Xiao Gui'an watched as the rules on the prompt panel kept changing, even showing so irregular garbled code.
The positioning of his identity and the tasks he needed to complete were constantly shifting, with two different forces trying to dominate.
Although he couldn't hear the struggle between the two chanical voices, Xiao Gui'an had roughly guessed that there must be another force of rules competing with the Proxy System here.
He surveyed his surroundings—desolate and boundless, without spatial boundaries or the concept of ti, only the eternally gloomy and deathly silent gray mist.
Zero had told him about this place once—it was called the [Void Realm].
Back when Sunshine Residential Area was swept through the domain between two worlds by that unspeakable force, Xiao Gui'an had glimpsed this vast, borderless region and asked Zero about it once.
But at that ti, Xiao Gui'an was mainly focused on how to deal with the situation descending upon the real world, so he didn't pay too much attention.
Is he a [Player] or an [NPC]?
Is he the [Writer] or [Gui Yi]?
He wants it all!!
Just as the Proxy System had said before, being neither omniscient nor completely ignorant is best.
Isn't this just the ultimate nesting doll? It's not like he hasn't tried it before.
Appearance reflects the inner mind.
What existed in the Void Realm now was Xiao Gui'an's soul. Both Gui Yi and the Writer's status and attributes were imprinted deep within his soul, acknowledged by both worlds.
And as the Void Realm capable of projecting both worlds, as long as Xiao Gui'an's willpower was strong enough, he could influence this incomplete set of rules and judgnts. Even the [Writer] could descend here.
The so-called physical form is rely external and holds little significance in this space.
To clear the instance dungeon, like a player completing all tasks to touch upon the core secrets—this belonged to the player [Gui Yi].
But the one accomplishing all this wouldn't be [Gui Yi], but the NPC [Writer].
The [Writer] was more powerful; at the very least, his high status could avoid many troubleso situations.
Xiao Gui'an closed his eyes, and his soul power surged into the consciousness space.
The Proxy System instantly felt like it had been upgraded with ultra-high equipnt—faster, stronger, higher speed.
An imnse data flow overwhelmingly subrged the other chanical voice.
The constantly changing panel content finally stabilized.
[Your current identity is 『Actor NPC』 [Writer] Yan Tingchen.
Your fantasy status is: [Fallen Literary Star] (Current state: Status incomplete, under seal)
Currently assessed status: [S] class (No upper limit, can continue to improve through acting. According to rules, partially suppressed during the first four days of the instance dungeon——)
So titles cannot function. Remaining [Hidden buff Lonely Creation of Ghosts and Gods] is currently active——
Welco to this instance dungeon. You need to play the role of a newly arrived teaching teacher. The tasks you can choose to complete are as follows——
Instance Dungeon: [Who is the Most Obedient Child]
Number of players: Unknown
Ga ti: 7 days
[Task content: Welco to Angel's Wings Orphanage, a place full of love and hope, where countless angels with broken wings await people's care.
They study courses, they cultivate interests, they are well-behaved and sensible, obedient and clever. It's never been heard that anyone would violate the orphanage's rules.
Dear player, you will also beco one of them. This week, you will have a brand new face and identity, to personally experience the lives of those angels with broken wings.
Cheer up, strive to beco a recognized good child in the orphanage—perhaps that is the key to leaving this place.]
[Rule one: Under the gaze of ti, players must follow the orphanage's regulations.
Please obediently rest in bed before 11 PM; night wandering is prohibited.
Note: Perhaps after the teacher finishes room checks at 11:30 PM, you can sneak out for fresh air, provided you aren't discovered by the monsters patrolling the corridors.]
[2. Must obtain at least one big red flower daily to avoid punishnt. (Players must explore how to obtain them themselves)
Complete daily tasks according to the schedule; cannot refuse reasonable requests from teachers or relevant care staff.
Note: One can never have too many big red flowers]
[4. Children who make mistakes must consciously reflect in the Punishnt Room. Cannot leave the Punishnt Room before the designated ti. If the door is opened or left early during this period, greater punishnt will be received.]
[Rule two: Players must not reveal their origins to any surrounding entities; must not act in ways inconsistent with their original image.
