Chapter 191: Red Maple Boarding School (28) “We once imprisoned a god”

On the fourth floor of Red Maple Boarding School, the skeleton in the room was still tirelessly singing incomprehensible, irritating songs.

The treatment plan for “insomnia syndrome” was very clear: by using the remnants of two deceased individuals to create a potion, exactly one person could be saved.

But in practice, two deaths were far from enough.

The antidote required soil, mushrooms, yellow butterflies, and yellow flowers. Soil and mushrooms could not be obtained from a single person, meaning at least three deaths were needed to concoct enough antidote to save one person.

Moreover, many materials dropped randomly. If luck was bad, even more people might have to die… Sacrifice the majority to save the few; or let everyone die fairly together?

If the latter was chosen, it would undoubtedly go against the principle of rationality; if the former was chosen, by what standard should it be decided who to sacrifice and who to save?

Life is what people desire; death is what people detest. What right do others have to arbitrarily decide a person’s life or death?

Jiang Junjue was no saint. He had even, for the greater good, plotted the deaths of innocent people, but those were usually scenarios where a minority sacrificed for the majority.

Now, the numbers were reversed. If a conflict arose, the minority group would inevitably suffer.

Jiang Junjue was at a loss for a moment, holding a cigarette between two fingers, puffing away with a deep frown.

Chen Lidong finally couldn’t wait any longer and broke the silence, “Jiang Junjue, you’re an old timer in the Tingfeng Guild, make a decision. Who lives and who dies?”

He deliberately tried to push the responsibility onto Jiang Junjue, who refused to take the bait: “Zhang Yiyu might not have told the truth, otherwise there would be no need for her to violate the rules to leave. Although as a member of the Jiuzhou Guild, she has no standing to harm others, I still don’t believe the Eerie Game would be so blatant as to make us harm people.”

He paused, his tired eyes scanning everyone: “There might be another explanation for the medicinal potion. I hope everyone refrains from acting hastily and observes for a while.”

Chen Lidong had the Ring of Truth, so he naturally knew that the recipe Zhang Yiyu provided was genuine, but he would never reveal his trump card in front of Jiang Junjue.

He subtly suggested, “Whether the recipe is real or fake, we’ll know if we try. People have died since we entered the instance, and those bodies are still lying there intact. We can definitely gather the first batch of materials and concoct a potion to try. At worst, I’ll be the one to test the medicine.”

Indeed, the first batch of potions would not require killing anyone; they could simply make use of those who had already died.

But all uncertainties would vanish once observed. If the recipe was real, sacrificing living people would be inevitable after the materials ran out.

“Let’s talk about it later. The six of us can’t decide anything anyway.” Jiang Junjue glanced down at his watch, then turned and walked out, “It’s getting late, time to go to the dining hall for dinner.”

The group, heavy-hearted, descended the stairs in scattered steps and took their respective seats in the dining hall.

The six individuals did not belong to the same faction, so there was no possibility of keeping it a secret. Soon, all seventeen people in the dining hall knew about the recipe, whose authenticity was unknown and which went against human nature.

In the oppressive atmosphere, the hour hand pointed to twelve o’clock.

A plate of messy food appeared punctually in front of everyone. No one knew which talent had replicated these unpalatable dishes after Qi Si left.

At this moment, a few more players finally noticed Qi Si’s disappearance.

Someone quietly asked, “Where’s that NPC? If he were still here, we could just try it on him first…”

Chen Lidong knew the whole story but didn’t want to say anything.

Jiang Junjue, having completed his logical self-consistency, offered a wildly divergent guess: “If this recipe is true, then the Eerie Game deliberately excluded the NPC, not giving us a chance to experiment on him or complete the materials. To complete the new main quest, we must target our own people. Alas, this move is truly insidious…”

The players echoed him, condemning the Eerie Game’s sinister intentions.

Chen Lidong quickly finished his meal, went to the sink, washed his dishes, and put them back in place.

“I’m going to check the bathroom first to see if I can find ‘half a person’s soil’.” He tossed out a sentence, winked at Zhou Datong, then left the dining hall and headed towards the bathroom.

Zhou Datong understood, quickly finished his meal, and followed him out.

Ms. Medina’s office was between the dining hall and the bathroom, conveniently on the way. Chen Lidong stopped at the office door, gazing intently at the dark doorway, lost in thought.

