Chapter 107

Once the dizziness subsided, Su Bei immediately observed his surroundings. He was in a bedroom, sitting at a desk.

It was a lively boys’ bedroom, clearly belonging to a young teen, as there was a high school test paper in front of him.

In essence, Su Bei hadn’t attended proper high school, but that didn’t stop him from recognizing a high school paper. After all, his grades were decent, and what he hadn’t studied was exactly the high school material.

On the desk was a family photo. The little boy in it was clearly a younger version of himself, suggesting his exam identity was an ordinary family’s child.

In his own bedroom, he didn’t need to be too tense. Su Bei casually rummaged around. So far, the exam didn’t seem too strict about role-playing—his character’s face was changed to his own, and even the name was his.

He had to admit, his luck was good this time. The character’s age was close to his, so he didn’t need to act younger or older.

While checking the character’s past grades in the backpack, a middle-aged woman walked in with a plate of fruit: “Not doing homework—what are you up to?”

Likely his mother in this role, Su Bei paused his rummaging and turned to answer: “I’m looking for materials!”

The woman forked a strawberry with a toothpick for him: “Finished your homework? Don’t let your teacher call tomorrow asking if you left it at home.”

Su Bei glanced at the untouched test paper on the desk, a black line sliding down his forehead. Help! He hadn’t studied high school material. How was he supposed to do it? Make it up?

If it was just for today, faking it wouldn’t matter. Adults probably wouldn’t check a kid’s homework closely, and mistakes wouldn’t be a big deal.

But this final exam clearly wouldn’t last just one day, and from his mother’s words, he got another piece of info: he had to go to school tomorrow.

When submitting homework at school, the teacher would surely check. If he faked it now, wouldn’t he be exposed later?

The news about going to school hit Su Bei like a bolt from the blue. He’d been grateful for this identity’s convenience, but now he realized its inconvenience.

A student, especially a high schooler, had little free time. Unless he was a delinquent who skipped class and fought, what student these days wasn’t stuck between home and school?

But if he kept playing the good student, where would he find time to explore the map, investigate how the war started, or solve problems?

Normally, as an exam student, he wouldn’t need to care about what NPCs thought—just fulfill his duties as a candidate.

But Meng Huai’s warning made him cautious. He said to treat Illusion NPCs as real, meaning to play his role properly and not go out of character just because they were NPCs.

He needed a way to escape the miserable fate of school...

While thinking, Su Bei answered: “Not done yet. I’m working on the paper, aren’t I?”

He sat down and examined the questions. As a former academic star before awakening his Ability in middle school, he’d previewed some high school material. Pre-studying was a must for good students.

But the material was likely high school sophomore level, which he hadn’t previewed, so he was stumped. Shaking his head helplessly, Su Bei unlocked his phone with facial recognition, opened a homework app, and skillfully photographed each question.

After finishing the paper, he grabbed a basketball from the corner and left the room: “I’m going to play some basketball.”

His mother, sweeping the floor, looked up: “Homework done?”

Finishing was impossible. It was Sunday morning, and this identity surely had more than one paper left.

But causing trouble required acting early. For students, not finishing homework and rushing to school to catch up was normal. So Su Bei answered without hesitation: “Done!”

Hearing he’d finished, his mother continued sweeping, waving dismissively: “Be back before noon. Don’t get your clothes too dirty, or you’ll wash them yourself.”

She was exactly like a real person. Though Su Bei hadn’t seen his own mother since childhood, from classmates and TV, he knew what a mother at home was like.

His mother’s behavior was flawless, showing no sign of being an Illusion.

While pondering, Su Bei reached the ground floor. He first observed the surrounding buildings, determining this was likely his country from ten years ago.

He thought so because he saw someone using a phone booth on the street. Such things were now mere decorations, but here they were still in use, suggesting a time from ten to twenty years ago.

What campaigns happened in this period? Su Bei recalled two in his country: one was urban unrest, the other a siege outside the city.

The former, like a campaign a few years prior, involved a massive Different Space entrance appearing outside the city, with Nightmare Beasts pouring out to attack.

This campaign had only one entrance, easier than the one two years prior, though “easier” was relative—it was still brutal.

