At a little past 10 a.m., Zhang Yunxi arrived at Qingshan Theological Seminary in a self-driving taxi. Today was August 27, 2120—the last day for new students to report. As he stepped through the school gates, he noticed a small group of students gathered on the field, though the turnout was sparse, suggesting enrollment wasn't exactly booming.

  Standing at the entrance with his black backpack slung over his shoulder, Zhang Yunxi turned to take in the campus scenery—and was immediately struck with disbelief.

  The actual campus bore no resemblance to the photos on the school's official website. Built into the mountains and rivers, the functional buildings were scattered far apart. From where he stood, Zhang Yunxi couldn't even see the edges of the campus—only the faint outlines of traditional Chinese courtyards nestled among the lush greenery.

  There were no basketball courts, soccer fields, cafeterias, dorms, or libraries in sight. The only vaguely modern structure was the administration building, which, unlike the polished image online, was cracked, faded, and clearly not the twenty-story marvel the website had photoshopped.

  This didn't look like a university at all. It more closely resembled a secluded retreat for retired officials—or maybe a wilderness camp. No matter how he looked at it, the place felt desolate and far removed from any academic institution.

  What kind of scam is this? Zhang Yunxi fumed inwardly. Doesn't the education bureau regulate these shady schools with their fake advertising?

  With a sigh, he followed the signs toward the freshman registration area, his mood a mix of frustration and reluctant curiosity. He wasn't happy about being here—it felt like he'd fallen into a trap. The only consolation was the breathtaking natural scenery.

  The sky was a brilliant blue, the landscape an unbroken stretch of greenery. Rainbows shimmered over mountain waterfalls, while clouds and birds drifted overhead. The crisp scent of grass and trees filled the air—a stark contrast to the steel-and-glass metropolises where technology had long erased nature's touch.

  As a biology student, Zhang Yunxi couldn't help but pause and snap a few photos with his wrist-mounted smart device.

  Near the registration area, he spotted the greasy man from the train station—the one who had been brawling with an AI robot. Shockingly, the guy was now standing in the freshman waiting area, holding what looked like a welcome package from the school.

  No way… Zhang Yunxi stared. This dude looks at least thirty-five. Is he seriously a freshman too?

  Shaking off his bewilderment, Zhang Yunxi stepped into the registration office.

  Three days before arriving, Zhang Yunxi had submitted his high school teacher's recommendation letter, along with one prepared by his late adoptive father, Professor Zhang Zhitao. Because of this, the registration process was quick—just a brief verification of his documents before he was told to wait for an admissions interview.

  An interview? Zhang Yunxi frowned. Since when do universities require interviews just for enrollment?

  After about fifteen minutes, a sharply dressed man in his late twenties approached.

  "Zhang Yunxi?" he asked.

  "Yes, Professor!"

  "I'm Li Han, your academic advisor. I'll be conducting your interview." Li Han extended a hand with a warm smile. "Please follow me."

  Zhang Yunxi grabbed his backpack and followed Li Han down a corridor to the left.

  After fifty meters, they reached a metal door. Li Han blinked twice at the recognition scanner beside it, and the door slid open, revealing a pristine, well-lit hallway.

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  "After you," Li Han said, gesturing forward.

  As Zhang Yunxi stepped inside, his eyes widened in shock.

  This was clearly the school's administrative wing. The hallway was lined with transparent offices, staffed by workers using holographic displays and AI-assisted terminals. Data, templates, and information flowed visibly through the air.

  How much did this setup cost? Zhang Yunxi thought, stunned. Even government offices don't have tech this advanced.

  ??BANG! BANG!??

  A series of heavy thuds interrupted his thoughts. He turned to see a towering, two-and-a-half-meter-tall titanium robot limping toward them, its mechanical leg visibly damaged.

  Holy shit— Zhang Yunxi instinctively jumped back.

  "Professor Zhu Qizhen!" A staff member chased after the robot. "Your leg needs repairs! Please come to the maintenance room!"

  ??BANG!??

  The robot—Zhu Qizhen—punched a transparent wall panel in frustration.

  "Damn those bastards from Team Two!" it roared. "They sabotaged me before the basketball match next week! Stole my leg bolts and cut my support frame! Just wait—I'll have my revenge!"

