CHAPTER 140

Chapter 140

Everyone grasped his meaning. Making someone unaware of an illusion was impressive. Knowing it’s an illusion yet unable to escape was more so. Making them willingly stay in it was a top-tier illusionist. “Next, Feng Lan,” the teacher called S Class' last candidate.

Feng Lan glanced at Su Bei, ensuring eye contact, then entered. The teacher, aware of his ability, knew it was useless here. Pitying his inevitable failure, he sighed, shook his head, hit “start,” and signaled Feng Lan to begin.

Feng Lan didn’t delay, walking out while saying: “This classroom’s about to catch fire.”

Everyone froze.

“Wait!” The teacher stopped him, wanting to speak but holding back, fearing it was a ploy that questioning might ruin. He stood outside silently.

With the teacher and Feng Lan out, only the five exam helpers remained, exchanging looks, unsure if Feng Lan was truthful.

A green-haired, punkish boy relaxed, waving: “He says it’ll catch fire, so it will? Saying that now, even with [Prophecy], he’s obviously lying!”

Su Bei recognized him—his ability twisted his body. They’d fought in last semester’s monthly exam. Now they met again.

A girl looked at him like he was an idiot: “Feng Lan’s the Feng Family head. A prophecy family doesn’t lie about prophecies, right?”

Her last words targeted Feng Lan, aiming to make him swear by his family that his words were true.

Feng Lan nodded.

Her panic spread. Not just her—the teacher panicked too.

Impossible—how could the classroom catch fire? Not naturally, so it must be external. Was the school under attack?

The teacher’s mind raced, his expression growing grim. He considered evacuating, as if this was an attack site, the students should move.

But he hesitated—it was Feng Lan’s exam. Stopping it would disrespect him. Evacuating others without stopping would be cheating.

Caught in a dilemma, he couldn’t decide, preparing his ability for potential danger. His grim look added tension to the five inside.

Initially, they doubted Feng Lan, but his confirmation and the teacher’s expression made them uneasy.

Feng Lan didn’t re-enter to persuade, returning to S Class, his golden eyes calmly judging their rationality.

Finally, the first girl broke, leaving: “I don’t need these points. They’re not worth my life, right?”

She’d considered the teacher’s worry—how could a classroom catch fire? A minor fire would be easily doused, so Feng Lan wouldn’t leave, nor would the teacher look so wary.

Something big was coming, and she wasn’t risking her life.

Her lead prompted three others to follow, leaving Green-Haired Kid, stubbornly staying, betting Feng Lan would return to persuade if he held out, proving the lie.

But Feng Lan had no such plan, uncaring about the result.

Unmoving, Green-Haired Kid panicked as the ten-minute mark neared. With others dispersing due to Feng Lan’s words, he finally fled.

The teacher hit “pause”: “Exam over, time 7 minutes 34 seconds.”

He asked urgently: “When’s the fire? Should we leave now?”

Su Bei’s voice came from behind: “It’s already burning.”

The teacher spun, seeing a burning paper ball on the classroom floor, just tossed in.

He processed, then looked at Su Bei: “You threw it?”

Su Bei nodded matter-of-factly: “Did it catch fire or not?”

Everyone: “…”

Silence fell—they hadn’t expected this. Technically, Feng Lan’s prophecy was correct—the classroom caught fire.

But like this?

“This counts?” The first girl asked, collapsing, feeling foolish.

Green-Haired Kid, more devastated, cried: “Three minutes! I was three minutes from keeping those points!”

Mu Tieren asked Su Bei: “Why’d you help Feng Lan throw the burning paper? Where’d the fire come from?”

“Feng Lan hinted me to throw it,” Su Bei replied. “Qi Huang lit it.”

While everyone focused on the classroom, Su Bei crumpled paper, and Qi Huang lit it. Qi Huang, catching his intent, gave a look between “Are you crazy?” and “This works?” but lit it silently.

“But I didn’t hear you talk,” Li Shu said, puzzled, having been with them without hearing related talk.

Feng Lan nodded: “We locked eyes.”

Qi Huang, incredulous, looked at Su Bei: “That one glance, and you got it?”

