoubtedly the strongest in the extreme sports club. Just like the world, it’s made up of all sorts of different people, which is why it’s so colorful, right?”

“That’s not a good analogy. You’re a race with more unified goals and more radical ideas.” The world doesn’t have a unified grand goal because there are too many people and the cultures are too complex.

For example, even if most people yearn for peace, there will always be some terrorists who want to start a war; even if most people agree on money, there will still be a few devout believers who would rather live a life of austerity than provoke the demons of desire.

But in the extreme sports club, everyone was eager to be the first, starting from different points and taking vastly different routes, climbing towards the same finish line on the extreme mountain, wanting to be the first to pull up the red flag representing victory.

He might not be the strongest member, but at least these few big meals were enough to win over my die-hard supporter.

"Examples can't be exactly the same, but they should at least be close." The setting sun made his skin look even darker.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to criticize you." I still knew how to be respectful to my benefactor.

After finishing the seafood and rabbit barbecue, he put out the fire, climbed up the treehouse to make the bed for tonight, while I ran naked into the sea for a cold shower.

"What are you men hiding?"

The first thing he said upon setting foot on this land was disdain, and then he stripped me naked. However, it also made me feel incredibly relaxed.

As for why I'm on this remote southern island…

“My goal is to survive anywhere in the world, but I'm afraid you won't be able to handle it, so let's start with the softest option. We can upgrade the terrain later if we have the chance!”

What a bold warrior! If the world really ends in three months, I'll definitely cling to him.

The sun was only one-eighth of its surface remaining when I quickly dried myself off and went ashore.

This place, like the Himalayas, is completely isolated from civilization. We eat, drink, and play at sunrise, and rest and recuperate at sunset. The only entertainment at night is chatting, sleeping, and stargazing.

“What's the itinerary for tomorrow?” I lay down next to him. The cloak I no longer needed to wear became the thin blanket I used to cover myself with at night.

Strictly speaking, the treehouse doesn't need to be very big, just big enough for one person to sleep in, but he still expanded it to be big enough for two people to lie flat in a spread-eagle position, which shows his respect for me.

"Hunting, eating, playing and exploring." The design is incredibly appealing.

"Hey, how about I catch some fish for you tomorrow?" I said, "Anyway, I don't need to breathe, so I'm fine with diving."

"Aren't you afraid the spring in the battery compartment will rust?" he asked.

"If I were afraid, I wouldn't have jumped into the sea to bathe." I didn't intend to use it for any more solo activities.

"Never mind." Turning over to look at my thin frame, he frowned deeply, "With such thin wrists, you can't catch fish."

"If you don't catch fish, you can catch shrimp!"

"Whatever, just don't get forced into it."

To retaliate against his ridicule, the next day I naturally and without hesitation jumped into the sea to clear my name, and in a fit of pique, caught two small, helpless fish that were still receiving disability allowances, and then, under his orders that made him laugh so hard he couldn't speak, I switched to collecting sea urchins.

This job was much more difficult. I carefully used bait to lure the dark sea urchins into the net, lest he get angry during the tug-of-war and directly puncture my mad head.

However, this newbie was never as lucky as member B. Despite C's repeated descriptions and explanations beforehand, I still ignorantly provoked the rogue of the sea urchin world in just a few moves, and was chased along the shore by the springy sea urchin, hopping around.

I cried for help while stalling for time, finally waiting for C to return with his catch. He stretched out his long arm, picked up the longest spine of the springy sea urchin with two fingers, and immediately resolved the critical situation.

"It takes a long arm to subdue him, so you can't mess with him," he lectured, the once arrogant rogue now only able to laughably bounce up and down, unable to harm anyone.

Due to the involvement of premeditated murder, the gangster was sentenced to death in the first instance, with no possibility of appeal, and was immediately executed by lynching.

“Here, eat something to calm your nerves and vent your anger.” C peeled the sea urchin shell like an orange and handed me the perpetrator’s corpse.

I’d gotten up at four in the morning and spent three hours preparing today’s lavish breakfast.

Excluding seafood, and deducting the drugs, deadly mushrooms, and unhealthy wild vegetables, eight percent of the contribution was enough to prove that everyone has their own talents, and even a small soldier can make a difference.

Focusing on a balanced diet, he also picked some fruit. We worked together to set up the stone slab, focusing the barbecue entirely on the abalone he’d carried back.

