“That’s how it is—we’re turtles sealed in someone else’s clay jar.” Fangzhe looked over the crowd, his mood sagging like wet canvas after rain.

The students hadn’t even cracked, but a teacher beside them was already coming apart, her complaints spilling like boiling water. “Wasn’t this place supposed to be the safest spot besides the Necropolis? Why do disasters keep slamming into us these past months like hailstones?!”

“Complain less, Teacher Ziqing. We’re still in one piece, like reeds bending in wind. At least that monster outside hasn’t raised the scythe for our heads.”

“She said she won’t kill us now, but what about later? We’re inside her ‘belly’ right now! If she gets mad, won’t we just turn into her stinky poo?” Ziqing grabbed Fangzhe’s shoulders and shook him, eyes brimming like a lake in spring.

“That won’t happen… she won’t eat us. Turning us into a bunch of the walking dead, though—that’s on the table.” Fangzhe waved a hand, like brushing smoke from his face.

“Isn’t that worse?!” Others wailed, voices like crows at dusk.

[Heart thudding like a trapped bird—Divine Sister, do you have a way?] Yanfengle reached inward, his plea fluttering like a moth at a lantern.

[…How would I know? I’m staring into fog too.]

[Frustration buzzing like bees—You haven’t given me a quest in ages. I don’t even know what to do… I want to go home… sob sob.]

[…??? You haven’t finished a single quest; how do I hand you more? That backlog’s a mountain.]

[…But you only gave me one. One reed in a river.]

[…Oh? Looks like you’re right, hehe~ My memory’s a sieve.]

This god was a letdown, like a damp firework—nothing like in the books.

[…Emmm. I chewed on it for a bit; your situation’s thorny like brambles. You’re caught in a game that isn’t yours, and the cleanest way out is…]

[…What is it…? My stomach’s tight like a knot.]

[…Follow their lead. Drift with the current like a leaf.]

[…That’s just saying nothing! Smoke in a jar!]

[…Ahem. But it’s still the truth~ Waves don’t care who shouts.]

[…Given you can’t handle this storm, I can bend the rules and give you one cheat~ A spark in the dark.]

[…Eh, eh, eh? Is it coming? A golden finger! My hopes rise like a kite.]

[…Yup, that’s right~ But it’s one‑time only, like a matchstick.]

[…Choose, young man. I’ve got three sword arts—three blades gleaming in moonlight.]

[…I want them all! Greed flares like fireworks.]

[…Fine… fine. Ambition’s good; I’ll give you all three. They are: Xia Ji Eight Thrusts, Xia Ji Eight Hacks, Xia Ji Eight Cuts—names carved like graffiti on a temple.]

[…You think I don’t get what that means?! The joke sticks like gum.]

[…Ahem. Still, they’re useful sword arts, oh? But don’t rush—sword arts alone won’t do. Next I’ll raise your strength and physique to the Tier Nine peak, a mountain’s ridge under clear sky…]

“Speaking of which, where’s Teacher Youdie?” A voice flickered, her name fluttering like a moth at a lamp.

“No idea. I think she’s still outside… a leaf lost in wind.”

“Outside it’s crawling with cultists, like ants on honey. Hope she hides well.” Fangzhe sighed, the sound sliding like wind past bamboo. “As for our situation, I do have a way.”

“Then say it fast—stop speaking in riddles!” A voice snapped like a bowstring.

“Then stop shaking me!” Fangzhe staggered, like a plum tree tossed in storm.

“Ahem. I already observed it: her divine sense across the way is burning down like oil in a lamp. Holding a barrier this huge looks thorny for her.”

Nope—she was just spinning three plates at once, hands like wind.

“She isn’t trying to deal with us right now. So we should rest, store grain like winter sparrows, and seize her thinnest moment.”

“Then we wipe her out in one go?!” Yanfengle popped up from the crowd, excitement sparking like flint.

“Better pray she drops dead on the spot.” Fangzhe shot him a side‑eye, cold as a knife’s edge.

“…”

“At most, we can send one person out to fetch help—a lone pigeon slipping through a net.”

“This scene feels familiar…” Yanfengle’s whisper drifted like mist.

“Familiar?” Fangzhe tilted his head, like a sparrow listening.

“Nothing, nothing. Please continue.” The words fluttered like torn paper.

“I remember Ling Xuewei telling me there’s a formidable presence near Starfate City, a mountain hidden in fog. If anyone can crack this knot, I think it’s her.”

“Riddleman, buzz off…” Yanfengle muttered, his words like gnats at dusk.

“Yanfengle, what are you chirping to yourself about again?” Fangzhe’s face darkened, cloud piling over the sun.

“Teacher, I said you’re very handsome!” The flattery gleamed like sugar glaze.

“Mm‑hm. That only proves you’ve got good taste~ Pride purrs like a cat.”

His mouth said one thing, but his eyes were blades: Don’t think I didn’t hear you—good that you catch the wind and bow, frost settling on the gaze.

“Ling Xuewei once told me she and her brother’s adoptive mother—the headmistress of the orphanage near Starfate City—has terrifying strength, like thunder behind mountains. That powerhouse is the mentor of Ling Xuewei and Frost Valor!”

“Frost Valor…” Everyone drew a breath, winter slipping into the room.

No need to explain the former; as for Frost Valor, most here have heard his “glorious feats,” tales like banners snapping in storm.

He’s not quite at quasi‑god tier, yet what he’s done overflows that cup, deeds like rivers breaking banks.

They say he’s ridden a dragon, cut down the Vampire royal house, slain a god, and flirted with the Elf Queen—each step footprints across white snow—and rumor has it he stood in the team helping the Demon King found the new Demon God Federation, stars whirling around a black sun.

To stand near the Demon King in that den of monsters, you must be a strong quasi‑god, iron roots gripping rock.

With two children bearing names that tower like peaks, how strong must that presence be? Maybe she can truly save Starfate City, a lighthouse through storm.

Hope rose among the crowd again, lanterns kindling one by one.

“In that case, who do we send?” The question hung like a single arrow drawn but not loosed.

“…”

“It’s a tough knot. First, the one we send can’t be weak, or they’ll get snagged right out of the gate—faces in the mud. Outside, guards stack like stones. Second, they must know the road, or escape becomes a circle, footprints chasing themselves.”

“As for that second part, don’t worry. I can copy a memory pack about the orphanage for you.” Fangzhe added, like handing out a map etched on bark.

“So who fits best?” The crowd glanced around, eyes gathering on Fangzhe like arrows to a target.

“Don’t look at me.” Fangzhe waved helplessly, like brushing away gnats. “To crack this barrier, I’m the carry here—the anchor stone. I can’t go.”

At that moment, the long‑invisible Yanfengle stepped forward, a candle flaring in a dark hall. “Everyone, I think I can!”