The More You Think About It, the More Terrifying It Gets

Chen Guan clicked into the post.

The post was extremely long, divided into several sections. It covered everything from the structure of Astaroth’s ritual and the rankings of the six-winged projections to the price Liu Xiao had paid for his contract and the way Chen Guan’s side had ultimately broken through. It was detailed, organized, and thorough.

None of that particularly interested him. He had been the one to fight to the end, and no one understood the process better than he did.

What truly made him stop scrolling was a supplementary analysis at the very end of the post.

The section included two screenshots taken from different angles. The resolution wasn’t high, but the silhouettes were clear enough.

At the edge of the battlefield, standing atop the buildings in the surrounding urban district, were two figures.

A man and a woman.

The original post read:

【Pay attention to these two screenshots. These two people were present throughout the entire battle, but from beginning to end, they never made a move. They simply watched.】

【After comparing information from multiple sources, their identities can basically be confirmed.】

【If you want image quality as clear as mine, you’ll need a device that runs smoothly. I bought mine from “Ad Space Available for Rent.”】

【Just kidding, everyone. Though I do hope our sponsors will show me a little love. All right, back to the point.】

【The woman is Su Jin. That name may be unfamiliar to everyone, so let me put it another way: she is Su Yuehe’s mother, the Speaker of the Human Council. There’s no need to say much about her strength, but she is guaranteed to be at least Tier Ten.】

【The man is An Changsong, President of the Superhuman Association and An Changqing’s father. His known strength is Tier Twelve.】

Chen Guan’s thumb stopped on the screen.

What the hell? Why hadn’t anyone told him sooner?

When had these two heavyweights arrived?

He scrolled down to the comments. The reply section had already descended into chaos.

【So these two just stood there and watched a bunch of students risk their lives against a demon god projection???】

【Don’t rush to condemn them. Maybe they were guarding the field, staying nearby as a last resort in case things went completely out of control.】

【A last resort? When the six-winged projection nearly leveled the entire theater, why didn’t they do anything? What if those kids hadn’t been able to hold on?】

【I can understand Su Jin. Her daughter wasn’t inside, so watching the excitement is normal. But what’s An Changsong’s excuse? Is he not close to An Changqing?】

【The person above clearly hasn’t done their homework. An Changsong and An Changqing aren’t very close. There’s some conflict between that father and son. Still, Big An does care about Xiao An.】

【Put simply, he’s just cold-blooded.】

【I don’t think it’s that simple. Two powerful figures appearing around the battlefield and refusing to intervene from beginning to end… That doesn’t look like a spur-of-the-moment decision to come watch.】

【Think about it carefully. Does anyone remember that this whole incident started because An Changsong told his own idiot son to go there?】

【Holy crap!】

【Holy crap!】

The rest of the comments consisted of countless variations of “Holy crap.” After scrolling for quite a while without finding anything useful, Chen Guan closed the comment section.

The comments were right.

This whole incident had indeed started with An Changsong.

According to An Changqing, it was because of his father that he had gone to the Liu family’s estate—and brought the others with him.

Now that An Changsong had appeared here, there were two possibilities.

The first was coincidence. He had rushed over immediately after the incident and had known nothing about what would happen beforehand.

The second was a conspiracy. He had known from the very beginning, yet had deliberately sent An Changqing there anyway.

If it was the former, then it was nothing more than the protagonist’s curse: trouble followed him wherever he went.

But if it was the latter, then things would be troublesome.

…

Three days passed in the blink of an eye.

Three days was neither particularly long nor particularly short.

Chen Guan spent most of that time sleeping.

His left arm was wrapped in bandages. By the second day, the cooling sensation of the ointment had begun to fade, replaced by a faint, searing heat. A throbbing, burning pain seemed to squirm through the gaps between his bones.

He hadn’t mentioned it to anyone. Telling them would only make them worry for nothing.

As for the two elders who had watched from the sidelines, Chen Guan hadn’t mentioned them either. He had come to realize that every one of these families had secrets of their own.

