49 Apocalypse Rules

As the end of September approached, the peace people had worked so hard to find was once again replaced by tension and unease.

October 1st was the day the new rule would be announced. Although there was no discernible pattern to the Fire Thief’s rule releases, they usually followed a principle of "alternating tension and release."

This "alternating tension and release" meant they wouldn’t issue extremely difficult survival-type rules back-to-back. Instead, they would follow a survival rule with a non-survival one, or with a less difficult survival rule.

The twelfth rule, [Digital Detox], had made life extremely uncomfortable for those who were glued to the internet 24/7. But even they had to admit that this rule was definitely a "release," not "tension."

Therefore, based on this theory of alternating tension, people couldn’t help but worry that the thirteenth rule would be a highly difficult survival-type one.

The past few days at the academy had been rather uneventful, carrying the quiet stillness of the calm before the storm.

The only thing that sparked any discussion was Yelena’s sudden withdrawal from the academy.

While the students found it a pity, Yelena had barely interacted with any of them during her time there, so in the end, no one knew much about her. The regret was simply over losing a beautiful Sisiya woman whose mere presence was a pleasant sight.

On the last day of the month, after classes ended, the students had dinner and returned to their dorms early to rest.

Pulling an all-nighter was normally no big deal, but on the day before a new rule was announced, everyone who wanted to live went to bed early to conserve their energy.

The teachers were no exception, all returning to the faculty dormitories to rest.

Guan Tong, for his part, returned to his own shelter.

Night fell and moonlight spilled down. Guan Tong sat at his doorway, admiring the canyon under the moon, which possessed a unique tranquility.

Coal Ball was lying on the grass nearby, occasionally opening its eyes to scan the surroundings with a sharp, vigilant gaze.

’This little guy is really getting bigger and stronger...’

Guan Tong looked at Coal Ball. Ever since it had eaten that piece of Demon Flesh and Blood, its body, after an initial explosive growth spurt, had continued to slowly increase in size.

Now, several months later, it had reached the size of a full-grown cheetah. It looked majestic and fierce.

And as its body changed, its tastes seemed to have changed as well.

It barely ate the cat food and canned food Guan Tong used to feed it anymore. Its daily meals now consisted mostly of prey it hunted itself in the mountains and wilds.

Not only did it eat for itself, but it would also bring back its catches. Once, it dragged a wild pheasant back and placed it in front of Guan Tong, apparently as a gift for him.

When Guan Tong indicated he wouldn’t eat it, the creature understood with surprising intelligence and stopped bringing him wild game.

Guan Tong thought this was a good thing.

Before, he had to constantly remember to prepare food for Coal Ball. Now that it could fend for itself, he wouldn’t have to worry about it starving even if he was away from the shelter for a week or two.

After watching for a moment, he had a thought and retrieved an item from his storage box.

It was the gift Yelena had given him before she left—the small hourglass.

He had already seen the item’s effect, and after reading its description, he understood why the woman named Sikokun, who had been standing next to Yelena, had looked so shocked and reluctant.

[Hourglass of Time]: Upon use, consumes 20% of Psychic Power to freeze time for 1 second in a 50-meter radius centered on the user. The user is unaffected. Cooldown: 48 hours. Max Uses: 5. Remaining Uses: 4. Tradable.

A one-second time stop within a 50-meter radius, costing one-fifth of his Psychic Power, and with a limited number of uses—at first glance, it didn’t seem all that impressive.

But Guan Tong knew very well that items related to "time" and "space" abilities were always exceptionally rare and valuable.

A one-second time stop was of little value to an ordinary person. But for a powerful Ascender, that single second could decide the outcome of a critical battle.

Guan Tong hadn’t expected Yelena to give him such a precious item as a gift. If this item were put on the market, it would undoubtedly sell for several million Sublimation Coins, if not more.

In comparison, Guan Tong felt the [Bystander Transformation Device] he had given her wasn’t nearly as valuable.

However, he didn’t dwell on it. If one started to nitpick over the exact value of a gift, it would lose all meaning and simply become a transaction.

’If I get the chance to see her again, I’ll just have to give her something good.’

With that thought, Guan Tong put the hourglass back into his storage box.

BUZZ, BUZZ.

Just then, the phone in his pocket vibrated. He took it out and saw it was a call from Shi Jingyi.

After he answered, Shi Jingyi told him she had pretty much recovered.

"Actually, I was mostly fine by mid-September. I just didn’t come back because I wanted to refine my skills."

Guan Tong heard this and asked, "So how is that refinement coming along?"

"I’ve made some progress, but it’s not enough yet." Shi Jingyi then said with a laugh, "I was calling to ask how you’re feeling about being a lecturer. I saw some comments online, and the students seem to have a pretty good opinion of you."

"It’s been alright, I guess."

In his nearly three months as a lecturer, Guan Tong hadn’t felt any pressure. He had already mastered the course material long ago, so teaching the students was more than easy for him.

But aside from the lack of pressure, various trivial matters still took up some of his time, one way or another.

Still, the experience was definitely meaningful.

For one thing, if he hadn’t come to the academy, he likely wouldn’t have met Yelena, learned about the inner workings of the academy, or run into Fang Qian again to clear the air about their past issues.

"Just alright?" Shi Jingyi asked. "Does that mean you’re thinking of staying at the academy?"

"Not at all," Guan Tong said. "Once you’re back to take over, I’m still leaving. So, when are you coming back?"

Even after less than three months at the academy, Guan Tong was already starting to miss his free and untethered life.

He definitely couldn’t stand teaching here forever.

Shi Jingyi said apologetically, "Probably mid-to-late October. Just hang in there a little longer."

