Silent Crown

Chapter 221: A Long Night

One night later, Ye Qingxuan stared annoyingly at the similarly-ashen Charles. Who had ever heard of sixteen explosions in one night? They were even better at music theory than other students. It must be Charles' fault.

"Okay, blame me." Charles opened his mouth and blew out smoke from the explosion. "I'll go stand in the corner for the next test."

"I think I'm going deaf. Let's sleep first." Ye Qingxuan yawned and felt he was going to pass out.

"I've been waiting for you to say that for two days." With a laugh, Charles collapsed onto the ground and soon began snoring.

Ye Qingxuan sighed. He laid a piece of dust-cloth over Charles and crawled onto the broken sofa covered in parts, without caring if it was clean or not. He fell asleep as soon as he closed his eyes.

In the morning, Bai Xi kicked the door open and saw that the two were deep in sleep. She curled her lips in disinterest and drew a turtle on their faces, then she took Old Phil out. Today was the one day she had class.

At noon, Abraham visited. Seeing that these two were still unconscious, he shook his head and smiled bitterly. After looking through their music score, he made some small changes, wrote down a message and left to report at the military.

In the afternoon, a rare guest knocked on the history department's door.

-

"Anyone here?" Bart stood outside and patiently knocked on the door for the third time, but there was still no reply. The ancient building was silent as if no one was there. He furrowed his brows and knocked more forcefully. Creaking, the door…opened.

"Anyone here?" He peered carefully. Seeing the cracks in the wall and the wall shavings in the corner, he wrinkled his nose. What was this weird place? There was also the smell of alcohol in the air, which made his expression even uglier. Had these guys stooped so low that they drunk for enjoyment? Musicians needed absolute quiet and focus. Drinking was like suicide…

Holding his nose, he walked into the living room, which was empty. He waited for a while but still, no one came. Finally, he rose in annoyance, feeling that he was wasting his time.

Coming here to lower himself to the history department was already his bottom line. Waiting for so long was just humiliating. He no longer waited and pushed open the door to Abraham's library. He tore off a piece of paper and wrote that he would visit another day, leaving his professor's card.

"Huh, history department," Bart huffed. He took one last glance at the messy library and turned to leave, but after taking two steps, his feet stopped and he froze in place. As if finally dawning on him, he turned around in shock and glanced at the table…at the stack of notes on the table.

He hesitated for a long time before finally gathering his courage. He carefully opened the stack of paper and began flipping through it. The more he read, the uglier his expression became.

In the end, he did not dare to look anymore. He raised the ring on his finger and began recording everything in panic. When he still had a few more pages left, he suddenly heard noise in the basement.

His fingers shook and he speedily returned everything to how it was. Taking back his message, he carefully erased all trace that he had been here. Finally, he opened the door without a sound and ran as if escaping for his life. He sprinted under the blazing afternoon sun, stumbling and muttering to himself, "How is this possible, how is this possible, how is this possible…how is this possible?"

-

"How is this possible?" In the office, Ingmar watched Bart's video and compared it to his notes, his expression livid.

Over and over and over again…every time he watched, his anger worsened. In the end, he flipped the table in manic rage and roared at Bart, "How is this possible?! How can I be wrong?!"

An invisible tornado enveloped the room. Everything began shaking crazily with almost cracking cacophony. It all fell to the ground in the end.

Bart stood in the corner, trembling in fear, not daring to make a sound. He was thankfully from the School of Revelations, which was not good at destruction. If it was Egor who was raging today, the entire office would be burned to ashes.

After a long, long time, Ingmar finally calmed down. He compared his notes to the video one last time, flipping through the pages. As he flipped past every page, it would crumble. They broke apart soundlessly and scattered on Ingmar's robe like cinders after a fire. In the end, it seemed as if Ingmar was sitting in a pile of ghastly white cinder. His hands were empty, but his face was as white as skeletons and dead ashes.

"It seems that my direction truly was wrong…" he murmured. His hands shook, veins bulging on his forehead, and he sounded as if he was crying. "Why am I wrong? Why me? Why—"

Bart froze. He heard his professor's heartbeat—it was incomparably loud and heavy, like drum beats. The drum beats grew faster and faster, pulling him into it. He seemed to see a spinning starry sky, but the stars shook crazily and patches were extinguishing.

