Chapter 105

Su Bei gave a confident smile. How did he know? By guessing, of course. But this guess was backed by plenty of evidence.

From their repeated clashes with other academies during training and the three-school joint auction, Su Bei realized that, in this manga, other schools weren’t just background—they had a notable presence.

As for the final exam’s content, Su Bei couldn’t think of anything innovative within their own school, so he naturally thought of other schools.

Upon checking, what a coincidence! The other three schools hadn’t announced their final exam details either!

Combining these clues, the guess of a “three-school joint exam” emerged.

Hearing Meng Huai confirm Su Bei’s guess, everyone was shocked.

“Three-school joint exam? Does that mean we’ll have to compete?” Lan Subing was horrified. Competing with their own grade was one thing—they’d gotten to know each other over the past half-year. But facing a crowd of strangers from other schools? She felt like she was already dead.

Unfortunately, Meng Huai didn’t notice her distress—or if he did, he didn’t care. He nodded firmly: “There will be a competition. Don’t embarrass our academy!”

Li Shu smiled gently, but his words carried a gritted-teeth edge: “A three-school joint competition, and the teachers kept it so secret. They really have confidence in us!”

Normally, to avoid embarrassment, schools would inform key students early, train them intensively, and let them shine in the exam, outshining others.

Their school? Not a peep—fair and square to the point of absurdity.

Others joined in with cold laughs, united for once.

Except Mo Xiaotian.

Mo Xiaotian was brimming with excitement, oblivious to the implications: “Wow! A three-school joint exam! We’ll meet so many strong opponents. I’m so excited!”

The calmest was Jiang Tianming. After a brief scoff, he zeroed in: “Since Su Bei guessed the exam content, can you tell us now?”

Meng Huai nodded readily: “Let’s go back to the classroom. You don’t mind staying a bit late, right?”

No one objected. Back in the classroom, he began explaining the final exam’s structure: “The final exam is a three-school joint exam, and the content is campaign reenactment.”

“Campaign reenactment”? The unfamiliar term left everyone puzzled.

Meng Huai explained unhurriedly: “So-called ‘campaign reenactment’ involves a few special Ability users fully recreating famous campaigns from Ability world history as illusions.”

With this explanation, everyone understood. Honestly, this exam format was quite novel. Reenacting campaigns sounded complex, no wonder it required a three-school joint exam.

Seeing they’d grasped it, Meng Huai continued: “The situations and characters inside are close to real history, with the characters having their own intelligence. But for training purposes, one or two key figures might be missing. During the exam, you’ll enter the illusion, experiencing the campaign as different identities. Your final score will be based on your contribution value.”

Honestly, this exam sounded fascinating. But it raised questions. Mu Tieren raised his hand, puzzled: “Teacher, won’t different identities cause unfairness? If someone gets lucky and lands a useful identity, won’t they easily score high?”

Others were thinking the same—different identities offered vastly different opportunities. With a thousand first-years across three schools, some were bound to luck into great identities.

“That’s true,” Meng Huai admitted bluntly, shrugging like a rogue. “But luck is part of strength, isn’t it?”

Everyone: “...”

They’d thought the academy had a clever plan to justify this, but it was really banking on luck? That was too much of a gamble!

Especially for those with bad luck, like Su Bei, whose mood was utterly shattered. He genuinely worried he’d draw a terrible role and be done before starting.

Seeing their exasperation, Meng Huai coughed: “But you don’t need to worry too much. No role is particularly bad or great. No one can pull far ahead just based on identity.”

With a floor and ceiling, that was reassuring. Su Bei exhaled, raising his hand: “Which campaign is it?”

Meng Huai sneered: “Want to know the campaign? Should I just give you the exact data?”

Su Bei shamelessly replied: “That’d be great!”

“Looks like you want extra training.” Meng Huai’s smile vanished, and a piece of chalk flew straight at Su Bei’s forehead. He yelped, clutching his head, and stopped pushing his luck. His antics made others, who’d wanted to ask, hesitate. Finally, the ever-obedient Lan Subing broke the silence: “Is this ‘campaign reenactment’ just for the first-years of our three schools? A thousand people in one place—won’t that be too many?”

A thousand people wasn’t much, but a thousand Ability users was. That many in any campaign would be overwhelming.

If they were inhabiting Ability users already in the campaign, it’d be even scarier. Campaign participants were mostly strong, while they were a mixed bag of student Ability users.

Original campaigns won through powerful Ability users’ teamwork. With students, victory was uncertain.

Unlike the identity issue, this was a design problem, and the academy was prepared: “No worries. We’ve prepared two illusions—one domestic, one foreign.”

That made sense—the academy had considered this. Seeing no more questions, Meng Huai said with a half-smile: “A reminder: winning the campaign outright adds 500 points to everyone.”

Everyone paused, then understood. Though it was a three-school joint exam with competition between academies, they had to work together overall. 500 points was no small amount. If they lost and another school won, they’d be at a huge disadvantage.

Su Bei saw deeper. The teachers set it up this way to reduce scheming. As a simulated campaign, treating it as real was reasonable.