The other involved multiple small Different Space entrances appearing within the city, each so small only one or two Nightmare Beasts could emerge, theoretically easy to handle.

But being inside the city with many entrances, they caught people unprepared, causing heavy losses. Many died in this campaign.

Which one was it?

Coincidentally, neither was part of their review. Logically, they’d prioritize domestic campaigns, but most, assuming their luck, focused on foreign ones, expecting to hit an international campaign.

Now, their predictions were overturned, and everyone was in trouble.

Luckily, Su Bei had foreseen this. Near the end of review, he realized their luck might land them in the one-in-six unreviewed campaigns, so he skimmed the rest, avoiding total blindness.

Neither campaign had clear precursors. Su Bei had only glanced at the city-outside campaign’s entrance location during review.

For the urban one, he only recalled defensive measures like sending flight teams to find and seal entrances, evacuating crowds, and fire attacks.

Regrettably, he hadn’t memorized the start dates, only vaguely recalling they were this month, with the rest forgotten.

Su Bei hailed a taxi to head outside the city. His host body had some pocket money, which he’d found earlier, perfect for now. He planned to check for signs of a Different Space. If he could identify the campaign, even better.

The simplest solution was early warning. If he could convince the government of an impending Nightmare Beast tide, losses could be halved. Even if he exited the exam early, he wouldn’t worry about his score.

That was Su Bei’s plan. Though his character shouldn’t do goody-two-shoes acts like warning of danger, if the goal was to exit the exam early, it was reasonable.

He didn’t plan to boost his strength through this plot. Everything waited for the next manga update, hoping for an Illusion-duplicating Item to study the Destiny Compass.

This way, he could slack off happily without going out of character. Su Bei thought the plan was perfect.

Different Space appearances weren’t traceless—spatial distortions altered nearby areas. If a barren place suddenly grew lush or a weedy area went bald without human cause, it likely meant a Different Space was forming.

But this applied to large entrances; small ones wouldn’t cause such changes.

The taxi took him around the city outskirts. The driver, true to stereotype, chattered nonstop—about himself, gossip, and casually probing Su Bei’s info.

Su Bei brushed him off, peering out the window but finding nothing.

The driver couldn’t stand it: “Kid, you running away from home?”

“Huh?” Su Bei blinked, caught off guard.

The driver, thinking he’d nailed it, smirked: “I’ve seen plenty of kids like you, running off over a little setback. Planning to leave home but don’t know where to go?”

Su Bei was about to deny it when his eyes lit up, and he put on a sullen look: “I’m not. Just wanted to clear my head. I’ll go home when I’m done.”

Seeing the driver’s enthusiasm, he’d been unsure how to justify another loop further out. Now, the excuse was handed to him.

As expected, the driver nodded knowingly: “I’ll take you one more loop further out, but after that, you’re going home.”

Su Bei nodded eagerly: “Deal!”

Another loop yielded nothing. Su Bei wondered if it was too early, or if the Different Space hadn’t opened yet.

Or... was it the second scenario, urban unrest?

If it was the latter, solving it would be trickier. He didn’t remember where the entrances were, so could he only act when the danger erupted?

Sighing, Su Bei ate lunch at home, then returned to his room to frantically catch up on homework. The original owner hadn’t noted the weekend assignments, forcing him to ask classmates via chat apps.

Wait—chat apps?

Su Bei froze, realizing something. He opened the app, searching group names: “Final Exam,” “Candidates,” “Three-School Joint Exam”...

Finally, with “Three-School Joint Exam Final Exam,” he found what he wanted. The group’s creator was “Houde Ability Academy Wang Qiangxin.”

Clearly, it was made by a fellow examinee from another school.

Su Bei applied, writing “Endless Ability Academy Su Bei” in the request. Seconds later, he was approved, quickly changed his group nickname, and checked the group’s activity.

Including him, there were only seven people. Though small in a 500-person exam, it was impressive to think of using a group chat so early.

Despite the size, the group was lively. As Su Bei joined, a wave of welcomes hit.

“Welcome, welcome! Finally, someone new!”

“Newbie! Awesome!”

“I declare you the seventh smartest person besides us!”

“Bro, what identity did you get? Anything worse than my janitor?”

