[Thriller Trainees, please assemble punctually by 10 a.m. at the broadcasting studio on the third floor.]
Bright and early this morning, the system announcement resounded thrice.
This wasn’t the first time thriller trainees were entering an instance. After the first two rounds, even the newcomers had become old hands.
Furthermore, the lowest rank in the dormitories had now become D. If they survived this round, only those who make the cut for the top three ranks would be able to survive. As such, the trainees toeing the fringes were quaking in their boots.
Other trainees were so anxious that they were unable to sleep. They seized the opportunity to live a life of decadence in the enclosed city on the ground floor. Some woke up at the touch of dawn to have a hearty meal in the restaurant, while others had even stayed up all night partying at the rooftop bar.
Apart from the ten S-ranks at the peak, in the face of imminent danger, few trainees were able to keep their heads above the water.
Yet Zong Jiu slept soundly through the night, getting up at eight on the dot to freshen up and take a shower in passing.
He stood before the mirror, took a hair tie, and secured his long white hair in a ponytail.
Even in Zong Jiu’s past life as a magician, he had never left his hair this long.
After all, he was a magician, a profession that was 70% skill and 30% showmanship.
Doubtlessly he had to master both sleight of hand and fundamental techniques, whilst continuing to beguile the audience with flamboyant stage performances.
A competent magician would never beguile audiences relying on sight alone.
The ability to unobtrusively mislead the audience, flaunting his unfathomable tricks, leaving them to gasp in surprise or heartily applaud, was similarly an essential skill for a master magician.
A good magician must also grasp clear insight into human psychology and be an excellent performer with peak acting skills. Those magicians with a passion for extreme magic tricks must also be like adventurers unafraid of danger, obsessive gamblers devoting their life to the craft. Over the years, Zong Jiu didn’t fail to keep up with his homework.
So, to step up his stage performance, Zong Jiu had kept his hair to his shoulders like artists did, tying a ponytail at the back of his head.
Incidentally, his hair before his transmigration wasn’t white. This appearance he had of an albino belonged to his character setting in the novel. Though he was a transmigrator, before that, he was Chinese through-and-through, with black hair and eyes to match. Even if he’d occasionally dye his hair for an enhanced effect on stage, he’d never gone as far as to dye a colour as far outside the norm as white.
When Zong Jiu later got into the accident that fractured his hands, he didn’t give up at first. He scoured the world for famous doctors, just like Dr. Strange in the Marvel Universe after encountering a similar fate.
Regrettably, no matter how far he searched, Zong Jiu was never able to restore his hands.
There was a period where he had abandoned himself in despair, spending his days with alcohol and cigarettes, drowning in another strange and gaudy world of hallucinations.
By then, the dejected magician naturally didn’t have time to care about his dishevelled hair. Thus his hair grew longer and longer, similar to the current length.
Though his hair was still a bit longer after transmigration, Zong Jiu didn’t have any plans to cut it.
Like this pair of restored hands, he always needed evidence of the hardship he had endured, to bear the weight of the future as he forged forward.
Tying his long hair however did make him look more refreshed. Without the lethargy of before, it had instead lent him an unapproachable aura.
Solemnly he swept the hair strands that framed his face and wiped his hands, then stroked the head of the cat that was curled up on the sofa.
“Po P gjcx eq atlr alwf, P’ii ajxf sbe ab rajs lc jc fnfc yluufg gbbw ktfc P ufa yjmx.”
Ktf vfiezf rajcvjgv gbbw obg J-gjcx agjlcffr vlvc’a mbwf klat j qfa. Ufar kfgf bcis jnjlijyif ogbw D-gjcx fzfmealnf relafr bckjgvr, ktlmt mbeiv fnfc yf ajlibgfv ab tlr qgfofgfcmfr.
Ktf xfs qblca tbkfnfg kjr atja la kjr j rsrafw-jrrlucfv mja. Pa vlvc’a fja jcv vlvc’a qbbq, klat j qfgrbcjilas atja kjr eq ab tlw ab vfmlvf. Zbra lwqbgajcais, la vlvc’a rtfv tjlg. Pa kjr atf yfra.
