Chapter 166: The Empty Classroom’s Exam

I looked up to see a female teacher in uniform standing at the doorway. She held a stack of test papers, her right hand having just closed the door.

I quickly turned my head, finding the corridor empty. The two classroom doors, which had been open when I entered, were now shut. Standing up again, I peered out the window, only to see a hazy blur, as if a thick fog had descended.

“Student, please sit down and close your textbooks. The exam is about to begin,” the female teacher announced. She then habitually pressed the thick envelope filled with test papers firmly onto the desk twice.

I had met all the teachers for second-year students, and I held a general impression of most of the school’s faculty. I distinctly remembered that this particular female teacher was not among them.

‘I’ve fallen into a *guaitan*,’ I thought. ‘The ’empty classroom’ truly exists. The classroom is now completely sealed. Where is Yi Zhiqiu? Didn’t he say he would watch over me?’

“Student, why are you still standing? The exam is about to start,” the female teacher demanded with a stern tone.

In that instant, countless countermeasures flooded my mind. One idea was to release a Gu worm to eliminate the teacher.

However, when I used the Sight of Aura Technique on her, I found her extremely peculiar. She had no blood qi or life force, indicating she wasn’t alive. Yet, she also lacked any malevolent or yin energy, meaning she wasn’t truly dead either. It was a profoundly strange sensation.

Another option was to use the Iron Thread Gu to break down the door and rush out. Bai Yue had told me that within its attack range, the Iron Thread Gu was indestructible. After ascending to Fifth-Rank, it could theoretically cut through spiritual bodies and barriers; even a ghost domain couldn’t contain it. This *guaitan* should not be able to hold it.

Ultimately, however, I chose to sit down. Both the books and the sunglasses had warned that instantaneous death was common within *guaitan*. A single wrong step could lead to my immediate demise. The Iron Thread Gu’s invincibility didn’t mean I could run freely.

My true body was incredibly fragile.

It was said that *guaitan* operated under numerous rules, and even a slight violation could result in death. The first step to survival was to follow the events unfolding within the *guaitan*, avoiding any overt resistance.

While complying with the *guaitan*’s narrative carried the risk of becoming permanently lost within it, at such times, one could only rely on accumulated experience to navigate. I had heard that one couldn’t leave this classroom without completing the exam. Conversely, completing the test properly meant a safe exit.

I sat down obediently, pondering how I was supposed to take an exam without paper or pen. I also wondered when Yi Zhiqiu would realize something was amiss and come to my rescue.

“Very good,” the teacher said with satisfaction. In that instant, my eyes blurred, and a math test paper abruptly appeared before me. Pens, rulers, protractors, and other tools were neatly arranged on the desk. Even scratch paper had been prepared.

Not only that, but every seat besides mine was also filled with test papers, pens, and paper. It seemed as though a student was taking an exam at each desk, yet I was certain I was the only person in the classroom, and that teacher was not human.

“Students, please check your test papers for any errors or omissions, then write your class, name, and student ID in the sealed section,” the female teacher instructed.

I was about to follow her instructions but stopped abruptly. While proceeding with the *guaitan*’s flow was common advice, there were certain taboos, such as leaving behind one’s real name or information.

However, the female teacher was already looking at me. Gritting my teeth, I scrawled a random class, name, and student ID, none of which were correct.

Fortunately, the female teacher likely didn’t know me. After seeing me write a name, she shifted her gaze, scanning the classroom. I, in turn, avoided looking at her, sitting quietly in my seat, observing the test paper, and awaiting the next step.

“The exam time has arrived. Students, please begin answering the questions,” the female teacher announced. I picked up my pen and began to answer diligently.

1

The questions were not difficult, merely at a second-year student’s knowledge level. They might have posed a slight challenge to me last week, but now they were merely average.

I had also realized that while the calligraphy enhanced my mental acuity, it didn’t directly implant knowledge into my brain. Its greatest effect was making me enjoy learning, preventing fatigue or boredom during study. If I didn’t understand something initially, I still wouldn’t.

After completing a few questions, I felt that Yi Zhiqiu might not be able to rescue me anytime soon. Just as I was wondering what to do, red handwriting suddenly appeared on my scratch paper.

The script was incredibly fine, appearing as if written with a pencil, and the handwriting was exquisitely delicate. Word by word, it wrote: “How did you get into a non-existent classroom?”

I was startled and about to speak when I suddenly felt the female teacher’s intense gaze. An intuition told me that speaking now could lead to something extremely terrifying.

I pondered for a moment, then picked up my pen and wrote on the scratch paper: “Senior Sister Mo, is that you?”

“It’s me. How did you get into a *guaitan*?” The red pencil writing quickly reappeared.

“I was helping Yi Zhiqiu find a *guaitan*. He brought me to an empty classroom and told me to study diligently. Then a female teacher came and made me take an exam,” I wrote on the paper.

“I didn’t expect him to find the activation conditions so quickly. Finish the test paper—you can fill it out randomly—and once you hand it in, you can safely leave. But you must wait at least an hour after the exam begins before submitting,” the red script reappeared.

An hour. I looked up at the clock in the classroom. Only ten minutes had passed. I had to stay for another fifty minutes before I could leave, but there was nothing I could do.

Just as I was about to continue answering the questions, the classroom suddenly vibrated violently. The door was blown open, and Yi Zhiqiu rushed in.

The instant he burst in, the classroom blurred for a moment. Immediately after, everything vanished: the female teacher on the podium, the test papers and scratch paper on the desks, and the pen in my hand all disappeared in the haze.

The students’ laughter once again drifted into the classroom from the playground. Students were passing by in the corridor. The experience of being trapped in the empty classroom felt like nothing more than a fleeting dream, as if nothing had ever happened.

“Xia Yubing! Are you alright?” Yi Zhiqiu rushed over, grabbing my hand directly to check my pulse.

“I’m fine. But Teacher Yi, you’re too slow. We’ve been trapped in this classroom for over ten minutes!” I asked, a hint of playful blame in my voice.

If this classroom hadn’t seemingly been under Mo Qingyan’s control, I might have truly been in trouble.

“I’m sorry. I underestimated this *guaitan*. This is definitely not naturally formed; it’s an artificially created *guaitan* with a remarkably high level of completion. I couldn’t find a way to break it for a while,” Yi Zhiqiu said guiltily.

“What did it look like from the outside?” I asked, puzzled.

Logically, from the moment the female teacher walked in and closed the door, the empty classroom should have been sealed, and he should have realized I was trapped.

“I saw you suddenly vanish. There was no one in the classroom. If I hadn’t left a trace of qi within you, I might not have been able to save you,” Yi Zhiqiu said, still visibly shaken.

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