Chapter 122

At these words, everyone’s expressions changed. Undoubtedly, this was a blatant word trap. Answering “No” would surely be wrong, leading to death as punishment.

Answering “Yes” meant the cloud Beast would kill them—after all, it hadn’t said answering correctly ensured survival. If the answer was correct, it had to kill them to make it “right”; otherwise, it’d be “wrong,” also leading to death.

Satisfied with its seemingly unsolvable question, the cloud Beast swayed twice: “Start discussing, but to avoid wasting time, I’ll give you only ten minutes~”

Everyone’s faces grew heavy. They truly didn’t know how to answer. All four saw the trap instantly, but no one could figure out how to bypass it.

“Does this count as a question without an answer?” Lan Subing asked. Jiang Tianming had specified the Beast couldn’t ask unanswerable questions. If this had no answer, they could skip it and claim the final reward.

But it didn’t work. Wu Mingbai shook his head: “Both ‘Yes’ and ‘No’ are answers—it’s just that either way, the outcome is certain death.”

Though Jiang Tianming had said the Beast must let them leave safely after the game, it hadn’t said the third question’s answer marked the game’s end. It likely meant after rewards were given, leaving plenty of room for manipulation.

Jiang Tianming was frustrated: “I should’ve said it couldn’t ask questions that guarantee death.”

He’d considered unanswerable questions leading to death but forgot answerable ones could too. They’d underestimated the High-Level Nightmare Beast’s cunning.

They’d assumed its childlike behavior meant childlike intelligence, not realizing Nightmare Beasts weren’t children—just pretending.

Sitting on a chair, Su Bei racked his brain but couldn’t find an answer either.

The answer had to escape “Yes” or “No,” or they’d fall into the word trap. Even the Contract couldn’t prevent this—text Contracts had such flaws unless meticulously designed, easily exploited by word traps.

Clearly, the cloud Beast planned to exploit this to cheat.

Cheat?

Suddenly, inspiration struck Su Bei. Feigning righteous indignation, he said: “How can you ask a question where every answer leads to death?”

Hearing this, Jiang Tianming and the others looked over, puzzled. They didn’t think Su Bei was naively just, believing the Beast wouldn’t scheme. They couldn’t fathom why he said this.

Unfamiliar with Su Bei, the cloud Beast thought he was frustrated from failing to find an answer, laughing like silver bells: “Hahahahaha, the Contract doesn’t forbid this, does it? I gave you a chance to make demands.”

This response made Su Bei’s lips curve slightly. Dropping his angry facade, he said calmly: “Then my answer to this question is: Will you spare us?”

“What does that mean?” The cloud Beast was stumped. It was a Nightmare Beast—despite human-like intelligence, it didn’t grasp human tricks.

Su Bei replied unhurriedly: “It means if you spare us, you won’t kill us. If you don’t spare us, you will kill us. So my answer is: Will you spare us?”

“Huh?” The cloud Beast was dumbfounded. “What kind of answer is that? How can you answer a question with a question?”

“Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!” Su Bei mimicked its earlier tone, enunciating each word. “The Contract doesn’t forbid this, does it? I gave you a chance to make demands.”

Cheating? Who couldn’t do that!

Cloud Beast: “...”

It was its own words! A massive boomerang circled back, stabbing it in the heart, leaving it unable to retort.

By answering with a question, Su Bei sidestepped the carefully laid word trap, leaving the Beast stunned.

Jiang Tianming and the others were equally shocked but reacted quickly. After a brief moment of surprise, Jiang Tianming nodded approvingly: “This answer is flawless and correct. You should honor the Contract and give us the reward.”

The cloud Beast desperately didn’t want to give any reward. It had no issue playing word traps itself, but when Su Bei used the same tactic to solve its question, it felt cheated.

But the Contract was binding—even a High-Level Nightmare Beast couldn’t violate it. It couldn’t harm the four and had to reward them.

With no choice, the Beast gave up: “My reward is allowing you to ask me one question.”

It wouldn’t give Ability items—that’d be aiding enemies, something it wouldn’t do. Answering a question was the least impactful reward it could think of.

At this, Jiang Tianming and the others looked at Su Bei. Jiang Tianming nodded: “You ask.”

The last question was the hardest, nearly stumping them. Su Bei’s answer earned him the reward rightfully. Besides, he’d contributed significantly to the earlier questions, undeniably the most.

Su Bei didn’t decline, pondering. Though just one question, it could yield great benefits. The key was whether he wanted short-term or long-term gains.

For short-term gains, he could ask the Beast’s weakness or the easiest way to kill it. Under the Contract, it had to answer truthfully, even if unwilling.

Killing a High-Level Nightmare Beast yielded treasures: guaranteed a high-quality Ability item, and its corpse was valuable research material, sellable for money or exchangeable for Academy Points.

But Su Bei preferred long-term gains: “What’s the relationship between Nightmare Beasts and humans?”

For an entire semester, he’d scoured the Academy library without finding an answer. When he asked his culture teacher, they were clueless about any connection, promising to investigate but never delivering.

He’d asked Meng Huai, who seemed to know but refused to tell, only advising Su Bei not to dwell on it and focus on studies.

