Chapter 12: Cracking

A deafening bell rang, jolting Bai Ci from her nap with irritation. She couldn’t fathom why a modern college used a clanging bell to wake students.

Then, red lights flashed on the ceiling, and a shrill buzzer blared from hidden wall speakers. Students trickled out of their rooms. According to the Emergency Handbook issued at enrollment, this alarm signaled an urgent situation, summoning high-ranking students to the library.

Grumbling, Bai Ci threw on her uniform. The crowd around her looked like they’d just been told they owed millions.

“What the hell are you doing?” a familiar voice called.

Bai Ci glanced toward it—Lu Mingfei. She started to walk over, but a red figure joined him—Chen Motong.

Biting her lip, Bai Ci stayed put.

Let them talk…

Was Lu Mingfei close with Chen Motong?

Behind her, more students poured from stairwells. Bai Ci walked alone, head down, toward the library.

She was among the first to arrive. The library’s control room was mostly empty, but the professors were already there—Guderian, Manstein, and Executive Department’s Von Schneider, all grim-faced in their seats.

Then came the campus celebrities—Chu Zihang, Caesar, and members of the Student Union and Lionheart Society, split left and right, keeping their distance. Unlike Bai Ci, they carried briefcases, looking like elite diplomats at a UN summit. They scanned the room and sat uniformly on the right.

“Fourteen students: thirteen A-grades, one S-grade. Twenty-seven professors. Everyone’s here,” Manstein said to Schneider.

“Begin immediately,” Schneider replied, dragging his oxygen tank to the wall. His half-masked, scarred face silenced the room.

“We need your help—now. Two Executive Department members are trapped in a dragon relic site. We just received critical data, but the mechanism was triggered, sealing the exit. Their oxygen is dwindling every second. We must find a way out fast.”

Schneider’s voice was low and urgent, every second counting.

“We could use… Google Earth,” Lu Mingfei raised his hand. “It’s… really useful.”

So dumb…

Bai Ci stared at him. Everyone did, looking at him like he was an idiot.

“Google doesn’t cover places like this,” Schneider said, clapping. Teak bookshelves slid apart, revealing a massive hundred-inch screen.

A giant 3D model appeared—a bronze-cast miniature city, complete with a scale.

Everyone gasped.

“The palace of Norton, King of Bronze and Fire—an ancient relic. Some of you share his bloodline. Here’s a photo from Executive member Aki Shutoku, showing dragon text. We believe it’s a record of this city’s construction. Focus and read it,” Schneider said.

A photo appeared.

Bai Ci recognized the dragon text—ancient, intricate patterns like sprawling tree branches, dense and tangled, radiating an eerie power. Staring at them felt like they pulled at your soul.

She glanced at Schneider. His face was drenched in sweat, visibly tense.

“You want someone to resonate with it for a vision?” Caesar asked.

“Yes. It could take a decade to decipher, but they have only twenty minutes of oxygen! Hurry!”

Twenty minutes to crack unseen dragon text?

That was harder than turning China’s soccer team into world champions in a month.

No one complained. They pulled out laptops from their briefcases. Bai Ci, head down, realized she hadn’t brought anything.

“Students without laptops can swipe their card for spares,” Schneider said, noticing her predicament.

Bai Ci swiped her card and opened a laptop, but the screen made her frown. It was filled with dragon text—complex, tree-like symbols, each one maddeningly obscure.

Unlike the others, Lu Mingfei was looking around, clueless. His eyes landed on Bai Ci.

She was frowning, brows knit, like she was tackling an impossible math problem.

The Russian loli, Zero, sat expressionless, seemingly unbothered.

Lu Mingfei sighed. This transoceanic rescue was unrealistic. Some things were brutal—like in Bai Ci’s beloved Red Alert. When the computer says, “Kirov reporting,” and you glance over to see the enemy’s five factories each building a Kirov, while you’re just starting anti-air defenses, it’s too late. Your factories and barracks get bombed to bits, leaving nothing but specks.

He looked at Bai Ci again, still struggling… Well… there was a way…

A cheat code would do it.

Sure, people might call him out, but… it’d feel so good.

Lu Mingfei glanced around sneakily, hit Enter, and a text box popped up.

“Black sheep wall,” he typed carefully, letter by letter.

Decoding it in a minute might be a stretch, right?

The black sheep—the oddest, most rebellious, most evil one, itching to jump the fence.

But it was the key to breaking everything.

His heart pounded, nearly bursting from his chest.

His hand hovered over Enter, like a president hesitating over a nuclear launch button. He took a deep breath and pressed it.

Every screen went black.

Then, from top to bottom, a massive 3D map loaded. The bronze city was dissected into parts, like a master craftsman had taken it apart, displayed crystal-clear for all to see.

Old paths sealed. New ones opened.

Bai Ci stared at the bottom-right corner of her screen: Lu Mingfei’s Decoding Result. She looked at him. Everyone did—male and female alike.

Their eyes held joy and shock, like they were staring at a triumphant hero… or a monster.

Guderian looked ready to faint with excitement, beaming at his student. Schneider was breathing hard, as if draining his oxygen tank.

The impossible had happened—an S-grade pulled off a miracle.

Bai Ci looked at Lu Mingfei. He looked back, their gazes meeting through the crowd.

He couldn’t read her expression—surprise, fear, avoidance.

Surprise made sense; others looked the same.

But what was with the fear and avoidance?

Had he done something wrong?

Right now, Lu Mingfei might’ve been the brightest in the room. But Bai Ci didn’t look at him again. She closed her laptop and left the library.

Ye Sheng couldn’t believe a student this exceptional existed, cracking all the dragon text in two minutes.

After some probing, he released his Yanling. All his “snakes” returned from the bronze city, coiling in his mind, slipping into slumber until next awakened.

The weakness from using his Yanling faded. His golden pupils dimmed, and his strength returned.

Progress was faster than imagined.

Aki Shutoku was ecstatic. Ye Sheng had found the exit—they could finally escape this hellhole. They had enough oxygen, and even if it ran out, they could hold their breath long enough to swim back.

She looked at Ye Sheng, her mind drifting to memories from enrollment to now. This infuriating guy—how annoying could he get? Yet when had protecting him become her habit? She was used to his presence, unable to ignore his pain or struggles.

How ironic. She remembered pointing at his nose, yelling, “If you die underwater, don’t expect me to save you.” He was such a pain, yet she was always thinking of shielding him, like a mother cat guarding her kitten from the world.

Aki couldn’t figure out why she felt this way. Now, she finally got it.

She liked Ye Sheng.

She made up her mind: after this mission, she’d confess.