The academy clearly aimed to foster unity among the new generation of Ability users during the exam, so they’d scheme less for personal gain in real future campaigns. Victory was the ultimate goal—failure meant everyone suffered.

With that said, Meng Huai had nothing more: “Don’t tell other students what I told you today. It’s still confidential. If you hadn’t guessed part of it, I wouldn’t have said anything.”

“Teacher, why the secrecy?” Qi Huang asked curiously.

A good question. Meng Huai asked calmly: “Do you think real campaigns come with advance notice?”

Everyone fell silent.

Seeing no more questions, Meng Huai strode out, pausing at the door to add: “Oh, Li Shu, come with me.”

Caught off guard, a flicker of surprise crossed Li Shu’s eyes, but he quickly donned his good-student smile and followed under everyone’s gazes.

After they left, the quiet classroom buzzed again. Mu Tieren stood: “I’m going to the library to grab all the recent domestic and foreign campaign materials.”

“I’ll go with you,” Jiang Tianming stood, and Wu Mingbai followed.

As Mo Xiaotian started to rise, Su Bei pushed him back: “You stay. You’d just cause trouble.”

Seeing others about to join, he added: “A few is enough. The history section’s small—if you all go, it’ll be a mess.”

But Si Zhaohua saw through him: “You’re just too lazy to go, so you’re discouraging us, right?”

Su Bei looked innocent, not responding.

Like Si Zhaohua, Zhao Xiaoyu, who’d deeply understood Su Bei’s slacking nature after the kidnapping incident, rolled her eyes but sat back down.

Though his intent was to slack, he was right. The history section was small since few visited, and too many people would just get in the way.

In the end, the initial three went for materials, while the rest stayed in class, in no rush to leave.

“Why do you think the teacher called Li Shu?” Zhao Xiaoyu’s eyes gleamed with curiosity, mixed with some thought.

Ai Baozhu, always eager for gossip, guessed: “I bet it’s about the final exam!”

“I think so too. Is the teacher giving him special training?” Qi Huang, bored, joked. “Maybe he doesn’t need to take the exam and gets a free pass.”

Unexpectedly, Feng Lan spoke: “That’s actually possible...”

“Huh?” Everyone looked at him in surprise.

Su Bei thought it over and understood: “This final exam is held in an illusion, and Li Shu’s Ability is [Illusion].”

With that, others got it. Yes, Li Shu’s Ability naturally countered illusions. If he tore a hole in the exam’s illusion, how could others play? Better to pull him out for a separate exam.

Surprisingly, Li Shu returned even before the material-gathering group, in less than ten minutes.

“Li Shu, Li Shu, what did the teacher want?” Mo Xiaotian asked eagerly as he entered.

Notably, besides Wu Mingbai, Li Shu mocked Mo Xiaotian the most. Su Bei’s take: a shady guy couldn’t stand sunshine.

From what Su Bei knew of Mo Xiaotian, if he caught even a fifth of their sarcasm, Wu Mingbai and Li Shu were impressive.

So, whenever Su Bei saw him cheerfully chatting with fake-cheerful Wu Mingbai or fake-gentle Li Shu, he found it amusing.

Hearing his question, others looked over curiously.

Li Shu didn’t hide anything, smiling gently: “The teacher asked if I’d help build the illusion for the final exam. If I do, I won’t participate in the ‘campaign reenactment.’ My performance during the help will be my exam evaluation.” Wow, going from examinee to exam setter? Everyone showed surprise.

“What’s your decision?” Qi Huang asked, though it was rhetorical—everyone knew the answer.

Sure enough, Li Shu smiled faintly: “It’s a great chance to train [Illusion].”

Implying he’d agreed.

Zhao Xiaoyu immediately cupped her hands in a mock salute: “When you soar, don’t forget to help our class! We don’t ask much—just leak a little insider info.”

Amid the banter, Jiang Tianming and the others returned, each carrying a huge stack of books, panting as they set them on the desks. The books weren’t heavy, but their sheer number made them cumbersome.

“These are all the books on Ability user campaigns, domestic and foreign, we found in the academy library,” Mu Tieren said with a wry smile. “We didn’t expect there’d be so many...”

The Endless Ability Academy had history courses on the Ability world, but as first-years, they focused on Ability mastery. History? Mostly just the discovery of Abilities and the emergence of Nightmare Beasts.

As for campaigns, they hadn’t studied much.

Only a few top students had looked into recent campaigns, like the one the whole academy participated in.

But obviously, that wouldn’t be tested—too easy to guess.

“There’s seventeen days until the final exam...” Ling You suddenly spoke, looking at the pile.

Everyone understood. With so much material, unless they spent all seventeen days reading, they couldn’t finish. But they still had classes, and Abilities needed practice—there wasn’t enough time.

Then again, with seventeen days left, the teachers still hadn’t announced the exam content. Really...

Jiang Tianming coughed: “How about this? Each of us picks a campaign, studies it for three days, and starting on the fourth day, we take turns lecturing after school.”