“So extravagant!” C threw the whole abalone onto the slab without even cutting it, and I swallowed hard.

“This is the reward for high risk.”

“What risks are there on such a small island?”

“It has nothing to do with the size of the island. Look, they’re already excited!” He pointed with chopsticks made from tree branches to the coconut palms that were having a crazy headbanging party. Luckily, the coconuts had been almost all picked the day before.

“Is…is there a strong wind?” I gasped.

Only then did I realize that something was wrong with my surroundings.

"It's actually a hurricane." He was incredibly calm. "It's normal for tropical depressions to form over tropical seas. The wind speed is still slowly increasing, but don't worry, it's only just begun. It won't reach its peak until around 7 or 8 pm. We have plenty of time to prepare for the hurricane."

"Prepare for the hurricane? We should be contacting the rescue team right now to get us out of here!" I was almost frantic, and he still had the leisure to flip the abalone over.

"The yacht won't arrive until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest." C said slowly. "We can't leave until the hurricane has passed. We came to this 'Raging Rampage Track' to experience the extreme."

"Raging...you mean 'Raging Rampage Track'?" I was stunned. Where did this strange name, which sounds like a fighting game, come from?

"The 'Raging Rampage Track' is the main channel of the hurricane." C used his chopsticks to stab, picked up the abalone, and took a big bite, juice spraying everywhere.

"Its unique feature is the abundance of typhoons, though they're not large in scale. However, even small ones are quite fierce, and they come and go quickly, usually taking only a day from arrival to departure. Oh, by the way, I named this island 'The Undying Pearl' because it's incredibly resilient, and food is everywhere, so there's no fear of starving."

"That's not the explanation I want!"

If I weren't so weak, I would have kicked the stone slab and torn it to pieces. I knew there's no such thing as a free lunch; carefree indulgence is just a bitter pill to swallow.

"Relax, no one will die. This island is like my summer camp, only slightly more dangerous than bungee jumping. But look at me, I've been here so many times and haven't kicked the bucket. You can easily see I'm just exaggerating!"

Exaggerating? I think it's clearly an exaggerated cover-up.

"If you don't believe me, fine. Do you still want to eat? If not, help me carry the food to the treehouse as provisions," he ordered.

"A treehouse? Isn't it more dangerous up high? Shouldn't we be looking for a rock to shelter us from the wind and rain?"

"This is an island. If you're not afraid of torrential rain or storm surges, you can move here if you want." He looked smug, as if he'd do as I pleased.

"Damn it!" I glared at him murderously, my resentment stuck in my throat, and dared not utter a sound, having no choice but to obey.

After nightfall, the wind indeed reached its limit, just as he had predicted. The treehouse swung like a swing in the coconut tree, a hurricane howled and raged outside, and the waves crashed erratically.

My legs were weak, and I gripped the floor tightly, struggling against the ferocious centrifugal force, suffering terribly. Faced with this situation, he calmly played checkers cross-legged, displaying the composure of a hero even if Mount Tai collapsed before him.

"Hey, is this coconut tree strong enough?" I asked him through gritted teeth after gagging for a while due to dizziness.

A fierce wind, accompanied by torrential rain, made the foundation of the treehouse seem increasingly unstable, undoubtedly adding insult to injury.

"Survival of the fittest, the unfit are eliminated. Besides, the coconut trees on this island have undergone genetic modification; their grip is top-notch."

He swayed comfortably, sliding along an irregular path inside the treehouse, muttering Darwin's outdated theory of evolution, "Just imagine there's a giant, powerful electric fan switch outside that accidentally turns on, okay!"

"Can you guarantee the tree trunk won't be snapped in half by the wind? How secure is the treehouse? What if it gets blown into the sea?" One has to be skeptical of this madman's ramblings.

"Hey! Didn't I tell you, this ground is the softest? Even though it's somewhat dangerous, dying isn't that easy."

His tone even carried a hint of the helplessness I felt when talking to my beautiful landlady.

“Wood floats on water. If it drifts to some unknown place, we can just try to paddle back. I know a little about astrology, so I won’t lose my way in the vast ocean,” he earnestly advised, hoping to quell my pessimism.

“What if the treehouse sinks?” The wood might float, but I hadn’t forgotten that on that fragile raft were me, him, and a bunch of tons of tropical fruit.

This was practically murder!

