97. No.1 Middle School
In fact, in such a tense study, the sudden announcement of a basketball game made all seven classes in the grade unhappy.
One afternoon was enough for them to write a set of papers, check the answers once, and then focus on explaining the wrong questions.
There were only thirty days in total, and every afternoon was a race against time. No one wanted to waste this little time on a basketball game.
But this time, I don’t know if the Education Bureau or somewhere else has made a hard rule that photos and videos must be taken, and senior leaders from outside the school will come to inspect.
As soon as this news came, the entire No. 1 Middle School faculty and staff fell into a tense preparation stage.
Not only were the weeds on the playground cleared by the teaching assistants, they even dragged a big paint bucket and drew a basketball court on the playground.
Occasionally, after class, the trainees watched from afar as buckets of paint were poured down on the playground, covering up all the blood that had once flowed on it. The reddish-brown color looked like old, sticky blood, the dark green looked like rancid corpse oil, and the white dividing line was even more ironic.
Not only their companions, but the playground had also been drained of the blood of countless people.
And now, with just this method, the crime was covered up. Except for the clues of the worn-out and yellowed letters, no one remembered the old bones.
"The basketball game the day after tomorrow afternoon will be played in three games, including substitutes, and each class will have to send three students."
During the break at noon, Teacher Nan, who wore gold-rimmed glasses, came to the classroom for a rare visit to perform the duties of the head teacher.
Among so many classes, only Class 9 was the most relaxed, because apart from class time, they didn't see the head teacher much more than other classes. At least they didn't have to be stared at by the faceless head teacher all the time, and they would feel more comfortable.
The man ignored the burning admiring gazes from below and said calmly, "The superiors will come down to inspect. At that time, all students who are not participating in the game must sit around the playground and watch. Everyone must dress neatly and hold their heads high on that day. No test papers, teaching aids or other learning tools are allowed. If they are found by the teaching assistants, they will be punished directly."
This is a common routine.
Whenever the leaders of the Education Bureau come to inspect, they will immediately do a good job of face-saving. In the end, the students are the ones who are really tortured.
"The entire basketball game will be recorded by the photography team of the Education Bureau. Later, a promotional video for the comprehensive development of morality, intelligence, physical fitness, aesthetics and labor will be produced. The school hopes that students with outstanding appearance in each class will actively sign up to participate. These students will also be given priority in the final evaluation."
After this sentence came out, all the trainees in the class, including the barrage, silently cast their eyes on Zong Jiu who was sitting in the first row.
The magician who inexplicably became the focus of attention:?
[Fuck, I laughed to death. The magician is the recognized class flower! 】
【No! It's the school beauty! I prprpr】
【Stop talking, who doesn't want to watch a white-haired beauty play basketball? Think about it, the large basketball uniform hides a pale, slender and thin body, but it is full of explosive power, awsl】
【In this cold, infinite world without a trace of humanity, only the beauty of the magician can bring me a little comfort】
The devil on the podium glanced at Zong Jiu meaningfully, "By tomorrow afternoon, students who want to register can come to my office to apply."
There are really a lot of things that happened in the past two days.
First, after the midterm exam, the dean announced that the score line for the next exam was 800. After that, many trainees in the class collapsed and squatted in the corridor crying with their faces covered.
It is no exaggeration to say that they had to work very hard to get 600 points in the exam. The class with the highest average score was only close to 700, and there was still a gap of 100 points from 800, not to mention the last class 9 which almost crossed the line.
Below the railings were the broken limbs of class 10 and class 4, a miserable scene, and blood flowing like a river. Just looking at it, it felt that the future was bleak and hopeless.
Until this time, many trainees had glimpsed the real intention behind this copy.
If this continues, by the time of the final exam, will the score requirement soar to 1,000 points?
After all, everyone is a B-level trainee, and even in such a high-pressure environment, they will not lose their reason.
It’s just that at the beginning, everyone was lucky, thinking that no matter how cruel the collective copy was, it would at least give people a way out.
Such a high score is impossible for trainees to achieve by themselves.
Unless... there are more faceless people in the class.
That's right, this is the way out that everyone has thought of.
The essence of the collective copy is elimination. As long as the other people in the class become faceless people, it's okay if my friend dies instead of me.
- There are ninety-nine people in a class. To raise the average score by two hundred, you only need to convert twenty faceless people.
Even if the final exam requires - 1,000 points, as long as there are ninety faceless people in the class to pull up the score, each class will have at least ten trainees who can survive.
But the problem is that the faceless people are transformed voluntarily.
After realizing this, the classes that remained neutral could no longer sit still.
The monitor of Class 5 contacted several monitors in 101 privately and formed a group. Each monitor formed a group with dozens of students with good academic performance in the class to put pressure on other poor students.
