The sky was still dark and grim.
Weather like this typically foreshadowed a brewing storm. At this time, however, the shade had provided shelter for the exam candidates, allowing them to answer freely without having to work out a head full of sweat under a blistering hot sun.
It was quiet enough to detect a pin drop in the exam venue. Only the soft scratching of pens across paper could be heard.
AD
With their lives hanging on a thread, it didn’t matter whether they knew the answers or not —even if they scribbled nonsense, the questions still had to be filled!
They’d be crazy to give up on multiple-choice questions; after all, the odds of getting those right were one in four. As for fill-in-the-blank and open-ended questions, those could only be left to fate.
Science questions could be skipped if it fell into their blind spot of knowledge. On the other hand, even if they couldn’t recall their humanities, those questions could still be bullshitted through, right?
List out formulas if you still have any impression left of sciences and waffle around for reading comprehension in Language. Although everyone tended to speak very colloquially, without care for basic language rules and grammar, they could still make blind guesses and cook up a little something. While foreign trainees couldn’t tackle this section, English was their home turf. Fortunately, despite this being a dimension inside an instance, its world history didn’t deviate too much. As long as one had good sense, the questions for political sciences should still be manageable.
Sadly, there wasn’t an essay component, or else everyone would’ve gunned straight for the sixty-point compositions first.
However, as the trainees progressed, they started to notice the oddities in the political science questions.
There weren’t any multiple-choice questions at all. It was all open-ended questions, and immediately apparent it was all extremely vague.
Question 1: How to be a useful member of society?
Many trainees rushed to set their pens to paper at the sight of this question. They didn’t even need to use their brains to know what high-minded ideals to spout. Even if some trainees paused on it, when combined with the test content before that, which was unquestionably from the high school syllabus, they wouldn’t give it too much thought.
AD
Zong Jiu skimmed the politics section. He set down his pen, deciding to start from the sciences instead.
He deeply suspected there was an issue with the politics of this world.
If others were to approach this question based on this line of logic, it was truly a waste of time to work on a question that required so much writing during this short four-hour exam.
It had to be said that Zong Jiu got lucky here.
To begin with, he had a good memory. In addition, magicians would occasionally involve maths in their tricks. Therefore, compared to others who were going in blind, Zong Jiu was at least able to make some estimates for the multiple-choice questions and even write a bit by working backwards.
However, it was only that slight edge. He could write, but couldn’t guarantee the accuracy of his answers.
B-ranks were all veterans who had been struggling in the infinite loop for many years. If it wasn’t them that entered this instance but newcomers who had just been pulled into the infinite loop, then there might still be a glimmer of hope—for veterans, however, the difficulty was directly elevated to S-rank.
Zong Jiu was suddenly reminded of Sheng Yu, whom he had met in the first instance.
According to Sheng Yu, he was pulled into the instance while in class during his third year of high school. If he had survived, he’d probably take to this instance like a fish to water.
Speaking of Sheng Yu, Zong Jiu’s eyes darkened again.
He felt that there was a glaring problem here.
First, Sheng Yu was a character that never existed in the novel, only appearing due to the butterfly effect that Zong Jiu stirred.
Secondly, why would Sheng Yu be manipulated by No. 1 the moment he came on stage? Were there other unknown factors behind it?
If Zong Jiu’s speculations were sound, then it was highly probable that the Devil had set his eyes on him from very early on, to the point where he was completely unaware.
It was aggravating.
Ktf ktlaf-tjlgfv sbecu wjc qgbqqfv tlr tfjv eq, tlr gluta tjcv clwyis rqlcclcu atf qfc yfakffc ibcu, rifcvfg olcufgr.
Cc lcnlulijabg, ktb mblcmlvfcajiis aegcfv bnfg tlr kjamtoei fsf, mjeuta atlr jcv gfwlcvfv lmlis, “Ufc rqlcclcu lr cba qfgwlaafv veglcu fzjw alwf.”
Dea la kjr pera atja; j gfwlcvfg. Ktf ktlq vlvc’a rilmf bnfg jr la tjv yfobgf. Ugfrewjyis, atlr kbeiv vfqfcv bc atf rfnfglas bo atf rlaejalbc.