“Even if I don’t care about your life, you should cherish your own. You’re sitting in the same treehouse as me, so what’s there to worry about? Even if the worst happens, we can always challenge the limits of the ocean at the Dragon Palace. That would make our sinking worthwhile.” He finished speaking gleefully, then grinned at me and said, “Hey, just kidding!”

I didn’t say anything, because I was already too angry.

“Little Mo, do you really want to die on this island?” He asked me seriously, his expression turning serious.

“Of course not.” That was a complete blunder.

"Then think more about pleasant things. Constantly worrying about how to die will only turn you into a cowardly coward."

"You start," I said, passing the floor to him.

"Then let's find a reason why we won't get killed," he said. "Like... a strong coconut tree, a coconut tree that the wind can't blow down, a genetically modified coconut tree..."

...Does that mean we can only rely on coconut trees?

"Hmm..." He pondered, then slapped his thigh forcefully, "Ah, right! There's also a hurricane that looks good on the outside!"

...That would be best.

If it's called a "hurricane," it can't just be strong enough to lift a girl's skirt.

These days, vibrators aren't so easy to fool.

Chapter 4 of Episode 2: Walking the Bird = Courage?!

At first, it was just a light drizzle and a gentle breeze, but after nightfall, the wind and rain intensified, with sand and stones flying everywhere.

I thought the stormy night was bad enough, but despite the constant external threats, he ignored his sacred mission of suppressing the foundation and resolutely went on patrol because he didn't have enough fruit. What could I do to stop him? I could only continue to groan and watch him heartlessly abandon me.

The moment the door opened, it was severed by the wind blades, and the storm, finding a crack, finally broke in, beginning its destruction from the vulnerable interior.

"You'll die!" I yelled.

But C didn't turn around, because heroes don't turn around, and he didn't see the coconut leaves covering the roof being blown over, dragged along with the beams because they were tied so tightly.

My legs were already in the air; I struggled, my nearly torn fingers supporting my body, afraid that if I let go, I'd be swept into distant outer space.

After a great struggle, I finally managed to squeeze into a pile of coconuts in the corner for temporary shelter. Wiping the rain from my face, I saw him crouching low, stealthily making his way to the shore. "

The extreme sports club is full of lunatics!" I muttered to myself.

The sea was turbulent, and although the seabed was much calmer, there were still many undercurrents; accidentally touching them could be disastrous. He was wary and dared not easily go into the water, only cautiously picking up deep-sea creatures swept ashore as a side dish.

One should know one's own limitations; even boasting has its limits. A madman is, after all, human, not the superhuman figure depicted in novels. I thought to myself.

But a madman is ultimately not a normal person.

I was certain of this, especially when I saw him attempting to drag the giant deep-sea squid, which had been brought ashore by chance, into the treehouse as a food supply.

Are you kidding me? That enormous creature, clearly extremely displeased, was fifteen meters long and four meters wide. A casual whip strike would only break two or three ribs; not escaping was one thing, but he actually wanted to go further and fight a much larger creature—truly a waste of the intelligence of all living things.

But he fearlessly glared at the giant squid, slowly extending his right fist and raising his index finger.

1.

1 What?

One move to kill you? One minute to take you down? One isn't even enough?

"One piece," he said, "give me a piece of your leg, and that'll be enough to eat."

I almost vomited blood.

"Because I'm hungry, please saw off a piece of my leg for me." No matter how polite you are, even a lunatic wouldn't agree to such a request.

Fortunately, the giant squid couldn't understand human speech and didn't fly into a rage, but it also looked ravenously hungry. Its two eyes, bigger than basketballs, undisguisedly scanned C's robust body, intending to take advantage.

Receiving no reply (of course, there was no reply), C suddenly struck! He swiftly pressed down on the giant squid's tentacle with one hand, while using the other to deflect the Swiss Army knife, preparing to slice off the fresh prey.

In the blink of an eye, the giant squid broke free from C's grasp, using three legs to brace itself and five to launch flying kicks, its two tentacles simultaneously wielding whip-like techniques, each move imposing and deadly.

C was startled and retreated hastily, barely dodging the oncoming, fierce kicks.

"Impressive!" C exclaimed in admiration.

The giant squid, originally a deep-sea dweller, was brought ashore by the raging waves, naturally losing much of its strength and retaining only a fraction of its power. Yet, despite its unfavorable situation, it showed no sign of cowardice or submission.

A true hero! A surge of chivalrous

spirit instantly filled my heart.

