Chapter 401: The Plan

At this moment, Earth Goat also sat down, somewhat dazed.

Now it seemed he had long been ensnared in White Goat’s intricate scheme.

“So that means…” Earth Goat murmured under his breath. “Brother Goat even anticipated that he wouldn’t ascend to become a ‘Celestial’… He knew that once he reverted to being a ‘participant,’ no matter how much time passed, he would inevitably cross paths with me or with you. And when that happened, the groundwork he’d laid beforehand would come into play.”

“Exactly,” Earth Tiger nodded. “I always thought you were smarter than me, but this time, it took you so long to catch on?”

Earth Goat, however, remained lost in thought, staring blankly at the ground.

This feeling was strange—he had been guarding White Goat’s secret all this time, only to realize in the end that he had been played for a fool. How utterly powerless it made him feel.

“If your plan is this grand…” Earth Dog slowly rose to his feet. “Then the three of us alone won’t be enough.”

“True…” Earth Tiger nodded again. “We need allies… more ‘Zodiacs’…”

“Oh, give it a rest,” Earth Dog shot him a glance, eyelids drooping. “With your terrible reputation, what kind of allies could you possibly find?”

“Oh, and you’re any better?” Earth Tiger retorted.

“At least more than you,” Earth Dog said as he walked slowly toward the door. “After all these years in the workplace, the one thing I’ve learned is that ‘getting along with your coworkers is more important than sucking up to the boss.’ I have a few solid candidates in mind—people who’ve been waiting for a chance to ascend to ‘Celestial.’ But unfortunately, as long as the ‘bosses’ stay put, those beneath them have no opportunity to rise.”

“Comparing this place to the workplace… isn’t that underestimating the ‘Train’?” Earth Goat said. “What ‘workplace’ allows you to kill your superiors?”

“Call it whatever you want,” Earth Dog turned back to them one last time. “But to me, this is just another workplace. I’ve endured all this time, pretending to be harmless, just so I could climb higher. If I ever lose hope of promotion, I’ll drop the act entirely. Give me a few days—I’ll rally the other ‘silent schemers.’”

With those words, Earth Goat’s expression darkened.

What kind of bizarre turn of events was this?

Even if everything Earth Tiger said was true—that White Goat had planned this from the start—wouldn’t that make it even stranger?

This was clearly using him and Earth Tiger as mere tools.

Would rebellion ever lead to a good outcome?

By the time Earth Tiger turned this place upside down, anyone connected to him would be in grave danger. Even if White Goat’s real ‘plan’ succeeded… the three of them in this room would still be doomed.

Earth Goat slowly closed his eyes, realizing that this matter required careful consideration. If he blindly followed Earth Tiger’s lead, the inevitable end would be a plunge into the abyss.

“Brother Goat… I respect you from the bottom of my heart… Don’t let me down…”

Earth Dog opened the door and left. Earth Goat also stood up slowly.

“That’s enough for today,” Earth Goat said. “For now, I won’t take part in any of your plans… I need to observe.”

“Suit yourself,” Earth Tiger grumbled irritably. “On your way out, call my students in. Those brats must be starving by now.”

……

The third long night descended.

Those who retained their memories all sensed that something had grown even stranger here.

The air was thick with a suffocating, putrid heaviness, and faint rustling noises crawled along the walls outside.

Occasionally, a gust of night wind would sweep through, rattling the withered trees and carrying the stench of decay before vanishing into the deeper darkness.

Whether they were prisoners, students, or those forced to spend the night outdoors, they all gazed at the pitch-black scenery outside, faintly sensing that something momentous was about to happen. The air was thick with an oppressive, foreboding tension.

When the sun rose on the fourth day, those who had survived painfully dragged themselves up to greet the dawn.

Zhang Chenze quickly got up to check on the others in the room.

Aside from herself, the other three were all injured in various ways, and after a night’s rest, their conditions might have worsened.

She walked over to Lin Qin and examined her broken leg. The area below the knee was now severely swollen, clearly in need of immediate splinting—but unfortunately, they were in a glass shop, with no proper medical supplies.

“Lin Qin, are you okay?” Zhang Chenze reached for her hand and found it bright red, as if frostbitten.

“I’m fine…” Lin Qin forced a weak smile. “Everything hurts… but nothing life-threatening. You should check on Old Qin.”

Zhang Chenze nodded and moved to Qin Dingdong’s side. Qin was still unconscious, so she gently pressed a hand to her forehead.

“Good… no fever… She should be alright…” Zhang Chenze shook her lightly. “Dingdong, how are you?”

Qin Dingdong slowly opened her eyes, but before she could speak, she was seized by a violent coughing fit. Seconds later, she spat out a thick, bloody phlegm.

“Damn it… I can tolerate you saving me, but did you really have to wake me up in the morning?” Qin wiped her mouth and glared at Zhang Chenze. “Haven’t you heard the saying, ‘Early rising ruins the whole day’?”

Zhang Chenze gave a wry smile. “What kind of saying is that? I was just worried—”

“Alright, alright… Don’t be too nice to me, or I’ll start liking you…” Qin waved her off and struggled to sit up, then glanced toward Su Shan. “How’s Little Shan?”

“I’ll check.”

Zhang Chenze rolled up her sleeves and approached Su Shan, who was also still asleep.

“Su Shan?” She shook her gently. Compared to the others, Su Shan’s condition had seemed better, but no matter how much Zhang Chenze shook her, she wouldn’t wake.

“What’s going on?”

Frowning, Zhang Chenze shook her more firmly. “Su Shan, can you hear me?”

When there was still no response, she pressed a hand to Su Shan’s forehead—only to find it burning with fever.

“What’s wrong with her?” Qin asked.

“I don’t know…” Zhang Chenze frowned. “She’s running a high fever…”

The two of them hobbled over on their battered bodies and saw that, though Su Shan bore no visible injuries, her cheeks were flushed crimson—undoubtedly suffering from a severe fever.

Just as they watched her with concern, Su Shan’s eyes slowly fluttered open.

Her sclera were bloodshot, and her pupils were dilated, lifeless like those of someone long dead.

“Huh…?” She blinked in confusion, turning her gaze toward them. After a moment, she frowned. “You all…”

“Su Shan, are you okay?” Zhang Chenze asked.

“I…” Su Shan forced a faint smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Lin Qin, who had little prior interaction with Su Shan, glanced at Qin Dingdong in confusion.

Qin sighed, stepped forward, and clenched her hand into a fist. “Little Shan, tell me—how many fingers am I holding up?”