Chapter 8: The Manifestation of Truth's Power

“The door... is closed?!” Zhou Ke’s reminder hit like a bomb thrown into the lake, and everyone instantly erupted into a frenzy.

Among them, the quickest to act was none other than the unremarkable bespectacled young man.

“Hacking!”

Without hesitation, he summoned his Truth—a thick book plastered with countless labels on its cover, so cluttered it could make one’s head spin. The title read: Programming: From Beginner to Grave.

The glasses-wearer raised his right hand, holding the Truth as if on an invisible palm. The pages, untouched by any breeze, suddenly overflowed with streams of data composed of countless zeros and ones.

These streams materialized, like ants burrowing into the electronic lock of Door No. 2.

“Beep, unlocked.”

The smart lock, originally requiring a password, was now opened by unlawful means.

The girl in the school uniform’s eyes sparkled, her cheeks flushed as she stepped forward. “Um, I’m a bit timid... could I possibly...”

Before she could finish, the door slammed shut with a bang right in front of her nose, the gust of wind ruffling her sleek long hair.

She froze in shock. She never imagined that the bespectacled boy would have no thought to spare her gentleness and would simply shut her out.

“Hahaha! Sigma males never fall into a woman’s trap!”

No doubt, in such a critical moment, the only one laughing so heartlessly was Li Hua.

“He did nothing wrong. It’s better to disperse rather than gather many people in one room. Each person’s chance of survival increases this way, avoiding being caught all at once.”

The short-haired girl nodded thoughtfully and rationally.

She did not blame the glasses boy’s selfishness or lack of team spirit—for they were strangers to each other, and ensuring one’s own safety was the priority.

Just as they intended to discuss further strategies, the light outside dimmed, confirming Zhou Ke’s warning. She hurried to the door of Room No. 5.

The seven rooms on the same floor were not identical.

Room No. 1 was the most rudimentary, lacking even a lock.

Room No. 2, conversely, was the most advanced and secure, equipped not only with a smart electronic lock but also a solid alloy door, so sturdy it would take a long time to break even with a sledgehammer.

Next was Room No. 5, with a brand-new stainless steel security door.

Though it didn’t match Room No. 2’s level, it was leagues above the remaining wooden doors.

The muscular man in the vest had just come out from this room.

The short-haired girl glanced discreetly at him. Seeing that he made no move to stop her, she breathed a silent sigh of relief.

At this moment, a brilliant spiritual radiance shone forth. The short-haired girl summoned her own Truth.

But she concealed it well, so Zhou Ke, who was watching from the sidelines, could not discern the name of her book.

He only saw her palm open flat, and a small hammer, weathered and worn, appeared out of thin air.

This seemingly mundane little hammer tapped lightly on the lock of the door. With a faint click, the door swung open.

“Interesting. A male hacker, a female lockpicker,” Zhou Ke remarked with keen interest.

The colorful lives of mages far surpassed his imagination.

After all, he never tired of watching each person display their unique skills.

“I’ll introduce myself. My name is Linghu Shiyu. You should all tell me your names as well.”

After the door opened, Linghu Shiyu didn’t enter immediately but continued speaking while the sun still shone.

“If, in the end, I survive and get out alive, I will report to the ‘Mage Association’ and inform your families of the situation.

If you have any last words, you can write them down. Make several copies and pass them around...”

She paused.

“I can write too, after all, none of us know if we will make it.”

Linghu Shiyu was a thorough pessimist—always planning for the worst, speaking ill omens that sounded harsh but were always truthful.

In spirit, Zhou Ke felt this young lady possessed a hint of the chivalrous hero’s air... or perhaps it was simply the effect of her name.

“I’m Li Hua. If I don’t make it out alive, tell everyone I sacrificed myself for the greater good, a heroic martyr,” Li Hua was the first to speak.

“Remember! Make sure my image is portrayed as noble and righteous!”

“Heh, a pathetic loser would be more fitting,” Zhou Ke mocked.

“Strange, Ke, you pronounce those three characters just like me, so why do I hear disdain in your voice?”

“Really? Must be an illusion, Mr. Pathetic Loser.”

“No, no, your tone is clearly insulting me!”

While the two scoundrels bantered, the school uniform girl spoke up.

“My name is Chen Minqun, a sophomore at Guangcheng Drama Academy’s acting department.”

“College student?” The others were somewhat surprised, though Zhou had expected as much.

First, her makeup—though subtle—would never have been allowed in high school.

Second, her demeanor was unusually mature.

Her school uniform was likely just a costume for acting.

“Yes, I’m a college student,” Chen Minqun’s voice turned soft and sweet. “Sister Shiyu, girls are naturally vulnerable and it’s dangerous to be alone. May I come and stay with you?”

Shiyu waved her off politely, “I already said, spreading out makes everyone safer.”

Then she looked toward the muscular man in the vest.

Any sharp observer could tell that, like the glasses boy, the man had experience suppressing the ‘Door’.

Unfortunately, after explaining a few things at the start, the vest man had remained silent.

“I’m Louis. Just Louis. No last name, just Louis.”

The vest man’s introduction carried a certain swagger, and he flirtatiously brushed his curly hair.

“That’s a pretty fancy name,” Zhou Ke squinted and joked, then added, “I’m Zhou Ke, but you can all call me Mr. Zhou.”

“Why? Are you some renowned scholar?” Linghu Shiyu asked skeptically.

She examined Zhou carefully. His features were delicate, his age young, but his deep, calm black eyes set him apart.

Yet no matter how she looked, he was just a high school student.

Moreover, Zhou Ke’s name had never appeared in any news or newspapers.

“No.”

Zhou parted his lips and softly uttered a single word.

When all eyes turned to him in confusion, he smiled with satisfaction and began to explain.

“This is a precaution. Suppose I were the protagonist of some novel, then the title ‘Mr. Zhou’ has one more character than ‘Zhou Ke’. I hope the author, out of kindness for the extra character, will be merciful.”

He paused briefly before adding, “If that doesn’t work, I can go by ‘Dararabanga Bandebedib Duobiruon’—that might grant me even more leniency.”

“Or maybe call you...”

“Stop, stop, stop!”

Before his nonsense could spiral into infinity, Linghu Shiyu quickly interrupted.

“Don’t mind him, heroine. Ke has a few days a month like this. Just get used to it,” Li Hua chimed in to smooth things over.

“How is that supposed to be normal...?” Linghu Shiyu groaned, “And a few days a month? Do boys have ‘egg-switching’ periods? That shouldn’t affect intelligence, right?”

Being around Zhou Ke, Linghu Shiyu felt her spirit for sarcastic retorts burn fiercely.