Chapter 293 : Chapter 293
Chapter 293
Next, to Wu Mingbai: “Basic Element Abilities like yours are heavily trained across academies. First-years lack specialized training—that starts in sophomore year. So, use unexpected moves against people.”
Wu Mingbai knew she was right. Element Abilities were overstudied. Without overwhelming power, beating others required more tactics.
“Subing, use [Word Spirit] often early on, but keep it weak. They don’t know your power. As a first-year, a weak Ability won’t raise suspicion but will lower their guard.”
After her, Teacher Li continued: “Tianming, same—use only some of your Abilities.”
Finally, she looked at Su Bei: “What’s your plan? Stick with them or go solo?”
To seem weak, they had to stick together initially—weak teams didn’t split. As the point holder, Su Bei had more options.
Even if others knew he held the team’s points, they wouldn’t attack Jiang Tianming’s group immediately—keeping them to clear beasts and lure Su Bei later.
“Solo,” Su Bei answered without hesitation. He didn’t want to stick with others.
Though joining the protagonist group meant faster plot engagement, it was riskier. Solo, even without an Invisibility Charm, he’d face less danger, overseeing the field while slacking.
Teacher Li nodded: “Then make others know your solo purpose. Don’t let them think you have a trump card. If they see you as a threat and can’t find you, they’ll target our team first.”
Su Bei replied thoughtfully: “Got it.”
Her words were a wake-up call. He couldn’t just hide—he needed some presence. The protagonist group wouldn’t be wiped out, but being feared could expose him.
Without an Invisibility Charm, even max luck couldn’t evade trackers. Tracking Abilities were common—if they hunted him, he might not escape.
After addressing everyone, Teacher Li had little else to say. She looked at Qi Huang, the only non-competitor: “You gave up competing. The academy will compensate you. You know my [Mutual Learning] Ability—it speeds skill mastery. If you’re okay with it, find me back at school.”
“Thank you, Teacher!” Qi Huang beamed. [Mutual Learning] let skills be mastered quickly, saving time—a rare opportunity, as Director’s tutoring was no longer available due to her workload.
After Teacher Li left, Jiang Tianming spoke: “Let’s discuss how to make others drop their guard, thinking we’re no threat.”
Wu Mingbai grinned: “That’s my specialty.”
The next day, over fifty teams stood neatly in the venue’s center as the host announced the second round’s rules.
Notably, winning meant eliminating all other academies’ competitors—physically “killing” them, though not truly, as their bodies stayed put, using only consciousness, like a VR game.
Knowing the rules, Su Bei’s group feigned attentive listening—many were watching, so they had to act.
The main team’s poisoning, forcing five first-year alternates, was no secret. Sesbia tried to hide it, but it happened in a crowded hotel restaurant, and Endless was a top contender, drawing attention. Other academies easily learned the truth.
Knowing first-years replaced them, most assumed Endless gave up, sending them for practice.
Though thought so, when they appeared, people stared—not just curiosity but scrutiny.
Having competed in individual battles, Su Bei’s group wasn’t unknown. Their opponents were weaker, hiding their full strength, but their Abilities’ power was evident.
So, while not expecting first-years to make waves, others remained cautious.
Under their gazes, Si Zhaohua kept a stern face, deadly serious. Lan Subing hid behind others, trembling slightly. Su Bei looked indifferent, like he was just participating.
They were authentic, while Jiang Tianming and Wu Mingbai, acting pros, showed nervous excitement, perfectly portraying being thrust into a hopeless situation yet clinging to luck.
Observers didn’t think they were acting, just young and unable to hide emotions. Seeing their performance, they relaxed.
No confidence, scared—clearly forced to compete with no chance. If they were calm or confident, others would worry.
Rules announced, a dark-skinned foreigner stepped forward—Jiram, the second round’s Illusion creator. With a wave, a water-mirror Illusion appeared above the field.
The scene shocked everyone—a theme park! Roller coasters, Ferris wheels, drop towers—all present. They’d compete in a theme park.
A novel map. Su Bei’s group had been in Illusions, usually city-based with buildings as cover, rarely this entertaining.
“Isn’t it too small?” Lan Subing muttered. Despite trembling in crowds, a year’s training let her speak—shaking was instinctive.
Su Bei agreed. Over fifty teams, nearly two hundred people, sounded manageable—a large theme park could hold thousands.
But they weren’t playing. Most battles needed space, and Nightmare Beasts counted as numbers. Adding them, space was tight. A beast every two steps, an enemy every three?
“The park’s likely larger than normal,” Wu Mingbai shook his head. “And it’s a theme park—air space counts.”
It suited aerial combat—fighting on roller coasters, carousels, or drop towers.
Unless powered. If so, it’d be different. Si Zhaohua wasn’t afraid of heights but hadn’t done such risky things.
Many whispered in the arena, not out of place, as the audience did too. Jiram didn’t explain much, clapping: “The park has clowns in mascot costumes. Find them for tasks to earn rewards. Don’t harm our cute staff—it’ll cost you!”
Amid laughter, Jiram started the match. Competitors entered the water mirror orderly, seamlessly arriving at the theme park, no jarring transition. A master Illusionist’s skill was undeniable—normally, they might not realize they’d entered an Illusion.
In the new environment, the first task was observation. Su Bei scanned—they were in a haunted house. Jiang Tianming’s group was nearby, suggesting teams spawned together.
“This haunted house… it’s huge,” Lan Subing said, looking at the seven-to-eight-meter ceiling, genuinely awed. Haunted houses were layered, hard to gauge size, but this ceiling meant a vast area. They’d likely spend time here.