Zong Jiu obediently stopped spinning the pen, going back to bury his head into the vast sea of questions in search of those he knew how to do.
[I zoomed into an exam booklet and started to answer along with the trainees.jpg]
[Friend, how are you feeling? Do you feel emotional returning to high school exam hell after so many years? /pats]
[Yeah, emotional, way too fucking emotional. The very sight of it is making my scalp prickle and my head drone. My teachers’ lectures are now ringing in my ears.]
[This isn’t something that can be completed by humans. The Olympiad questions on the last page practically made me go cross-eyed. This has to be on the same difficulty as the International Olympiad, right… send help.]
Seconds ticked by.
Four full hours, as excruciating as sitting on a bed of nails.
Though the dark and dreary autumn sky still loomed oppressively overhead, there wasn’t any visible sign of rain.
Despite clearly knowing it was futile, trainees stubbornly filled in every question regardless, cramming words densely on every available space.
In the last moments of the exam, there was a brief interlude.
A man in a suit and black leather shoes emerged gracefully from some unknown nook or cranny. His black hair was tied behind his head, dark golden eyes narrowed. His handsome and angular face was brimming with bewitching beauty, at odds with the pasty white, blurred and featureless faces of the other invigilators.
Several B-rank trainees who had witnessed his entrance were so shocked they could hardly keep a tight grip, and their pens flew straight to the ground.
It’s the person that everyone was looking out for!!!
There was no shortage of No. 1 zealots amidst high-ranking trainees. Even now, neck-deep in an exam within an instance, his appearance caused a huge commotion.
Every trainee was flushed with excitement, devoting worshipping stares as the Devil stood upon the flag-raising platform, exchanging incredulous glances between each other.
Quite a number of them had entered this competition just to catch a glimpse of his grace.
Regrettably, in the two instances since the start of the Thriller Trainee competition, there was no news on which instance he had appeared in, and No. 1 was often nowhere to be seen even during the evaluations and the opening of the instances.
Now, he appeared in the B-rank trainee collective instance. The entire body of B-ranks was floored by the honour.
In the infinite loop, admiration for the strong was a warped concept deeply embedded in the consciousness of every veteran, and the Devil had long become a symbol of power ingrained in everyone’s minds. Even if they all had varying levels of strength, everyone held the same religious zeal, worshipping him on the altar of divinity.
The bullet chat also went insane.
[AHHHHWTF!! It’s No. 1 the one and only!]
[Omgomg, he finally appeared! Mad dancing in joy!]
[I’m shedding tears. What kept me going through the many episodes of instances, switching from channel to channel? What spurred me to jump through thousands of broadcasts non-stop, just in search of the figure that only appeared now?]
[Groundhog scream!!! Ngl, my party’s at the base watching the live broadcast together now, and each one of us has fallen to our knees.]
Amidst this barrage of comments, some more astute people spotted something was amiss.
After all, the Devil had overtly appeared amongst the teaching faculty, without any effort to cover up at all. Even the headmaster and the teaching director treated him with courtesy.
[Is this a special privilege No. 1 has? He hasn’t even changed into school uniform?!]
[Yeah it should be. We couldn’t even watch No. 1’s live broadcast last time, who knows if there’s something else going on there.]
[If that’s the case, the gap between No. 1 and No. 2 is so wide. But that’s true as well. Debuting in the c-position is sure to be different.]
[I think this isn’t being very fair…]
[Nothing against you, but the bullet chat should remember to observe basic courtesy. It’s possible No. 1 didn’t turn on his live broadcast previously because he didn’t want to be judged by irrelevant people.]
[It doesn’t matter, no one can hide behind anonymity in the bullet chat anyway, everyone can see who wrote what. You don’t have to bother schooling those who take it too far; just wait for his followers to go after them tomorrow~]
[Exactly. @ the person three messages upstairs, do you think that you’re playing in a fair survival show? This is the infinite loop. Who has the biggest fist is the boss; do you really think that the system will be charitable to you? If you’re all that great, go participate yourself, my brave keyboard warrior.]
[Ugh, I knew it. It’s a bloodbath every time the bullet chat touches on this hotshot.]
