Chapter 4: The Boy Who Cried Wolf

“I was just speaking casually, and it turned into a dual-born truth... I hope to live peacefully in my old age.”

Zhou Ke pondered for a moment and concluded it must be because he was a transmigrator.

Two souls merging, each awakening a truth—it made sense, didn’t it?

“Classmate, classmate? Hey, classmate!”

Zhou Ke was snapped out of his daze by Whale Eye’s call. He looked up at him. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? You’ve been standing there blankly for almost half a minute!” Whale Eye said impatiently.

“Oh, sorry. I was thinking about what to have for dinner tonight.”

Zhou Ke skillfully masked his emotions, showing no sign of anything unusual, and babbled, “Do you think savory tofu pudding tastes better, or sweet tofu pudding?”

Since the stone statue hadn’t revealed the Truth of Crime and Punishment, he decided not to mention it openly.

One, he was too lazy to speak.

Two… well, there was no second reason, he simply didn’t want to say.

Come on, he was already the lowest talent; what good could a dual-born truth bring?

Besides, just hearing the name “Crime and Punishment” carried an ominous aura, as if he could be dragged to prison at any moment. So it was better not to say anything.

“Who cares about you! Don’t discuss these endless debates with me! And don’t just eat tofu pudding for dinner!” Whale Eye was exasperated. He had planned to finish the assessment early and enjoy a little drink.

He pointed at the book floating above Zhou Ke’s head, “Open that book to see the truth’s ability and then explain it to me.”

“Wait a moment, I’m starting to think spicy tofu pudding isn’t bad either. What do you think?”

“I told you, your dinner choices are none of my business!” Whale Eye really wanted to slam the tablet into Zhou Ke’s face.

If the truth’s contents could be seen by anyone, he would have snatched it away long ago to record the report himself. Who would stand around with a tofu-obsessed glutton for half a minute?

“I was just joking, don’t take it seriously.”

Seeing the veins bulging on Whale Eye’s forehead, Zhou Ke knew he couldn’t mess around anymore.

From the earlier convoluted probing, he already knew the examiner couldn’t see his truth. For now, there was no risk of exposing the other truth.

He reached out and took down the floating book, flipping through the pages while shielding the side facing Whale Eye, as if afraid he might peek.

“Tsk!” Anger almost ignited a fiery cloud above Whale Eye’s head.

But thinking that Zhou Ke was just a low-grade talent and they might never meet again, he became unusually tolerant.

“Fine, just this once. I’ll bear with it.”

Unaware of Whale Eye’s inner struggle, Zhou Ke focused on the book.

“The Boy Who Cried Wolf,” a timeless fable known far and wide.

Having been a fairy tale writer in his previous life, Zhou Ke was naturally familiar with it.

The story went: Once upon a time, there was a shepherd who found life dull and thought of a prank to amuse himself.

The first time, the shepherd shouted loudly, “Wolf is coming!”

People rushed to help him.

The second time, he shouted again, “Wolf is coming!”

People still came to help.

The third time, the wolf really came, and the shepherd shouted for help.

But this time, no one paid attention.

The shepherd was eaten by the wolf.

The story warned people to be honest and trustworthy, and to respect others.

Zhou Ke could recite it backwards, so he skimmed through it casually.

“Wait...?”

But soon he realized he was terribly mistaken—dead wrong!

[Long, long ago, there was a sheep village where a shepherd lived, who often... “Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west, do not underestimate the youth’s poverty!”]

Lines of black Song font appeared, and after reading just the first paragraph, Zhou Ke slammed the book shut with a snap.

Whale Eye nearby twitched his brow wildly, “What now?!”

“Nothing, I just opened it the wrong way.”

Zhou Ke didn’t know how to respond. The story was full of absurdities, and he didn’t know where to start.

More importantly—this damn thing was written by him!

Indeed, this fragment of “The Boy Who Cried Wolf” was the last fairy tale Zhou Ke wrote before transmigrating.

