Ch 82: My Multiverse Supermarket

Although An Yixiao and Duan Jing had planned their route to clear the dungeon, the experience in Dawn Village had taught her a harsh lesson.

She kept wondering—what exactly was the key to clearing Mingde Academy?

Every player who entered Dawn Village believed that the key to victory lay with the S-class anomaly, Wang Hui; that killing him would end the dungeon.

But in truth, the Dawn Village dungeon had been born from Wang Hui’s grandmother, Zhang Gucui—a world layered within another.

Only by uncovering the true past of that place and resolving Zhang Gucui’s lingering obsession could the dungeon truly be cleared.

Mingde Academy, however, was different. Despite its pervasive corruption and strange horrors, it didn’t seem to have a single pivotal figure.

Was it the principal? The director? Or one of the students?

So many people were trapped here—who was the one that had caused this dungeon to take shape?

The clue to clearance stated that one must become an “Outstanding Graduate.”

That could mean the principal’s demand of students, the teachers’ expectations, or even the students’ own desire.

Without finding the real breakthrough, the dungeon would never end.

An Yixiao walked heavily toward Mingde Academy’s tower—the library, and the tallest building on campus.

She used a tool to unlock the door and entered.

Normally, a librarian would be present, but with everyone’s attention on the chaos outside, the attendant had vanished.

Scanning the catalog, she found books like The Four Virtues for Women, and countless manuals teaching cooking, etiquette, embroidery, and household management—plus outdated “psychology” texts preaching the old doctrines of female submission.

But among them, she found something different: a set of privately printed textbooks, not officially published.

“Lan Xuan?” An Yixiao murmured when she saw the author’s name, frowning.

Was there someone named Lan Xuan at Mingde Academy?

Her instincts flared. Perhaps this Lan Xuan was the true key to the dungeon.

Using her “Right Eye of the Strange,” she swept through the school, reading every engraved stone monument listing teachers and outstanding graduates.

Finally, she came upon a bronze statue.

The black-painted lettering on its base had long faded from years of sun and rain; without close inspection, one would never notice that words had been carved there at all.

At first, the players had all assumed this statue must depict the academy’s founder, the principal Cao Xifeng.

But leaning closer, An Yixiao could now make out the name: Lan Xuan — Expert in Traditional Cultural Education.

Turning to the back, she noticed faint scratches carved by a blade—“Mother of Female Virtue.” The marks were so shallow that without careful attention, they’d go unseen.

Why was there no statue for Principal Cao Xifeng, yet one for this Lan Xuan?

Was it because she was the so-called “Mother of Female Virtue”?

An Yixiao stared at the statue, then made her decision—to risk using the “Left Eye of the Strange,” the one that could pierce all illusion.

The moment she activated it, whispers flooded her ears—clearer, sharper than ever before.

Normally, she would shut them out instantly, but now she needed to uncover the truth.

She let the voices pour in.

“A girl’s greatest dowry is her chastity.”

“Children must be filial—wash your parents’ feet.”

“I repent… I once had an abortion. I am a sinner.”

“A woman should keep her head lowered and serve her husband.”

…

Every phrase was another absurd relic of the Three Obediences and Four Virtues drilled into women for generations.

Perhaps, she realized, this was the true source of Mingde Academy’s corruption.

It was right there, in plain sight.

Everyone thought those ideas were harmless—like tiny midges buzzing around—so no one bothered to swat them away.

Until one day they bit, and people realized they were surrounded.

You could kill one, chase off another, but there were still thousands left.

Invisible, breeding in the dark, multiplying endlessly.

They clouded eyes, filled noses and mouths, crept through ears—slowly polluting the soul.

At first, the infected never realized what was happening.

Their faces twisted, their bodies festered and deformed.

Yet when they looked around and saw everyone else the same, they believed it normal.

They didn’t know that, to anyone still clear-minded, they had already become monstrous.

…

An Yixiao knew she couldn’t keep listening.

Hallucinations had begun—the statue before her was moving.

“This isn’t feudal dross,” said the bronze figure of Lan Xuan, its eyes fixed on hers. “This is traditional culture.”

An Yixiao closed her eyes, refusing to engage.

“Why won’t you answer me?” the statue demanded.

She thought, Because answering you means falling into your trap.

Right now, all she could do was focus on breaking free of the illusion.

The statue’s voice grew colder. “You disagree with me—then why not refute me?”

An Yixiao: …

An Yixiao’s silence ignited the bronze statue’s fury. Lan Xuan seemed determined to extract a reaction from her.

