Hearing Meng Huai’s words and recalling they might’ve let some footsteps slip, the group stopped pretending to be oblivious and sheepishly emerged from behind trash cans, outside windows, and above the ceiling… standing before the three of us. Looking at their creative hiding spots, Meng Huai felt the dark lines on his forehead multiply. In a way, their ability to find so many hiding places and conceal themselves perfectly in such a short time was impressive. “I didn’t know our class had so many hide-and-seek masters?” He was so exasperated he laughed. “What are you following for? Want to visit Boss Sun with Class Monitor?” They had no interest in the uncle-nephew reunion, their gazes unanimously shifting to me. What really piqued their curiosity and made them follow was why Meng Huai called me out. Since I was in the back row, only Meng Huai, facing everyone, saw my expression, so no one else understood why he singled me out. Catching their looks, Meng Huai tugged at his lips, feigning kindness: “Curious, huh?” After a year together, we all knew the teacher’s temperament. Sensing trouble, they hurriedly tried to deny it. But before they could shake their heads, Meng Huai’s face darkened: “Get out and run 20 laps—then you won’t be curious!” No choice—under the homeroom teacher’s pressure, they reluctantly headed to the field to run. They had no doubt that lingering a moment longer would double the laps. He initially reached for a cigarette but stopped, remembering smoking on campus was inappropriate. Crossing his arms, he asked leisurely: “So, what do you know?” “Who the mole is?” I didn’t play dumb—there was no need. “Who?” Meng Huai’s gaze sharpened. But I stopped there, giving a roguish smile: “Isn’t it more fun for you teachers to find out yourselves?” Meng Huai always knew I was infuriating, but not this infuriating. His hand twitched, itching to give my head a good smack. I preemptively stepped back: “You’ll know soon enough. Why rush? Besides, you already have a hunch, don’t you?” I knew the answer but saw no need to say it, nor should it come from me. My persona wouldn’t justify proactively helping Endless Ability Academy root out moles, and I had no intention of advancing the plot early. My claim that “you’ll know soon” wasn’t empty talk. With the Tri-School Competition nearing, the author would leave time for training. So, if Ye Lin was planning something, it’d likely be within a week or two—no longer. Hearing me, Meng Huai fell silent. As I said, he did have a hunch, which was why his mood had been so foul lately. Realizing I wouldn’t spill, he didn’t press, just scrutinized me, wanting to ask how I knew. But even that, I wouldn’t answer. Best not to frustrate himself. As long as I wasn’t a “Black Flash” mole, it was fine. On that, he trusted his judgment. Among Class S' fifteen, I was one of the least likely to be a mole. “Black Flash” wasn’t stupid. Their moles would stay low-key, avoiding suspicion. Why send someone like me, reeking of secrets? If I knew Meng Huai thought this, I’d wholeheartedly agree. If only real-world readers had that logic—I couldn’t be a mole by reason alone! But readers missing this was normal. Their omniscient perspective gave them more info than manga characters, but also an arrogance characters lacked. In manga, villains often looked villainous, heroes heroic, and high-charisma characters had special plots… These patterns were so clear that readers could predict much, but they could also be blinded by them. Readers generally thought: Su Bei’s so mysterious, he’s got to be shady—a perfect mole. As for why he’s not suspected despite being so secretive? It’s a manga world—characters wouldn’t notice! Back to now, knowing I wouldn’t tell the truth, Meng Huai looked away, waving me off: “Fine, go back. Don’t stir trouble these days.” “I never stir trouble,” I turned to leave, muttering, “Trouble finds me.” At the cafeteria for dinner, I ran into Lan Subing, who’d just eaten. Her eyes lit up, gossip burning: “Su Bei! What’d the teacher want?” “Asked about the ‘Perfect Heart,’” I lied casually, swiftly changing the subject. “Be careful these days.” Since it concerned her, Lan Subing’s attention shifted, asking nervously: “What’s up? Am I gonna get taken hostage?” I shrugged: “Who knows?” Then I walked into the cafeteria to eat. I warned her because Ye Lin would likely act soon. Who knew Lan Subing would think of herself? No matter—better safe than sorry. Who knew if the protagonist group would get dragged in? Unexpectedly, the next day, I saw a bounty in the Destiny organization’s notebook, asking for details on Endless Ability