Raising a Wife in a Supernatural World [Infinite] – CH19

Chapter 19: Spook High (19)

Qin Fu’an shoved open the iron grating above him, rust flaking and showering down as he pushed his upper body through the opening. The biting, howling gale lashed straight against his face, instantly clearing the faint numbness in his head.

The rooftop was barren. Not a soul was in sight, nor was there a single anomalous horror lurking in the shadows.

“It’s safe. Come on up.”

Qin Fu’an pulled himself onto the gravel surface first, then bent low and extended his uninjured arm toward Xie Yunhuai on the ladder.

Xie Yunhuai’s palm was bone-chillingly cold, like winter frost. Anyone who brushed against it could tell in an instant that he was not a living, breathing human being.

Yet Qin Fu’an showed no reaction. He hauled the frail youth up with ease, hooked his toe under the heavy iron grate, and flipped it back over the hatchway.

Finding a corner that offered a bit of shelter from the wind, the two finally sat down, allowing their taut nerves to ease a fraction.

Xie Yunhuai fixed his eyes on Qin Fu’an’s injured arm.

Even cloaked in darkness, the dark red stain spreading across the blue-and-white school uniform was impossible to miss.

“Give me your hand,” he said, brow furrowing as he unzipped and slipped out of his school jacket.

For once, Qin Fu’an refrained from making a smart remark or pretending to be invincible. He obediently held out his left arm, watching the boy struggle to tear through the thin fabric of his own undershirt.

He wanted to fashion a makeshift bandage to stop the bleeding. The reason he hadn’t used his uniform jacket was obvious: if he made it to tomorrow morning, an inspection might cite him for a dress code violation.

Qin Fu’an didn’t interrupt. Leaning his back against the icy brick wall, a faint smile played on his lips as he watched the boy—and the soft, pitch-black tentacles spilling from within his vessel—tugging clumsily yet earnestly at his own clothing.

Finally, with a sharp rip, Xie Yunhuai tore a long, uneven strip from the sturdy undershirt.

Holding the cloth, he crouched before Qin Fu’an. His slender fingers moved with awkward hesitation, terrified of pulling too hard and hurting him, yet fearful of binding it too loosely to stop the bleeding.

In all his past loops, he had never once bandaged someone else’s wounds. Watching him treat a simple bandage like an insurmountable calculus proof was almost amusing to Qin Fu’an.

“Here, let me.”

Qin Fu’an took the loose ends of the strip. Gripping one end in his right hand, he caught the other between his teeth. As Xie Yunhuai instinctively closed his eyes, Qin Fu’an pulled hard, facial features taut with cold focus, and tied off a tight, clean knot.

Xie Yunhuai silently pulled his jacket back on. The freezing wind carried the relentless screams from the campus below through his dark hair, but he simply sat there on the roof with his knees drawn to his chest, quiet and profoundly lost.

If nothing climbed up here tonight… could he truly survive until tomorrow morning?

Yet cold reason kept whispering: Wake up. This examination has only just begun.

In a campus crawling with horrors, an absolute sanctuary had never existed.

Qin Fu’an understood this just as well. Looking up toward the near-tangible night sky, his pale green eyes caught the reflection of the massive, blood-red timer ticking away in the darkness.

01:52:27

Only a few minutes had passed since the bell tolled.

Keeping low to conceal his silhouette, Qin Fu’an stood near the rooftop’s edge to survey the grounds below.

From this vantage point, everything unfolding below was laid bare.

The fleeing students were scattered everywhere. Some hid in the ornamental shrubbery, others perched in the bare trees, but the vast majority had failed to find shelter and were sprinting frantically across the asphalt, chased relentlessly by the Physical Training Aids.

At the start, there hadn’t been many Aids. Aside from the deceased player and Teacher Zhang, the only ones roaming were the students who had arrived late to morning calisthenics and the teachers who had been devoured after their class scores hit zero.

Telling them apart was simple: students turned into Aids were merely swift, mindless beasts, whereas former teachers retained eerie skills and moved with a terrifying, unnatural agility.

Yet as time marched on, more and more students below were being converted into Aids.

Although the rules stated a student had to be bitten three times before conversion took place, many lost their heads in blind panic. Before long, the number of Aids prowling the grounds was visibly multiplying.

“At this rate, anyone who hasn’t found a hiding spot will turn into an Aid,” Xie Yunhuai murmured, stepping up beside Qin Fu’an to gaze down at the carnage.

Qin Fu’an’s arm hadn’t stopped bleeding completely, and he knew they couldn’t simply sit here waiting for death to corner them.

