When Ming Yi finally gathered enough strength to pry open his heavy eyelids, he had no idea how long he’d been out.

A wave of utter exhaustion wracked his body, forcing a pained groan from him. With immense effort, he pushed himself upright. Rubbing his temples where the dull ache still lingered, he finally took in his surroundings.

Then his hand stilled abruptly.

No doubt—this was still the street where he’d collapsed. Which meant he was still in Donghai, still in Huaxia, still on Earth.

Yet the scene before him defied all recognition of the world he knew.

Collapsed buildings. Streets split deep with cracks. Not a single intact structure remained—only ruins. The air hung thick with damp metallic stench and an unfamiliar, unsettling odor. It should have been dusk, yet the sky was unnaturally dark. A faint, eerie crimson tint seeped into everything—as if someone had abruptly dimmed the color settings in a game’s display menu.

The layout vaguely echoed his original world, yet every tiny detail screamed otherwise.

This place felt dilapidated, desolate, saturated with unease. Even the air carried that faint crimson hue—deeply unnatural. As if—

"—a broken world," Ming Yi murmured.

He took a sharp breath, forcing his foggy mind to focus.

Eerie sounds. Shadows and a dagger. A collapsing world.

Minutes later, frowning, he pushed himself up.

No. Too little data. Too many gaps. Nothing aligned with common sense. Maybe this was a wholly foreign place—his entire understanding of reality might need rebuilding from scratch.

To form new logic, he had to engage with this world.

Gritting his teeth against the fatigue, he began walking.

How long had he been unconscious? Only boundless exhaustion remained—yet not a hint of hunger. Puzzling. No hunger suggested he hadn’t been out long… but the ruins felt ancient, abandoned for years. Impossible. He couldn’t have slept years and woken up.

Trees and plants lined his path, all half-withered—neither dead nor alive, clinging to bare existence.

But the most chilling truth remained—

No people. Not a soul. No living, no corpses. Buildings so aged they held zero traces of human activity. *Had humanity vanished?*

Oppressive silence. No animals. Only wind. Nothing else.

Ming Yi walked on, mind racing.

Another oddity: every billboard, shop sign, even lamppost flyers—every scrap of text had vanished, replaced by blurred blanks, as if deliberately erased. Not a single character remained. As if all written language had inexplicably disappeared.

Illogical. Unexplainable. Deeply wrong. If this world never had writing, it couldn’t be his Earth altered—it had to be another realm. Yet the landscape mirrored his own… just broken. Physical decay made sense. But text vanishing? Why?

Contradictions. Dissonance.

Ming Yi’s eyes widened.

*The school!* The place densest with text. Without writing, a school held no meaning!

He spun around and hurried back toward Shanghai University’s gates.

The collapsed gate bore aged ruins; only its silhouette hinted at its former identity. Even the inscription "Shanghai University" was wiped blank—as if every human trace had been scrubbed away.

But the school still stood. Logic remained intact. Text disappearance was purely physical—like him. He still remembered every character, every rule of writing.

Only the surface was erased.

Wandering the campus—now pure rubble—Ming Yi felt a dizzying pang. This place he’d called home for three years now felt alien.

His thoughts drifted to the External Liaison Department. *Right—the ELD!* He slapped his forehead. Three years. Most of his time spent there. The place richest with proof he’d existed.

He dashed through collapsed classrooms, past the library and field, weaving rubble until he spotted the student activities building.

To his relief, no fallen towers surrounded it. The building itself stood miraculously intact.

Stepping into the stairwell, he slowed. Each step up the familiar stairs stirred a quiet flutter in his chest. Memories surfaced: Senior Alice, Senior Yu Chen, his mischievous friend Xiao Chengcheng, all the ELD members.

*Were they here too?*

Before the third-floor department office, Ming Yi paused. Heart heavy, he took a breath and pushed the door open—

Vision blurred. Arms wrenched behind his back. A large hand slammed his face onto the desk.

"Ah!" Ming Yi cried out. The grip froze. Seconds later, a shriek erupted behind him:

"Holy shit—Little Yi?! You’re here too?!"

"If I were you, Xiao," Ming Yi growled through gritted teeth, "I’d let go, apologize properly, *then* catch up."

Xiao Chengcheng released him instantly, chuckling sheepishly.

Ming Yi rubbed his sore wrists and turned.

"Seniors… Old Lei and Dandan… you’re all here."

A bittersweet wave hit him—nose tingling, throat tight. Honestly, waking up alone had terrified him. But this? Far better than the worst he’d imagined.

At least he wasn’t fighting alone anymore.

"Little Yi! Thank goodness you’re okay!" Senior Alice pulled him into a bear hug, nearly squeezing the air from his lungs. "Senior, seeing you this lively… I knew you’d be fine," Ming Yi said with a wry smile, patting her back.

"I never thought you’d be here too, kid," rumbled Old Lei—Lei Yunjun, Ming Yi’s tall, gentle classmate from Central China, dorm neighbor and steadfast presence.

"Wow! Other people *are* here! Ming Yi, you have no idea how scared I was!" Dandan—Huang Dandan, a soft-spoken sophomore from southern China—exclaimed, eyes still red and damp from recent tears.

"Alright, give Little Yi space," Senior Yu Chen said, adjusting his glasses. His easy smile vanished, replaced by solemnity. "Little Yi, your face says you’re bursting with questions. Unfortunately—" He spread his hands, shaking his head. "We’re just as clueless."

Ming Yi sighed inwardly. *No change.*

"But Little Yi—you’re different. Didn’t you leave midway through the banquet?" Yu Chen asked suddenly.

"Hm? Ah… yeah. Not much of a drinker. After toasting you and Senior Alice, I headed out." Ming Yi blinked, puzzled. "Wait… did someone here try to destroy the world?"

Silence crashed down. The chatter died. Every pair of eyes in the room locked onto him, wide with confusion.