The kitty cat shed him a glance with its blue-grey eyes, licked its paws, and continued to nestle on its cushion by the fireplace.
—
By the time Zong Jiu arrived, the broadcasting studio was almost filled with people.
As with the first instance, every trainee who didn’t arrive at the broadcasting studio before ten would be executed on the spot.
To prevent any mishaps, most trainees chose to arrive early. They’d rather wait for ten to twenty minutes here than stake it all on that final possibility.
Zong Jiu’s entry to the broadcasting studio immediately attracted the attention of many people.
Today, he had swept away his usual indolence. Those who looked at him became intimidated, feeling as if his features had, conversely, become unreasonably cold.
After all, this young man’s appearance was too stunning, his aura too striking. Adding on to the fact that he could also be the leader of a potential rising force, it was only natural that he would be scrutinised wherever he went.
Before ascending to the B-rank step, Zong Jiu looked up to the highest vantage.
As expected, the throne at the very centre was still empty.
Facing this scene, many trainees had tacitly accepted it as a privilege given to No. 1, especially given that no one dared to raise objections against this formidable man.
“Excuse me.”
Zong Jiu nodded at the B-ranks on the step.
On the whole, the B-ranks had a neutral attitude towards him.
High-rankers were not like those trainees in lower ranks, who would feel envious upon spotting a potential upstart and gang up to oppress them with numbers. Each veteran in these ranks were quick-witted and backed by power. All else aside, unless it was an executive decision, they wouldn’t rashly act out of line and become the bird who puts up its head first.
While this saved Zong Jiu a lot of effort, they also weren’t as easy to dupe, which wasn’t necessarily good news for him.
Shortly after taking his place, the surrounding candles began to glimmer with firelight. The system’s blurry anthropomorphic form took shape before a stereoscopic screen up front.
[Time is up. The doors of the broadcasting studio have been sealed.]
Heavy doors slowly descended, and the gilded lights died out one by one.
[Broadcasting studio scene change in progress… Please hold on a moment…]
With a grating noise, the walls that enclosed the broadcasting studio began to lift.
Many newcomers still retained psychological trauma towards this scene.
The first time they entered the Thriller Trainee competition, the lifting of these walls unveiled the fate of those who didn’t make it to the broadcasting studio on time in the form of human purgatory, as a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood.
This time however, what they saw outside was not the connecting corridor to the dormitories.
Snow white swans glided across the distant horizon, through the drooping radiance of golden daylight.
The massive white pillars of temples towered at the edge of the vision, their tops adorned by carved statues of gods. Water geysered from a fountain, reflecting icy, kaleidoscopic glints of light like the mythical spring of youth.
The trainees were standing on the summit of Mount Olympus, treading on lush green grass. The border between divinity and humanity was faintly visible far beyond, as pure white puffs of clouds drifted overhead.
It was a magnificent scene, but no one believed that the system would create this without reason.
Just as everyone was reeling in awe and uncertainty, the system’s mechanical voice unhurriedly resounded.
[The third instance is a collective instance, where trainees of each rank will collectively enter the same large-scale instance. It is an A+ rank instance. S-rank trainees will be randomly assigned to the other four ranks for the competition.]
The crowd roared.
The words ‘collective instance’ crashed down, igniting fierce whispering.
The noise of the discussion was amidst C and D-ranks. None of the S, A, and B-ranks showed any surprise, because they had been informed in advance.
[The instance is being prepared… The instance is ready.]
[Aside from C-rank trainees, trainees of other ranks will be spatially transferred at once.]
A familiar feeling of weightlessness came from the step beneath. Trainees only sensed the ground beneath their feet vanish when the scenery before their eyes froze, transforming into large blocks of colour.
[Beep, beep, beep. System is connecting.]
[Downloading the B-rank collective instance plot introduction…]
The languid scene of blue skies, white clouds, temple pillars, and verdant grass of a moment ago had suddenly refreshed.
Instead, they were met with murky grey clouds that loomed above a short concrete house. The weather was dark and dreary, inexplicably agitating the mind.
The scene showed an extremely outmoded school building. It was apparent from the worn-out steel bars of the entrance gates and grubby knobs of flag poles that it had already existed since many years ago.