Seeing the giant squid's display of power, C dared not underestimate it, immediately adopting a stance and assuming a defensive posture.

Upon seeing C evade its attack, the giant squid felt a surge of awe, arching its long tentacles in preparation.

Tensions were high, a deadly battle imminent.

I swallowed silently, my throat dry, unsure of who to worry about.

A duel between masters begins and ends in an instant, over in the blink of an eye; the weather provided the worst possible conditions, fairly binding both sides.

The giant squid, though long and easy to target, is agile and quick, capable of shattering rocks into pieces with a single whip. C wields a sharp weapon, convenient for stabbing and slashing, especially effective against mollusks without hard shells, but has almost no resilience; if it falls into the sea during a fight, survival is nearly impossible.

Both have their advantages and disadvantages, but overall, C is at a disadvantage, as the Swiss Army knife cannot cleanly sever the giant squid's limbs. However, I favor C, because human potential is limitless, and perhaps a dramatic reversal will occur at the crucial moment.

The final battle began with both sides' consent; neither could complain about life or death.

I watched this ultramodern martial arts spectacle with bated breath.

Suddenly, the giant squid moved.

C moved too!

The giant squid aimed its tentacles at C's vulnerable neck, and C retreated, retreated again, and then… ran away!

Was this for real?

The outcome was immediately clear; C, with no martial arts skills whatsoever, had dragged what should have been a desperate fight into a farcical spectacle.

I agree with the saying "Where there's life, there's hope," but it doesn't apply to heroes. My hopes for C instantly plummeted to rock bottom, never to rise again.

With its opponent gone, the giant squid's hesitation vanished instantly. Its tentacles easily tripped C, leaving it with the choice between elegant consumption and hasty gulping.

The tentacles wrapped around C's waist, lifting him up.

A flicker of despair crossed C's gleaming eyes; the softest surface he had looked down upon had ultimately cost him his life.

I was pale, utterly bewildered.

Although I had just argued with C before fighting the giant squid, C was, after all, human. I had to yield; I couldn't just watch C die before my eyes.

I had to save him!

My limbs trembled as I lifted the coconut and tossed it forward.

With the wind at my back, the fruit struck the giant squid's head with perfect aim, but like a small pebble hitting a mountainside—light and insignificant.

With a "whoosh," the tentacle retracted. C, maintaining his composure, reversed the Swiss Army knife in his hand and decisively plunged it into the giant squid's flesh. The tentacle on its waist trembled clearly, tightening its grip, and C winced in pain.

Pain can drive a person mad. The giant squid lowered its face, and its other tentacle lightly grazed C's face.

It seemed light, but it still caused C to vomit blood, his eyes unfocused for a long time.

Damn it, this thing is too strong!
C's life was hanging by a thread, and the only powerful weapon I had around was a useless coconut. Helpless, I could only bombard the gatekeeper of heaven with words.

I rattled off every principle I could remember from beginning to end, but the shameless gatekeeper didn't appear. I could only unleash all the swear words I had painstakingly mastered, but the gatekeeper, with his exceptional willpower, remained unmoved, refusing to descend and save the dying.

But miracles don't falter because of a little setback.

A hero has appeared!

From the sea.

Drifting on the dark surface, an even darker dot appeared. When I realized it was a head, my first instinct was that of a drowned victim. Then, the person stood up. A

soaking wet boy in black, pushing through the waves, had come to the rescue with ethereal grace.

Now that there was one more meal to eat, the giant squid wasn't about to let this hidden gem slip by. It immediately extended another tentacle to pounce.

The boy in black didn't flinch, remaining completely still. Seemingly unintentionally, he placed his hand on the giant squid's tentacle and exerted force.

A violent spasm shot from the tip of the tentacle to the top of its head. With a loud

"thud," the giant squid collapsed.

"Ash!" The restraints around his waist loosened, and C, clinging to the slippery tentacle, slid down to the ground, patting the boy's back happily. "I thought I was definitely going to die this time! Thanks!"

"Hmm." The boy in black nodded slightly.

I really admire C's recovery ability. If he had arrived a few minutes later, it would have been too late to save him, and he might have ended up collecting the body himself.

"Perfect timing! Let's deal with this giant squid together, a live squid feast!" Having survived a near-death experience, C, now thinking about having enough to eat, was overjoyed, preparing to slowly torture the

giant squid until its eyes rolled back in its head. "Don't do that. Growing this big, it's probably already a spirit. Eating it will either bring great fortune or great misfortune. If it's just to fill your stomach, there's no need to eat it."

