NOVGO.NET Chapter 301 : Chapter 301
Translator: AkazaTL
Proofreader/Editor: JWyck
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Chapter 301
Even I couldn’t help but sigh: “Why didn’t the author just make Nightmare Beasts capable of turning back into humans?”
If he’d set it up that way, everything would’ve been neatly resolved. Whether it was wiping out Nightmare Beasts or clearing the “Black Flash” organization’s name, it’d be easy. The manga could wrap up smoothly, and the manga world could keep running post-plot.
Sure, that’d mean I wouldn’t have my revival chance. But honestly, I wasn’t that desperate to come back. As the saying goes, when you die, the path ends. Dead and buried, eyes closed—who thinks about all this stuff?
Yet the author had to ditch the straight path for a detour. No, wait—the detour was my doing, not the author’s. The author’s move was to skip the straight path and sit down to rest.
“Because, logically, from the origin of Nightmare Beasts, they can’t turn back into humans. To make them capable of that, you’d have to change their fundamental settings,” [Manga Consciousness]’s voice sounded in my ear. “That’d be too much trouble for the author.”
Hearing this, I got it. Fair point—Nightmare Beasts, as resentment creatures, weren’t even a complete human consciousness. Logically, they couldn’t revert. I’d agreed with that logic before.
I didn’t dwell on this pointless issue, sliding my phone screen to keep browsing the forum. Another post about me caught my eye.
《Did Su Bei really just go play in the last moments?》
【BeigeFanNo.0: Knowing Su Bei, he’s not the type to face danger head-on. ‘A gentleman doesn’t stand under a crumbling wall’ fits him perfectly, though he’s no gentleman.
Knowing they’d be teleported to a more dangerous place, his reaction wasn’t to save himself but to straight-up give up. I suspect something’s up.】
【No.1: Hahahahaha can’t tell if OP’s a fan or hater】
【BeigeFanNo.2 (OP) reply No.1: True fan (serious face)】
【No.3: I also feel Su Bei’s either tied to this conspiracy, maybe even in on it with “Black Flash,” or he’s got an escape plan ready.】
【No.4: Beige’s image is so ingrained】
【No.5: That’s Su Bei (lol)】
【No.6: That’s Su Bei (lol)】
【No.7: That’s Su Bei (lol)】
【…】
【No.47: Look at this amusement park overview. No sign of Su Bei. Everyone else—protagonist group, even Elvis and Huangfu Mingzhe—has a little figure, but not Su Bei. I seriously suspect he bailed! AmusementParkOverview.jpg】
【No.48 reply No.47: Hahahaha everyone’s qqqqqq-style figures are so cute, identified by hair color】
【No.49 reply No.47: Really no Su Bei. Maybe he’s somewhere the overview can’t see? Like the haunted house or inside that train he went to…】
【No.50 reply No.49: Real-world angle, possible. Manga angle, if author wanted a last-moment showcase, they could’ve put him on a road or open-air ride.】
【No.60: Support above, Su Bei definitely bailed】
【No.61 reply No.60: We call it tactical retreat】
【No.62 reply No.61: Hahahahaha sounds like Su Bei】
【No.63 reply No.61: Su Bei, log in and speak】
【…】
Reading that comment, I nodded approvingly. Am I that cowardly? Tactical retreat—how’s that “running”?
Later posts mostly debated whether I got teleported with everyone—nothing new. I closed the forum.
Then I pulled out “Destiny” organization’s notebook, searching for the latest “Black Flash” intel. As an organization with infiltrated members everywhere, our intel sources were always rich.
After spending hefty Points, the first message I saw was “Black Flash organization has resumed activities.”
The provider was anonymous, but I could spend more Points to open a chat. The chat wouldn’t reveal their identity—just let them receive my message, and they might not reply.
That was enough. Using an anonymous account, I sent a small Point sum, then messaged: “Did they succeed?”
It’s an unspoken rule for follow-ups—if they take the Points, they answer.
Maybe short on Points, they accepted quickly, no questions, replying: “Maybe succeeded, I’m low-ranking.”
I: “…”
Low-ranking, huh? Shirking responsibility. But I knew they hadn’t succeeded. Their higher-ups likely hid the failure.
What I really wanted to know was whether “Black Flash” was the oriole behind the praying mantis, picking up Nightmare Beasts’ mess, or collaborating, scheming and contributing.
Either way, “Black Flash” resurfacing confirmed one thing—this world competition crisis was tied to them.
Realizing this, I didn’t ask more, drafting a new intel post: “World competition players’ teleportation is related to ‘Black Flash’ organization.”