Zhou Datong followed all the way, stopping beside Chen Lidong, then heard him slowly say, “Xiao Zhou, you should know, we were all tricked by Si Qi. He’s not an NPC, he’s a player. He used some item to impersonate an NPC and tricked us the whole way.”

Zhou Datong nodded, indignantly chiming in, “What kind of person is that? And we even saved him and gave him food!”

Chen Lidong continued on his own: “There’s one more thing. I verified it with the Ring of Truth, Zhang Yiyu didn’t lie. But her sudden, active violation of the rules makes me suspicious. My eyelid keeps twitching; I’m afraid Si Qi isn’t completely dead.”

Zhou Datong scratched his head: “So, should we go finish him off?”

“Are you stupid? What if he’s playing some trick, just waiting for us to fall for it? We’ll be dead the moment we open the coffin!” Chen Lidong reprimanded him, frustrated, then lowered his voice mysteriously, “Brother Chen will teach you a lesson: in instances like this, you have to learn to use NPCs, to fight fire with fire…”

After speaking, he took a step forward and respectfully knocked three times on the office door, producing three crisp “thud-thud-thud” sounds.

A suspicious rustling sound suddenly started and then ceased, followed by a “click,” and the door opened from the inside.

Ms. Medina, with her sinister expression, emerged and coldly asked, “Do you have business with me?”

Chen Lidong bowed slightly, a ingratiating smile on his face: “Ms. Medina, you previously asked us to report the Bad Kid who burned down the Archives. I think I have a lead.”

Observing Ms. Medina’s expression, his tone became even more humble: “That Bad Kid is 47! I can guarantee it, it must have been him who burned down the Archives! Such a destructive Bad Kid must be severely punished. How do you plan to deal with him?”

Ms. Medina narrowed her small gray eyes, scrutinizing Chen Lidong, seemingly judging his intentions. Two seconds later, the NPC revealed a satisfied smile: “Very good. Then please, sir, go and capture him. By this time the day after tomorrow, I must see him!”

Chen Lidong was startled, feeling that Ms. Medina’s words didn’t sound quite right. Just as he was about to speak again, three lines of text unequivocally refreshed on the system interface:

【Side Quest Refreshed】

【Side Quest (Mandatory): Capture 47 and deliver him to Ms. Medina’s office】

【Quest Time: 48 hours】

…Memorial Hall for Indigenous Victims, third floor.

Chang Xu and Shuomeng moved silently through the corridor, their footsteps hushed, as if fearing to disturb the ancient beings lurking there.

They pushed open the doors of dust-covered dorm rooms one by one, peering inside, and finally found a window that wasn’t absurdly high.

The stairwell from the third to the fourth floor had been sealed with cement. To go up the stairs, they would have to pry open all the cement with a Fate Poker — but who knew if that would count as damaging public property.

All things considered, the most feasible way to reach the fourth floor was to climb through a window.

“Chang Xu, you’ll have to work hard next.” Shuomeng familiarly patted Chang Xu’s shoulder as encouragement, then stepped back two paces to maintain distance.

Chang Xu looked at Shuomeng, then at the window covered in yellow mud, no longer hesitated, stepped forward, pushed the window open, and climbed out, resting most of his body on the window frame.

Three meters directly above that window was a window on the fourth floor, a distance perhaps unreachable for ordinary people, but no problem for a martial artist.

Chang Xu condensed five cards between his fingers, flung them into the air, and using the momentary suspension, pushed off the wall and leaped up, stepping on the stairs made of cards, reaching out to grab the window frame of the fourth floor.

That window was open, providing him convenience. He pushed himself up with both hands, flipped over the windowsill, and landed steadily on the cement floor.

He entered a room with a tightly shut main door. Low tables, like operating tables, were neatly arranged, empty except for a few brownish smudges at the edges, presumably dried bloodstains.

Perhaps… human experiments were once conducted here?

The door seemed to be locked. Chang Xu walked over and pushed it, but indeed, it didn’t open.

This instance did not allow destructive behavior, so he couldn’t kick the door open.

He could only explore this small room, less than fifty square meters.

In a way, this was a good thing; the limited space effectively reduced distracting options, making evidence collection simpler.

Chang Xu started from the door, inching his way across, when he suddenly stumbled with a “click”.