Under the persuasion of his savior, C could only nod in agreement, releasing the unconscious giant squid back into the sea, considering it a good deed.

"By the way, Ashu, what brings you here?" C asked.

"Let's talk inside." The black-clad youth leaped onto the treehouse in a few steps, casually chopping down a coconut tree trunk to cover it, instantly making the inside calm and peaceful.

"Phew, much better now." I pushed aside the coconut pile and stepped out.

"Hello." Our eyes met, and the black-clad youth wasn't surprised.

"Hello, I'm Xiao Mo." I introduced myself, and he extended his hand in a friendly manner. I naturally followed his gesture and shook his hand.

He was soaking wet, but his palms were burning hot. A surge of heat flowed from our clasped hands straight into my body, instantly warming me. Soon, I was sweating profusely.

"I've seen your file," the boy in black smiled. "You might not remember me, but I'm the only one who recommended you to the divination club."

"Ah, is that so..." I chuckled awkwardly, not expecting to fawn over my enemy.

There were so many people that day, and it was all so chaotic, I couldn't even remember which faces they were.

"The divination club has never been highly regarded," C, who had followed the boy in black, snorted. "The assets they publicly announce are mostly the current value of antique divination tools, not liquid cash. They have no exchange value for recruiting Little Mo."

"Yeah," I sneered, shifting my position to avoid making my already cramped hiding place even more crowded.

“At least they won’t easily display club property.” The boy in black took out a wax-sealed letter from his pocket. “A notification letter from the club president.”

“No need to bring it here, it’ll be back in the club tomorrow anyway.” C said unhappily. “In this stormy weather, with no boats or planes, what will we say if something happens?”

“I’m doing my duty.” The boy in black simply said.

Just for this trivial reason, practicing swimming in this damn weather?

“Same as always.” C took the letter, glanced at it, “No problem, just tell the club president I understand.”

“Okay.” The boy in black put the letter back in his pocket and stepped out the door. C grabbed his sleeve in time. “Wait, where are you going?”

“Back to the club office.”

“Come back with us by boat tomorrow, it’s not urgent in these few hours.” C deliberately held his shirt tighter, not letting him slip away.

“I’m doing my duty.” The boy in black spoke calmly, resolutely cut off his sleeve, and leaped back into the darkness.

“Hey, Ash…” C could only clutch the empty fabric, calling out uselessly through the darkness.

“He’s gone.” So fast, gone in the blink of an eye.

“That guy!” C slumped down, making the already fragile foundation even more precarious.

“Hey, if you want to die, don’t take me with you!”

“Nobody’s going to die,” he said, then fell silent.

I remained silent as well.

It was obvious he was remembering the humiliation of almost being swallowed whole by a giant squid. It was his own greed that brought it upon himself, but I didn’t want to deliberately bring it up and destroy his pride.

“Why did that guy join the extreme sports club?” I asked casually.

“You also think he’d be better suited to the martial arts club, right?” C said.

“Yeah.” Indeed, he seemed more like a martial arts master.

“Maybe it’s because everyone naturally assumes he should be in a place like that that he deliberately chose a club that would surprise everyone,” C said, digging in a coconut. “Clubs are supposed to be freely joined; whether to join or which club to choose is nobody’s decision except yourself.”

Is this a rebellious act against everyone’s expectations?

“So what limits has he pushed himself to?”

“Like you saw, becoming the ultimate deliveryman. Always serving the members, never asking about the items, and no time limits. As long as he’s alive, the item will be delivered in the shortest possible time. Best of all, he doesn’t charge a penny.” C exclaimed. “It’s just a pity his working hours are irregular, and he doesn’t pick up packages at the door.”

“So, in reality, he’s just a gofer?” A pathetic end.

“It’s also a form of training, at least that’s what he thinks,” C argued. “Because we don’t stay in normal places. If he feels wronged, he has the ability to adjust. I admire him for not forcing himself to stay in places he doesn’t like! Because I know I can’t be that carefree.”

“Didn’t you voluntarily join the extreme sports club?” I saw the fascination in his eyes, a kind of admiration.

“Hmm… I'd say it’s partly due to friendship!” C scratched his head. “But if it weren’t for curiosity and interest, I might have switched to the mountaineering club.”

He and B were truly a match made in heaven.