He’d also posted inquiries through the Destiny organization, offering high rewards, but no one responded. This convinced Su Bei the answer was crucial.

He’d considered increasing the bounty, but now, with this opportunity, he wouldn’t let it pass.

Undoubtedly, it was a question no one expected. Both the Beast and Jiang Tianming’s group had anticipated Su Bei asking about the Beast’s weakness, planning their reactions.

Jiang Tianming and the others exchanged glances. Did Nightmare Beasts and humans have a connection? But they trusted Su Bei’s question implied a link, sparking their curiosity.

Facing Su Bei, the cloud Beast fell silent again, realizing it had underestimated human cunning. It’d rather reveal its weakness than answer this.

Suddenly, Su Bei noticed the white clouds darkening. Stunned, he quickly reacted: “Stop it! It’s trying to kill itself!”

What answer made a High-Level Nightmare Beast choose suicide over responding? The trio realized the gravity, and Lan Subing activated her Ability: “[Don’t kill yourself]! [Answer the question]!”

The cloud Beast’s struggling voice emerged: “Human resentment after death becomes Nightmare Beasts...”

As soon as it spoke, the white clouds on the ceiling rapidly blackened and shriveled, dissolving into specks of black light, leaving only a tuft of white cotton.

It was dead.

Su Bei picked up the cotton, storing the Beast’s corpse in his Storage Bag, his expression grave: “Don’t leave the Different Space yet. Find a way to call the teachers to pick us up.”

“Why?” Lan Subing was puzzled.

Jiang Tianming reacted instantly: “High-Level Nightmare Beasts share vision. Other High-Level Beasts likely know our question. This one resisted so much—others might too and could target us.”

At this, Lan Subing understood. Knowing such a secret, they might be silenced. Having teachers escort them was safer.

The Different Space was temporarily safe, with no other High-Level Nightmare Beasts. Entering from outside was difficult, so they could stay briefly.

But they couldn’t stay forever. This Different Space’s Close Point wasn’t sealed for spatial activity. Though restricted, preventing most Nightmare Beasts from entering, who knew what High-Level Beasts could do? They might break through.

Outside, Ability users guarded, making it harder for Nightmare Beasts to enter. So, the four headed toward the entrance, brainstorming.

They couldn’t contact the outside from within the Different Space—they had to exit. But who knew what dangers awaited outside? Rashly leaving could be disastrous.

Silently, they were disturbed by the cloud Beast’s revelation while anxiously seeking solutions. At the entrance, Jiang Tianming finally spoke: “I’ll go.”

“No way, how can you go?” Wu Mingbai immediately refused. “You don’t have a life-saving Ability. I’ll go, build an earth fortress, and hold out for a while.”

Leaving didn’t mean calling and returning immediately. The Different Space’s entrance was busy—re-entering required buying tickets and queuing, taking time.

Wu Mingbai planned to hold out outside until teachers arrived. His earth fortress could last, and with Lei Ze’en’s Teleportation, help would come quickly. He just needed to endure briefly.

It sounded solid, but Jiang Tianming firmly shook his head: “High-Level Nightmare Beasts’ attacks are abstract. Physical defenses might not work. I’ll go.”

“Then you think you can...” Wu Mingbai stopped abruptly, glancing subtly at Su Bei, as if wary of saying more.

Lan Subing deftly changed the topic: “Seriously, if you two keep delaying, the High-Level Nightmare Beast will come.”

Su Bei remained calm, seemingly oblivious to their odd behavior, and decided: “Jiang Tianming, you go.”

As Jiang Tianming said, High-Level Nightmare Beasts’ attacks were abstract—like today’s cloud Beast, the earlier Illusion Beast, or even a Teleportation Beast. An earth fortress might not hold.

But Jiang Tianming was different. Su Bei believed his volunteering meant he had an Ability to counter High-Level Nightmare Beasts.

Su Bei recalled the individual exam battle when Manga Consciousness told him Jiang Tianming could’ve won without help depleting Si Zhaohua’s ultimate move.

Su Bei still didn’t understand how, but he sensed the reason would reveal itself after today’s crisis.

Even if Jiang Tianming was just bravely protecting his companions without means to protect himself, Su Bei wasn’t worried. Come on, this was Jiang Tianming, the protagonist of King of Abilities. He’d be fine.

Seeing Su Bei’s choice, the trio seemed to understand something, instantly relaxing. Su Bei knew they misunderstood but didn’t explain.

After Jiang Tianming left, the others didn’t seek weatherless rooms, staying in a rainy room near the exit, holding umbrellas.

Wu Mingbai and Lan Subing looked worried, anxious for Jiang Tianming. Despite Su Bei’s assurance, they couldn’t fully relax.

Su Bei pondered the cloud Beast’s revelation—Nightmare Beasts were formed from human resentment after death.

People inevitably felt resentment or regret upon dying, meaning nearly every death birthed at least one Nightmare Beast.

Why “at least one”? The cloud Beast only said resentment became Nightmare Beasts, not how many.