The teaching block was the only structure in the school that had been repainted in white. Other than that, the student hostels were distressingly shoddy, merely wooden planks cobbled together.
Yet it was this very high school that produced many years of legends in the university entrance exams, becoming a prestigious high school second to none.
Countless parents racked their brains, willing to pay astronomical sums to shove their children into this school, because its acceptance rates to top universities actually hit a staggering 100%!
Everyone knew that as long as they entered this school, even the most disobedient of delinquents would end up becoming model law-abiding students that every teacher and parent dreamed of.
It was the start of another new school year. The school entrance was jam-packed with parents who have brought their children.
These children were all in identical blue and white uniforms, and teachers were handing contracts to the parents at the school gates. As if blind to the blood-red print on top stating ‘this is a boarding school; we are not responsible for any accidents that occur on the school premises’, parents signed their names with a flourish, then called the children next to them to come and sign as well.
The trainees were unable to control their own bodies. They could only watch as their hand independently reached out to press a red handprint onto the horrifying contract.
The parents lifted their heads, satisfied, submitting the contracts to the teachers.
Someone standing at the school gate was in charge of explaining, “That’s right. We’ve already been awarded national honours for many consecutive years… We will definitely cultivate talents in the national spotlight… We will never waste extra resources…”
“Our school has a long history, enormous teaching resources, and a strong student population. After a hundred and twenty days, we’ll definitely let you see a renewed child.”
“Even the most disobedient children will end up becoming good children with excellent grades and high moral character.”
In sharp contrast to this scene however, which seemed to be stuck a century ago, was a plaque hanging from the school entrance.
The plaque was new, likely replaced not long ago, with its surface painted black.
Three words in bold strokes were embossed upon it: First High School.
Whereas neat script on the horizontal banner on the other side of the gate read: Only cultivating useful members of society.
The colour was so vivid it resembled blood close to dripping down.
At this moment, all of the parents and teachers, who had their heads bowed, suddenly looked up and smiled at the trainees in satisfaction, like they were gazing upon the future of society.
The trainees were stunned to find that—
The faces of these people were terrifyingly bare.
All of them had no facial features whatsoever!
[Thriller Trainees, please assemble punctually by 10 a.m. at the broadcasting studio on the third floor.]
Bright and early this morning, the system announcement resounded thrice.
This wasn’t the first time thriller trainees were entering an instance. After the first two rounds, even the newcomers had become old hands.
Furthermore, the lowest rank in the dormitories had now become D. If they survived this round, only those who make the cut for the top three ranks would be able to survive. As such, the trainees toeing the fringes were quaking in their boots.
Other trainees were so anxious that they were unable to sleep. They seized the opportunity to live a life of decadence in the enclosed city on the ground floor. Some woke up at the touch of dawn to have a hearty meal in the restaurant, while others had even stayed up all night partying at the rooftop bar.
Apart from the ten S-ranks at the peak, in the face of imminent danger, few trainees were able to keep their heads above the water.
Yet Zong Jiu slept soundly through the night, getting up at eight on the dot to freshen up and take a shower in passing.
He stood before the mirror, took a hair tie, and secured his long white hair in a ponytail.
Even in Zong Jiu’s past life as a magician, he had never left his hair this long.
After all, he was a magician, a profession that was 70% skill and 30% showmanship.
Doubtlessly he had to master both sleight of hand and fundamental techniques, whilst continuing to beguile the audience with flamboyant stage performances.
A competent magician would never beguile audiences relying on sight alone.
The ability to unobtrusively mislead the audience, flaunting his unfathomable tricks, leaving them to gasp in surprise or heartily applaud, was similarly an essential skill for a master magician.
A good magician must also grasp clear insight into human psychology and be an excellent performer with peak acting skills. Those magicians with a passion for extreme magic tricks must also be like adventurers unafraid of danger, obsessive gamblers devoting their life to the craft. Over the years, Zong Jiu didn’t fail to keep up with his homework.
So, to step up his stage performance, Zong Jiu had kept his hair to his shoulders like artists did, tying a ponytail at the back of his head.