Before we knew it, dawn had broken. The worst was over; the coconut trees were no longer drooping. The rain was still falling, but weakly.

“Will the boat come to pick us up at sunrise?” I asked.

“No.” He grinned. “Didn’t I say I’d stay on the island for three days?”

Although I fantasized that the life-saving boat would worry about its owner’s safety and appear to rescue us beforehand, as I said, it was just wishful thinking, proving he wasn’t lying. The boat belonged to his family, and the captain obeyed his orders.

Therefore, at four o’clock in the afternoon, two hours after the hurricane subsided, when I saw the gleaming silver hull of the boat emerge from the horizon, I, who had survived alongside the countless coconut trees ravaged by the storm, couldn’t help but jump and shout with emotion.

Fortunately, not everyone had time to pay attention to me; the boy in black was one of them.

Regarding the profound question of "what is the limit," there's no need to list too many examples, as they may not be conclusive. Besides, to know is to know, and not to know is not to know; if you don't know, all your running around is just a waste of time.

Three days after returning from the deserted island, my torment finally came to an end. It was truly agonizing how I managed to squeeze in a break during my transformation.

"So, are you satisfied with the answer you received?" I was once again bound hand and foot and thrown onto the table awaiting interrogation. The paparazzi sat high above, feigning friendliness.

“I need some explanation,” I mused. “I know you’re pushing the limits, challenging things that ordinary people can’t do, but this isn’t extreme sports.”

Challenging dojos, mountain climbing, and desert island survival might be plausible, but secretly filming and being a deliveryman are completely different things.

“You mean the extreme sports club is a sham?” he asked, surprised. “Then, what do you think extreme sports are?”

“It should be high-risk sports like ice skating, skiing, boating, rock climbing, or bungee jumping!”

“No, I’m referring to the essence, the purpose, of extreme sports.”

Essence?

I fell into deep thought.

If you asked me about the meaning of limits, it’s hard to explain immediately. To explain everything I know to the best of my ability, I can only say that, from an abstract perspective, limits are the ultimate limits.

The maximum force something can withstand before it is destroyed is called its ultimate strength.

In mathematics, Cauchy defined it as follows: "When the value of a particular variable approaches a fixed value, and can be reduced to a point where it terminates, this terminating value is called the limit of all other values."

In geometry, the most frequently cited example is the relationship between the circumference of a circle and the number of sides of its inscribed polygon, but proving it is too cumbersome, and I can't deduce it either.

...Ah, I've digressed! After saying so much, it still has nothing to do with extreme sports.

"I don't know." He finally shook his head.

"The generally understood concept of extreme sports, as you just said, is a narrow view. Our organization supports a broad view. Only by fully embodying its central idea can one be unrestricted and escape the ivory tower built by the world. And this central idea!"

He opened his arms, his eyes shining with compassion, and earnestly preached: "It is 'physical strength,' 'skill,' 'courage,' 'perseverance,' and 'creativity,' the most important of which is creativity!" It

even rhymed!

I rolled my eyes, thinking that shouting "Eyes, Ears, Mouth, Nose, Heart," "Benevolence, Righteousness, Reason, Faith," or "Rinse, Remove, Soak, Cover, Send" would be much easier to pronounce. He

really was a crazy vice-leader, second only to the leader.

I didn't join his enthusiasm; this was a conservative approach to avoid further escalation of his evil ways.

"Club challenges are about physical strength, climbing Mount Everest is about perseverance, being a messenger is about skill, taking candid photos is about creativity, and finally, courage—I'll tell you about that." He grabbed me by the back of the neck. "Let's go, strike while the iron is hot, there's no time to lose."

"What's no time to lose?" I instinctively felt the worst situation in history was about to unfold.

"Walking the bird," he said eagerly.

"Are you crazy? Get back to the club office!" If I didn't despise his effeminate, wailing behavior, I would have yelled at him without a second thought.

He actually strolled leisurely out of the activity center, wandering along the corridor connecting to the teaching building!

Although it was Saturday, and I hadn't encountered a single person yet, it didn't mean there wasn't a soul here. Many students don't go home during holidays, and this place isn't remote. If I were caught...

I nervously shrank my neck, my heart pounding as I looked around, like a fugitive convicted of a serious crime, paranoid and on edge.

"Seeing you like this reminds me of the idiom 'a bird startled by the twang of a bow,'" he chuckled.