Confirming that the noise inside the building had died down, he made up his mind: he would slip back inside, scrounge up some weapons to fight the creatures, and retrieve the bandages and supplies Nan Zhu had given him earlier.

“I’m coming with you.” Xie Yunhuai fell into step behind him.

Qin Fu’an paused. Turning back, the boy’s pale face was half-hidden in shadow, yet Qin Fu’an could still hear the frantic whispers of the shadowy tentacles, belling Xie Yunhuai’s deep-seated terror of the night.

“We fought hard to take this high ground,” Qin Fu’an said softly. “If someone else swoops in and steals it, we’ll be down there running for our lives just like the rest of them.”

Looking into Xie Yunhuai’s cool, quiet eyes, his hand twitched. He gave in to the urge, reaching out to ruffle the soft hair atop his little deskmate’s head. “Don’t be scared. I’ll be right back.”

It wasn’t until Qin Fu’an’s back disappeared through the hatch that the frozen youth snapped out of his daze.

Brows knitted tight, his hand rose halfway to his head before freezing mid-air.

“…Who says I’m scared?” He pressed his lips into a thin, annoyed line, silently vowing that the next time Qin Fu’an dared lay a hand on him, he would break the man’s fingers on the spot!

Yet in the air invisible to mortal eyes, countless soft, shadowy tendrils were swaying in wide-eyed curiosity, jostling and shoving past one another to gently stroke the crown of his head, eager to see what the fuss was about.

While Xie Yunhuai guarded the hatch with every nerve drawn taut, Qin Fu’an moved through the building like a gale of wind.

Vaulting clean over the winding banister, he hit the lower landing, coming face-to-face with the headless Teacher Zhang he had discarded earlier.

Though the creature lacked a skull, the air grew violently hostile in the span of a single heartbeat, as if an old blood feud had reignited on sight.

The aura radiating from Teacher Zhang flared, doubling in intensity. His bloated frame swelled further, turning into a massive ball of meat that rolled straight toward Qin Fu’an at breakneck speed.

With the beast bearing down like an avalanche, Qin Fu’an had only two paths: scramble back up the stairs, or break into a sprint downward.

Perhaps the headless husk thought along the same lines, maintaining its momentum with stubby limbs splayed wide, threatening to pin Qin Fu’an against the concrete wall.

The next second, the creature was booted into the air by the very same leg, in the very same posture.

A dull, heavy thud echoed down the corridor as the sphere that was Teacher Zhang slammed hard into the floor, sending a noticeable tremor through the concrete beneath Qin Fu’an’s feet.

Due to the creature’s immense weight and rounded bulk, the kick hadn’t sent him far. But he was simply too round. As the mass struggled to right itself, Qin Fu’an casually snagged a wooden chair from an adjacent classroom and wedged it tightly against the monstrosity, jamming it firmly into the corridor walls where it thrashed in utter futility.

“Teacher Zhang, wasn’t I right this morning?” Qin Fu’an vaulted onto the balcony railing with an easy laugh. Stepping cleanly over the squirming obstacle, he turned back to offer some earnest counsel: “Excessive weight is truly hazardous to one’s health. Even as a specter, you really ought to keep in shape.”

“Still, we are teacher and student. If anomalies have an afterlife, I pray you find one where you can gorge yourself without ever gaining an ounce.”

With that, the amusement on Qin Fu’an’s face vanished. Drawing a drafting compass he had pinched from a student’s desk, he thrust the needle straight into the distended, balloon-like flesh.

A beat later, he yanked it free.

As Teacher Zhang began whistling and deflating like a punctured tire, a line of glowing green text materialized before Qin Fu’an’s eyes:

[Congratulations! You have slain High-Tier Physical Training Aid x1. Earned Conduct Points: +1.]

Seeing the notification, Qin Fu’an didn’t linger to bask in the chat’s praise. He turned and slipped into the classroom.

Gathering the items stashed in his desk drawer, his gaze swept the darkened room. Under the bewildered, hollow stares of the student NPCs hiding beneath furniture, he unscrewed several thick wooden desk legs, testing their heft in his grip.

Just as he turned to leave, his eyes caught a figure that had no business being here.

“I knew I’d find you here,” Nan Zhu said from the doorway, her voice measured and composed. “And thank you for taking care of that creature.”

Qin Fu’an lifted his gaze, taking in her blood-splattered tracksuit, and the gleaming badge pinned to her chest: [Proctor].

Raising a Wife in a Supernatural World [Infinite]