She began by unleashing a torrent of moral dogma—preaching the “Three Obediences and Four Virtues,” quoting The Rites of Zhou and Confucius, then segueing into Neo-Confucianism, the “Four Books for Women,” and finally lamenting how modern men lacked masculine vigor and women lacked gentle femininity. Only by returning to “traditional culture,” she claimed, could families remain harmonious.

Then came the attacks—rhetorical jabs, manipulative questions, and moral traps meant to provoke.

Anyone less composed would have snapped back by now.

But An Yixiao was someone who could remain clear-headed even on the verge of death, calmly setting contingency plans in motion. She endured it.

Finally, the bronze Lan Xuan began boasting of her own “success.”

She claimed her family was harmonious and her marriage happy, with hardly any arguments.

An Yixiao thought, Of course there aren’t—if your doctrine is that ‘a woman must not hit back or talk back,’ who could argue with you?

Gradually, though, her mind began to stall—as if the gears of her thoughts had rusted.

That moment of drag startled her. It wasn’t only speaking that would trigger the trap; even thinking along Lan Xuan’s logic led straight into it.

There was no defense against that.

Sweat trickled down her forehead.

Then, without knowing why, Zhou Li’s voice echoed in her memory—reciting the twenty-four-character mantra.

Her mind was sluggish, heavy, but she forced herself to repeat it silently.

Time lost all meaning. The bronze Lan Xuan’s voice went from clear to muffled, until it became an indistinct whisper again.

An Yixiao snapped her eyes open.

The living figure was gone; only an ordinary bronze statue remained.

She deactivated the Left Eye of the Strange, and the murmurs vanished.

But she didn’t relax.

Those who were deeply corrupted couldn’t tell illusion from reality.

The easiest way to check whether she’d been tainted was to visit the small supermarket.

Still, she didn’t want to leave just yet.

She gathered every textbook written by Lan Xuan, trying to piece together clues.

That was when Duan Jing found her. “What are you doing hiding here?”

An Yixiao asked, “You’ve been here a while. Ever heard of someone named Lan Xuan?”

Duan Jing raised an eyebrow. “Of course. There’s a statue of her in the west courtyard, the name carved right on it.”

“How much do you know about her?” An Yixiao pressed.

“Why would I bother learning about her? She’s not even a teacher here…” Duan Jing stopped mid-sentence.

An Yixiao looked up. “Realized something?”

After a pause, Duan Jing nodded. “Yeah. If she’s not a teacher, then why does she have a statue on campus?”

Sensing they might be closing in on the dungeon’s core, she joined the search. “I’ll look for the school’s founding records.”

Mingde Academy wasn’t that old, so a school chronicle might hold the answers about Lan Xuan’s connection to it.

To save time, Duan Jing even used an item tool.

Moments later, she exclaimed, “Found it!”

An Yixiao turned to her. Duan Jing was holding the school’s founding almanac, open to a photo of the ribbon-cutting ceremony.

According to the printed names below, the man seated in the center was Principal Cao Xifeng.

Behind him stood Lan Xuan, dressed elegantly like a socialite from the Republic of China era.

After a pause, An Yixiao said, “So the school’s entire educational philosophy came from Lan Xuan.”

From a business standpoint, she quickly understood Mingde Academy’s structure.

Cao Xifeng, though the principal, didn’t actually handle education. He treated it as a business.

Under the banner of “traditional culture” and “national studies,” he had founded multiple training institutes—from homework tutoring to calligraphy, music, and painting classes.

He even ran a website devoted to feng shui and mysticism.

Digging deeper into the links, one could find a sister site on “national studies.”

And its star figure? Lan Xuan.

She’d given herself countless titles: “Expert in Traditional Culture,” “Senior Lecturer at the National Studies Academy.”

She’d promoted her own seminars, summer camps, and women’s virtue schools.

But that website had stopped updating years ago.

“Something must have happened to her,” An Yixiao said quietly. “That’s how this dungeon came to be.”

Duan Jing’s scalp prickled. “Don’t tell me we have to earn her approval to clear it.”

An Yixiao had the same dread.

If Lan Xuan’s obsession was to spread her “female virtue,” then even if they broke the dungeon itself, they’d never follow her path.

Duan Jing took a deep breath, cracking her knuckles. “Then there’s only one option—fight our way out.”

[Author’s Note]
All events and characters in this story are fictional. Please don’t associate them with real individuals or institutions. [dog emojis]

Looks like the dungeon will wrap up in the next chapter.

I hadn’t planned to detail the dungeon this much, but perhaps An Yixiao had her own ideas. [smirk emoji]

☢️☢️☢️