"Not funny at all!" I shook the unmoving iron bars with all my might, but whether it was because I was too weak or the material was inherently hard, the iron bars remained as straight as ever, refusing to bend under my force.

I kicked the cage door in anger, and the six small iron bars, along with the metal lock they were fastened with a mechanical, eerie laugh, so jarring it almost sawed through my reason. I kicked it again in frustration, but the rattling lock only mocked my wasted effort more blatantly.

"I thought you'd have some valuable find!" The person who should bear the greatest responsibility spoke as if it were none of his business.

"All I learned was awful humor! And shame!" The truth was, except for me being completely naked, he was still impeccably dressed in a suit, making me so panicked I just wanted to escape, if possible.

"Don't get so angry yet, how about some afternoon tea?" He pointed to the biscuits in the dog food bowl and the expensive black tea in the water dispenser.

I returned a disdainful look.

Such humiliating things as the delicacies in the dog food bowl and the fine wine in the dog drinker—even if a fortune were thrown in front of me, I would never deign to accept them.

Two rows of birch trees lined the long corridor, a blend of beige and khaki. About three meters from each birch tree, a low white circular wall rose, only one meter high, filled with soil level with it, and covered with vibrant, colorful flowers. Four to five meters between each circular wall were placed classic iron-framed, wood-veneered benches.

He carried me, leisurely resting on a bench, and casually fed the sparrows hopping around the white wall the cookies I refused to eat.

"Feel the heat within you," he said, "it's the catalyst for courage. When you can control it skillfully, courage will be like an inexhaustible banknote, as much as you want. But you must have enough rationality to control it, otherwise the poison of blind courage will only destroy you."

Like, when death is the only option, you're willing to risk everything?

"No wonder you're capable of anything!" I sneered.

“That’s the beauty of courage. It’s no longer about ‘can’t do it,’ but ‘willing to do it.’ And when your mindset changes, you can unleash the enormous potential that has always been underestimated. Is it possible to infiltrate a women’s dormitory? Is it possible to swim across the ocean? Aren’t these all things considered impossible?”

The voyeur continued his “courage theory.” “A person only has one life, it’s very precious, so must we be careful? To die for a foolish challenge, for fear of being ridiculed, such a dull life is just filled with stench, don’t you think?”

He looked at my slightly stiff face.

Honestly… I don’t know.

Based on my limited, uninformed memories, I’m undoubtedly an ordinary, uninteresting guy, but maybe I did something that shocked the world, just temporarily sealed away due to historical issues.

Perhaps, I’m actually more capable than the voyeur…

Don’t be silly!

A shrill, demonic voice exploded within me, chilling me to the bone.

What a joke suitable for accumulating good karma! Don't forget you're just a piece of trash you could grab anywhere on the street, your lifespan is fleeting, your negative contributions are pathetic enough to not even deserve to spread evil doctrines!

Shut up!

I punched the iron bar beside me in anguish.

Yes, I'm a fool who only worries my parents, I once lived in this world but it's as if I never existed, but there are millions of people in the world, how many paths in life are there? How many professions are there? Not everyone is born a nobleman, not everyone can live as they please, this is the inherent pressure of an unequal environment.

"So being mediocre is God's will, not your fault?" The paparazzi teased the sparrow that jumped onto the back of his hand, accurately guessing my thoughts.

"Don't be silly!" In an instant, his words seemed to overlap with the voice of a demon.

I stared wide-eyed.

"So what if you're a commoner? So what if you're a noble? The key to the challenge lies in courage, not money." After the hallucination subsided, his voice returned to its original clarity: "Even if you fail, at least you've tasted the bitterness that cowards never know, and that's the true pride of a man! Now, overturn your values, don't miss the wonderful opportunity to look down on life from a high place."

"...Can we go back now?" Even though he didn't want to, he still walked naked through the streets.

"It's too early. How can you delve into the core of courage if you're already timid before the curtain rises?"

"You mean this isn't the start?" I was practically going crazy. Did this guy not know the meaning of knowing when to stop?

"The best way to avoid sports injuries is to warm up," he hummed a little tune. "Touring is tiring."

A leisurely weekend, a tranquil afternoon.

Pointed, high roofs, tall cross-ribbed vaults, beautiful mythological reliefs.

Stained glass panels on rose windows rendered the light streaming into the room in a kaleidoscope of colors, like divine radiance. This place didn't resemble a school building; it was more like a church.

