Chapter Forty-Four: Strange Reflections

The man saw me rushing toward him at top speed, and since I had no weapon in hand, he could only dodge backward. But I had to seize the opportunity—landing, I suddenly accelerated again.

The Snowblade sliced through iron as if it were nothing, and with a single thrust, it pierced through his back. Yet I paid a price for my recklessness; my calf and arm were both cut in the chaos. Their attacks were wild, without any real technique—just pure ferocity—but that made them easier to handle than those who relied on trickery.

Without hesitation, after cutting down one man, I lunged at another. But they had realized the flaw in their strategy; instead of surrounding me, they drew closer together. I pushed off with both feet, launching myself at one of them. Swiftly, I pulled a weapon from my ring and hurled it. The man rushed to block it, failing to notice that I was already upon him.

I parried a blade from the side, then ducked low and swept at their legs. Two men reacted quickly and dodged, but the third was not so lucky. His legs were severed directly, and he fainted from the pain.

Now it was just two against one, and I wore a relaxed expression.

“You bastard, just wait—someone stronger will come for you!” the leader spat, then retreated down a narrow path with his companion, leaving behind the man with maimed legs, unconscious.

I glanced at him briefly, then ended his pain with a swift stroke. The Snowblade, having killed, bore not a single trace of blood—truly a fine weapon. I returned the blade to my ring and quickly left the scene. After all, two men had died here, one in a particularly brutal fashion. If I lingered, I’d surely be swept into a mess of trouble.

Strolling down the street, I felt the breeze against my face. At that moment, I felt like someone reborn from the ashes. It was nearly seven o’clock, and I ambled toward the school, lost in thought. Surely, now there was no one at school who could challenge me—not even those who had practiced martial arts since childhood. The difference in spiritual energy was simply too great. Even if a professional athlete competed with me now, I’d be equal in every aspect.

“Everyone, don’t forget—be at school by eight sharp!” My phone rang suddenly; I didn’t even need to look to know it was that old bastard, the Ghost King. So many days had passed since our visit to Toothless Village, yet we’d found no clues about him. The information was fragmentary; I didn’t know where to begin searching.

As I walked, I spotted Chen Chen jogging in the morning.

“Heading to school already?” Chen Chen asked.

“Yes, isn’t the Ghost King telling us to go?” I replied, pulling my phone from the ring and waving it at him.

Chen Chen looked at me in disbelief. Then he pulled his phone from his pocket, opened the group chat, and handed it to me.

“Look, didn’t the Ghost King say today was a holiday?”

I took his phone and read the message: “Everyone gets a two-day break. See you in two days.”

My mouth hung open and my brow knit in confusion. I checked my own phone—there it was, the exact same message!

“What did I just see, then?” I muttered under my breath. After a few seconds, Chen Chen and I glanced up at each other, immediately breaking into a run toward the school.

If the Ghost King was trying to mislead me, there must be some clue waiting there! I also noticed then that a leaf had appeared on Chen Chen’s head—just like mine before, a sign that he had just gained control over spiritual energy.

Running at full speed, it took us less than five minutes to reach the school gates. As we drew near, I sensed something different—black mist shrouded the grounds. I drew my weapon, vaulted the fence, and pulled Chen Chen in after me.

The moment I entered, I felt an invisible force pressing down on me, forcing me to shield myself with spiritual energy. Was it an illusion, or something more? Inside the school, even the sunlight seemed to dim. Apart from the eerie atmosphere, nothing else seemed amiss.

Then Chen Chen spoke, snapping me to attention: “Why aren’t there any students coming to school?”

As the words left his lips, I noticed figures on the front lawn. Chen Chen and I shared an unspoken understanding and hurried over—only to freeze in shock at what we found. These weren’t people; they were a group of ghosts.

Their faces were deathly pale, their bodies radiating cold, yet they seemed oblivious to our presence. Even Chen Chen, who had seen much, was stunned into silence. The ghostly children appeared to be in class, but in the next instant, terror spread across their faces in varying degrees.

The scene felt hauntingly familiar. Then, writing appeared out of nowhere on the blackboard before them: “Student Wang Guoqing, please touch Li Jiajia’s thigh for ten seconds. You have thirty minutes.”

Damn it—wasn’t this the Ghost King’s doing?

Chen Chen sensed something was wrong. “Could it be that they’re playing the same horror game?”

I signaled him to stay silent and follow me. I walked up to the podium and glanced at the lesson plan the teacher had left behind. It was from ten years ago...

I tried to open the book but couldn’t touch it no matter how I tried.

Suddenly, the scene changed again. Two people were rampaging through the school, slashing wildly—blood and flesh flying. The resemblance to us was uncanny!

Moments later, the vision shifted once more, and at last, I saw what I’d been searching for. A male student, covered in blood, opened the lesson plan and scrawled a message in a trembling hand. I could just make out: “Help me... don’t...”

Wasn’t this the very lesson plan we had burned back then?

After writing, the student stood frozen for a moment, then suddenly turned and looked straight at me. I was startled, and the scene vanished. The oppressive atmosphere lifted, and I could see classmates passing by in the school corridors.

I drew deep breaths of fresh air and turned to Chen Chen. He seemed dazed, unresponsive no matter how I called to him. With no other choice, I injected a bit of spiritual energy into him, and he, too, returned to normal.

“What just happened?” Chen Chen gasped.

“Someone set us up, but I don’t think it was meant to harm us...” I sank to the ground, lit a cigarette, and took a moment to collect myself. What unnerved me most was that student who wrote in the lesson plan—the way he looked at me in the end.

“I also caught a detail—the student who wrote in the lesson plan was named...”

“Li Ping’an,” Chen Chen finished, sitting heavily beside me as if a weight had been lifted.

“All right, I’ll see what I can find out these next few days.”

I nodded slightly, got to my feet, and walked out of the school.

(Maybe that’s all for today—might not update again until tomorrow, friends.)