It turned out that a tile was loose, and it wobbled when stepped on.

A loose tile, surely lifting it to look underneath wouldn’t count as damage, would it?

Thinking this, Chang Xu hooked his fingers into the crack in the floor, gripped the edge of the tile, and lifted it.

After a “shhh” of friction, fine dust covered Chang Xu’s face, and several yellowed manuscripts beneath the tile caught his eye.

After two seconds of observation, key information refreshed on the system interface:

【Experiments have confirmed that the indigenous people indeed possess the ability to travel through time and space. However, this is not a witchcraft they can inherit through generations within their tribe, but a natural endowment bestowed upon them by the miraculous nature… In their settlements, there is a probability of spacetime vortices forming, where different times and spaces overlap and influence each other. Red Maple Boarding School, however, is a miraculous land, possessing two spacetime vortices: one in the Isolation Room and one in the Graveyard.】

【Indigenous children are naturally attuned to the deities protecting this land. Among them, those born with innate knowledge are called “shamans” or “witches,” naturally able to summon evil gods for possession or blessings, granting them temporary divine authority. Children who are possessed can perhaps be seen as the incarnation of gods in the human world… From this perspective, we once imprisoned a god.】

【Research shows that the indigenous script is a spell that can directly communicate with deities. This is a marvelous script, transcending the two dimensions of phonetics and glyphs in traditional linguistics, and incorporating the medium itself into the scope of meaning. The same text carried on different mediums may express entirely different meanings and be understood in different ways… Transcribing is not a feasible research method; only by possessing the original can the true meaning of those texts be understood.】

Chang Xu silently memorized the text and continued to explore other areas.

At a quarter past ten, the entire room had been thoroughly searched, and no new clues appeared.

Chang Xu cast a slightly reluctant glance at the tightly closed door, then no longer lingered, turned around, leaped out the window, clung to the rough exterior wall, took a few steps, and crouched to jump into the third-floor window.

Shuomeng had been waiting for a long time.

After listening to Chang Xu’s recount, he habitually pulled out a cigarette, fiddling with it in his hand: “It seems I was right; this instance indeed has a way to travel between two spaces… Let’s go to the Graveyard first. If I’m not mistaken, those gravestones are numbered.”

…Half past ten, in the Graveyard.

A dark cloud overhead obscured the sun, making the entire area damp and cold. Tiny yellow flowers bloomed into a sea, only reaching ankle height, swaying gently with the wind stirred by passing people.

Chang Xu and Shuomeng stood before the gravestone numbered “47,” looking at the low mound behind it, silently.

On the photo wall, Qi Si’s posthumous photo was numbered “47”; if burials also followed numbering, then this grave contained Qi Si’s “body.”

Qi Si sent them a message through the Isolation Room, most likely wanting them to dig him out.

Only marking a number on the wall without revealing more information probably contained a hint of coercion.

But the problem was, this grave also belonged to the items within the Memorial Hall. Would digging up the grave be considered “damaging public property” and violate the rules?

While he hesitated, Chang Xu blinked, and suddenly saw a section of soil missing from the grave mound. Correspondingly, a small pile of earth, exactly the amount of one shovel, appeared next to the mound.

Before he could figure out what was happening, the soil on the grave mound visibly diminished, and at the same time, piles of earth on both sides slowly grew, as if an invisible presence was digging soil with a shovel here.

Chang Xu watched quietly for a while, still without a clue, so he turned his questioning gaze to Shuomeng beside him.

Shuomeng: Thanks for asking, I know nothing.

The two looked at each other, then simultaneously turned back to the grave mound, staring blankly as a pit gradually appeared behind the gravestone, exposing the rotten coffin lying within.

Someone had kindly helped with the public property damage. Although Chang Xu was unclear about the situation, he still stepped forward, bent down, hooked his hands into the edge of the coffin lid, lifted it forcefully, and flipped it aside.

Inside the dark coffin, a young man in a white shirt and black trousers lay relaxed on his back, his head resting on his arm, looking exceptionally leisurely.

Woken by the sound of the coffin lid hitting the ground, the young man yawned lazily, his eyes drooping to conceal a fleeting hint of darkness in his expression, and said with a smile, “Long time no see, Brother Chang.

“It’s great… that you’re still alive.”