[So… am I the only one who noticed that No. 1 doesn’t have that rose on his chest?]
[My friend, are you stuck on 2G network? The rose was given to the white-haired Magician ages ago.]
Just as the B-rank trainees at the exam venue were getting excited, the teaching director suddenly announced, “Time is up!”
The invigilators lined up at the side immediately began collecting the scripts. Naturally, there were even more invigilators standing in place, monitoring for cheating.
Unfortunately for them, everyone’s tempo was tossed up by this placement exam—they were all just as in the dark as the next person, and picked the classical choice C when encountering questions they couldn’t solve. With everyone behaving in this manner, there was no room for copying even if one wanted to; after all, what if their blind guess was right but they copied a wrong answer? Wouldn’t that be a total miss?
After collecting the exam booklets, the invigilators carried these heavy stacks to the table in front of the flag-raising platform, ordering them by class.
Thirty teachers were already seated. They uncapped their red pens and swiftly began to mark them.
What was even more terrifying was the speed of their marking, as though they had transformed into automated marking machines. Each person graded a subject and was able to tell with a glance how many marks this paper scored, their red pens flying across so quickly they left flickering afterimages.
A teacher to one side had already put up a large poster next to the quadrangle, with two words ‘Year Ranking’ printed in bold dark ink, as they waited to start ranking the released scores in order.
The sight of this made the hair of every trainee stand on end.
At this rate, it would probably only take an hour… no, half an hour for the names of the bottom ten in the cohort to be fresh out of the oven.
When the time came, it would also determine their death sentence.
Right as their nerves were fraying, the teaching director nodded to the Devil, turning to announce to everyone.
“Everyone, this is Mr. Nan, a guest lecturer-cum-advisor that our school had specially invited from a higher education institution. For the next one hundred and twenty days, Mr. Nan will be leading and guiding the cohort’s studies. Let us welcome him with a warm round of applause!”
“Clap, clap, clap, clap.”
Many B-ranks clapped so excitedly that their palms reddened.
Nobody wondered why No. 1 would be addressed as Mr. Nan, and even fewer questioned why they were students yet No. 1 was a teacher.
It was an ironclad law of the infinite loop. The weak had no right to question the decisions of the strong.
Only Zong Jiu, sitting properly in his seat, gave a start, and began letting out a muffled chuckle from his chest.
At first, he had thought he suddenly gleaned new information, believing that the Devil really was surnamed Nan.
Only after a moment’s thought did he realise he was wrong, bringing him to laughter.
Written as No. 1, pronounced as Nan Bowan—wasn’t that the surname Nan?
Truly, it was a fake alias that couldn’t get any more fake, utterly without a smidge of sincerity, even quite hilarious.
Naturally, surrounded by a large crowd of excited trainees. Zong Jiu was particularly conspicuous as the only one laughing unabashedly.
At least, particularly conspicuous to the person who had revolved his attention on him from start to end.
Dark golden eyes narrowed dangerously.
After the warm welcome, the teaching director respectfully asked, “Mr. Nan, would you like to be…”
The reputation of Mr. Nan was staggering, his track record impressive. Allegedly, not a single student under him failed to be admitted to the 39 world-class universities or, at worst, the top 100 universities in the nation.
First High School went to great lengths to invite this cash cow, so naturally, everything he said went. No questions asked.
“That’s not necessary.”
The black-haired man casually lifted his hand. “I will only guide and supervise.”
“Oh, by the way. Didn’t you say we have to pick the homeroom teachers?”
The teaching director nodded like a little chick pecking rice, somehow squeezing out a fawning expression on his featureless face. “Yes, yes, yes. It’d simply be the greatest honour for our school if you mean to do that!”
Homeroom teacher?
The ten classes of trainees immediately perked up, their gazes blazing with anticipation.
Little did anyone expect the corners of the Devil’s lips to hook upwards. “Class 9 will do, in that case.”
Zong Jiu, still stifling snickers with his head bowed: Crap.
He lifted his head and, as it happened, locked eyes with the other’s humoured yet mirthless gaze.
“—Oh? Why is there a student with dyed hair in this class?”
Everyone’s gazes promptly snapped over.
