Chapter 26: Antidote

Xia Yin knew the Spiritual Academy only had sunny days.

Warm sunlight bathed the campus paths, gentle breezes rustled every flower and blade of grass, making students feel like they lived in an eternal spring—not the timeless blur of Youdu, where day and night melded.

But now, he felt no sunlight, no breeze.

He was underground.

The library’s archive vault, true to its name, lay thirty meters below the library.

It stored the Academy’s records—student files, construction documents, mission reports, case files.

With enough digging, you might even unearth gossip about the principal, Ling Jiming, from his youth.

Accessing the vault required high clearance; ordinary people couldn’t even enter the basement.

But Xia Yin’s S-rank gave him access.

And today, he was here for a reason—Professor Chen Qiyun had summoned him again.

This wasn’t his first private meeting with Chen.

Including the one before his Qingtan mission, this was his third this semester.

Entering the vault, he first saw the counter.

A white-haired old man sat behind it.

A stranger might mistake him for the vault’s keeper.

But Xia Yin knew that spot belonged to the Academy’s AI, Chang Yi, who had no physical form, so her “seat” being taken was understandable.

“You’re finally here,” the old man said, adjusting his glasses.

“‘Finally here’? When did you turn into Odin? The fake, discount version—not the Norse myth one,” Xia Yin quipped, plopping into the chair like a patient ready to say, “Doc, my throat’s sore” or “Doc, my tooth hurts.”

Chen Qiyun smiled kindly, used to Xia Yin’s antics.

“Any abnormalities with the new student?” he asked.

Xia Yin blinked. “You mean Xueqiu, right? Not that game-obsessed coward…”

Realizing he’d slipped, he cleared his throat, adopting a serious tone.

“Our Xueqiu’s adapting fast, studying hard. I’m sure she’ll ace the entrance exam.”

Chen nodded slightly. “It’s 9:37 a.m. She’s probably taking it now. Let’s hope she’s the new hope you say she is.”

“New hope?”

Xia Yin paused, the phrase sounding familiar.

“Aren’t you gonna ask if she’s questioned me about turning into a girl or anything else?”

“You didn’t know at first either, right?” Chen said slowly.

Xia Yin nodded vigorously—more like bobbing his head.

Chen didn’t continue.

His wrinkled hand picked up a kraft paper folder from the counter and silently handed it to Xia Yin.

“What’s this?” Xia Yin asked.

“An ancient scroll on ‘Arcane Arts.’ After your first meeting with Xueqiu, the board held a discussion and attributed her transformation to it.”

Arcane Arts?

The term jolted Xia Yin, unleashing a flood of words like Pandora’s box.

“You mean that Arcane Arts, right? Not bedroom tricks or stage magic—those alchemy things the Bombavic University folks talked about when they visited, no equivalent exchange nonsense…”

“If so, aren’t Arcane Arts for fighting Shadow Ghosts? Like guns are for killing? If someone used it on her, shouldn’t she be dead? Why use it on her? My Arcane bullets were for Shadow Ghosts—she’s not one.”

“And how’d those old geezers know the exact second I met her? Got a pinhole camera on me, Professor?”

Chen was silent, then pointed to the folder.

“You didn’t take chemistry courses, so your knowledge of Arcane Arts is surface-level. The folder has detailed, authoritative info—better than textbooks.”

“You didn’t call me just to answer that, right? If you’ve got nothing else, I’d like to bounce. That shut-in’s probably filling out her name and gender now,” Xia Yin said with a grin, falling silent.

“Your Qingtan mission was well-executed,” Chen said encouragingly.

Despite being held back in his sophomore year for over three years, Xia Yin’s mission count rivaled seniors who’d graduated and joined city branches.

“There’s more,” Chen added. “In three years, you’ve had 12 missions but 14 disciplinary actions. None this time. Let’s keep it that way.”

“Those were accidents… accidents… Witnesses should’ve forgotten me, unless this generation’s logistics team is all nepotism hires…” Xia Yin laughed awkwardly, then his tone turned firm. “So, no credit, but at least I worked hard, right, Professor? Can I skip to junior year this fall?”

“I’ll give you a high evaluation at semester’s end, but the principal decides,” Chen said slowly, as if building to the real question.

“Great! I thought I’d be stuck here eleven years like someone, but they lingered in senior year. I’m only a sophomore…” Xia Yin muttered.

“Did you see Javier in Qingtan?” Chen suddenly shifted gears.

“Jav… who?”

Xia Yin froze for a second, his eye twitching.

“Nope. I met the new Pivot members in Qingtan’s branch. They said they’ve been searching the city for him.”

“Reliable sources say he’s joined ‘Antidote,’” Chen said, exhaling, as if relieved to get it out.

“Antidote, huh…” Xia Yin, rarely speechless, grew serious.

“Per Qingtan branch reports, Antidote’s ‘Queen’ and ‘Chariot’ have been active there too,” Chen added.

Xia Yin lowered his head, silent.

He knew those were chess codenames.

He knew what Antidote was.

If the Spiritual Academy was a shackle, restraining Shadow Ghost gene carriers for society’s benefit, Antidote melted those chains, uniting them.

No restraint, no morals, no care for ghost-slaying.

They wanted to become those “ghosts.”

When Xia Yin looked up, Chen was still behind the counter.

Then, a strange explosion echoed from the library above.