I included “world competition” as a keyword, hoping keen eyes would find it. I also wanted “Destiny” to gain more manga presence—it might be useful later.
Most importantly, I needed this to preemptively warn the good guys that “Black Flash” might be colluding with Nightmare Beasts.
If the final teleportation in the illusion was “Black Flash” related, and they were sent to their turf, fine. But if they were sent to the Nightmare Beast world, it’d be interesting to those in the know.
Only if Nightmare Beasts held absolute control would Jiang Tianming and co. be sent there. So where was “Black Flash” involved? If not the oriole, what were they?
If “Black Flash” really was colluding with Nightmare Beasts, this suspicion would let the good guys uncover the truth sooner than the author planned.
Early truth discovery means there will probably be fewer deaths.
I’m no saint, but I’m not a villain either. If I could help without harming myself, I didn’t mind.
“Destiny” has influence. After a two-hour nap, I woke to an anonymous account asking: “How reliable is the intel? Does ‘involved’ mean ‘Black Flash’ took the players?”
Such urgency, plus a big Point bonus for the second question—they were clearly an involved party. Using leader privileges, I checked their backend—Sesbian nationality, as expected.
“Destiny” membership, aside from initial [Manga Consciousness] invites, relied on one-time referrals by members with enough Points.
Thus, member info was recorded to some extent, and as “Destiny” leader, I alone could see it.
That’s the perk of letting [Manga Consciousness] handle this. “Destiny” runs on the notebook’s system—like a precise computer or tuned program. No staff needed; it sorts messages, letting users trade Points for info.
No other leaders ensured maximum secrecy.
For the two questions, I answered only the first: “100% reliable.”
I trusted my judgment.
The second, I couldn’t confirm. If “Black Flash” just exploited the Nightmare Beasts’ plan, they took the players. If they were colluding, the Nightmare Beasts took them—they’d never share.
Seeing I answered only the first, they got the hint.
With dialogue done, I left my room to eat. Outside was chaos—teachers and parents, knowing of missing and dead students, surrounded the hotel demanding answers from Sesbia’s government.
Such losses, unseen since a century ago, were nearly a total wipeout if the missing students didn’t return.
You can’t hide this—people aren’t fools. Trouble outside the competition meant inside couldn’t be fine. Even if illusion players were unharmed, once outside crises were resolved, the competition should’ve stopped and called them back. Their absence meant trouble.
Sesbia’s government, unable to cover it up, tried to appear honest to quell anger.
They failed. Seeing the furious crowd, I could only mourn for them. They deserved this for failing as hosts, letting the Nightmare Beasts’ plot succeed.
But I didn’t expect it to backfire on me. Someone outside spotted me, shouting: “That yellow-haired kid’s the only survivor!”
Me: “?”
How’d this leak? Was Sesbia’s internal security a sieve? Even my survivor status got out. Don’t they protect victims’ privacy?
What if Nightmare Beasts came for revenge, or grieving families blamed me for surviving while their kids didn’t?
It wasn’t impossible—I heard shouts like “Why’d you survive?” and “Why not save others?” Their bitter glares made it seem like I killed them.
Sometimes, victims’ families lose reason. I learned this from Sun’s Father and Mother after the semester-start incident.
Now the blame shifted from Wu Mingbai to me. I wanted to thrash the leaker.
Facing the crowd with a helpless expression, I turned back to my room, messaging Qi Huang to bring food up.
Qi Huang sent a question mark, then called. Seeing her name, I genuinely felt her friendship with Lan Subing was miraculous. Lan Subing dreaded calls; Qi Huang loved them.
Picking up, Qi Huang’s voice came through: “Why have me bring food? Cafeteria’s downstairs, you know?”
“Zombie siege down there,” I replied concisely. “Your justice light can make them scatter.”
Qi Huang: “?”
Speechless for a moment, she waved it off: “Fine, I’ll grab it.”
She hung up, and soon knocked. I opened the door, finding Qi Huang in good spirits, holding a heaping plate of beef and potato rice, looking radiant.
I raised an eyebrow, quickly guessing: “The ‘zombies’ hyped you up?”
Unlike me, Qi Huang was the protector. Without her, forget the Black Gourd Nightmare Beast—low- and mid-level ones would’ve overwhelmed everyone.
If Sesbia leaked my survivor status, they surely didn’t hide Qi Huang saving everyone. As a hero protecting staff and reserve students, she’d get a warm welcome downstairs.
“Calling them zombies?” Qi Huang rolled her eyes, annoyed. Though the crowd did weirdly fit my “zombie siege” description.
But they kept praising her!
Handing me the food, Qi Huang didn’t leave, sitting on a chair, curious: “So why not eat downstairs? It’s not because you hate stares, right?”
