Chapter 135: How Could I Give You the Chance to Complain

Chapter 135: No Opportunity for You to Report

Wu Yue awoke the next morning to a system notification:

"Survived a night in the dorm without HP loss. Survival’s a breeze for you.

Reward: A deluxe breakfast spread."

The spread contained eight dishes—sandwiches, milk, soy milk, xiaolongbao, Chinese sticky rice rolls (cifan), douhua, peanut butter, and toast—a post-apocalyptic luxury.

But here’s the kicker: the milk, soy milk, xiaolongbao, rice rolls, and douhua were still steaming, their hearty, salty-savory scent irresistible.

After a deep breath, Wu Yue kept the sandwich, peanut butter, and toast, wolfing down the rest.

The carb rush brought a sugar haze—brief bliss in this bleak, dangerous world.

She snapped alert, shifting to battle-ready mode.

Packing the leftovers into her prepped gear, she cocooned in her blanket and cracked open the door. Others had beaten her to it.

The hallway held several students. While her door stood firm, others lay splintered, hinges busted.

Staring at the wrecked doors, Wu Yue grasped how brutal last night had been.

From their uniforms, they were Falcon and Sirius members.

Their HP Bars were all partially drained.

Wu Yue counted four women in Falcon, four in Sirius.

Shadow had just Su Mo; Blaze likewise had just one.

Desert Rose’s full roster of 20 women meant this dorm housed 30—making up 30% of all survivors.

A Falcon member called out, "Sirius, wanna team up?"

"Prove you’re serious first."

"My room’s got the full dorm rules. Dorms are only accessible from 18:01 to 7:59.

Otherwise, we’re required in class.

The trip’s gonna be dicey. We stick together."

Sirius members hesitated, evaluating the offer.

Wu Yue peered through the hallway window. The casualty counter on the clock tower now read 97.

Two more lives gone overnight.

Then she noticed it—a thick fog encircling the tower, hiding a forest of shadowy, towering monoliths.

A voice snapped her focus: "Wu Yue?"

Wu Yue never expected the person living right across from her would be Wu Xiuli.

She nodded, "Captain Wu."

Wu Xiuli's gaze swept over Wu Yue repeatedly, her face shocked. "You're already fine? Your mental resilience is incredible—completely unlike someone without psychic powers."

When Falcon members heard Wu Yue lacked powers, they sneered:

"No way. Blaze isn’t even the top team—how’d they let someone without powers into a World Boss map?"

"Hard not to assume the worst. It’s always women like you making men look down on us."

"Sometimes I wonder why I bother training 20 hours a day when you can just bat your eyelashes and call someone 'big bro.'"

"Wait—aren’t you the one shrieking ‘help me’ nonstop yesterday? Ugh. Why’re you still alive?"

"Scream and get in my way, and I’ll kill you first."

Wu Xiuli’s brows snapped together. "What bullshit are you spewing? You think Blaze’s four teleport points fell into their laps?

You small-fry lackeys never seen what Blaze’s Shen Que’s like? Your boss never dealt with him?

Charles has fought Shen Que how many times—when’s he ever come out on top?

Shen Que obliterated the elite rogue crew Contrascale with 12 nukes at the start—that alone shows how important Wu Yue is to him!

Wu Yue’s pod piloting is next-level. If she claims second in the alliance, *no one* dares claim first!

Even our Desert Rose owes her—she found the Earth Tablet and yanked us out of the Black Sandstorm’s teeth."

Falcon hadn’t expected the legend who flipped the whole Polar Battlefield scoreboard solo—the OG pilot with a 40+ kill count their leader hated—would be this powerless woman.

If Wu Yue had said it herself, they’d have laughed it off as absurd.

But coming from Wu Xiuli—Desert Rose’s captain (alliance team rank #5), S-tier support and plague-bringer medic (individual rank #8)—it hit different.

Falcon had to swallow it, but still took a sour jab:

"Big deal. Even the best operator’s a sitting duck in a no-pod zone without powers."

Wu Xiuli barked a laugh. "With me and all of Desert Rose here, try touching her.

Powers this, powers that—can’t shut up about ’em.

Twenty-hour training days melted your last brain cells.

Notice yet? This dungeon seals everyone’s powers. What’s your fancy psychic rank worth now?

Check that room—there’s an S-rank who can’t budge the damn door."

She jerked her chin at Su Mo’s room.

"Since you dickride high-tier psychics, go rescue your precious ally."

Falcon’s faces went sheet-white realizing the S-rank was the same chick wailing yesterday.

"I’m Su Mo from Shadow. Someone *help* me!"

The voice of Su Mo came from inside the room, striking like a stinging slap across the faces of the Falcon members.

The entire 20-member team of Desert Rose stood united, yet not a single core member of Falcon was present.

Falcon gritted his teeth, "Wu Xiuli, just you wait after we get out of here.

Charles will never let you and this worthless waste off the hook!"

The moment they spoke, shadowy figures materialized from all corners of the hallway.

They all wore identical grinning doll masks, cackling unnaturally as they encircled the Falcon members from all directions.

The expressions of Falcon’s members twisted from fury to terror, and even Sirius, who had been observing from the sidelines, went on high alert.

"It’s the Laughing Ghosts of Desert Rose!"

Wu Xiuli scoffed coldly, "Hmph."

She reached out, drawing Wu Yue to her side as her tone turned icy. "You think I'd let you snitch? Kill them all."

Falcon’s members didn’t even have time to react—before they could form any formation, a web of crimson threads suddenly appeared throughout the hallway, crisscrossing from every direction.

The threads abruptly tightened, and in an instant, Falcon’s members burst into crimson mist, gory chunks raining down across the floor.

......

The clock tower chimed, ticking forward four marks.

Current survivors: 93.