In He Lecheng’s office, only the two of them were present.
In a school setting, if a student has a psychological issue, is it really strange for them to talk to their homeroom teacher to relieve some stress?
From the very beginning, the school rules manipulated by Hui Yulian warned players not to go to He Lecheng’s office. This detail was suspicious.
Sure enough, this rule wasn’t present in the real school regulations.
Xiao Huai looked at He Lecheng without a trace of fear in his eyes, as if he had forgotten who the NPC was that committed mass murder yesterday.
The air in the office was thick with the sweet metallic scent of blood, and the décor was bizarre and eerie, completely unlike a typical school office. In fact, it resembled something else—more like the office of a psychiatrist in a mental hospital.
The walls were adorned with strange paintings, and various toys and dolls cluttered the desk.
The first thing Xiao Huai noticed was the oil painting of Ivy League Girls’ School hanging next to the clock. The brush strokes and style vaguely suggested that the painting depicted the school in 1987.
“Mr. He, can I talk to you?” Xiao Huai asked.
“Of course, as a homeroom teacher, it's part of my responsibility to help students relieve stress,” He Lecheng replied, meeting Xiao Huai's gaze.
“Then, I want to leave this place,” Xiao Huai said.
He Lecheng raised an eyebrow as Xiao Huai approached him.
Taking out Hanako’s diary, Xiao Huai smiled lightly, “You never said we couldn’t leave the school, right, Mr. He?”
“No, I was wrong. We can’t leave because this world is fake, isn’t it, Mr. God?” Xiao Huai corrected himself, his voice calm.
When Xiao Huai had earlier asked Hui Yulian about the selection criteria for the game, it was He Lecheng who answered. And back then, He Lecheng used the pronoun "we."
He had said, “our world.”
The world of the gods.
From that moment, Xiao Huai had suspected that some of the NPCs in the game were being played by gods.
He Lecheng’s smile gradually faded, and he calmly watched Xiao Huai, his face devoid of expression.
Xiao Huai seemed to have anticipated this reaction. He began to recite from the diary.
“Friday, Saturday, Sunday,” Hanako had written.
She was happy every day, playing games with many older sisters. She made a lot of friends here. But her friends were not human. Every day, someone jumped off a building and committed suicide. All the corpses reeked of oil. Here, everyone was a child, though only a few remembered.
Ivy League Girls’ School wasn’t a high school from the beginning—it was an elementary school.
“And you, you are the dream maker, the attending psychiatrist of Jiang Shuli—Dr. He,” Xiao Huai said.
As he finished speaking, He Lecheng’s eyes narrowed, revealing a hint of uncontrollable amusement. His body trembled slightly, excitement coursing through him.
He Lecheng let out a sharp laugh, like a clown in a circus, clutching his stomach as tears of laughter rolled down his face.
“Haha, how amusing! It’s been so long since anyone has figured out my identity! You’re Xiao Huai, right? So, you’re the one who stole my work badge.”
Xiao Huai met his gaze indifferently, “You never said I couldn’t steal it.”
He Lecheng’s eyes gleamed as he quietly said, “But you must know, if you return to the polluted source world, you know what awaits you. Why not stay in my world and follow the rules?”
He reached out to touch Xiao Huai, but Xiao Huai sidestepped, maintaining a distance.
He didn’t like others deliberately touching him.
He Lecheng didn’t mind, pausing for a second before smirking.
“You’ve got quite an advantage. You’re the last one in the class, after all.”
Xiao Huai smiled, a rogue grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Hmm... seems like being last has its perks. But Mr. He, the school rules are flawed.”
He continued in a low voice, “Rule number ten—homework.”
The power to assign homework was entirely in He Lecheng’s hands. He could assign as much or as little as he wanted. But what if he assigned impossible tasks?
At that moment, everyone became his plaything. Whoever he wanted dead could die.
“And as for rule nine, Mr. He, you should know, we already completed that rule from the beginning.”
Except for Class 44, the students from other classes were all dead. Could they participate in the final exam? The answer was obvious.
The rule applied to the whole school, but in reality, only to the whole class. Even if the top scorer in the class only had twenty points, they would still be the top scorer in the school.
He Lecheng’s grin widened as he silently watched Xiao Huai.
“But I’m curious about something—why set identity cards in this game? Your purpose isn’t that simple, is it?” Xiao Huai asked.
He Lecheng let out a small laugh. “The answer is simple, kid.”
He snapped his fingers, and the fake persona of He Lecheng fell away.
He now wore a colorful robe, the vibrant stripes intertwining into strange patterns. A pointed hat adorned with multicolored bells sat on his head, ringing softly with every movement.
His face resembled a painter’s palette, bright makeup covering it. Exaggerated eyeshadow surrounded his eyes, and his mouth curled into an odd smile.
“Because I’m the God of Mischief. You were just unlucky enough to encounter me.”
As he finished speaking, the office door swung open, and a dagger aimed directly at Xiao Huai.
Seeing the face of his attacker, Xiao Huai wasn’t surprised. He calmly dodged aside.
Even gods couldn’t directly harm players, but their followers were a different story.
The attacker was Hu Jiang, a follower of the God of Mischief.
Gone was Hu Jiang’s previous innocent, naïve expression. His eyes were now filled with malice as he glared at Xiao Huai.
“You don’t seem surprised by my arrival,” Hu Jiang said coldly.
“I have to admit, you played the fool well. At first, I thought you were just a clueless newbie,” Xiao Huai replied.
“Hmph,” Hu Jiang scoffed, unconvinced. “When did you discover my identity?”
Xiao Huai responded, “At first, it was just a gut feeling, but later, I accidentally saw a stone glowing under your blanket one night.”
That stone was the communication stone of the Falcon organization. If Hui Yulian hadn’t tried to tie me up back then, I might not have known what it was. A lucky accident.
They were part of the same organization. Hui Yulian’s death was too convenient. Anyone who had access to her hair—her roommates or trusted teammates—could have done it.
So, when Xiao Huai found the red finger hidden on Hui Yulian, he guessed Hu Jiang’s identity. Hui Yulian had tried to write Hu Jiang’s name, but time ran out, so she left only the character for “Gu” (an ancient radical) on the red finger. That was enough to confirm that Hu Jiang was the killer.
Hu Jiang chuckled, “That foolish woman dragged me down after all.”
Black patches, like corpse spots, began to appear on Hu Jiang’s body, releasing toxic fumes that spread rapidly. Xiao Huai raised an eyebrow, taking a few steps back, trying to leave the office, but the door was locked.
He Lecheng, enjoying the show, sat down and rested his chin on his hand, watching them.
Xiao Huai covered his nose and retreated to the door.
“Wait... at least let me die knowing why. Otherwise, my ghost will haunt this game and curse you forever.”
Hu Jiang paused, then smirked smugly.
“Fine, I’ll grant your wish. Let’s start with my identity.”
“My name is Hu Jiang, a conqueror of the fourth-layer game, and also a loyal follower of the God.”
“My mission is simple: to keep all of you here forever!” His poisonous gas began to close in on Xiao Huai.
Watching Hu Jiang’s increasingly deranged expression, Xiao Huai calmly asked, “How do you plan to do that?”
“Heh, of course, by forcing you all to join Hanako’s game,” Hu Jiang replied.
Xiao Huai chuckled softly, lowering his hand from his nose. With a mischievous grin, he reached behind him.
When Hu Jiang saw what Xiao Huai was holding, his eyes widened in shock.
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