“My rejected manuscript became my truth? No way this is just a coincidence.”

He waited two seconds deliberately, then reopened the book containing his truth. The content... hadn’t changed!

Zhou Ke’s expression was extremely complicated.

Meanwhile, mysterious runes appeared on the right-hand page.

Zhou Ke could read directly:

[The Boy Who Cried Wolf: Consumes a minimal amount of ether to create an illusion of a monster seen before, used to scare others. Can be used twice every 24 hours.]

“Creating monster illusions... this actually has some connection to the original ‘Boy Who Cried Wolf.’”

The shepherd’s lies about the wolf correspond to the false illusions.

Zhou Ke snapped out of his thoughts, looked into Whale Eye’s eyes which shifted from questioning to pressing, and said, “My truth ability should be to summon a wolf.”

He thought for a moment and decided to lie.

Partly because this was a deception-type ability, secrecy was key to maintaining surprise.

Also because... he was afraid that someone who truly awakened Aesop’s original “Boy Who Cried Wolf” might come to sue him for infringement.

“Why ‘should be’?” Whale Eye’s brow remained tightly furrowed.

After waiting so long, getting a vague answer wasn’t satisfactory.

The truth’s ability and specific casting formula should be written in the book. He didn’t think Zhou Ke was stupid enough not to understand a sentence.

Zhou Ke shrugged innocently, “The book says one wolf, but I personally think it’s seven wolves.”

“...”

Veins twitched on Whale Eye’s forehead, but he ignored it.

Past experience told him that arguing further would only make him angry with no outlet.

“You may leave.”

Whale Eye recorded the wolf summoning ability in the student file and dismissed Zhou Ke with a wave.

He had no reason to doubt—truth abilities were wildly varied. Summoning a wolf was quite ordinary, fitting Zhou Ke’s mediocre image in the first stage of truth power.

Zhou Ke walked back to the line, eyes and mouth moving, nose and heart observing, all while thinking about the two truths.

When he returned, he found Liu Xing arguing with Li Hua. He caught fragments like “Your good friend is useless,” “low-tier talent,” “not even worthy to shine shoes,” typical online insults.

Their shouting grew intense; one’s face turned red and neck thickened, while the other remained calm, hands spread, as peaceful as a blooming garden.

Zhou Ke, having nothing better to do, walked over to mediate: “Stop fighting, stop fighting, we’re all equally bad.”

Seeing Zhou Ke return, Liu Xing didn’t dare swear in front of him, huffed angrily, and left.

Zhou Ke expressionlessly took the seat Li Hua had saved for him.

“Why did you chase him away? It was such fun.” Li Hua shook his head regretfully.

“That guy was about to get so mad he’d smoke from his ears. If it kept going, you’d probably get beaten up.” Zhou Ke feigned tired eyes.

“So you’d help me, right?” Li Hua showed a hopeful look.

“Of course.” Zhou Ke nodded. “When you do get beaten, I’ll report it to the teacher and get both you and Liu Xing in trouble.”

“And then?”

“Then I’ll use that to blackmail you into buying me McDonald’s. If you don’t, I’ll say you started the fight. Heh heh heh.”

“Ugh, how did I end up with such a petty friend?” Li Hua sighed, burying his face in his hands.

“Well, tell me, if you were in my shoes, what would you do?” Zhou Ke snapped his fingers disdainfully.

“I’d definitely punch Liu Xing once to vent.”

Before Li Hua could finish his chivalrous line, Zhou Ke cut in, “And if I don’t bribe you, you’ll just go tell the teacher that Liu Xing was the one who hit me, right?”

“See, you’re the only one who understands me,” Li Hua cupped his hands in admiration.

“A father knows his son best,” Zhou Ke returned the gesture.

At that, the two exchanged a glance and burst out laughing together.

Soon after... the teacher came out and made them stand in the corner as punishment.