Walking along the mirror-like, shimmering corridors, the sound of my heels hitting the floor echoed like the clear tolling of bells.

Fortunately, the paparazzi still had a shred of conscience and knew not to overstimulate the beginner, so he found a black cloth to cover the birdcage. Now, the black cloth swayed with the birdcage, creating glimpses of light that concealed my unsightly state while ensuring that the beautiful scenery wasn't missed.

Thanks to this, the beautiful calligraphy on the wooden sign hanging under the iron frame a hundred feet away finally came into my view amidst the interplay of light and shadow.

The music classroom.

"Ah—ah—ah—ah—ah."

Thump…thump!

"Very good, a little higher!"

Vocal exercises were taking place inside the classroom; from afar, you could hear sweet-sounding girls straining their abdomens to produce artificial high notes that made everyone want to run away.

"Ah—ah—ah—ah—ah."

Thump…thump!

"A little higher!" The scales gradually approached shrill.

"Ah—ah—ah—ah—ah—ya ah!"

As soon as the paparazzi and I appeared in the entrance hall, the heavenly music instantly went awry; several high notes even turned into screams at the end, but most of the girls were utterly bewildered.

An unusual reaction.

"Excuse me." The paparazzi politely gave a gentlemanly bow, but silently mumbled to me, "Those screaming are probably all boarding students."

I see.

"Ryan, you've disturbed our practice." The music teacher, exuding a cold and sharp aura, pushed up her black-rimmed glasses, seemingly displeased that the practice had been interrupted.

"Sorry." The paparazzi bowed slightly, then straightened up, his sharp eyes sweeping menacingly over the wavering girls.

Not one was missed.

Fear instantly turned their faces ashen.

"It's all because the angels' voices were so captivating that I couldn't help but want to see their faces. Of course, I swear in the name of God, I meant no offense."

This made several girls blush slightly.

"A verbal apology is no substitute for actions," the spinster pressed. "The 'Angel's Voice' talent show is about to begin. This is crucial to our school's long-standing reputation and a golden opportunity to showcase our musical talent, so different from that of ordinary, mediocre colleges. We must claim the crown of victory, and you, you're standing in our way!"

"You're absolutely right," the paparazzi said politely. "Angels are meant to be admired from afar, not touched. And I—a devout believer forever faithful to God's will—would never defile the sacred singers. So, to avoid becoming a sinner for all time, please forget my accidental appearance. May God bless our hymns of praise to soar to the heavens."

The poetic dialogue nearly made my brain explode.

"Goodbye," the spinster said, pushing up her black-rimmed glasses, a smug gleam seemingly on the lenses.

"Intimidation!" I muttered. My scream just now would only be seen as a loss of control in fright, wouldn't it?

“Even if that weren’t the case, the truth wouldn’t be revealed. The process of gathering courage is painful in itself, and it’s always easier to place expectations elsewhere.” He admitted frankly.

“No one can be sure that the ugliness hidden from view is still well hidden, and when I stand in front of them, I’ve already given them a very effective false impression—as the vice president, it’s only natural for me to have the footage, right?”

“Someday someone will definitely jump out and expose your evil deeds.” I cursed. Such rampant evil will eventually be condemned even by the heavens.

“No, because they are women.” The perpetrator didn’t care about my words and instead hit the nail on the head.

“So what if they are women? They don’t necessarily condone your evil deeds!”

“That’s true, but the proportion isn’t that high.” He didn’t care. “To uphold the extreme, the courage to withstand criticism is essential.”

I didn’t argue, because the explosion and the chemical stench had completely shattered my mood, and with a third or fourth person present, keeping quiet was the wise thing to do.

"Lai, En!" A chilling, hellish cry echoed through the thick fog.

I shivered.

The epicenter was in the science classroom next to the stairs. If it weren't for the eerie, chilling chant, I had every reason to believe that even the most malevolent attack wouldn't be able to interfere with the perpetrator's free movement, not even with poisonous miasma.

"No problem," the perpetrator feigned ignorance, opening the science classroom window for ventilation.

With an outlet, thick white smoke poured into the corridor, settling at my feet like dry ice used to enhance stage effects.

As the smoke in the classroom lessened, the furnishings gradually became visible.

Ceiling fans, fluorescent lights, a blackboard, a lectern and the textbook cabinet beside it, and finally, the lab tables… and standing before them, engulfed in black flames, a witch from hell!

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