She said this because, at “Endless Ability Academy,” we’d endured long periods of attention, especially as first-year S-Class. Eating in the cafeteria felt like needles on our backs.
Even the ultra-socially-anxious Lan Subing got desensitized, barely tolerating stares at school.
I shrugged: “I’m the only survivor.”
Qi Huang froze, then understood, her smile turning to anger: “How could they? You escaping was your skill. Should you have stayed to get taken? Without you reporting the situation, they’d know nothing about those people.”
“Forget them. We’ll be back in a few days anyway.” Though teachers hadn’t explicitly said it, with this situation, the academy wouldn’t let us stay waiting for Jiang Tianming’s group.
Never mind when or if they’d return—as part of the few survivors, we needed to get back to suitable ground. Plus, the outside situation wasn’t safe for me to stay—can’t bet everyone’s reasonable.
Qi Huang didn’t want to leave; she wanted to wait. But she knew it wasn’t her call, sighing and changing topics: “Wonder how Senior… Mu and them are. Will they leave with us?”
“Probably not. The issue’s unresolved, right?” I shook my head. Normally, seniors would be sent back post-coma, but with stable vitals and no urgent treatment needed, the academy kept them.
Keeping them in public view made catching the culprit most convincing. We all knew who it was—they loved turning the tables.
“How are they? I…”
“Knock knock knock!”
Before Qi Huang finished, a knock came. Opening the door, it was Teacher Li, her expression complex: “Your arrangements—the academy’s sending people to pick you up soon. As for Jiang Tianming and them, latest intel says ‘Black Flash’ is involved. If they took them, they’re likely safe for now.”
Like forum readers, hearing this from “Destiny,” they thought “Black Flash” was the oriole behind the mantis, sniping the Nightmare Beasts—not colluding.
I couldn’t confirm the other theory, so I said nothing.
Qi Huang’s eyes widened in shock: “’Black Flash’ organization? How’d they do it?”
Nightmare Beasts’ competition scheme was meticulously planned, yet “Black Flash” intervened—impressive. Unless they were colluding from the start, that’s another story.
“Unclear, but we’re heading to ‘Black Flash’ turf for clues,” Teacher Li sighed, unable to answer.
“Go back at ease. I’ll notify you with updates.”
Hard to be at ease, but that was all she could say.
She looked at me, worried, clearly aware of the crowd’s attitude toward me as survivor: “Ignore what others think. Protecting yourself in that situation was impressive. No one can demand that you save others or share their fate.”
“I know, Teacher,” I smiled obediently. “But they’re annoying. Can I teach them a lesson?”
Changing so many fates was tough, but making their luck worse? I could do that. I’m no saint—cursing me to my face and expecting me to swallow it? No way.
Some might have strong Abilities, but [Destiny Gear] was silent, especially when not altering fate, just luck—it was near impossible to counter.
“This…” My unexpected reply made Teacher Li’s mouth twitch. She meant to tell me not to mess around, but thinking of my Ability, maybe I wasn’t joking.
Hesitating, she asked: “What’re you planning? They’re victims too—loved ones missing or dead. If you go too far, even if it’s justified, it’ll look unjust.”
Teacher Li didn’t stop me—some deserved a lesson. Plus, we’d leave soon after, no need to worry about retaliation.
But scale mattered—she worried I’d overdo it, being young.
I knew this. They were just mouthy for now—no need for harsh measures. I nodded: “I’ll just make them have some bad luck for a while.”
“Will this affect the missing students?” Relieved, Teacher Li suddenly asked sternly, recalling something.
I laughed speechlessly—what did she take me for? “Of course not.”
Teacher Li fully relaxed: “Then do as you like, but keep it measured.”
With her approval, I slowly set down my chopsticks, stood up, and headed out.
Teacher Li followed to prevent mishaps. Out of curiosity, Qi Huang tagged along.
Downstairs, I sat calmly on a sofa, quickly locking onto those resentful of me as the survivor.
Tweaking their pointers slightly, I stood, smiling politely: “Heard that unreasonable people get bad luck.”
The next second, their faces changed, clutching their stomachs in unison.
“Pfft pfft pfft pfft pfft—”
A string of loud farts erupted like firecrackers. Others’ faces turned green, covering noses, scattering to escape the stench.
The farters, too embarrassed to question me, fled with twisted expressions, red-faced, hunched over. Any slower, and they’d soil themselves—facing ultimate humiliation.
Moments later, the crowded entrance was empty.
I blinked, surprised at this effect, then laughed, clapping: “Two birds, one stone.”
Qi Huang gave a thumbs-up, genuinely impressed: “Badass.”