“I understood after he said the classroom would catch fire,” Su Bei explained calmly. “He glanced at me then—not for nothing. He was signaling something.”

Like the Feng Family’s final setup, Feng Lan preferred unspoken understanding.

Others wondered why a classroom would catch fire, but Su Bei grasped Feng Lan’s glance.

“I’ve got another question,” Jiang Tianming said. “Anyone could’ve thrown the fire. Why didn’t you, Feng Lan? What if Su Bei missed your hint?”

Feng Lan corrected him: “I can’t start the fire. Our family rule forbids self-fulfilling prophecies.”

Everyone understood. Self-fulfilling prophecies would be chaos—predict a family’s doom, then send assassins. Everyone would be a prophet.

Feng Lan only gave Su Bei a look, no words, so it wasn’t self-fulfilling—just their uncanny sync.

“What if Su Bei didn’t get it?” Zhao Xiaoyu asked, unable to trust others so fully without her own prep.

Feng Lan shook his head: “He’d get it.”

From Su Bei’s shout at the Feng Family library, Feng Lan knew—perhaps due to shared prophecy abilities—Su Bei understood him, so he trusted him fully.

Su Bei grinned at the group: “We’re done. Stay and watch, or head back together?”

“Back together,” Jiang Tianming said. They came for Su Bei’s trio; with their tests done, others’ didn’t matter.

Next, Class A candidates began, shattering the trio’s stellar impression. The first failed to oust anyone.

His ability, [Werewolf Kill], forced people into a Werewolf Kill game. He could decide if in-game deaths were real and assign himself a role.

It sounded strong but had flaws. It needed six players, four allies, to easily kill two. The game forced participation, but outsiders were unaffected.

It trapped enemies but also himself, requiring a four-on-two setup with no outsiders.

Its forced-kill potential earned him Class A.

But in today’s test, it was useless. He relied on physical force, but one non-Ability User couldn’t beat five Ability Users, failing.

Unexpectedly, Su Bei was among the next helpers. Seeing his name on the screen, he raised a brow: “Oh?”

“Oh!” The others echoed, laughing, unsure if at Su Bei or the candidate.

The candidate, stunned by his bad luck, grimaced. Hesitating, he asked the teacher: “What if he uses that… ability to make me leave?”

The teacher gave a helpless look: “If you don’t attack him, he can’t attack you, including that method. Helpers can’t oust candidates.”

“But he’s S Class, so strong. I can’t get him out. That’s unfair!” the candidate complained.

Unfair? He didn’t call S Class' early tests unfair when it didn’t affect him.

Facing this nonsense, the teacher’s face hardened: “If you make the three-school competition and face stronger enemies, will you cry unfair? If you’re unhappy, skip it—it’s just a ‘regular monthly exam.’”

He stressed the last words, waiting. The candidate couldn’t skip it, having been warned of its importance.

“I’ll test,” he gritted out. The teacher waved in the five helpers. Besides Su Bei, the rest weren’t strong—highest was Class B.

The special track was polarized—mostly S or A Class, or D or F, with few mid-tier.

The Class A candidate revealed his ability, fitting the test perfectly: controlling soft materials like cloth. Once touched, they were his.

“You don’t want your clothes leaving you in public, right?” he threatened someone whose clothes he’d touched. “Leave now, or I don’t know what’ll happen to them.” He’d already slipped off a helper’s jacket like a slimy eel. The helper, believing him, felt exposed, nodding: “I’m going.”

Learning from this, others avoided his touch, using abilities to block him.

Su Bei sat on the windowsill, spectating, betting the candidate wouldn’t target him first. Going after others could clear four, but starting with Su Bei risked the candidate’s elimination.

At first, he chased others, aiming to oust them one by one. But Su Bei sensed something off—the two were running toward him.

Interesting. Su Bei leapt, instantly crossing the classroom, perching on a wall cabinet.

If they still ran toward him, their intent was clear.

Jiang Tianming’s group outside laughed. Wu Mingbai chuckled: “He really sits when he can.”