  Zhang Yunxi gaped.

  Full titanium body… 34R0111 STERNO piston neck… Deep Blue Parallel-9 core engine… What kind of monster is this? How much did it cost to build?!

  "You know robotics?" Li Han asked, noticing his reaction.

  "I love mechs and AI," Zhang Yunxi admitted, still staring at Zhu Qizhen. "But… did someone just call him Professor?"

  Li Han chuckled. "He's one of your physical education instructors. His name is Zhu Qizhen. Whoever programmed him gave him a passion for history, so he named himself after a legendary general."

  "That's insane," Zhang Yunxi muttered.

  "Hey, twig!" Zhu Qizhen suddenly turned, his mechanical arm patting Zhang Yunxi's head with surprising gentleness. "You a freshman? You look like a stick."

  Zhang Yunxi smirked. "At least I've got a stick. You… don't."

  The robot let out a mechanical grumble. "Smartass. Don't let me catch you in my class."

  As Zhu Qizhen hobbled away, Zhang Yunxi exhaled slowly, his mind reeling.

  The inside of this school was nothing like its shabby exterior. From what he'd seen online, Qingshan Theological Seminary seemed like a third-rate institution at best—maybe even a scam. But beyond that metal door, it felt cutting-edge, professional, and dripping with technological sophistication.

  Zhang Yunxi had visited prestigious universities like Pearl University before, and even their administrative wings weren't this advanced. And robots as professors? That was unheard of.

  Most shocking of all was Zhu Qizhen. The kind of company capable of producing a machine like that could be counted on one hand. So why was it here, in what looked like a backwater school?

  This place is insane.

  For the first time, Zhang Yunxi's initial skepticism wavered. Maybe staying here—both to investigate his family's tragedy and to study—wouldn't be so bad after all.

  Five minutes later, Li Han led Zhang Yunxi into a private office.

  "Coffee, tea, water?" Li Han offered.

  "I'm fine, thanks."

  "Have a seat." Li Han pulled up Zhang Yunxi's file on a holographic display. "You originally wanted to attend Pearl University's biology program?"

  "Yes."

  Li Han nodded. "What do you know about Qingshan Theological Seminary?"

  "Honestly? Almost nothing," Zhang Yunxi admitted. "And after seeing this place, I'm even more confused."

  "Fair." Li Han leaned forward. "What about the Eternal World? Familiar with it?"

  "Of course," Zhang Yunxi said. "Who isn't? It's got, like, 99.999% global user coverage."

  The Eternal World was a virtual reality metaverse developed by the tech giant Lingjing Group. Using neural interfaces and memory storage, it allowed human consciousness to live indefinitely in a hyper-realistic digital universe.

  It had revolutionized society—much like Apple, Microsoft, or Hangzhou Ma's empire had in their eras.

  Li Han clarified, "I meant its governance rules. Have you studied those?"

  "Not really."

  "Then let me ask this: Would you mind logging into the Eternal World with me? I'd like to review your virtual profile. It's relevant to the interview."

  "I can, but I didn't bring my neural headset."

  "Not an issue." Li Han tapped his desk comm. "Nisa, bring me a portable brain-machine interface. New one."

  Five minutes later, Zhang Yunxi adjusted the sleek headset. "Free City server?"

  "Go ahead." Li Han donned his own device.

  Three seconds later, a weightless sensation washed over them. A soft ding echoed in their ears—and then, they were in.

  ??Meanwhile, in Pearl City…??

  In a dim, grimy basement, the lawyer who had defended Zhang Yunxi in Li Yun's case knelt on the floor, trembling.

  A handsome young man loomed over him, voice icy. "You're certain Zhang Yunxi used Zhang Zhitao's recommendation letter to enter Qingshan Theological Seminary?"

  "Y-yes, sir! I swear!" the lawyer begged. "Please, let me go!"

  The young man straightened, smiling faintly as he turned toward the door.

  Relieved, the lawyer slumped—only for the young man to pause at the exit.

  "You know," he mused, raising his right arm, "I've never trusted a lawyer's word."

  ??BANG.??

  A beam of light erupted from his mechanical palm. The room flashed white—then fell silent.