Chapter 12 The Charging Rabbit

The path ahead split into several branches.

As mentioned before, this was a vast tomb, riddled with numerous forks. The group queued up as they reached the intersection, the lighting growing dim. The original route had been severed, and their abilities could not sustain illumination for long—especially for a bunch of students.

In the gloom, some veered left, others right, and a few pressed straight on... Thus, the once seamless procession flowed into three separate streams, each advancing halfway before realizing they were on the verge of dispersing entirely.

Some immediately switched routes without fuss, while others stubbornly insisted their chosen path was the correct one.

“What does it matter which way is right or wrong? The teacher just told us to retreat, not which way to go!” someone couldn’t help but argue.

“But I’m lucky, aren’t I? I can always guess my way to the top of the class on multiple-choice exams!” Fang Ju declared self-righteously, being the most unwavering in his conviction.

“Oh? Who would’ve thought! This square-faced guy’s actually got European luck?” Alpha Ji exclaimed in surprise.

The so-called African, feeling slighted, shot back, “Your guessing tricks are no secret: three long, one short—pick the short one; three short, one long—pick the long; if they’re uneven, go for B; if it’s a mess, pick D. You think nobody knows these?”

“Come on, has that nonsense really survived thirty years? Is it a classic poem now or what?” Alpha Ji couldn’t help but snark.

“Knowing is one thing—some of us end up near the top, others at the bottom. That’s the difference,” Fang Ju replied smugly.

“Give me a break. Your ‘top’ score isn’t even ten points higher than my ‘bottom’ one, is it?” The African shot him the finger.

Every time they took a test, Ye Chao would nearly ace it, Xu Tiange and a few other top students scored in the seventies or eighties, and the rest could make the top ranks just by passing. Those with scores in the fifties might end up at the bottom... So Fang Ju’s mockery was really just a case of the pot calling the kettle black.

With the group divided and opinions clashing, tempers flared—not just between Fang Ju and the African, but among everyone, who began bickering over which path to take.

Alpha Ji found the whole thing immensely entertaining, almost like listening to a comedic dialogue.

Xu Tiange, however, didn’t join the squabble. Her only line was: “Stop arguing! Please, stop arguing!” When the lights were bright, she still had some authority, but now, her words fell flat.

Emmm...

Ye Chao hadn’t said a word, clutching his phone and following the main group, deep in thought...

Could it be that he’d noticed something? Alpha Ji, still amused by the banter, wondered quietly to herself.

“Heh heh heh! Quiet! Stop talking!” In the midst of the argument, someone suddenly shouted.

“And why should we?” someone else shot back, bristling—as if on cue, they fell silent, realizing why.

A new sound arose, but this time it wasn’t Guan Junyuan.

“Pa, pa, pa, pa...” It was a steady, rhythmic noise, reminiscent of footsteps, but clearly a whole crowd, as if a long line of people were marching in tight formation. As the sound drew nearer, the very walls of the tunnel seemed to tremble. Louder than a military march, though a bit slower in tempo.

Instinctively, everyone stopped their quarrel and focused on the direction of the sound—straight ahead.

From the darkness of the forward bend, a pair of blood-red eyes suddenly appeared, then three, four, five pairs...

In a flash, every available illuminating skill was cast on the corner ahead, revealing a mass of white, furry creatures. They stood as tall as an average person, half-upright, with long, drooping ears and huge, blood-red eyes that stared without malice—if anything, they looked almost endearingly silly.

“Damn... those are some massive rabbits!” Alpha Ji exclaimed with a startled laugh.

Indeed, it was a troop of rabbits.

Except their size was outlandish, nearly as big as people. Their long back legs propelled them forward in leaps—more akin to kangaroos than rabbits.

“Whoa, killer rabbits!” Unlike Alpha Ji’s reaction, after a brief stunned silence, the group of students erupted in shouts: “Run!” “Charge!”

Some bolted backward, others surged forward.

Run? Why run? Charge? Why charge? Why did everyone split so decisively? Was this planned? And what’s with calling them killer rabbits—can anyone explain?

Alpha Ji was confused, but the next moment she began to understand.

The students had spotted the rabbits, and the rabbits had clearly seen them too.

It took only seconds for their eyes to adjust to the light. The rabbits began making “woo woo” sounds, as if calling for reinforcements—or maybe issuing a threat. Then, all at once, they sprang into action, their long legs kicking off the ground as they charged straight at the students wielding electric batons, water hoses, and glue bottles.

It truly was a charge—each extended rabbit leg sending up clouds of dust with every step. If the ground had been tiled, it would have shattered. Each stride covered nearly twenty or thirty meters, and in two or three leaps, they closed the gap and collided with the students in a blink.

A couple of rabbits didn’t even bother with the floor—bounding from wall to wall, they deftly dodged jets of water and streams of glue.

That glue was no ordinary adhesive, but a foam-like substance that reacted violently with air, bubbling up and solidifying, swelling up and hampering any foe’s movements...

The water from the hose was just ordinary water, but combined with the electric batons, everyone knew how dangerous it could be.

But if you couldn’t hit your target, all the power in the world was useless.

The students’ attacks were deftly dodged by the rabbits; even when a limb got splashed with foam, it didn’t seem to matter. The rabbits didn’t even have to land to fight up close—twisting mid-air, they lashed out with their long legs in a flurry of flying kicks, like martial arts masters.

The fastest students were sent flying, screaming and crashing, bones or gear shattering—it was hard to tell. They bowled over others in their retreat, throwing the formation into chaos. The rabbits tore through them like a whirlwind—“pa pa pa,” “da da da,” “ahhhhh”...

“Damn, since when did rabbits get so fierce?!” Alpha Ji’s startled laughter turned into a cry of alarm.

“Move aside!” Suddenly, a powerful shout echoed through the cavern. Xu Tiange, the long-legged heroine, strode forward with fierce determination, shoving aside her battered classmates and brandishing her gas canister hammer to charge the rabbits.

It was then that Alpha Ji finally understood the purpose of her “gas canister”—it wasn’t a gas tank at all, but a high-pressure air cylinder. With her ability activated, the valve opened, emitting a bone-chilling, razor-sharp whistle. The hammer, driven by Xu Tiange’s own strength and the surge of compressed air, swung so fast it left afterimages in the air.

“Wow, she’s a jet-propelled warrior!” Alpha Ji shouted, tossing out a virtual “please accept my kneecaps” meme.

[+100 Favorability: Xu Tiange]

“Duang! Duang! Duang!” With a series of thunderous crashes, the cavern shook. Alone, hammer in hand, Xu Tiange sent the charging rabbits hurtling backward one by one.

Her classmates, battered and bruised, crawled to safety—out of danger, for the moment.

But these rabbits were astoundingly agile, like kung fu experts. Though knocked back, they used the momentum to somersault away, none of them seriously hurt.

Rolling to their feet, they shook out their fur and prepared to pounce again.

Yet Xu Tiange remained unruffled. “Clack!” There was a sharp sound from her hammer’s head—a spark flickered in the darkness, rapidly swelling and erupting into a roaring blaze. In an instant, the rabbits were engulfed in an inferno.