Wang Yue was gradually mastering the mechanics of her “key.”
In her field of vision, hidden locations were now highlighted. As she searched along the path, she discovered five distinct categories of secrets.
The first was “Easter Eggs.” These were the most numerous and the easiest to find. For instance, she found eyeball-shaped candies hidden within the base of a demon statue. Pressing a hidden switch caused the candies to roll out one by one, all with gooey centers. The chocolate ones were decent, but the licorice ones tasted like sweet, bursting pig eyes.
Before this, students would occasionally stumble upon these eggs, and there was even a dedicated Treasure Hunt Club for that purpose. Wang Yue, however, had a full-map hack; she just had to walk over and collect them. In her interface, these eggs appeared as oval-shaped highlights.
The second category was the “Collection Rooms.” These contained red wine, tobacco, fine art, decorative swords, stamps, and ancient artifacts—all reeking of high-society pretension. Unfortunately, they were useless to her, and Wang Yue didn’t even bother stepping inside. These appeared as square highlights.
The third category was “Transcendent Material Storerooms.” These were packed with metal ingots, bags of powders, test tube racks, Sealing Boxes, and airtight jars. Sometimes, the “material” was simply a biological carcass or a massive chunk of raw ore. These storerooms were marked with triangles.
The fourth category consisted of “Mechanisms.” These included false walls, tunnels, ventilation shafts, rotating mirrors, and hidden doors. They were highlighted in the specific shape of the mechanism itself.
The fifth category had only one location: her current destination. It was a pillar of green light shooting toward the sky like a beacon.
“Cool.”
Wang Yue held up the Fitness Ring, aiming it at the origin point of the green light. After a careful calibration, she gave it a gentle twist.
While it looked like picking a lock, it was actually a neutralization effect caused by the collision of two unique force fields, causing the defensive outer layer to collapse.
Wang Yue discovered that this was an “Imaginary Space,” and the source of the green light was an “Imaginary Space Generator.”
Extending her consciousness inside, she saw twelve strange clusters of light floating in a deep, cosmic darkness. They were Rule Constructs!
Twelve profound and unfathomable constructs were operating in unique patterns. Some writhed like ants made of bright scales; others consisted of countless tiny geometric sliders interlocking and shifting. Some were flickering starlight, while others were points of light orbiting curved rails at varying frequencies, or nested polygons folding into themselves.
“This… this is an armory!” Wang Yue exclaimed in shock.
These rules were clearly the assets of the Academy, held by successive Principals. There were certainly more than twelve originally, but the Principal had likely taken the majority of them to exterminate the Apostles.
The Imaginary Space Generator was an ethereal Energy Construct. Using the key, Wang Yue obtained its authorization and transferred its anchor to her own spine. The Imaginary Space it generated could only be used to store Rules, acting much like a carrying case for game cartridges.
A quick scan revealed they could be categorized into four types: Stillness, Simple Harmonic, Diffusion, and Collapse. All were designed for heavy-duty siege work. They were ineffective against the massive, illusory composites of energy and matter that defined the Apostles, which was likely why they had been left behind.
Wang Yue returned to her dormitory, fiddling with her new toys.
This is insane, she thought. Twelve Rules… if I could string these onto the Sword of Authority, one swing would…
Once the excitement faded, however, her anxiety returned. She hadn’t found any food.
The little girls were crying out for sustenance, and even the teachers were starving. Easter egg candies were fine for a snack, but they couldn’t fill a stomach. In truth, she hadn’t held much hope from the start.
Rations couldn’t be hidden. When you had over a thousand people to feed, the weight of the food was measured in tons. To stockpile that much, one would need massive silos, not tiny secret chambers.
What frustrated her most was her inability to contact the Guild.
After a moment of deep thought, Wang Yue beckoned. Dorothy came scurrying over instantly, poking her head out. “Master, what do you need?”
“Do you know what this is?” Wang Yue raised her hand.
“A stick…” Dorothy saw the baseball bat and immediately clutched her bottom, her face pale with terror as she backed away.
“You idiot, I’m not going to hit you.” Wang Yue pointed at a colorful paper pony hanging in the air. “Have you never seen a candy piñata? It’s full of sweets. You hit it with a stick, and clatter—they all fall out.”