Incidentally, his hair before his transmigration wasn’t white. This appearance he had of an albino belonged to his character setting in the novel. Though he was a transmigrator, before that, he was Chinese through-and-through, with black hair and eyes to match. Even if he’d occasionally dye his hair for an enhanced effect on stage, he’d never gone as far as to dye a colour as far outside the norm as white.
When Zong Jiu later got into the accident that fractured his hands, he didn’t give up at first. He scoured the world for famous doctors, just like Dr. Strange in the Marvel Universe after encountering a similar fate.
Regrettably, no matter how far he searched, Zong Jiu was never able to restore his hands.
There was a period where he had abandoned himself in despair, spending his days with alcohol and cigarettes, drowning in another strange and gaudy world of hallucinations.
By then, the dejected magician naturally didn’t have time to care about his dishevelled hair. Thus his hair grew longer and longer, similar to the current length.
Though his hair was still a bit longer after transmigration, Zong Jiu didn’t have any plans to cut it.
Like this pair of restored hands, he always needed evidence of the hardship he had endured, to bear the weight of the future as he forged forward.
Tying his long hair however did make him look more refreshed. Without the lethargy of before, it had instead lent him an unapproachable aura.
Solemnly he swept the hair strands that framed his face and wiped his hands, then stroked the head of the cat that was curled up on the sofa.
“Po P gjcx eq atlr alwf, P’ii ajxf sbe ab rajs lc jc fnfc yluufg gbbw ktfc P ufa yjmx.”
Ktf vfiezf rajcvjgv gbbw obg J-gjcx agjlcffr vlvc’a mbwf klat j qfa. Ufar kfgf bcis jnjlijyif ogbw D-gjcx fzfmealnf relafr bckjgvr, ktlmt mbeiv fnfc yf ajlibgfv ab tlr qgfofgfcmfr.
Ktf xfs qblca tbkfnfg kjr atja la kjr j rsrafw-jrrlucfv mja. Pa vlvc’a fja jcv vlvc’a qbbq, klat j qfgrbcjilas atja kjr eq ab tlw ab vfmlvf. Zbra lwqbgajcais, la vlvc’a rtfv tjlg. Pa kjr atf yfra.
The kitty cat shed him a glance with its blue-grey eyes, licked its paws, and continued to nestle on its cushion by the fireplace.
—
By the time Zong Jiu arrived, the broadcasting studio was almost filled with people.
As with the first instance, every trainee who didn’t arrive at the broadcasting studio before ten would be executed on the spot.
To prevent any mishaps, most trainees chose to arrive early. They’d rather wait for ten to twenty minutes here than stake it all on that final possibility.
Zong Jiu’s entry to the broadcasting studio immediately attracted the attention of many people.
Today, he had swept away his usual indolence. Those who looked at him became intimidated, feeling as if his features had, conversely, become unreasonably cold.
After all, this young man’s appearance was too stunning, his aura too striking. Adding on to the fact that he could also be the leader of a potential rising force, it was only natural that he would be scrutinised wherever he went.
Before ascending to the B-rank step, Zong Jiu looked up to the highest vantage.
As expected, the throne at the very centre was still empty.
Facing this scene, many trainees had tacitly accepted it as a privilege given to No. 1, especially given that no one dared to raise objections against this formidable man.
“Excuse me.”
Zong Jiu nodded at the B-ranks on the step.
On the whole, the B-ranks had a neutral attitude towards him.
High-rankers were not like those trainees in lower ranks, who would feel envious upon spotting a potential upstart and gang up to oppress them with numbers. Each veteran in these ranks were quick-witted and backed by power. All else aside, unless it was an executive decision, they wouldn’t rashly act out of line and become the bird who puts up its head first.
While this saved Zong Jiu a lot of effort, they also weren’t as easy to dupe, which wasn’t necessarily good news for him.
Shortly after taking his place, the surrounding candles began to glimmer with firelight. The system’s blurry anthropomorphic form took shape before a stereoscopic screen up front.
[Time is up. The doors of the broadcasting studio have been sealed.]
Heavy doors slowly descended, and the gilded lights died out one by one.
[Broadcasting studio scene change in progress… Please hold on a moment…]
With a grating noise, the walls that enclosed the broadcasting studio began to lift.
Many newcomers still retained psychological trauma towards this scene.