Academy’s mole and their “Black Flash” ties. I’d seen a bounty before about the mole’s identity, but I wasn’t sure then, so I didn’t take it. Now, I could take this one without revealing Ye Lin’s identity—why not? I accepted, informing them the mole had a sister in “Black Flash.” In return, I got a “Luck Bead,” normally found in the Academy’s Point System Campus Store. Good stuff—it maxed out luck, shifting the small pointer to the far left, usable three times before breaking. Carrying it normally helped maintain luck. I tested it: my usual small pointer sat center-right, but with the “Luck Bead,” it stayed center-left. Though less useful for me, it was valuable. Adjusting my luck saved little Mental Energy, but tweaking the protagonist group’s could save a lot. As expected, Ye Lin acted on the fourth day. Surprisingly, it didn’t involve students—at least not initially. She didn’t target students but aimed to steal a treasure from the principal’s office. Her mole status was already shaky, so the principal and others caught on early. How did I know? Ye Lin fled to Class S. Our classroom’s spot was prime—near the Academy’s gate, perfect for escape. “Little Leaf…” Lei Ze’en, chasing her, looked heartbroken, mixed with other emotions. He held back, asking only: “I just want to know when you joined ‘Black Flash.’ Answer, and I’ll leave, no pursuit.” He couldn’t bear to harm his old friend, just wanting the truth. “I was always with ‘Black Flash,’” Ye Lin gave a bitter smile. “You may not believe it, but those three years at school were my happiest. But I can’t betray the organization—they raised me, and…” —And her sister was still there, so she couldn’t betray them. She didn’t finish, feeling it pointless to play the victim now. Better to let them fully turn against her—dragging it out helped no one. Hearing this, Lei Ze’en felt slight comfort. Like I thought, he preferred initial opposition over betrayal after bonding. Her words eased him. He left, but Meng Huai stayed, his expression complex yet resolute: “Stay. You can atone. As for your sister, we’ll find a way to save her. Do you want her trapped in ‘Black Flash’ forever?” He knew Ye Lin wasn’t fully brainwashed by “Black Flash.” Her traits often clashed with their ways, suggesting a moral conflict. With years of camaraderie, Meng Huai was confident that saving her sister could sway her. Wu Di nodded: “If you surrender, I can even apply for you to stay as School Nurse.” Freedom would be limited, but that went unsaid—everyone understood. Having been comrades so long, Ye Lin knew what Meng Huai was thinking. He was right—if her sister left “Black Flash,” she’d accept punishment from Endless Ability Academy. But just as he knew her, she knew her sister: “Ye Shu’s not like me. She grew up in ‘Black Flash.’” Meaning Ye Shu, raised entirely by “Black Flash” without outside education, was heavily indoctrinated and wouldn’t leave. If Meng Huai forcibly took Ye Shu, Ye Lin wouldn’t agree. Her greatest wish was her sister’s happiness—why else stay loyal to a flawed “Black Flash”? Then, she suddenly thought of something, asking warily: “How do you know about Ye Shu?” “From Destiny,” no need to hide. “They sell intel—it’s normal to get info from them.” “Destiny, huh…” Ye Lin knew the group but was curious how they knew her and her sister’s identities. A traitor in “Black Flash”? Unlikely—her identity was top secret, known only to a few who’d never betray. Honestly, a traitor might be good. If “Black Flash” fell into chaos, she could escape with her sister. Sighing silently, Ye Lin’s gaze hardened: “Let me go, and I’ll spare them.” “Them” clearly meant Jiang Tianming and the others, silently watching from class. Though a healer-type Ability user, Ye Lin wasn’t defenseless. Even without props, she had self-protection and attack methods, plus plenty of “good stuff” prepared. Hearing this, I was dumbfounded. This had nothing to do with us! Could these immortals fight without dragging us mortals into it? “Hurt students in front of us?” Wu Di’s face turned cold at her threat. “Ye Lin, you think too little of me, your teacher?” Before becoming Endless Ability Academy’s principal, Wu Di taught for a time—the very class with Meng Huai’s trio. He was indeed their teacher. “Teacher, I don’t,” Ye Lin smiled bitterly. “But you know you can’t protect every student.” Her position was closer to Jiang Tianming’s group, so she could indeed harm them if she acted. Ai Baozhu was about to activate her Ability to give the teachers a chance to subdue Ye Lin, but Ye Lin saw through it. Her pale green eyes glanced at Ai Baozhu, her tone as gentle