Dorothy’s mouth hung open in shock. She felt like she was dreaming; such a thing was unimaginable to her.
Wang Yue handed her the bat, her voice uncharacteristically tender and doting. “Get a basin to catch them, then break it open.”
The pink-haired girl trembled, her heart melting at the affection. “Master… you… you’re so good to me… is it really okay?”
“It’s fine,” Wang Yue nodded gently.
Dorothy set the basin down and gripped the bat tight. To eat an entire candy pony… she was so happy. Her Master was the best. Her cheeks flushed with excitement as she swung with all her might.
Crack!
The pony split across its belly, and a vibrant cascade of candies poured out, filling the basin. Dorothy tossed the bat aside and scrambled to pick them up, only to be grabbed by the collar by Wang Yue.
“Who said you could eat them?!”
“Eh?”
“Go distribute these to your classmates. One for everyone. Make it feel like a holiday,” Wang Yue said gruffly. Seeing the pink-haired girl’s crushing disappointment, she added, “You can have two as a reward for your hard work.”
Dorothy’s tears immediately turned into a smile. She picked up the basin and headed for the door.
“Come back here, you dummy!” Wang Yue shouted from behind.
“Eh?”
“Where’s mine?”
“I’m sorry… I’m so stupid… waah…” Dorothy was nearly moved to tears by her own clumsiness as she hurried to give Wang Yue a candy first.
Wang Yue held the candy, not truly angry, but feeling a bit of a psychological imbalance. Why are other people’s maids clever and capable, while mine is just a dimwit? Her only redeeming qualities are her pink hair, her eye color, and her chubby little legs.
She sighed and sat back in her chair, peeling the wrapper. Before she could put it in her mouth, a layer of thick, neon-green slime suddenly surged out and wrapped around her palm!
The candy dissolved and vanished in an instant. The green Slime Mold sprouted hair-raising, vessel-like pseudopodia that pulsed and writhed, greedily absorbing nutrients until it had more than doubled in size.
Just as Wang Yue was about to shake the disgusting slime off, a voice echoed in her mind.
“It is I, Aminata.”
The slime mold’s biological current traveled along her nerve endings to her auditory center, creating the effect of speech. However, it was a one-way transmission; she could only listen.
Wang Yue focused.
“We have used long-range scouting abilities to understand the situation at the Academy. The children are starving. Under the temptation of food, those with weak wills are defecting to Granahl. Once faith is established, it is difficult to reverse. They are being hijacked by an extremist’s agenda. This is not free faith; it is forced brainwashing…”
Through the Decaying Aminata’s steady explanation, Wang Yue learned that the Guild was mobilizing forces to the region. However, specific countermeasures required deliberation and approval from the Ethics Committee.
They had, however, found a way to get food to the students.
This green slime was a variant of “Polycephalum Slime Mold.” Its pseudopod structure could expand rapidly across surfaces like tentacles, absorbing nutrients wherever it passed. Furthermore, it possessed a degree of swarm intelligence. Beyond mapping optimal routes, it could balance the nutrients it absorbed—maintaining a roughly two-to-one ratio of protein to carbohydrates.
As the bio-current stored in the slime mold faded, silence returned to Wang Yue’s mind.
“So that’s how it is.”
She extended her consciousness into the mold, taking control of the modified colony. The Decaying Aminata was a Lantern-Bearer specializing in botanical research, and this solution was her design.
The principle was simple: the slime mold would absorb raw organic matter and reshape it into balanced “Nutrient Paste” consisting of proteins, fats, and carbohydrates. The outermost layer would be shaped into dietary fiber for structure, resulting in something similar to a “Nutrition Stick.”
Wang Yue marveled at the idea. It was brilliant.
However, the Academy was mostly stone. While the mold could devour the green belts and roadside trees to convert cellulose into polysaccharides—then use bacterial fermentation to produce protein—there wasn’t enough greenery to sustain everyone for long.
In the end, there was only one solution: steal the food that Granahl had intercepted.
Wang Yue already knew who was in charge. The food was managed by the Distribution Department, and the head of that department was one of the Four Witches—the Aries Witch.