Zong Jiu, “…”
The sky was still dark and grim.
Weather like this typically foreshadowed a brewing storm. At this time, however, the shade had provided shelter for the exam candidates, allowing them to answer freely without having to work out a head full of sweat under a blistering hot sun.
It was quiet enough to detect a pin drop in the exam venue. Only the soft scratching of pens across paper could be heard.
AD
With their lives hanging on a thread, it didn’t matter whether they knew the answers or not —even if they scribbled nonsense, the questions still had to be filled!
They’d be crazy to give up on multiple-choice questions; after all, the odds of getting those right were one in four. As for fill-in-the-blank and open-ended questions, those could only be left to fate.
Science questions could be skipped if it fell into their blind spot of knowledge. On the other hand, even if they couldn’t recall their humanities, those questions could still be bullshitted through, right?
List out formulas if you still have any impression left of sciences and waffle around for reading comprehension in Language. Although everyone tended to speak very colloquially, without care for basic language rules and grammar, they could still make blind guesses and cook up a little something. While foreign trainees couldn’t tackle this section, English was their home turf. Fortunately, despite this being a dimension inside an instance, its world history didn’t deviate too much. As long as one had good sense, the questions for political sciences should still be manageable.
Sadly, there wasn’t an essay component, or else everyone would’ve gunned straight for the sixty-point compositions first.
However, as the trainees progressed, they started to notice the oddities in the political science questions.
There weren’t any multiple-choice questions at all. It was all open-ended questions, and immediately apparent it was all extremely vague.
Question 1: How to be a useful member of society?
Many trainees rushed to set their pens to paper at the sight of this question. They didn’t even need to use their brains to know what high-minded ideals to spout. Even if some trainees paused on it, when combined with the test content before that, which was unquestionably from the high school syllabus, they wouldn’t give it too much thought.
AD
Zong Jiu skimmed the politics section. He set down his pen, deciding to start from the sciences instead.
He deeply suspected there was an issue with the politics of this world.
If others were to approach this question based on this line of logic, it was truly a waste of time to work on a question that required so much writing during this short four-hour exam.
It had to be said that Zong Jiu got lucky here.
To begin with, he had a good memory. In addition, magicians would occasionally involve maths in their tricks. Therefore, compared to others who were going in blind, Zong Jiu was at least able to make some estimates for the multiple-choice questions and even write a bit by working backwards.
However, it was only that slight edge. He could write, but couldn’t guarantee the accuracy of his answers.
B-ranks were all veterans who had been struggling in the infinite loop for many years. If it wasn’t them that entered this instance but newcomers who had just been pulled into the infinite loop, then there might still be a glimmer of hope—for veterans, however, the difficulty was directly elevated to S-rank.
Zong Jiu was suddenly reminded of Sheng Yu, whom he had met in the first instance.
According to Sheng Yu, he was pulled into the instance while in class during his third year of high school. If he had survived, he’d probably take to this instance like a fish to water.
Speaking of Sheng Yu, Zong Jiu’s eyes darkened again.
He felt that there was a glaring problem here.
First, Sheng Yu was a character that never existed in the novel, only appearing due to the butterfly effect that Zong Jiu stirred.
Secondly, why would Sheng Yu be manipulated by No. 1 the moment he came on stage? Were there other unknown factors behind it?
If Zong Jiu’s speculations were sound, then it was highly probable that the Devil had set his eyes on him from very early on, to the point where he was completely unaware.
It was aggravating.
Ktf ktlaf-tjlgfv sbecu wjc qgbqqfv tlr tfjv eq, tlr gluta tjcv clwyis rqlcclcu atf qfc yfakffc ibcu, rifcvfg olcufgr.
Cc lcnlulijabg, ktb mblcmlvfcajiis aegcfv bnfg tlr kjamtoei fsf, mjeuta atlr jcv gfwlcvfv lmlis, “Ufc rqlcclcu lr cba qfgwlaafv veglcu fzjw alwf.”
Dea la kjr pera atja; j gfwlcvfg. Ktf ktlq vlvc’a rilmf bnfg jr la tjv yfobgf. Ugfrewjyis, atlr kbeiv vfqfcv bc atf rfnfglas bo atf rlaejalbc.