The group leader, Wang Qiangxin, asked a serious question: “Classmate Su Bei, do you know which campaign this is?”

Su Bei didn’t know exactly but could narrow it down. However, his public persona wouldn’t allow him to share outright, or he’d go out of character.

Thinking, he ignored the question: “I’m a student. What identities do you all have?”

They enthusiastically listed their roles: janitor, teacher, unemployed, elementary kid, lawyer, doctor.

Seeing “teacher” and “doctor,” Su Bei’s eyes lit up. He typed: “I do know some info about this campaign, but if you want me to spill, you need to get me out of school so I don’t have to attend daily and can move freely.”

They hadn’t expected him to actually know something. Across their screens, their eyes gleamed. Knowing campaign info was like having exam answers—who wouldn’t be tempted?

But his latter words made some frown. One typed furiously: “What’s that supposed to mean? We’re saving the city! Can you not be so selfish? The teacher said to unite and help each other.”

Reading this, Su Bei laughed: “Then go tattle to the teacher.”

He muted the group, waiting for interested parties to private message him. Having announced his info, those wanting to trade would come.

Sure enough, soon Wang Qiangxin, the doctor, messaged: “Ignore that idiot in the group. I’m a doctor at First People’s Hospital. Fake a stomachache to register under Dr. Wang—me. I’ll get you a week’s sick leave first.”

Great idea. Su Bei agreed: “Deal. I’ll come today?”

“Come tomorrow afternoon. I’m off today,” Wang Qiangxin replied.

Su Bei sighed. He’d still need to submit tomorrow’s homework, but one day was bearable.

“I know two campaigns that fit the timeline. I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

Closing his phone, he grimly resumed homework.

The next day at school, the class was full of strangers. Luckily, the original owner’s social circle was average, so no one chatted with him, and the morning passed easily.

Returning to a normal campus, attending a long-forgotten Chinese class, Su Bei felt a bit dazed. On one hand, he longed for peaceful school life. On the other, such calm felt boring to someone used to fighting.

Over a decade of normal student life, forgotten in a blink—human adaptability was remarkable. But Su Bei knew, given a day or two, he’d adjust to this role too.

No need, though—he’d found a way out.

After lunch, he slumped over his desk, face pale from tweaking his Destiny Gear, forehead wet with tap water from the restroom, looking weak and in pain.

The teacher quickly noticed, rushing from the podium: “Su Bei, what’s wrong? Feeling unwell?”

Su Bei whispered faintly: “Stomachache...”

The teacher panicked. A student falling ill in her class was serious. She said: “I’ll take you to the hospital. Class Monitor, maintain order... go get the Chinese teacher to continue the lesson.”

She called two boys to help Su Bei out, while phoning his mother.

After the hospital process, Su Bei secured a week’s sick leave. During the visit, he shared what he knew with Wang Qiangxin as promised.

The man, a roughly thirty-year-old uncle, mused: “So, shouldn’t we inform the government early?”

Su Bei shook his head. Without proof, convincing the government was hard. He could reveal his Ability user status—[Destiny Gear] was close to [Prophecy], making his warning credible.

But a random student suddenly awakening an Ability and predicting a Nightmare Beast tide was suspicious. Treating NPCs as unreal, this would work. But if everything was real, it was odd.

Moreover, Su Bei doubted the Academy would allow early warnings. If one of 500 students guessed right, they could easily warn the government. With preparations, the campaign’s danger would shrink, negating the need for training.

Recalling the teacher’s warning to treat NPCs as real, Su Bei sensed that warning the government would backfire.

He smirked: “You can try. I support you mentally.”

Wang Qiangxin looked suspicious: “You know something?”

Su Bei gave his go-to reply: “Guess.”

After parting, on the way home, his mother nagged: “How’d you suddenly get sick? A week off school—you’ll miss so much! Fine, since you’ve got the leave, rest well. Follow the doctor’s orders, don’t go out playing. I bet your stomachache’s from playing basketball yesterday!”

Su Bei obediently went home, staying in for the day.

The next morning, two chat app notifications popped up. One was Wang Qiangxin, asking if he could share the info with another to try warning the government.

Su Bei had no objection—better yet, he was pleased. If the warning worked, he’d miss a big scoring chance, but since he proposed it, he’d still earn some points.

