Dimensional Hotel

Yu Sheng stared at the glowing words on his phone’s screen, feeling more puzzled than ever. The newest message came from someone calling themselves “Three Thousand Wicked Disciples,” and it mentioned something called the “Academy.” At first, the word seemed oddly familiar, like a half-forgotten name from an old dream. Then a memory drifted back to him. Bai Li Qing had casually spoken that name once before, and Yu Sheng also recalled stumbling across it earlier while sifting through some old files on his phone. Now, all the pieces were clicking together in his mind.

He remembered reading that the Academy was a grand organization settled far beyond the Borderland. Its main headquarters was located on a distant planet called Terra. According to the files, they spent their time handing down knowledge, uncovering ancient ruins, researching technology, and fighting against strange, ancient beings that threatened the sanity of mortals. It was said to be like a gigantic university, one that stretched across the cosmos. The people they sent out into the world were often known as “Professors.”

Yu Sheng thought it over. If the Academy was some kind of scholarly group interested in curious artifacts, then it made sense they might want the odd black metal device he’d recently found. After all, “Three Thousand Wicked Disciples” had hinted at exactly that.

But there was a serious problem. The Academy was famously secretive and hard to reach. They only dealt with other established groups, never random lone individuals. And Yu Sheng, very much a rookie in this odd business, had no idea where to begin. He knew next to no one in these circles. How was he supposed to find a Professor from the Academy just like that?

He chewed his lip, hesitating for a moment, before typing a reply to “Three Thousand Wicked Disciples”: “How can I contact the Academy? Do you have any leads?”

He waited, staring at the screen, but no new message popped up. It seemed that his mysterious informant had logged off right after sending their last hint. All Yu Sheng could do was sigh, tuck the phone back into his pocket, and turn his attention to the black metal artifact resting in his hand.

He turned it over carefully, peering at its engraved surface. There were markings, just as “Three Thousand Wicked Disciples” had mentioned—strange symbols he hadn’t even noticed before. They were carved deeply, which made them visible despite their worn condition. They were all curves and loops, unlike any writing he’d ever seen. The sight of them made him feel both curious and uneasy.

Just then, Yu Sheng felt his phone buzz again. He snatched it out, hoping that maybe “Three Thousand Wicked Disciples” had returned. To his surprise, it wasn’t them at all. Instead, an icon shaped like Little Red Riding Hood’s profile flashed in his private messages.

He opened it quickly. The message read: “I saw those pictures and what you said—tell me you didn’t find that weird thing inside your own house?!”