The first time they entered the Thriller Trainee competition, the lifting of these walls unveiled the fate of those who didn’t make it to the broadcasting studio on time in the form of human purgatory, as a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood.
This time however, what they saw outside was not the connecting corridor to the dormitories.
Snow white swans glided across the distant horizon, through the drooping radiance of golden daylight.
The massive white pillars of temples towered at the edge of the vision, their tops adorned by carved statues of gods. Water geysered from a fountain, reflecting icy, kaleidoscopic glints of light like the mythical spring of youth.
The trainees were standing on the summit of Mount Olympus, treading on lush green grass. The border between divinity and humanity was faintly visible far beyond, as pure white puffs of clouds drifted overhead.
It was a magnificent scene, but no one believed that the system would create this without reason.
Just as everyone was reeling in awe and uncertainty, the system’s mechanical voice unhurriedly resounded.
[The third instance is a collective instance, where trainees of each rank will collectively enter the same large-scale instance. It is an A+ rank instance. S-rank trainees will be randomly assigned to the other four ranks for the competition.]
The crowd roared.
The words ‘collective instance’ crashed down, igniting fierce whispering.
The noise of the discussion was amidst C and D-ranks. None of the S, A, and B-ranks showed any surprise, because they had been informed in advance.
[The instance is being prepared… The instance is ready.]
[Aside from C-rank trainees, trainees of other ranks will be spatially transferred at once.]
A familiar feeling of weightlessness came from the step beneath. Trainees only sensed the ground beneath their feet vanish when the scenery before their eyes froze, transforming into large blocks of colour.
[Beep, beep, beep. System is connecting.]
[Downloading the B-rank collective instance plot introduction…]
The languid scene of blue skies, white clouds, temple pillars, and verdant grass of a moment ago had suddenly refreshed.
Instead, they were met with murky grey clouds that loomed above a short concrete house. The weather was dark and dreary, inexplicably agitating the mind.
The scene showed an extremely outmoded school building. It was apparent from the worn-out steel bars of the entrance gates and grubby knobs of flag poles that it had already existed since many years ago.
The teaching block was the only structure in the school that had been repainted in white. Other than that, the student hostels were distressingly shoddy, merely wooden planks cobbled together.
Yet it was this very high school that produced many years of legends in the university entrance exams, becoming a prestigious high school second to none.
Countless parents racked their brains, willing to pay astronomical sums to shove their children into this school, because its acceptance rates to top universities actually hit a staggering 100%!
Everyone knew that as long as they entered this school, even the most disobedient of delinquents would end up becoming model law-abiding students that every teacher and parent dreamed of.
It was the start of another new school year. The school entrance was jam-packed with parents who have brought their children.
These children were all in identical blue and white uniforms, and teachers were handing contracts to the parents at the school gates. As if blind to the blood-red print on top stating ‘this is a boarding school; we are not responsible for any accidents that occur on the school premises’, parents signed their names with a flourish, then called the children next to them to come and sign as well.
The trainees were unable to control their own bodies. They could only watch as their hand independently reached out to press a red handprint onto the horrifying contract.
The parents lifted their heads, satisfied, submitting the contracts to the teachers.
Someone standing at the school gate was in charge of explaining, “That’s right. We’ve already been awarded national honours for many consecutive years… We will definitely cultivate talents in the national spotlight… We will never waste extra resources…”
“Our school has a long history, enormous teaching resources, and a strong student population. After a hundred and twenty days, we’ll definitely let you see a renewed child.”
“Even the most disobedient children will end up becoming good children with excellent grades and high moral character.”
In sharp contrast to this scene however, which seemed to be stuck a century ago, was a plaque hanging from the school entrance.
The plaque was new, likely replaced not long ago, with its surface painted black.
Three words in bold strokes were embossed upon it: First High School.
Whereas neat script on the horizontal banner on the other side of the gate read: Only cultivating useful members of society.
The colour was so vivid it resembled blood close to dripping down.
At this moment, all of the parents and teachers, who had their heads bowed, suddenly looked up and smiled at the trainees in satisfaction, like they were gazing upon the future of society.
The trainees were stunned to find that—
The faces of these people were terrifyingly bare.
All of them had no facial features whatsoever!