But logic told him warnings were unlikely to work—too many loopholes. Having someone test his theory suited him.

With that, he agreed, then checked the other message.

It was two friend requests, from Jiang Tianming and Lan Subing, both via the “Three-School Joint Exam Final Exam” group.

Su Bei accepted, and almost instantly, Jiang Tianming created a group, pulling all three in.

“What identities do you have? Let’s meet up sometime,” Lan Subing said first, followed by: “I work in the government but have some savings, so I can quit anytime.”

Her luck was unreal—savings and freedom to act. Quitting meant tons of time for tasks. Su Bei was jealous.

Jiang Tianming’s luck was equally unreal. After a long silence, following Su Bei’s identity reveal, he sent a sweating soybean emoji: “I got assigned as a prisoner...”

Su Bei: “...”

Lan Subing: “...”

No one expected such bad luck. Su Bei suddenly felt his family-controlled identity wasn’t so bad. Starting as a prisoner? He could only hope for a Different Space entrance in the prison to farm points.

What else could he do? Break out?

Wait—another issue. Su Bei spotted a flaw: “How are you using a phone in prison? Don’t they confiscate them?”

Jiang Tianming sent another sweating soybean: “It’s a guard’s spare phone. I borrow it with my Ability when he’s not using it.”

Before anyone could ask more, Jiang Tianming sent a final message: “I’m off to learn labor skills at 8. You guys chat.”

Su Bei could only marvel again at Jiang Tianming’s insane luck...

“Hahahahahaha!” Lan Subing sent a string of laughter and invited Su Bei: “Wanna visit the prison in a couple days?”

Online, she was much livelier than in person—3D social anxiety, 2D social butterfly.

“9 a.m. the day after tomorrow, don’t miss it.” Su Bei wouldn’t skip a chance to see the fun and set the time.

After joking, it was time for serious talk. Unlike Su Bei, Jiang Tianming’s group lacked awareness of their protagonist status, so they hadn’t studied the six unreviewed campaigns.

Sighing, she typed: “Didn’t expect the one-in-six chance to hit us. Thirty campaigns, and we didn’t guess one right, and it’s domestic.”

Su Bei had a hunch about which campaign but had no intention of telling them. Instead, he suddenly said: “By the way, don’t quit your job yet.”

Lan Subing replied instantly: “Okay, but why?”

“Might be useful,” Su Bei answered after thinking.

Wang Qiangxin had someone warning the government. If it worked, great—he’d lose a big scoring chance but still gain some for suggesting it.

But if the warning failed, and the government did nothing—or worse, arrested the warner—it’d be telling.

If a teammate worked in the government, they could gather insider info.

Ending the chat, Su Bei used the excuse of a rare school-free day to go out, leaving amid his mother’s nagging.

This time, he didn’t head outside the city. He’d gone two days ago with no results, so even if there was an issue, it wouldn’t appear soon. He’d try again later.

Su Bei roamed the city by bus, unfamiliar with it without the original owner’s memories. If danger arose in the city, knowing the terrain was crucial.

While wandering, he pondered: if it was the urban unrest campaign, where would the Different Space entrances appear?

When Different Spaces first appeared, they weren’t too dangerous. Though filled with Nightmare Beasts, Ability users were strong. Finding them before a mass outbreak allowed effective control.

There’d still be casualties, but early discovery would cause far less damage than after a full-scale Beast tide.

For the urban unrest to be called a campaign, casualties were significant. Despite multiple entrances in the city, they went unnoticed.

Unlike the sparsely populated outskirts, cities were crowded. Even if ordinary people didn’t recognize Different Space entrances, they’d notice a black hole appearing on a wall or ground, right?

For a campaign to erupt, there’d be many entrances. Missing ones in obscure corners was one thing, but all of them? That many entrances, and no one noticed? It was bizarre.

One thing was certain: most entrances were likely in hidden places. Otherwise, appearing in broad daylight, people wouldn’t be completely clueless, no matter how oblivious.

What place was large but very hidden?

Mulling this, Su Bei bused through much of the city. His mother called to check in, and he said he’d eaten out.