Jiang Tianming frowned: “Such a big house might have other teams. Even without, Nightmare Beasts are plenty.”
True—many beasts favored dark places, and a haunted house, perfect for hiding and ambushing, surely had beasts placed by organizers. Lucky, they’d be Low-Level; unlucky, High-Level.
Worse, if other competitors were here, they’d either play weak or eliminate them fast—silencing them. “Maybe… play it safe?” Wu Mingbai suggested. With unknown teams, drawing attention risked early elimination.
Jiang Tianming nodded: “No objections. You?”
The other three shook their heads: “None.”
Though some were battle-hungry, they knew when to fight or hold back. Winning meant surviving.
After shaking his head, Su Bei stretched, about to speak, when he felt weight on his wrist. Before looking, Jiang Tianming exclaimed: “Look, these are point watches, right?”
Everyone looked—black watches on their wrists, screens showing buttons and numbers, not time.
A “0” dominated the top half, likely their points. The bottom had three buttons: “Team Chat,” “Point Transfer,” and “Task Info.”
They studied the buttons. “Team Chat” was a voice-only interface for their five, with options to add or remove members.
Each sent a message, finding their names replaced by ID numbers for the match.
“Point Transfer” allowed sending points by entering an ID—a great feature, sparing Su Bei from meeting up to collect points.
“Task Info” was empty, likely because they hadn’t taken tasks. It’d update after.
After exploring, Su Bei said: “I’m off. Contact me via watch if needed.”
“If you’re in danger, call us,” Si Zhaohua said, watching him leave. Su Bei might avoid trouble, but solo was riskier than their group.
Su Bei didn’t turn, waving to acknowledge.
As Lan Subing said, the haunted house was vast. Su Bei walked far without finding an exit but made discoveries. The theme park outside was functional—haunted house props worked, so the rides should too.
It made sense—Jiram’s Illusion made anything possible. A playable theme park sparked Su Bei’s interest. He hadn’t been to one since elementary school.
No need for a solo excuse—he’d say Endless had no chance, so he was here to slack and tour.
With that, aided by top luck, he strolled out of the haunted house. Emerging, he observed the scene.
As seen in the water mirror, the park was vibrant and playful. In the distance, two teams faced off, unlucky to spawn together.
With sharp Ability User eyesight, they spotted him instantly. Not wanting to fight now, they tacitly paused, approaching him.
Su Bei showed no fear, walking forward. He’d chosen a nearby roller coaster as his target.
“Hey, you… Endless Ability Academy, right? Why alone?” The braid-wearing female leader’s tone wasn’t harsh, likely due to his first-year status.
Su Bei replied lazily: “Fell out with my team.”
She looked skeptical. The buzz-cut male captain from the other team questioned: “Fell out? You just got here—how?”
“We clashed after being picked for the second round yesterday. I think we can’t beat anyone, so why bother? But they…” He showed a mix of resignation and indifference, “we don’t see eye to eye.”
Why? They wanted to try hard! The teams nodded, understanding—a valid reason for conflict. Su Bei’s solo act screamed giving up.
The braid captain’s expression was complex. As an opponent, she approved—slacking saved them trouble. But in his shoes, she’d have fought like his teammates, not given up.
She readied to fight: “I’ll send you out, granting your wish.”
“Wait!” The buzz-cut captain stopped her. “Keeping him’s better, no?”
“Why?” she asked, puzzled.
He explained leisurely: “Kill him now, you get five points. What’s that worth? Let him roam, he’ll face beasts, rack up points—then kill him for more.”
She got it—raise the pig, then slaughter. Su Bei was a lamb, ready for the taking.
But she had a concern: “How do you know we’ll find him later? If someone else kills him, we’re just setting them up.”
“So what?” He shrugged. “To win, you eliminate others. Someone kills him, you kill them. He’s a beast-killing asset for them, a point bank for us.”
After thinking, she agreed: “Fine, we spare him.”
While they talked, Su Bei stood bored, acting unaware they were deciding his fate. This boosted their trust—his demeanor showed no ambition or care for his life.
But he cared. Without a task, he wouldn’t mind an early exit—plots happened inside and out.
But he had a task: hold points and survive. Failing that was serious out-of-character behavior.
So, despite his calm facade, he was strategizing.
The buzz-cut captain’s words were one of his planned excuses.
Another was playing pitiful: say he hadn’t been to a theme park since his father’s death, wanting to enjoy this queue-free one.
They’d likely agree—students were soft-hearted, and Su Bei seemed non-threatening.
The third was saying an early exit, even forced, would get him scolded back at school, begging for more time, then slipping away.
One would work. Luckily, the buzz-cut captain convinced the braid captain, and things went smoothly.
Seeing they were done, Su Bei asked: “Decided? Can I go?”
“What’s next for you?” The braid captain asked curiously. She’d expected him to beg for death, but he didn’t, raising slight suspicion. Was he faking to avoid elimination?
She didn’t want to let a tiger loose, though she doubted he was one. Better safe than sorry—if he turned things around for Endless, she’d be furious.
Su Bei pointed to the idle roller coaster: “A queue-free theme park? Gotta play!”
His words hit home—many showed longing. A female teammate whispered to the braid captain: “Early kills are pointless. Maybe we…”
“No,” the braid captain, tempted but firm, refused. “Playing on rides, you’re a target—hard to escape. He doesn’t fear elimination, but do you?”
Quashing her team’s ideas, she turned to Su Bei: “Kill more beasts while you’re free. Don’t waste our mercy.”
She led her team away, not resuming their standoff with the buzz-cut captain’s team. As her teammate said, early kills were pointless—beast-killing was better.
Raising then slaughtering applied to Su Bei and others.
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