He waved a book: “I checked—there are thirty-six major campaigns, domestic and foreign. One round will take six to seven days. We can cover thirty campaigns in two rounds before the exam. The remaining six, study on your own. If we guess five-sixths and still miss...”

Su Bei chimed in grimly: “Then heaven wants me dead.”

The plan was reasonable, and no one objected. But Wu Mingbai suddenly remembered: “Mo Xiaotian, can you handle this?”

The others, even the worst, were above average academically. Mo Xiaotian? A certified slacker.

“Another issue,” Zhao Xiaoyu added, reminded by him. “Li Shu’s helping build the illusion and won’t take the exam. Logically, he doesn’t need to join this.”

Li Shu smiled: “No problem, I’ll review with you. But let me cover my two campaigns first, since I don’t know when I’ll be called away.”

As a newbie student, even with his convenient [Illusion] Ability, he couldn’t play a big role in the illusion’s construction.

Li Shu figured he’d be checking for gaps, testing the illusion for vulnerabilities or breakability.

“I can do it too!” Mo Xiaotian said earnestly. “Don’t worry, I won’t hold you back!”

For the next few days, they followed the plan, reviewing individually, outlining campaigns, noting threats, key moments, major mistakes, and the number of Nightmare Beasts and Ability users involved, to help find solutions during the exam.

Ten days before the exam, Li Shu was indeed called away, as expected. Fortunately, he’d prepared, finishing his two campaigns’ reviews earlier.

Honestly, when Jiang Tianming needed help, Li Shu was reliable. But when unneeded, he often got weirdly quirky.

Lecturing wasn’t new—everyone had been called to the front in elementary or middle school. Plus, facing familiar faces, there wasn’t much nervousness.

Most lectures were dull but covered the key points. Zhao Xiaoyu’s was the liveliest—she’d dreamed of being a teacher before learning she was an Ability user.

Next was Si Zhaohua, whose lecture had a corporate elite vibe—clear, concise, with a PPT for easy review.

Surprisingly, Zhou Renjie’s was good too, similar to Si Zhaohua’s. Well-prepared, fluent, clearly thorough.

Only then did everyone recall Zhou Renjie was also a major family heir, trained no less than Si Zhaohua. His personality just made people overlook it.

When Mo Xiaotian’s turn came, everyone was a bit worried. His slacker status was proven during midterms.

To think he could fully grasp a campaign’s key points? Honestly, they weren’t confident.

But to their surprise, Mo Xiaotian didn’t drag them down! He clearly hadn’t grasped the campaign’s essence, but he memorized it completely. For a century’s worth of content, he recited the key points, sometimes with awkward pauses, but everyone understood.

While reviewing, they still attended classes, noticing changes among their grade.

No one was foolish. With the school withholding exam details so long, most realized this was going to be big.

The unknown was scary, especially an unknown final exam! As it approached, classmates grew more anxious. Many came to Class S to snoop, figuring the elite class might know something early.

Su Bei could only say they were overthinking. If he hadn’t guessed part of it, prying Meng Huai’s lips open, their class might’ve been the last in the grade to know!

They asked Zhao Xiaoyu, who still kept in touch with Class F and other classes, making her the prime target for intel.

But clever as she was, how could she spill? It was obviously confidential until the teachers announced it. She gave a sincere, wry smile: “We don’t know either. Heaven knows how tight-lipped the teachers are—nobody’s saying anything.”

“You’re Class S! Your homeroom must know already. He didn’t tell you?” a questioning student doubted.

Zhao Xiaoyu frowned: “Our teacher’s so strict. If the school says no, he won’t speak. Are you saying you don’t trust me? If you don’t, why ask?”

Though she played the nice guy outside, she never let herself seem spineless.

Seeing her reaction, the questioners quickly assured her they believed her, coaxing her a bit before leaving disappointed. If even Zhao Xiaoyu had no info, they’d have to wing it.

Meanwhile, Su Bei wasn’t idle. He’d been gauging if the plot was enough for a manga chapter. If so, he needed to execute his plan before the next update.

Finally, confirming the plot was sufficient and that their lectures would likely be heavily featured, Su Bei began “smuggling private goods” during his lecture.

“This campaign happened a decade before Ability users were discovered. It started when a few Ability users formed a squad, capturing ordinary people to study their Abilities.”

He’d chosen this campaign deliberately to aid his plan.

“As you know, Abilities like Qi Huang’s [Flame Phoenix] or Wu Mingbai’s [Earth Element] can be fully studied alone. But some Abilities require human subjects. Take Zhao Xiaoyu—her old Ability [Laughter] needed people to use it on. But [Laughter] was harmless, so experimenting was fine.”

He flashed a sly smile: “But Zhou Renjie’s Ability [Prime Minister’s Belly Can Hold a Ship] is different. It also needs human subjects—only humans who experience it can describe what it’s like afterward.”

“But such Abilities are dangerous. What if the human can’t come out? Or comes out missing limbs? The people in this campaign, unable to find willing subjects, formed a squad to capture ordinary people for experiments.”

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