Zong Jiu obediently stopped spinning the pen, going back to bury his head into the vast sea of questions in search of those he knew how to do.
[I zoomed into an exam booklet and started to answer along with the trainees.jpg]
[Friend, how are you feeling? Do you feel emotional returning to high school exam hell after so many years? /pats]
[Yeah, emotional, way too fucking emotional. The very sight of it is making my scalp prickle and my head drone. My teachers’ lectures are now ringing in my ears.]
[This isn’t something that can be completed by humans. The Olympiad questions on the last page practically made me go cross-eyed. This has to be on the same difficulty as the International Olympiad, right… send help.]
Seconds ticked by.
Four full hours, as excruciating as sitting on a bed of nails.
Though the dark and dreary autumn sky still loomed oppressively overhead, there wasn’t any visible sign of rain.
Despite clearly knowing it was futile, trainees stubbornly filled in every question regardless, cramming words densely on every available space.
In the last moments of the exam, there was a brief interlude.
A man in a suit and black leather shoes emerged gracefully from some unknown nook or cranny. His black hair was tied behind his head, dark golden eyes narrowed. His handsome and angular face was brimming with bewitching beauty, at odds with the pasty white, blurred and featureless faces of the other invigilators.
Several B-rank trainees who had witnessed his entrance were so shocked they could hardly keep a tight grip, and their pens flew straight to the ground.
It’s the person that everyone was looking out for!!!
There was no shortage of No. 1 zealots amidst high-ranking trainees. Even now, neck-deep in an exam within an instance, his appearance caused a huge commotion.
Every trainee was flushed with excitement, devoting worshipping stares as the Devil stood upon the flag-raising platform, exchanging incredulous glances between each other.
Quite a number of them had entered this competition just to catch a glimpse of his grace.
Regrettably, in the two instances since the start of the Thriller Trainee competition, there was no news on which instance he had appeared in, and No. 1 was often nowhere to be seen even during the evaluations and the opening of the instances.
Now, he appeared in the B-rank trainee collective instance. The entire body of B-ranks was floored by the honour.
In the infinite loop, admiration for the strong was a warped concept deeply embedded in the consciousness of every veteran, and the Devil had long become a symbol of power ingrained in everyone’s minds. Even if they all had varying levels of strength, everyone held the same religious zeal, worshipping him on the altar of divinity.
The bullet chat also went insane.
[AHHHHWTF!! It’s No. 1 the one and only!]
[Omgomg, he finally appeared! Mad dancing in joy!]
[I’m shedding tears. What kept me going through the many episodes of instances, switching from channel to channel? What spurred me to jump through thousands of broadcasts non-stop, just in search of the figure that only appeared now?]
[Groundhog scream!!! Ngl, my party’s at the base watching the live broadcast together now, and each one of us has fallen to our knees.]
Amidst this barrage of comments, some more astute people spotted something was amiss.
After all, the Devil had overtly appeared amongst the teaching faculty, without any effort to cover up at all. Even the headmaster and the teaching director treated him with courtesy.
[Is this a special privilege No. 1 has? He hasn’t even changed into school uniform?!]
[Yeah it should be. We couldn’t even watch No. 1’s live broadcast last time, who knows if there’s something else going on there.]
[If that’s the case, the gap between No. 1 and No. 2 is so wide. But that’s true as well. Debuting in the c-position is sure to be different.]
[I think this isn’t being very fair…]
[Nothing against you, but the bullet chat should remember to observe basic courtesy. It’s possible No. 1 didn’t turn on his live broadcast previously because he didn’t want to be judged by irrelevant people.]
[It doesn’t matter, no one can hide behind anonymity in the bullet chat anyway, everyone can see who wrote what. You don’t have to bother schooling those who take it too far; just wait for his followers to go after them tomorrow~]
[Exactly. @ the person three messages upstairs, do you think that you’re playing in a fair survival show? This is the infinite loop. Who has the biggest fist is the boss; do you really think that the system will be charitable to you? If you’re all that great, go participate yourself, my brave keyboard warrior.]
[Ugh, I knew it. It’s a bloodbath every time the bullet chat touches on this hotshot.]