as ever: “It’s no use. Your strength is still lacking.” If Ye Lin faced everyone in a fight to the death, she might lose to Class S' fourteen-to-one odds. Their strength wasn’t to be underestimated. But now, she only needed to hold one hostage to make others hesitate. To avoid student injuries, neither Meng Huai, Wu Di, nor Jiang Tianming’s group dared act rashly. Her gaze swept Class S, lingering briefly on me: “If you want, you can leave now.” In this class, Ye Lin mainly avoided provoking Si Zhaohua, Ai Baozhu, Feng Lan, and me—three for their backgrounds, me for my tricky Ability. But “Black Flash” was at odds with the Feng Family, and the Si and Ai families likely wouldn’t defect, so offending them was fine. She only hoped I wouldn’t ruin her plan. She wasn’t truly scared of me. Even a mysterious Destiny type, with first-year knowledge, would struggle against her. But with Meng Huai and Wu Di watching, she needed stability. I was the biggest variable, so she wanted me out first. Knowing me, I’d likely agree happily. Sure enough, I raised an eyebrow, raising my hands obligingly: “Thanks, Teacher. I’ll go.” Staying was out of the question. If Ye Lin let me leave, she feared me. Staying meant I’d act, likely becoming her first target. If something happened, it’d be bad—I had no organization’s halo to save me. Even without that concern, I wouldn’t stay. Why linger when I could escape easily? Was I bored? Though this event grazed the main storyline, it was clearly Ye Lin’s decision, unlikely to reveal key plot points. I’d catch up via the manga later. I’d also realized that, with the manga this far, I didn’t need to obsess over the main plot. My persona was set—occasionally showing up was enough. For original chapters go to novel✶fire.net When I said I’d leave, I meant it—gone until the event ended. Seeing me agree, Ye Lin relaxed. Under everyone’s gazes, I cheerfully left the classroom, heading to the cafeteria. Eating, I was in a great mood—not just because Ye Lin let me go, but because her actions meant an extra manga chapter before the Tri-School Competition. That meant I could complete my Gear enhancement beforehand. After eating, I had no intention of returning to class. The “Manga Consciousness” hadn’t updated—things might not be over. Going back could mean an empty classroom or a battlefield. Better stay safe in the dorm. Within an hour, my phone got a platform message from the principal: no classes tomorrow, as the rest of Class S couldn’t return yet. Interesting. I asked for details. The story was simple: Ye Lin had a school treasure. Since Ye Shu’s capture mission failed, she needed it to atone for her sister. Endless Ability Academy wouldn’t let her take it. In the standoff, Ye Lin used a prop to whisk everyone away—clearly pre-planned, excluding Wu Di to avoid his overwhelming strength. She took everyone with a prop? Thinking of her letting me leave first, I understood. The prop likely involved luck or favored my Ability. No wonder her move to let me go was odd—she’d planned it. But Wu Di misjudged. That night, I heard the “Manga Consciousness” chime—the updated, meaning they were back. Disappointed I couldn’t skip class tomorrow, I sighed. But my Ability had changed—Gear enhancement complete, offsetting my lost slacking. Setting Ability study aside, I opened my phone to check the manga update. This chapter revealed Ye Lin’s mole status. As a gentle big-sister type, she was popular in shonen. Though many guessed her identity, the reveal still shocked the bullet comments. “It’s really Teacher Ye Lin.” “How’s it her??? Such a good disguise—not like a mole at all.” “So thrilling! Gentle nurse to scheming mole!” “Is the teacher trio splitting up?” “Feel bad for Teacher Meng and Lei. Sigh…” When Ye Lin asked if I’d leave and I did, readers laughed. Honestly, I found it funny too. Since I wasn’t in the rest, I read quickly. After I left, as Wu Di said, Ye Lin used a prepared prop to pull everyone into a game space: Monopoly. As its creator, she had a cheat—buying land for a tenth of the cost. Fair, since she was 1v15—without a cheat, she might as well surrender. The winner could set a non-lethal condition. Clearly, Ye Lin didn’t intend harm, just wanted an escape. Seeing the game’s name, I understood why she let me go. In Monopoly, if I’d stayed, tweaking everyone’s luck would’ve wrecked her. Jiang Tianming won, wanting Ye Lin to stay, but she exploited a bug: staying meant “Black Flash” would hunt her, effectively a death sentence, violating Monopoly’s rules. With no choice, he demanded she leave the prop. Ye Lin smoothly left Endless Ability Academy.