Chapter Thirty-Five: The Bus on the Mountain Road

All the hunters were ready. The enormous title "Class Three, Senior Year" appeared in a three-dimensional projection above the convention center, signaling the official start of the hunt.

At this moment, Fang Nian was preparing to enter the hunting ground, but it was impossible for him to do so in the usual way. Claiming a headache, he asked Xia Moyan for leave and checked into a guest room at the convention center.

"Xiao Xi, Xiao Xi, how do I enter the hunting ground?"

"Are you ready? If you are, simply lie down on the bed. I will activate 'Invasion' and send you into the hunting ground. A friendly reminder: after entering, you will temporarily lose part of your real-world memory until the hunt concludes."

Fang Nian nodded, lay down, and closed his eyes. Soon, everything faded into darkness.

He didn't know how much time had passed, but eventually, consciousness began to stir in his mind. A voice, as if reporting the news, grew clearer.

"On the 14th, reports indicate that Xia Ye, a student of Class Three, Senior Year at Timor High School and a renowned young cellist, died after falling from her home at dawn on the 13th. Police have initially ruled it a suicide."

"On the 16th, sources reveal that Xia Ye's private life was extremely chaotic after she became famous. She was photographed returning to a hotel with three men and spending the night together. On the day she died, it is highly likely she was under the influence of drugs, engaging in hallucinatory behavior."

"On the 18th, Xia Ye's agent recalled that in the period before her death, Xia Ye repeatedly expressed her weariness with life and displayed clear symptoms of depression. He also stated that her signing company had indeed pressured her into immoral transactions, but she refused."

"On the 19th, Xia Ye's management issued a statement denying any coercion into immoral acts. The agent has since retracted his comments, claiming they were made out of spite and have apologized to the former company."

"On the 20th..."

As the darkness gradually receded, Fang Nian’s awareness slowly returned. Though he had forgotten part of his real-world memories, he vaguely knew that this was a hunt, and he must achieve his goal. He would use his current role as a teacher to seek justice for the deceased.

On a rugged mountain road, a bus packed with students was struggling forward. Steep cliffs lined both sides, and small rocks occasionally tumbled down, creating a dangerous environment.

Inside the bus, some students smoked, some chatted loudly and swore, some flirted, some bullied weaker classmates, and some wore headphones and drank illicit substances, dancing wildly to their own rhythm. The atmosphere was saturated with decay; it was impossible to tell that these were students preparing for their college entrance exams.

After a long, bumpy ride, some students grew restless.

"Hey, Mr. Fang, you said we were going on a spring outing, but you brought us to this godforsaken place. What are we supposed to do here?"

"Yeah, so much for being a 'model city teacher.' I think you're just an idiot. I’m not going. Send me back right now—I’ve got a club to hit tonight."

"Right, let's go back. What a dump."

...

The students’ complaints filled the bus, their behavior completely unbefitting students.

Hearing their grumbling, Fang Nian’s lips curled slightly, a cold glint flashing in his eyes. He slowly stood from the tour guide’s seat, turned to face the unruly students behind him, and said, icily,

"You all want to go back, do you?"

The students didn’t hesitate.

"Of course—hurry up!"

"Yeah, I need to get home and game."

"Right, let’s go back. I’ve got a beauty appointment."

...

But as they buzzed about their plans for returning, Fang Nian’s words abruptly dragged them back to reality:

"I’m afraid you won’t be going back. You’ve all been—kidnapped by me."

His answer brought an uneasy silence, then laughter. A teacher kidnapping twenty-eight students on a bus? Impossible—even in a film, such a plot would be dismissed.

Yet when they saw Fang Nian’s icy expression again, the laughter faded. Could it be… real?

Among them was a handsome boy with the air of a Korean idol. He stood, smoothed his hair, and addressed Fang Nian.

"Mr. Fang, let me ask again—are you serious?"

Fang Nian merely smiled, offering no reply, his gaze cold. The boy, used to respect both at home and school, could not tolerate this attitude. Forgetting all decorum, he grabbed a spring-loaded knife from his belt and charged at Fang Nian.

Before he could get close, Fang Nian seized a nearby can of cola and hurled it at the boy’s head.

The can flew like a missile, striking the boy’s forehead with immense force, exploding on impact and spraying cola everywhere—no one in the front rows was spared.

The boy, propelled by the blow, crashed into a seat handle, blood streaming from his face as he wailed in pain.

Everyone’s jaws dropped in shock. In that instant, they realized that the new teacher, Fang Nian, was not joking—he was deadly serious.

As the boy writhed on the floor, his usual companions rushed Fang Nian in a fury.

Fang Nian remained calm, glanced at his watch, and tapped it lightly. There was a thunderous boom as a manhole-sized hole burst open in the bus floor.

Wood fragments and metal bits scattered everywhere. One boy, charging toward Fang Nian, stepped into the void and fell. Two others managed to grab him just in time, but his lower body still dragged along the rocky ground below for several seconds before being hauled back up.

His legs were covered in scrapes; beneath the torn fabric, his flesh was ragged and bloody. The students, pampered and sheltered in school, were dumbstruck. None had ever witnessed such brutality, nor imagined a teacher like this.

The bus continued to jolt along the mountain road, but the atmosphere inside was suffocating. The boy clutched his mangled legs and wailed, yet Fang Nian made no move, coldly surveying his students, who now, stripped of bravado, sat with heads bowed, unable to meet his gaze.

Seeing that they were thoroughly cowed, Fang Nian’s lips curled in satisfaction. He picked up a gas mask from a nearby seat and spoke coldly:

"It seems everyone has settled down. Now, let us begin this spring outing. We are not far from our destination, but before we arrive, I suggest you all sleep for a while. When we get there, I’ll wake you."

With that, Fang Nian donned the gas mask, tapped his watch twice, and azure smoke billowed from beneath the bus seats.

Moments later, all but the driver and Fang Nian had slipped into unconsciousness.

Thus began a spring outing none of them would ever forget.