Please properly play the true appearance of the angel with broken wings you have beco; must not be detected as abnormal by the eyes.]
[Rule three: Major cleaning only occurs at noon on Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday, when you can et the longest-serving cleaner in the orphanage. If you satisfy him, he might rember sothing.]
[Task objectives: 1. Survive until the end of the ga;
Find the once most obedient child in the orphanage and lead it out the gates of this prison city; Restore the complete truth of the story.]
[No hints for players in this instance dungeon. Good luck! Enjoy this healing journey, believing that angels' wings can ultimately be reborn.]
This round's NPC hint is [It constantly misses its friend, it's him, and it's her]
Current instance dungeon ti: [Day Two, 7:00 PM]
"Tap—" The Proxy System's energy protection gradually dissipated.
A slender figure slowly landed, stepping out from the mist and walking toward the tightly closed orphanage gates.
In the mist, the distinctly boned hand gently grasped a pen and wrote in mid-air, [A good writer can also beco a good teacher]
Writing becos reality—
The originally indistinct figure began to materialize bit by bit, eventually standing before the gates.
The newcor shook his sleeves as if dust had settled on them, a gentle and refined smile spreading across his face.
Ink-black hair lightly fell to his shoulders. The [Writer], dressed in a fitting dark long gown, looked at the massive building before him with deep, profound eyes, seemingly pleased to finally have a place to rest. "Let rest here for a while."
He pressed the old-fashioned doorbell, the sowhat harsh, unpleasant sound echoing in his ears.
In this silent environnt, it seed to startle a flock of black birds in the orphanage's trees; they flew up and then settled again.
So landed in the trees, so perched on the tall iron railings with sharp spikes surrounding the orphanage's periter.
"Who is it?" A hunched figure erged from a corner by the wall—an elderly man.
He held a dustpan and broom, the dustpan filled with fallen leaves.
Beneath the leaves seed to be sothing sticky and bloody. Two blue sleeve covers were filthy beyond recognition, bearing dark stains.
"Hello, uncle. I'm the new teacher for this week. Had a bit of trouble outside, arrived a bit late. Hope you can open the gate for ."
The [Writer] raised his hand, producing from sowhere the so-called transfer order, slowly unfolding it before the other.
The cleaner uncle looked him up and down, then narrowed his small, murky eyes to carefully examine the transfer order.
It was unclear whether he actually understood it or not.
The cleaner uncle then revealed an sowhat ingratiating, unpleasant smile, his entire face wrinkling up. Two conspicuously large gold teeth in his mouth were extrely noticeable. "Ah, teacher, I never went to school, can't read much! But it's naturally best that you could co! The children in our institution are so well-behaved!"
The cleaner put down his cleaning tools, wiping his hands on his clothes.
He pulled out a large bunch of keys, unlocked the large rusty lock on the gate, scattering a cloud of dust.
Normally, he should have stepped outside the orphanage to open the gate for people, but the cleaner seed to be afraid of sothing, unwilling to take even one step closer to the gate. "Teacher, co in quickly."
"Alright." The [Writer] retrieved the transfer order, took the gentleman's cane in his left hand, pressed it against the gate, and slowly pushed the dirty gate open, then stepped inside without any hindrance.
"Thank you." He nodded to the cleaner, showing respect even toward him.
"Ah, no need for thanks, no need, teacher. Please go this way—"
The cleaner watched as the [Writer] easily entered the courtyard, his eyes flickering, pointing in a direction for him. "That way, just go that way. I'll clean up a bit more here!"
"Alright." The [Writer] remained calm and composed as ever. Leaning on the gentleman's wooden cane with his right hand, he stepped onto the flickeringly lit path, also carrying a wooden box in his left hand—unclear what was inside.
The iron gate slowly closed tightly again.
Only after watching the [Writer]'s slender figure gradually disappear into the distance did the cleaner slowly withdraw his gaze.
Then he looked outside the orphanage gates at the gray, misty world—only endless death and solitude, without boundaries, without end.
"From outside? Which outside?" he murmured softly.
Sothing capable of walking through that deathly silent land outside?
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