Chapter Twenty-Three: Why Must I Do Math Even in My Dreams

On the surface, Zhang Changlin appeared calm, but inwardly, he was overwhelmed with dread. Something was wrong. This strange entity—something about it was off. Its strength... it was nothing like a second-tier anomaly should possess!

As captain of the silver-ranked squad in Jiangling City and a senior Dreamwalker, Zhang Changlin could single-handedly overcome ordinary third or fourth-tier dream disasters. Yet today, he had been bested by a mere second-tier anomaly. That slap had left him utterly bewildered. After all, his own dream spirit had been forcibly suppressed back into his body by a single blow...

That could only mean the power of this entity was beyond comprehension.

What on earth was happening?

If this dream disaster truly matched the strength of that entity, all these ordinary high school students should have perished already.

Perhaps this anomaly didn’t belong to this disaster at all, but had infiltrated from another disaster in a dual-layered dream?

If so... could the second layer really be rated as ninth-tier?

Pinned to the desk, Zhang Changlin dared not move a muscle. His mind whirled, grappling with possibilities, but the more he thought, the more a chill seeped through his body.

Judging by the force in that slap... ninth-tier? Or even... city-destroyer level?

Damn it! Was Zhang Changlin just hopelessly unlucky? Why did he, with his notorious losing streak, come here so confidently to gamble on the second layer’s rating? How arrogant he must have seemed!

He wished he could slap Old Zhao right now—all because of that loudmouth! Say you’re afraid of something, and it happens!

Zhang Changlin was never one to shy away from trouble. If not for that bloody hand pressing him down and leaving him immobile, he would have tried to uncover the killing rules behind this dream disaster. That was why he agreed to the exam in the first place.

As soon as he consented, the hand lifted slowly from his head.

“If it happens again... you will be expelled from the examination room.”

The cold voice grated in his ear like glass scraping against a wall, making the hairs at the nape of his neck stand on end.

Thankfully, this anomaly still followed the rules.

The hand withdrew from its blood-jade form, resuming its continually bleeding appearance. Long fingers tapped gently on the exam paper.

“Continue your test.”

The stern, terrifying voice faded, footsteps echoing in the air—the sound of the proctor’s leather shoes striking the floor.

Tick-tock, tick-tock...

The hands of the