When it finally dawned on Bart, his face paled. This was a sign of his sound of heart's collapse. Bart rushed forward and forcefully shook Ingmar's shoulders to clear his mind. But Ingmar was like a piece of wood that had no reaction at all. Finally, determination flashed past Bart's eyes. Gritting his teeth, he grabbed Ingmar's hand and stabbed it with a sharp pen.

Boom! The air pressure shot up.

Bart was forced away by shockwaves from Ingmar and slammed into the wall. His vision went black and he spat out blood; his arm was broken. The entire room fell to ruins and the building's alarm went off. Everyone panicked, but the alarm quickly disappeared again.

Everything in the office was dragged to its original spot by an invisible strength. The shattered vase was put back today, the torn carpet was sewn together and the pulverized wall painting emerged out of the dust again. It was as if nothing had happened.

Ingmar was sitting in his original position and his eyes were no longer crazed, but his body was soaked with cold sweat. Not caring about the pain of his hand being nailed to the table, he yanked the pen out. He glanced at Bart, whose arm was continuing to heal, and finally regained his senses. He finally knew what had happened.

"Bart, you are a good student. If not for you, Abraham might have…" He gritted his teeth, his expression becoming fierce as a beast. He sprinkled medicine on his hand, wrapped it and put on a glove, covering the wound.

Bart was still terrified and stammered out a reply.

"You said that no one saw you when you went to the history department, right?" Decisiveness and ruthlessness flashed past Ingmar's eyes. "Are you sure?"

Bart froze. Understanding something, his face paled even more. Under Ingmar's heavy stare, he finally nodded forcefully. "Yes, no one knows I was there…"

"Good." Ingmar suddenly smiled. It did not suit his pale face at all and was instead terrifying. "Come to the Musician Union with me in a bit."

Bart's suspicions were confirmed and his expression became one of fear. "Would they do anything…if they realized?"

"You're still too young, Bart. Too young and naïve…" Ingmar looked up. There was a shade of gloomy pity in his eyes. "These things belong to whoever publishes it first."

-

Late at night, a carriage stopped before the clock shop. The man pushed the door open and entered.

"Mr. Bayer?" The blonde youth drinking tea by the window looked up. Shock appeared on his face. "A guest from the Musician Union? How rare. You haven't visited since you received this position. How can I help you tonight? Are you here to buy something?"

"No need." Bayer waved his hand and smiled sadly. "I cannot afford your products."

"Ah, don't say that." Hermes shook his head. "I'm well-known for having great things at great prices. If you look carefully, you'll be able to find something you like."

"Actually, I am here today to ask you to help me appraise something." He sat across from Hermes and pushed over a copy of a black folder. "I think you have some knowledge about this."

"Oh?" Hermes arched an eyebrow. "The experts at your Union aren't sure? How rare."

Bayer chuckled bitterly, shaking his head. "Actually, the scholars of our union and the Sacred City have been arguing over this. When I left, they were still fighting over whether this is qualified research results."

"Oh? Let me see…Voynich Manuscript? After all these centuries, you all still haven't given up and are still trying to decipher this?" Hermes opened the folder and quickly flipped the pages. He scanned through, not like reading, but rather like confirming something. His gaze grew stranger as he read.

"It really is…interesting! Are you all trying to use weird ways to restore the original because all other paths are impossible? This is a strange side path, but has returned to the correct direction. Let me see the author…Ingmar?" He furrowed his brows. "I've met this guy and, quite honestly, I don't think he has the guts to overthrow all previous theories. Have I misjudged him?"

Joy flickered past Bayer's eyes. "So you confirm that it's fake?"

"Tsk, of course it's real. It's obvious he started bullsh*tting at the end, but the direction is right, at least." Hermes waved the folder around in irritation. "Congratulations. You've found another direction to let you to bullsh*t for a few more decades. What great news. This time, you can bring that old thing out again, knock on it and celebrate. But isn't it annoying to ring bells every holiday? Why can't you think of a more graceful method?"

"Sir, please do not joke. That is the Philosopher's Bell. It's naturally different from others," Bayer said with a smile. "In contrast, the gates of heaven contain God's prestige. It does not often show the way."

