Xia Wang'an finally got her hands on a stack of exam papers.
She cherished them, gently stroking each sheet and every practice booklet, feeling as though she were floating in an ocean of happiness.
On Blue Star, resources like water and food were severely depleted, but mutated plants suitable for making paper were abundant. As a result, students in Great Xia never lacked exam materials.
For Great Xia's students, whether in times of peace or catastrophe, the college entrance exams were of utmost importance. After all, the knowledge tested during the disaster era could literally save lives—and the jobs in this era heavily relied on such knowledge.
In her previous life, Xia Wang'an had been a diligent student, burying herself in books and maintaining the top rank in her grade. Every morning during self-study, her homeroom teacher would gift her a lovingly grown mutated potato.
At such moments, under the envious gazes of her classmates, Xia Wang'an would gnaw on the hard, pitch-black potato while furiously scribbling answers on her exam papers.
She was brimming with confidence about the exams, certain she would achieve outstanding results.
To leave no room for error, Xia Wang'an did practice papers in the morning, at noon, and at night—fully prepared, with only the actual exams left to conquer.
And then, one month before the exams, she transmigrated.
[Do you know how devastating this was for me?]
[It’s like eating without a bowl, bathing without water, or sleeping without a bed!]
Xia Wang'an clutched the exam papers, nearly moved to tears: [Thirty-one worlds—I’ve been to thirty-one worlds in the past ten years, and not a single one had exam papers or college entrance exams!!]
A voice echoed in her mind: [Host, you’ve told me this one thousand and fifty-one times already.]
Xia Wang'an paused: [Huh, that many? I just wanted to emphasize how little those worlds cared about youth education! I condemn them from the moral high ground!]
The voice in her head sounded resigned: [That one, you’ve said one thousand three hundred and sixty-two times.]
Xia Wang'an began reflecting: [007, did I set your memory function too well back then?]
Yes, just as she had explained to the recorder earlier, Xia Wang'an had a system—one she had created herself.
Back when she first transmigrated at sixteen, she was still a minor in Great Xia, the kind of age where she’d be prioritized for evacuation in times of danger.
Her biggest worries back then were things like, “The second-ranked student in the neighboring class is only three points behind me now,” or “Why does ‘After Obtaining the War God System, I Slaughtered All the Mutants’ update so slowly?”
A sixteen-year-old girl who firmly believed she was just an ordinary high school student (with a dash of chuunibyou) was utterly bewildered after transmigrating.
Bad news: She transmigrated, and there was no golden finger (cheat ability).
Good news: She could create her own golden finger.
Once she figured out her own power, the first thing Xia Wang'an did was [design] System 007 into existence.
007 was an all-purpose system. It could map terrains, organize the various [personas] Xia Wang'an used, calculate [Faith Power], scan surroundings, and even doubled as a singer, chat companion, and alarm clock.
Truly a multi-functional system, offering unbeatable value.
The chuunibyou girl Xia Wang'an charged forward triumphantly, cutting through one disaster-ridden world after another. In just ten years, she had ascended to a near-demigod status—and 007 deserved much of the credit.
007: [But Host, I’m free. There’s no such thing as ‘value’ for me.]
Xia Wang'an: [Not paying you before was my mistake. Now’s my chance to make it up to you—here, this exam paper’s for you.]
007: […]
After a second of silence, it obediently started working on the exam paper alongside her.
When The Chief arrived, the scene in the room was of a long-haired girl sitting at her desk, diligently solving exam papers.
It looked like one of those heartwarming moments where a parent opens the door to find their child studying.
Except it would’ve been even more heartwarming if Xia Wang'an didn’t have one paper on her left, another on her right, and a third in the middle—switching between them as she worked.
Noticing The Chief’s gaze, Director Fan explained from the side: “She’s doing two herself, and the third is for the system. Since the system doesn’t have hands, she’s writing for it.”
The Chief: “…She’s quite the studious child.”
“I’ll go in and talk to her.”