But the poor students who were pressured were not vegetarians.
No one is a fool. The trainees who rank high in each class are not necessarily the strongest in comprehensive strength. Everyone knows the thoughts of the trainees with good academic performance. They just want to sacrifice others to save themselves.
So these poor students also formed a group in the class, cheering each other up, delaying the time of becoming faceless people, and openly opposing the monitor.
While the two sides were competing for their own interests, the conflict intensified like fire and water.
There was even a small-scale quarrel in the dormitory, which gradually escalated into a physical conflict. After being caught by the dormitory aunt, they were directly punished.
One trainee remembered that No.1 was also in this dungeon, and went to the office to seek help, but he only got a sentence that NPC had NPC tasks, and he could not provide any help before the trainee could get the key clue.
The situation suddenly fell into a stalemate.
However, this situation did not have much impact on Class 9.
In order to stabilize people's hearts, Zong Jiu rarely revealed his plan to the trainees in the class.
"I have discussed it with No.2, and now I have found a possible way to break the deadlock. The only bad news is that even if we find a way, it will probably have to wait until the final exam to use it."
Now, the originally depressed Class 9 all became energetic.
"It's just a monthly exam. If we can pass it this time, we can do it next time too!"
"That's right. Our whole class takes turns tutoring the last few guys. Are you afraid that they won't pass?"
"Brothers, hold on. All the members of our class nine must survive. Study hard! We have all been through so many horror dungeons. We didn't die even when we were face to face with the female ghost. It would be embarrassing to fall here."
"Who cares? Go, go, go!"
After delivering the task issued by the school in a businesslike manner, the demon did not stay for too long.
After the figure of No.1 disappeared at the door of class nine, the trainees in the class gathered around and gathered together, "Brother Jiu, what should we do?"
Fan Zhuo is very efficient. After Zong Jiu communicated with him for the second time, he contacted Tsuchimikado and went on a field trip with Onmyoji.
On the other hand, he even began to contact the poor student groups in each class. After all, the top students don't care about the lives of others, they just hope that more people can leave this copy. Only the poor students, who also want to struggle to survive, can achieve common interests with them.
"You can cooperate, but you have to wait."
In the final analysis, the phenomenon of snitching in the first monthly exam still occurred because of the lack of interests.
People are like this, they have their own thoughts and ulterior motives, just like everyone likes peace, but there are always people who want to start a war. Unless they encounter the same dilemma or dead end, cooperation is always a luxury.
At this point, Zong Jiu also confirmed that No. 2 is indeed a good person with a long-term vision.
He has steadily led the class to the first place in the grade from the beginning. If it were replaced by a short-sighted person like the monitor of Class 5, he would have started to eliminate dissidents in the class long ago.
But Fan Zhuo not only did not do that, but even took the initiative to help.
At this point, Zong Jiu also discovered it.
In fact, most people in the S-class are pretty good. During the first monthly exam, Zongjiu saw that Tsuchimikado's palms were bleeding. Later, he asked around and learned from the black wizard that it was a blood sacrifice in Yin-Yang magic. If he really dragged down the whole class in the end, he would be willing to take the responsibility.
Black-clothed Azan and the Holy Son are both good people, but unfortunately they were controlled. The black wizard is also a good person, and the exorcist is a serious water balance master. This shows that there are still many kind people in the world. It's enough to die if there is a madman like No. 1.
Zongjiu rubbed his temples, "This basketball game is very important. We must dive into the corpse sinking pool."
He briefly explained the plan and got advice from the whole class, and there were also some good suggestions. So they brainstormed and thought for a long time, and finally Zongjiu nodded in agreement.
After finalizing, he took No. 99 and No. 77 to the office to register.
The office was full of faceless people.
Seeing Zong Jiu, the third in the grade, arrive, the faceless people all turned their heads and smiled earnestly at him on their smooth faces, which was creepy.
"Isn't this the monitor of Class 9? Are you here to see Teacher Nan?"
"You did well in the exam this time. Keep up the good work next time. We all have high hopes for you."
The other two people were scared, but the white-haired magician remained calm and walked through the crowd with the two people, straight to the front of the office.
Number 99 lowered his voice, "Brother Jiu, is this the treatment for good academic performance?"
Zong Jiu raised his eyebrows, "Yes, if you approach them, they will pat your shoulders to encourage you, call you over and give you special treatment. How about it, do you have the motivation to study?"
Number 99: "..."
No, not really, no one wants to get close to the faceless man.
He watched the white-haired young man knock on the door, hesitant to speak.
At this moment, a lazy voice came from the office, "Come in."
The author has something to say: Why does self-production and self-sale of nutrient solution give me a feeling of self-inflicted pain (meditation.jpg)
Pour the liquid obtained from me back to me, eh, it's so astringent (something is wrong with me)
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