Jiang Tianming, more observant, saw why Su Bei moved: “No, the candidate’s planning to target him.”

“What? That bold?” Lan Subing said, shocked, shrinking under other classes’ gazes, hiding among her class.

It was March, too warm for scarves. Without one, she felt insecure. If masks weren’t odd at school, she’d swap her scarf for one.

Zhao Xiaoyu shielded her, understanding the candidate: “His ability suits this test. If Su Bei’s caught off-guard and touched, he’d have to yield.”

True—even they couldn’t bear being stripped. Who’d bet he wouldn’t? Instant kills might work, but Su Bei likely lacked that.

For points, many ambitious people would gamble.

“But Su Bei’s noticed. If he doesn’t switch tactics, he’s in trouble,” Wu Mingbai said brightly, as if it wasn’t bad.

Ai Baozhu shook her head, smiling coyly: “I doubt it. Even if he gets close, as long as he doesn’t attack, rules stop Su Bei from acting.”

“Does he think that ties Su Bei’s hands?” Zhou Renjie said sensibly, shaking his head disdainfully.

If rules restrained Su Bei that easily, he wouldn’t be Su Bei.

The candidate didn’t grasp Su Bei’s repositioning—or, as Ai Baozhu said, thought rules protected him, so he kept provoking. Soon, the two veered toward Su Bei again.

Seeing them approach, Su Bei’s smile vanished.

Did they think he was easygoing?

He stayed put, waiting. The two closed in, fighting fiercely, as if to fool Su Bei into thinking it was just a brawl, not a scheme.

As they neared touching distance, the candidate’s heart raced, ready to grab Su Bei’s clothes. A slight touch would let him control them.

With clothes in hand, he doubted Su Bei wouldn’t yield. If he didn’t, the candidate wouldn’t mind humiliating him publicly. Ousting an S Class student or shaming them would make him famous.

But unexpectedly, as he reached out, Su Bei shifted, making him touch his hand, not clothes. Touching a hand was useless, unlike clothes.

His plan failed, and dread rose.

Su Bei’s smile widened: “That counts as attacking me, right?”

Without giving him time to react, a [Gear] sliced his neck.

Though just a scratch, it paralyzed him with fear, a faint urge to wet himself.

Another [Gear] pressed his throat. Su Bei said flatly: “Stay like this till the exam ends.”

After a long pause, the candidate suppressed his terror, daring to speak: “You… this is against the rules, right? How can you… do this? Teacher, you’re not stopping him?”

The teacher outside stood still, as if deaf to his plea.

Su Bei raised a brow: “Where’s the rule violation?”

“This…” The candidate couldn’t answer. Su Bei hadn’t broken rules. He acted after being touched, not initiating. He didn’t oust him, just kept him still.

Realizing he was powerless, the candidate switched to pleading: “Sorry, I just wanted points. I won’t target you again—let me finish the exam!”

Su Bei leaned against the wall, eyes closed, unmoved. People paid for choices. After Su Bei repositioned, the candidate knew his intent was exposed. Yet he gambled Su Bei was helpless. Su Bei believed he’d considered the gamble’s consequences.

Seeing Su Bei’s stance, the candidate knew mercy was off. His pleas turned to angry accusations, then exhausted silence, standing numbly.

Time up, the teacher ended the exam. Su Bei shook his head. If the candidate had ignored the [Gear], risking grabbing others, Su Bei might’ve let him go.

But he didn’t.

Knowing it was an exam with teacher oversight, ensuring safety, he still didn’t dare. He bet Su Bei was helpless but not that he’d be safe. Half-hearted courage—Su Bei couldn’t help that.

As they left, the doomed candidate glared at Su Bei, ready to spit venom. Before he could, Mo Xiaotian asked: “Why didn’t you run? Su Bei closed his eyes!”

Thinking it was mockery, the candidate snapped: “He’s so strong—if I moved, he’d know. How could I run?”

“But if he knew, so what?” Jiang Tianming shook his head calmly. “Even if he attacked, with the teacher there, your life was safe. Running gave you a chance, but you stood still.”

Si Zhaohua added, looking down: “You gave up the exam yourself.”