Realistically, whether this conversation happened or not wouldn’t change the upcoming plans. But The Chief’s personal appearance at least demonstrated how highly she regarded Xia Wang'an.
The fact that the world would end in ten years was set in stone. Now, the only sliver of hope to save Great Xia lay before them—Xia Wang'an was the world’s sole salvation. If meeting her in person was all it took, The Chief would’ve gladly risked her life for it.
Had Xia Wang'an known, she probably would’ve replied: What would I do with your life?
Of course, she didn’t know. So she just stared curiously at The Chief, whom she’d only ever seen on the news, before launching into her plan.
Xia Wang'an wasn’t about to save the world with empty words.
She had a concrete strategy.
“Here’s the plan: The more Faith Power I gather, the stronger my abilities become. So at the start, I’m very weak.”
Xia Wang'an thought for a moment. “Have you ever played video games?”
One of the younger recorders standing at the back glanced around. Seeing no one else respond, he raised his hand. “I’ve played ‘Beast Wars.’”
Xia Wang'an’s eyes lit up. “Yes, exactly! My ability is like Krozis from ‘Beast Wars’—early game, it’s so weak even a stray bullet can take it out. But if you survive to late game, it’s practically invincible.”
She pointed at herself. “I’m Krozis.”
Xia Wang'an felt this was a perfect analogy and sat up a little straighter, smug. “Honestly, I think Krozis and I are alike in every way. Must be fate.”
The recorder glanced at the girl in her strawberry-patterned nightgown, long hair cascading down, delicate and youthful—then recalled Krozis: a green-skinned, fanged, red-eyed monstrosity that rampaged through levels, howling and hurling anything it could grab.
He: “…”
After mentally repeating “She’s the savior, she’s the savior” several times, the recorder forced a polite smile. “You’re absolutely right. What a remarkable coincidence!”
Pleased by the agreement, Xia Wang'an continued cheerfully: “For my abilities to level up, people need to believe in my [settings]. The more who believe, the stronger I become. I call this belief ‘Faith Power.’”
“When enough people believe, I can alter any setting. For example, I once turned an ordinary world into a magic one.”
“But early on, when I’m still weak, there’s very little I can do. Without any power, it’s hard to maintain a setting. Like in one disaster world, I set myself as a healing-type ability user—but I had to actually heal several people before they’d believe me.”
"If the belief power is sufficient, I can not only travel through dimensions myself, but also bring items and other people along."
"So I need the nation's support as my backbone, allowing me to use multiple personas in a short time to gather belief power and grow stronger as quickly as possible. Before the world is destroyed, I can alter its fundamental settings."
The young recorder nodded repeatedly, thinking the plan sounded quite promising.
The Chief, however, paused for a few seconds before fixing her aged yet resolute and kind eyes on the young girl sitting across from her:
"Wang'an, in your first record, you mentioned that your ability not only requires others to believe in it but, most importantly, you yourself must be utterly convinced of these settings."
"In ten years, how many identities have you created for yourself?"
Xia Wang'an froze.
007, however, had already begun broadcasting in standard Mandarin inside her mind: 【As of now, the host has created 1,098 identities.】
It even sounded a little proud: 【The host can’t keep track herself, so she relies on me to remember them all!】
The Chief, dressed in casual attire, looked less like a leader steering the fate of an entire nation and more like an ordinary elderly woman facing a young, naive child.
"The ability report is out. Your power dictates that to deceive others, you must first deceive yourself. Every time you prepare a new identity, you must wholeheartedly believe you truly are that person. These identities crowd inside you like new personalities. In the end, you might even lose sight of who you really are."
It was akin to dissociative identity disorder—except Xia Wang'an, if she crafted multiple personas, would have each of them as a genuine "Xia Wang'an," all sharing the same body.
Like a schizophrenic patient, but far more severe.
The fact that she was still sitting here, coherent and articulate, was nothing short of a miracle.
