Sword Prison
Hmph, she was underestimating the Academic Leader's composure.
The research assistant, who had been greeting him with delight just a moment ago, suddenly drew her sword and turned it on him.
Faced with this abrupt change, Fu Qian stood motionless beneath the gleaming sword, without retreating a single step.
No matter how violently you demanded your wages, there'd still be no overtime pay.
As it turned out, the research assistant still cherished her current position to some degree.
Meeting Fu Qian's unwavering gaze, the sword that had been advancing without hesitation finally stopped without warning, its tip coming to rest between his brows.
It was undoubtedly a scene that felt all too familiar.
Fu Qian naturally recalled how, when he had first arrived at the academy, Sword Heart had flown into a rage over his joining "The Swarm" and used the private chat invitation Ji Liushuang had sent him.
But Liu Shuang, with her cool expression and keen gaze as she held her sword once more, had improved considerably since then.
As he admired her progress, Fu Qian said nothing, nor did he resist the strange concept enveloping him.
Pure white. Empty. Boundless.
In the blink of an eye, the place before him was no longer Professor Fu's standalone laboratory.
And compared to the former's crude simplicity, this place seemed to belong to an entirely different dimension.
Apart from the white stretching in every direction, it was truly empty, devoid of everything, and had the distinct feel of a cyberpunk prison.
In fact, this place wasn't real at all.
Fu Qian knew perfectly well that his body was still standing where it had been.
Heart-Questioning Sword Prison.
The place where Sword Heart had once chatted with him about life—a place where lies couldn't be spoken.
"You've improved