[So… am I the only one who noticed that No. 1 doesn’t have that rose on his chest?]
[My friend, are you stuck on 2G network? The rose was given to the white-haired Magician ages ago.]
Just as the B-rank trainees at the exam venue were getting excited, the teaching director suddenly announced, “Time is up!”
The invigilators lined up at the side immediately began collecting the scripts. Naturally, there were even more invigilators standing in place, monitoring for cheating.
Unfortunately for them, everyone’s tempo was tossed up by this placement exam—they were all just as in the dark as the next person, and picked the classical choice C when encountering questions they couldn’t solve. With everyone behaving in this manner, there was no room for copying even if one wanted to; after all, what if their blind guess was right but they copied a wrong answer? Wouldn’t that be a total miss?
After collecting the exam booklets, the invigilators carried these heavy stacks to the table in front of the flag-raising platform, ordering them by class.
Thirty teachers were already seated. They uncapped their red pens and swiftly began to mark them.
What was even more terrifying was the speed of their marking, as though they had transformed into automated marking machines. Each person graded a subject and was able to tell with a glance how many marks this paper scored, their red pens flying across so quickly they left flickering afterimages.
A teacher to one side had already put up a large poster next to the quadrangle, with two words ‘Year Ranking’ printed in bold dark ink, as they waited to start ranking the released scores in order.
The sight of this made the hair of every trainee stand on end.
At this rate, it would probably only take an hour… no, half an hour for the names of the bottom ten in the cohort to be fresh out of the oven.
When the time came, it would also determine their death sentence.
Right as their nerves were fraying, the teaching director nodded to the Devil, turning to announce to everyone.
“Everyone, this is Mr. Nan, a guest lecturer-cum-advisor that our school had specially invited from a higher education institution. For the next one hundred and twenty days, Mr. Nan will be leading and guiding the cohort’s studies. Let us welcome him with a warm round of applause!”
“Clap, clap, clap, clap.”
Many B-ranks clapped so excitedly that their palms reddened.
Nobody wondered why No. 1 would be addressed as Mr. Nan, and even fewer questioned why they were students yet No. 1 was a teacher.
It was an ironclad law of the infinite loop. The weak had no right to question the decisions of the strong.
Only Zong Jiu, sitting properly in his seat, gave a start, and began letting out a muffled chuckle from his chest.
At first, he had thought he suddenly gleaned new information, believing that the Devil really was surnamed Nan.
Only after a moment’s thought did he realise he was wrong, bringing him to laughter.
Written as No. 1, pronounced as Nan Bowan—wasn’t that the surname Nan?
Truly, it was a fake alias that couldn’t get any more fake, utterly without a smidge of sincerity, even quite hilarious.
Naturally, surrounded by a large crowd of excited trainees. Zong Jiu was particularly conspicuous as the only one laughing unabashedly.
At least, particularly conspicuous to the person who had revolved his attention on him from start to end.
Dark golden eyes narrowed dangerously.
After the warm welcome, the teaching director respectfully asked, “Mr. Nan, would you like to be…”
The reputation of Mr. Nan was staggering, his track record impressive. Allegedly, not a single student under him failed to be admitted to the 39 world-class universities or, at worst, the top 100 universities in the nation.
First High School went to great lengths to invite this cash cow, so naturally, everything he said went. No questions asked.
“That’s not necessary.”
The black-haired man casually lifted his hand. “I will only guide and supervise.”
“Oh, by the way. Didn’t you say we have to pick the homeroom teachers?”
The teaching director nodded like a little chick pecking rice, somehow squeezing out a fawning expression on his featureless face. “Yes, yes, yes. It’d simply be the greatest honour for our school if you mean to do that!”
Homeroom teacher?
The ten classes of trainees immediately perked up, their gazes blazing with anticipation.
Little did anyone expect the corners of the Devil’s lips to hook upwards. “Class 9 will do, in that case.”
Zong Jiu, still stifling snickers with his head bowed: Crap.
He lifted his head and, as it happened, locked eyes with the other’s humoured yet mirthless gaze.
“—Oh? Why is there a student with dyed hair in this class?”
Everyone’s gazes promptly snapped over.
Zong Jiu, “…”