Su Bei couldn’t tell if resentment’s intensity affected the number of Nightmare Beasts or if their strength tied to resentment. But one thing was certain: he’d touched the root of the comic world’s imbalance between good and evil.

Every death created at least one Nightmare Beast, and one Nightmare Beast could easily kill many. Though an Ability user could kill many Nightmare Beasts, how many Ability users were there?

Globally, there were only a few hundred thousand Ability users, many with useless Abilities relegated to Class F. Statistics showed 150,000 to 160,000 daily deaths worldwide.

They couldn’t keep up—truly couldn’t.

“How am I supposed to save this?” Su Bei, face dark, asked Manga Consciousness mentally. If it were another reason, fine, but this was a fundamental setting! He couldn’t change how Nightmare Beasts formed or prevent resentment at death. How could he balance good and evil?

Manga Consciousness, somewhat guilty, soothed: “It’s because it’s hard that I needed you. I believe you’ll find a way.”

“Thanks for the confidence,” Su Bei said, smiling without humor. “But I’m not up to it.”

After half a year, Manga Consciousness knew Su Bei well. Tentatively, it asked: “What do you want?”

As expected, Su Bei cut to the chase: “I want to know what the Black Flash organization is researching.”

He clearly remembered prior intelligence: Black Flash was studying the human-Nightmare Beast relationship. They likely knew how Nightmare Beasts formed—what were they researching?

If it was turning Nightmare Beasts back into humans, Su Bei would reluctantly join the villains. Compared to a minor faction, saving the world was clearly more critical.

Unfortunately, Manga Consciousness didn’t comply: “No, I can’t break the rules.”

“Then... tell me if Nightmare Beasts can become human again,” Su Bei proposed, “That’s not off-limits, is it?”

Undoubtedly, his pondering was feigned. Before summoning Manga Consciousness, Su Bei had planned his questions.

His real question was the latter, but asking directly risked rejection. So, he first asked an unanswerable question—Black Flash’s research was plot-related, and Manga Consciousness couldn’t respond. Having refused once while in the wrong, Su Bei bet it wouldn’t refuse again.

As predicted, though reluctant, Manga Consciousness answered: “No, Nightmare Beasts are just resentment’s products. They can’t become human.”

Su Bei understood. If Nightmare Beasts were corpses, like zombies, they might revert to humans, even as inanimate bodies. But as resentment, their best outcome was purification through destruction—no cross-species transformation.

This ruled out one approach. He couldn’t turn Nightmare Beasts human—only destroy them.

To destroy them, he had to target their essence: either why resentment became Nightmare Beasts or why Different Spaces existed. Solving either would resolve the issue.

Soon, Su Bei clarified his goals. Short-term: visit the Nightmare Beasts’ world. Long-term: answer one of the two questions.

“Where’s Jiang?” Growing anxious, Wu Mingbai stood. “I want to check.”

Lan Subing stopped him: “No way.”

In such moments, Lan Subing stayed calm, knowing they shouldn’t go out. If Jiang Tianming was fine, they’d be a burden. If not, going out risked them all.

Better to wait and assess.

Wu Mingbai didn’t resist but irritably ruffled his hair and sat back down.

Though rational, Lan Subing worried for her friend. Knowing agitation was unhelpful, she sought a distraction.

She looked at Su Bei: “Su Bei, why did you ask that question?”

She held no blame, despite the question landing them in danger. But undeniably, Su Bei’s question uncovered a massive, potentially critical secret.

The answer alone made their risks worthwhile. Lan Subing just didn’t understand why Su Bei asked it.

Her question made Su Bei’s brow twitch, seeing an opportunity. Closing his eyes, he said cryptically: “Because I’ve been seeking a way to eradicate Nightmare Beasts.”

At this, the other two looked over, shocked. Wu Mingbai’s eyes widened: “Eradicate Nightmare Beasts? Have you found a way?”

“Of course not,” Su Bei said bluntly, grinning cheekily. “Just kidding—did you really believe me?”

Wu Mingbai and Lan Subing exchanged glances, saying no more but inwardly convinced Su Bei was genuinely seeking a way.

That method tied to Nightmare Beasts’ origins? It made sense, prompting them to ponder too.

This was Su Bei’s goal—to make all readers and characters witnessing this plot start contemplating the issue.

If the author couldn’t add a way to eradicate Nightmare Beasts within the existing plot, Su Bei would create one. Once it existed, he believed the author would make Jiang Tianming achieve it.

Time flew. Finally, Jiang Tianming returned, with Lei Ze’en behind him. As the fastest with Teleportation, Lei Ze’en’s face was grim, chuckling wryly at the trio: “You guys sure know how to stir trouble. Let’s go—I’ll take you back to school. Old Meng’s waiting.”

Jiang Tianming looked disheveled, a gash on his arm, his clothes stained red.

“Jiang, what happened?” Lan Subing asked immediately.

Noticing her and Wu Mingbai’s concern, Jiang Tianming smiled, shaking his head: “Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

Meanwhile, Lei Ze’en had set up a Teleportation array. Creating one in a Different Space showcased his unfathomable strength.

Standing in the array, their vision blurred, and the next second, they were back at school.

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