"It’s not that I’m just ’hanging in there’... but you don’t need to rush." Worried that Shi Jingyi might come back before she was fully recovered, Guan Tong thought for a moment and said, "How about this: come back after the thirteenth rule is over."

"That works too," Shi Jingyi said. "In that case, I’ll return in November. You can cover for me for another month."

"Okay."

The two made a little more small talk before hanging up.

Guan Tong checked the time. It was past nine at night. In preparation for the new rule’s announcement tomorrow, he too went back to his room and went to bed early.

...

「October 1st, morning.」

From students to teachers, from within the academy to without, from North Star to the entire world, everyone was waiting for the Fire Thief to release the new rule.

When the Fire Thief’s voice sounded, no one needed to check the clock to know it was nine o’clock.

[The Thirteenth Apocalypse Rule has been announced.]

[Apocalypse Rule Thirteen: Self-Punishment for Lying]

[Rule Content: From the moment this rule is announced, all of humanity is forbidden from making any statement they subjectively know to be false. This includes, but is not limited to, spoken language, written text, sign language, and encrypted communication. However, objective cognitive errors, such as misremembering a date, are not considered a violation. This rule will last for 30 days.]

[Success Reward: 500 Sublimation Coins, increase in maximum Psychic Power.]

[Failure Penalty: Violators of the rule will, after the rule period ends, be forever unable to speak any truth.]

[Note: Humanity, a species that coexists with lies. If the ability to lie is taken away, do humans still possess the ability to communicate?]

...

「Apocalypse Rules Strategy Research Room.」

Following the announcement of the thirteenth rule, a meeting was convened immediately.

Once everyone had arrived, they all remained silent, each person carefully weighing every word they might speak.

In fact, many had already decided to remain completely silent for the duration of this Rule Stage, just as they had during the seventh Apocalypse Rule, [Silent Moment].

’Lying leads to failure, right? So if I don’t say a single word, I’ll be fine!’

Everyone knew that some lies weren’t intentional; they could slip out accidentally.

For example, if someone asked you to do something, or invited you to dinner to ask for a favor, you might be reluctant and casually make up an excuse like, "I have something on, so I can’t go."

It could be said that in daily life, most people tell small, harmless lies. It has nothing to do with their moral character; it’s simply a way to make life more convenient and less complicated.

But unfortunately, during this Rule Stage, speaking or even writing such a trivial little lie would result in failure.

"For this rule, what deserves our primary focus are the success reward and the failure penalty."

In the silent meeting room, it was the director, Gao Liangwei, who was the first to speak.

"In previous rules, the failure penalty was always one of two things: ’death’ or ’a reduction in maximum Psychic Power.’ This was also how we distinguished between survival and non-survival rules. Another way was to see if the success reward included a Survival Treasure Chest."

"But with this rule, failure doesn’t reduce your maximum Psychic Power, nor does it kill you. Instead, you can never speak the truth again. And for success, in addition to the standard Sublimation Coins, you get an extremely valuable increase to your maximum Psychic Power."

Zhang Minglu said, "This rule is certainly unusual. In terms of difficulty, as long as everyone keeps their mouth shut, getting through it safely shouldn’t be a problem."

"The fear is that people will exploit this rule," an expert said. "Let me give you a somewhat crude example: in a couple, one person suspects the other of cheating but has no proof. During this rule, they could just ask them directly. If the other person equivocates or remains silent, it proves they really did cheat."

The others nodded one after another, their expressions grim.

The cheating example itself wasn’t important. What was important was that this rule could be used for lie detection.

If someone asks you a question, and you don’t give a direct answer, it means you’re afraid of the rule and don’t dare to lie, which basically confirms you’re hiding something.

"The rule mentions ’subjective knowledge’," another expert pointed out. "In other words, if someone subjectively believes they didn’t do something, denying it won’t cause them to fail the rule. For example, say a person has a habit of sleepwalking and kills someone while doing so. After waking up, because they have no subjective awareness of the murder, denying that they killed someone might not trigger the rule."

Someone else spoke up, "Don’t forget, failing the rule doesn’t mean death, just that you can never speak the truth again. If the stakes are high enough and someone is willing to pay that price, they can still choose to lie during this Rule Stage."

Everyone nodded again. This rule seemed simple on the surface, but it was full of pitfalls. They had to approach it with extreme caution.

A doctor of sociology said, "I believe this rule shouldn’t be used as a lie-detection tool. Doing so will only destroy relationships between people, which might be exactly the Fire Thief’s goal."

"I recommend we issue a proposal in the white paper, calling for everyone to refrain from using the rule to test others during this period. And personally, we should all speak as little as possible. That way, getting through this challenge shouldn’t be a problem."

"I agree."

"I agree, ah..."

Just as an expert said this, he suddenly clamped a hand over his mouth, his face filled with panic.

Everyone else in the room turned to look at him.

Gao Liangwei asked in a low voice, "Dr. Li, don’t tell me you secretly disagreed but said you agreed anyway, thereby violating the rule?"

"I, I..."

The man, Dr. Li, looked anxious, sweat beading on his forehead. Gao Liangwei had clearly hit the mark.

"Foolish!" Gao Liangwei snapped, his voice low with anger. "If you disagreed, you should have either remained silent or voiced your opposition. Why would you go against your conscience just to agree with others?!"

Dr. Li looked panicked. "Director, I... I was wrong... What should I do now?"

He looked at the others, but they all remained silent.

Some had learned from his mistake and didn’t dare to speak carelessly.

Others simply didn’t know what to say. It was just as the rule’s name implied, "The liar punishes himself." It had nothing to do with anyone else.

And what could be done about violating the rule? Naturally, he would face the rule’s penalty: after it ended, he would never be able to speak the truth again.

Being unable to ever speak the truth again... compared to death, which punishment was truly heavier?