Chapter 95: The Greatest and Most Evil Event in ACG History

The endless August, or the aimless August, could also be called “The August You Can’t Escape,” because the god Ryouko Hiyori, who can create a universe with a single thought, chose to reset the timeline over a trivial regret: failing to finish her summer homework before the vacation ended.

She repeated this cycle 15,532 times, all for the sake of something as insignificant as “finishing summer homework with my friends,” revealing the full extent of her capriciousness.

After all, women and gods alike are synonymous with capriciousness; when combined, you get Suzumiya Haruhi.

So don’t forget this!

If this woman truly means it, an endless July could just as easily appear.

Chōnō said existing time-travel methods don’t work on him, but Suzumiya Haruhi can conjure entirely “nonexistent” methods out of thin air—unrecognized, unmanifested techniques never before seen in the universe—all done unconsciously.

After all, every civilization’s method of time travel in this universe was essentially invented by Suzumiya Haruhi on a whim.

“Yuxi and Liangzi are humanoid terminals, inherently capable of transmitting information and memories; it’s not strange they realized the world was looping. In fact, because I gave Yuxi the script, she knew it was Suzumiya Haruhi’s doing and tried to warn me… but because the timeline was isolated, it failed. I only saw it after being pulled back.”

Jia Ji opened the chat group panel. This time, the interface stabilized, but except for Chōnō, all other members appeared offline—no messages visible at all.

“During temporal loops, the flow of time is nearly static relative to other worlds”—this is also recorded in the Information Synthesis Thought Entity.

Probably the Ten Thousand Mirrors’ cross-temporal synchronization glitched; everyone’s messages lost connection, signals dropped, and the Chuanyue button turned gray—clearly unusable.

This thing was always a half-assed gift from some idiot, barely functional—needed a hundred days to recharge, could only be used once, lacked every feature a proper device should have, radiating the cheap, shoddy vibe of poverty; this state is only natural.

“My memories remain—that means the Chuanyue succeeded. Otherwise, I’d have become a refreshed NPC, repeating the same actions again.”

Suzumiya Haruhi wanted to find Jia Ji, but no matter how hard she searched, she couldn’t directly locate him after his return to his original world. After falling asleep at home, her subconscious replaced the unattainable goal of “finding him” with the equivalent of “appearing before me.”

To make the “him” from another world—Jia Ji himself—reappear, rather than some other person, the Lianggong universe couldn’t clone or replicate a being with his exact appearance and memories using existing data, so it simply rewound the timeline to the morning before his Chuanyue .

“Then… if I hadn’t quit the club, would Suzumiya Haruhi have just canceled the time loop?”

He asked Yuxi, but received no clear answer.

Let’s try it. Let’s see what happens.

So Jia Ji directly skipped class, stayed home all day, and practiced boxing.

At exactly 5:42:07 p.m., his figure vanished from this world.

…………

“What the—where the…”

He quickly stifled his cry, barely avoiding saying the same phrase for the third time, and drew a sharp breath. He looked around—everyone who should be here was still here.

He, once again, returned to Yuxi’s apartment.

Moreover, the muscle soreness and mental fatigue from overexertion during his workout in the apartment now appeared on him—this feeling…

Leaning back on the sofa, eyes closed, Jia Ji began methodically sorting through the logic, replaying what had happened to him.

“I was wrong about you, Ten Thousand Mirrors!”

Though this device looked poor and shoddy, it could still barely withstand the power of a single universe—or even a super-single-tier level.

He felt the Ten Thousand Mirrors’ Chuanyue function hadn’t failed; it was working strongly. His physical body had indeed returned to the Beidou world, only to be immediately pulled back by this world.

Is this the “Disappearance of Jia Ji—Incomplete Version”?

It seemed complex, the timeline chaotic, but in truth, Beidou’s time remained unaffected—only Suzumiya’s time was looping. In short…

“My body is actually jumping back and forth between two worlds, right?”

“Mm.”

Yuxi and Liangzi nodded together.

Jia Ji appeared to exist simultaneously in both worlds, but in reality, he was teleporting back and forth at a speed beyond even consciousness’s ability to perceive. Because of the isolated space created by Suzumiya Haruhi, the full day he experienced here was compressed into a single instant—manifesting in Beidou as his body flickering for a moment.

His fellow disciples in the original world had no idea that during that flickering instant, he had secretly trained for over ten hours in another world.

To them, he probably looked like he was practicing some Beidou Sun Fist or NanDou Flash Bomb, glowing and blinking like an LED.

The world couldn’t prevent the [established fact] of his Chuanyue via the Ten Thousand Mirrors—each time the moment arrived, he was teleported automatically.

And whenever Suzumiya Haruhi noticed his disappearance—even without a prior club resignation—she’d grow curious and try to find him, triggering another loop.

Chuanyue , disappearance, search, failure to find, time reset, Chuanyue again, disappear again… The tug-of-war between the universe and the Ten Thousand Mirrors formed a genuinely idiotic, illogical causal loop.

Once he understood this, Jia Ji exhaled in relief.

The solution was simple: if Suzumiya Haruhi stopped trying to find him after his disappearance, the time loop would break.

With his astonishing wisdom, he immediately conceived multiple viable methods or excuses.

There was even one utterly insane method—one he dared not use unless absolutely necessary—but one that would definitely work.

“But if I spend one instant in Beidou and train for ten hours here, and the cultivation power I gain carries over and doesn’t vanish—what does that mean?”

Jia Ji drew several sharp breaths, disbelief rising as he glanced at his still-active status bar—compared to ten hours ago, his vitality and spiritual energy had improved by five decimal places.

“This is incredible!”

That means this endlessly resetting world is essentially—[Limited Edition: Spiritual Time Chamber]?

The feature of time looping, if rated, would surely rank among the top three must-have elements of “The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya.”

So this time-speed boost—I got it thanks to Suzumiya Haruhi?

Though it’s “endless [X],” it won’t be written as eight identical chapters just to pad content.

Finally, the time-speed boost is active. Logic? Screw it. Homage to the legendary old novel “The Transmigrator’s Office.”

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(End of Chapter)