Xia Wang'an blinked, gripping the test paper in her hand, still looking cheerful: "There are risks, sure, but I have my system to keep track, so it's not too bad~"
007 chimed in with sweet nothings: 【That’s right! I’ll always be by the host’s side!】
The elderly woman glanced at her clenched hand and sighed inwardly before speaking gently: "We won’t proceed with this plan. The nation will propose a new one."
A new plan—one that could save the world without requiring multiple identities, one that wouldn’t drive Xia Wang'an to madness.
Xia Wang'an understood: "I see. That works too. Pushing a single setting to its limit can also gather a massive amount of belief power."
The Chief smiled and nodded: "We’ll discuss what setting to use. You rest now. If you need anything, just let them know."
She stepped out and looked back, seeing Xia Wang'an already immersed in her test again, scribbling away with a blissful smile on her face.
As the door closed, Director Wang asked: "Chief, why didn’t you ask Wang'an about the reason for the world’s destruction?"
"She doesn’t know the answer," the old woman shook her head. "She just listed many ways worlds could end, but never mentioned ours."
"Don’t you remember what the records said? Though she can freely traverse worlds, she needs to mark anchor points."
Director Wang realized: "You mean… in her past life, Wang'an didn’t mark an anchor point for our world?"
The Chief nodded: "When she was first passively transported to another world, she didn’t even understand her own abilities. How could she have marked an anchor point? I suspect she was lost from the very beginning."
Director Wang sighed: "A pitiful child indeed. Don’t worry, Chief. Though the 【Salvation】 plan hasn’t officially begun, we’ve already mobilized a large military force to ensure Wang'an’s safety."
Just then, Director Fan approached, handing over a paper document with a grave expression: "The results of Xia Wang'an’s mental evaluation are in."
Mental evaluations were a mandatory part of annual physicals for citizens of Daxia. Since the Cataclysm Era began, people had to contend not only with barren lands, endless darkness, starvation, and the threat of Aberrations but also with mental corruption.
The causes of mental corruption varied—most stemmed from contamination after battling Aberrations, while a small portion arose from self-inflicted corruption. Those affected would grow violent, chaotic, and their combat prowess would surge with their corruption levels. Even if temporarily calmed, they could easily spiral into madness, harming themselves and others.
One year, a small base’s strongest fighter was corrupted. He slaughtered everyone in the base before taking his own life.
Even in death, the mental corruption meter had spiked to 981.
After this tragedy, the nation no longer focused solely on military and infrastructure but also allocated resources to entertainment—novels, films, music, games—anything to bring joy to its citizens and reduce the risk of mental corruption.
Generally, a score below 100 indicated normal mental health.
Between 100 and 200, psychological counseling was required.
Above 200, the situation became precarious.
Beyond 300, the person was at risk of losing control, requiring intervention from abilities specializing in 【Calming】.
A score over 500 matched the base corruption level of Aberrations, with a high likelihood of mutation. At this stage, 【Calming】 would have little effect.
The highest recorded mental corruption score in history belonged to an ability user with 【Empathic Link】. His power could disrupt Aberrations but also made him highly susceptible to corruption. During one battle, he lost control, his corruption level soaring to 3,000. He slaughtered nearly every living thing in sight.
Xia Wang'an, sixteen years old, had undergone a mental evaluation just last month, scoring a perfectly healthy 60.
Now, however, her report was stamped in bold, blood-red letters:
EXTREME RISK!!!
—5,124.
Director Wang, who had just vowed to protect Xia Wang'an at all costs: "…"
To put it bluntly, with her current corruption level, Xia Wang'an could rip Aberrations apart barehanded and stomp Kreiz into the ground.
Hell, if she felt like it, she could even grab Kreiz’s massive, green, fang-studded hand and share a drink with it.
But… but how was this possible? 5,124! And she was still coherent, not a raving lunatic!
Director Wang couldn’t help but glance back, only to see the long-haired girl happily scribbling on her test paper. Sensing his gaze, she looked up.
Her clear eyes blinked, then crinkled into crescent moons as she smiled.