The world was unfair! The rich second-generation version was already too overpowered. Someone needed to buff transmigrators!

On the morning of the third day, the official notice arrived at Huaqing Academy.

Chen Guan was woken by Long Ao.

“Get up. The notice is here.”

Chen Guan rolled over and sat up. He rubbed his face with his right hand, his voice still thick with sleep.

“What time do we assemble?”

“Six-thirty.”

Long Ao’s footsteps faded away outside the door.

Chen Guan sat on the edge of the bed in a daze for a while, then lowered his head and glanced at his left arm. The black seepage around the edge of the bandages had deepened another shade since yesterday.

Baal’s voice rang out at that moment, energetic as ever.

“Well, well. The color’s gotten darker again. Your arm sure knows how to put on a show. Still hasn’t rotted off yet.”

“Baal is kindly reminding you that once this thing spreads to your shoulder, it won’t be fun anymore. At that point, your entire arm will be ruined.”

Chen Guan tossed his jacket over his shoulder with one hand, then used his teeth to pull the sleeve over his left arm.

He opened the door and stepped into the hallway. It was six o’clock, and there wasn’t a soul in sight.

He had figured out long ago that arguing with Baal was a waste of time.

Downstairs, An Changqing was already waiting. He had removed the sling from his right arm and flexed it a couple of times. It seemed to have recovered well.

Long Ao was leaning against a nearby pillar. Su Yuehe and Yin Chen approached from another direction.

Hong Yuan arrived last, a half-eaten sausage clenched between her teeth. For once, she had stored her axe in her storage ring.

“Everyone’s here,” An Changqing said, sweeping his gaze over the group.

Yin Chen pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and read aloud, “Northern Frontier Great Wall Defense Line Rift No. 4 Detection Support Mission. Assembly point: East District helipad. Departure at eight sharp. Estimated flight time: four hours.”

Hong Yuan swallowed the sausage and licked her fingers.

“Four hours? We’ll get there by noon?”

“More or less.”

“Then we can make it in time for lunch.”

Yin Chen pressed a hand to his forehead, utterly defeated. Why was she still thinking about food?

He remembered that, thanks to the Turtle Chancellor, the head of academic affairs had just approved a hefty scholarship for Hong Yuan.

Chen Guan leaned against the stair railing, his gaze passing over everyone’s shoulders to the figure approaching along the main road.

Liu Feiyu.

He was dressed in dark blue, looking neat and well put together. Yet the expression on his face was still his usual devil-may-care look, as if none of what had happened before had ever taken place.

“Oh, everyone’s here already.”

Liu Feiyu approached with his trademark frivolous tone.

Yin Chen folded the notice and put it away, then glanced at his watch. “It’s about time. We’ll talk while we walk.”

After returning from the Northern Frontier, the arrogance that had always characterized Yin Chen had faded considerably.

The seven of them headed toward the East District helipad. There weren’t many people on campus in the early morning. The streetlamps were still lit, and mist curled around their feet.

Long Ao walked beside Chen Guan and spoke in a lowered voice.

“Your arm’s worse today than it was yesterday, isn’t it?”

“How could you tell?”

“When you walk, you avoid putting weight on the left side of your body. Almost all your balance is on the right.”

Chen Guan didn’t deny it. Long Ao usually didn’t say much, but he had always been remarkably observant.

“When we reach the Northern Frontier, get your arm treated first. Don’t try to tough it out.”

“I know.”

Liu Feiyu, walking ahead of them, suddenly slowed down and fell into step on Chen Guan’s other side.

“Thanks for what happened last time.”

Chen Guan turned his head and glanced at him. Liu Feiyu was looking straight ahead, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Thanks for what?”

“You know what I mean.”

Chen Guan did not press him for an explanation. He simply nodded, accepting it.

Liu Feiyu quickened his pace and returned to the front of the group, once again becoming the cheerful, joking third son of the Liu family.