The call reminded him to eat. He got off and found a restaurant, entering through the back door, where two huge, foul-smelling garbage bins stood.

Sniffing the stench, Su Bei’s eyes lit up. He realized it!

The sewers!

City sewers were vast, rarely visited, and perfectly fit his criteria.

But sewers were notoriously complex. He’d need a map, or he might get lost and have to call for help—embarrassing for a year.

How to get a sewer map?

Suddenly, Su Bei thought of the group’s janitor. A street sweeper might have access to a sewer map?

He couldn’t directly ask, though. If he did, even an idiot would realize the sewers held a key clue.

This exam was competitive—first to find an entrance earned big points. Su Bei was banking on this to rack up enough to exit early or slack off later.

Plus, the janitor might not have a map. It wasn’t critical, but not something ordinary people could easily get.

Some people surely had it, but Su Bei didn’t know who, and why would anyone give it to him?

Let him think...

After eating, Su Bei had an idea: he’d turn to the almighty internet!

Opening his phone to the busiest forum, he posted: 《Our city’s sewer construction is absolutely flawed! My house has clogged three times! Dare you show me the map?》

[OneTwoThreeNo.0: I’m pissed! It clogged again. They say it’s fixed, then it clogs again! Damn sewer designers must be incompetent, or the construction team cut corners. Why else would my place keep having issues? I say the sewer design’s flawed! If I could see the map, I’d spot the problem instantly!]

After posting, Su Bei leisurely bused home. He trusted the internet’s thoughtless masses, hoping his provocation would work. If a sewer designer or construction worker stepped up to clear their name, he’d get answers.

On the bus, he refreshed the thread—not out of urgency, but fearing his provocative, info-probing post might get banned.

It was post-lunch, prime phone-scrolling time. The forum was busy, and replies came fast. Each refresh brought new comments.

Such complaint posts about public issues often resonated, especially sewers, which plagued many.

That’s why Su Bei dared post this. He framed himself as an angry, thoughtless middle-aged man, betting no one would share a map, so he could rant boldly.

This avoided suspicion while possibly provoking those he targeted—designers or workers—to respond.

Back home, he hadn’t gotten what he wanted. Thinking, he tweaked his Destiny Gear to boost luck. This plan relied on luck, and his was notoriously bad.

Having an Ability to change luck and not using it was wasteful.

Returning home, his mother saw his pale face from using his Ability, feeling both pity and reproach: “Look how worn out you are. Sick, yet you insist on going out all day. Tell me, what did you do today?”

Su Bei didn’t lie: “I took a bus around the city. My first city-loop trip!”

He showed a bit of fatigue.

“That’s your idea of a trip?” Relieved he’d only done that, his mother chuckled: “Go rest. I’ll call you for dinner.”

Back in his room, Su Bei closed the door and resumed forum-scrolling. The max-left Gear tweak worked. In just half an hour, he got what he wanted!

[HairDryerYouNo.201: Here, look! Let’s see what flaws you find!

City Sewer Map.jpg]

Su Bei saved it, cautiously asked his mother for her phone to snap a photo, then rushed to a print shop to print it. Only after holding the printed map did he delete the photo from her phone.

The shop owner didn’t recognize it as a sewer map. Curious about the odd map-like image, he asked: “Kid, what’s this you printed?”

Su Bei gave a shy smile, answering naturally: “It’s a fun math assignment. We have to find how many routes are in it.”

Hearing “math assignment,” the owner lost interest. If he liked math, he wouldn’t be running a print shop. Watching Su Bei leave, he shook his head. Schools these days loved fancy assignments, but what did they do for grades?

Back home, Su Bei openly told his mother: “I made plans with friends to hang out tomorrow.”

“Boy or girl?” she asked instantly, worried about early romance. His grades were average; romance could tank them, making college tough.

Su Bei didn’t lie over small stuff—it wasn’t needed: “One boy, one girl.”

Hearing three people, including a boy, she relaxed. If they could have a three-way romance, she’d disown him: “Fine, but follow the doctor’s orders—no strenuous activity.”

“Got it.” Su Bei gave an “OK” gesture, returned to his room, and prepared. He emptied his backpack of books, packing the map, a flashlight, and spare clothes.

All set, he awaited tomorrow’s adventure!

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