"Don't compare my work to that piece of crap," Hermes spat in distaste, seeming extremely vulgar. "Philosopher's Bell? Psh, it's clearly like…" He uttered the words very unclearly and Bayer pretended not to hear. He gathered the papers, handed over a large sum of money, and left. Hermes opened the sachet with his pinkie finger. Glancing at the crystal-like things inside with disgust, he called, "Bai Xi!"

"What?" Bai Xi, who was being punished by copying music scores behind the counter, looked up.

"There's a saying from the East that says students should help when the teacher needs it. I don't like this thing so take it home for Old Phil to chew on." He tossed the sachet into Bai Xi's arms. Something seemed to suddenly dawn on him and he revealed a strange smile. "Ah, my association skills are just so amazing," he muttered to himself. "It seems like something interesting is going to happen again soon? I'm so…excited!"

After two days of fierce competition, the rankings had changed dramatically. The School of Modifications was chasing fiercely, the School of Revelations was staying in place, and the School of Royalty seemed to have fallen down again.

At the last moment, the School of Summoning began going all out. Their teams filled the entire competition and they practically sacrificed everything, even their girlfriends. Their scores and rankings shot up quickly and leaped past Modifications. During the critical countdown in the end, they reached 271,400 points.

Finally, with the cooperation of the entire school, Summoning beat the history department with a difference of one-hundred points and hoped into first place. It was such great news!

This time, the history department was finally beaten. Otherwise, all other schools would have been defeated by a department that was close to being exterminated.

So many people secretly let out a breath of relief, but sadly, good times were always short-lived.

The end of the second round of trials was soon announced. All teams disbanded and the points were split between the teammates…and so the situation became fierce again.

One could not bear to look as everyone looked at their rankings and wailed. Everyone knew that even if a team had more than ten-thousand points, each person…well, it depended on how many players they had.

On the smaller side, the teams had seven or eight members. The bigger teams had dozens, and some even had cheerleaders! They all took their portion of the points. And the worst thing was, the history department did not have many people!

The entire time, their actual members only consisted of three students and a dog. The dog did not need points so…if one rounded up, the two-hundred seventy-thousand points would be divided by three. That was just too much!

Bai Xi did not care about the academy's prizes and just wanted to have fun in the exhibition round, so she took ten-thousand points and became number seventeen…Charles was simpler—he just wanted to graduate. To be safe, he took more and left with ninety-thousand. This guy instantly shot from the bottom of the rankings into top ten. He became number six!

As for Ye Qingxuan…everyone went crazy because the remaining points were all his. With one-hundred and seventy-thousand points, he shot forward like a rocket, pushing him to the front of the list. Finally, after another the notifications rang out like an earthquake, Ye Qingxuan had returned to the top of the rankings. He was more than twenty thousand points ahead—First place!

Where was the justice in this world?

The students could not help but swear when they saw the flashing gold Eastern name on the rankings and went to mope in the corner with red eyes. They could not keep living like this. While they were still fighting tooth and nail over a few hundred points to become middle class, others were already millionaires and shining with gold from the inside.

Their facial muscles began twitching whenever they saw someone like that. It was like a toothache, but during their painful toothache, the school day was drawing to an end. The final round had finally begun—the graduation work exhibition!

-

"It's finally starting," Cullen sighed in exhaustion from behind his exhibit.

People had surged into the campus square at dawn. After the principal's short speech, the last round of the torturous school day finally began. There was a long line of students before the School of Royalty's exhibit. They were all waiting to test out their product, but the team was still doing their last check nervously.

"How are the results of the last check?"

A student with bloodshot eyes turned around. "Wait a sec. It'll be done after I finish testing this portion."

"Good luck. The final check is necessary." Cullen sighed. "Go sleep after it's done. I'll take care of this, and members of the student council will come over later."

Soon, his teammate cheered, packed up his aether ball and instrument, and collapsed onto the ground. He gave Cullen the thumbs up. "All set!"

"Then, let the testing begin!" Cullen smiled and pushed open the exhibit's door, waving to the crowd. "Please line up in order and don't push. This time, our graduation work will only cost ten points to experience. Hopefully, you'll find it worth it."

"Oh, it looks exciting here." The old man on the side took off his hat and smiled. "Can an old man like me cut in line and try it first?"

"Principal?" Stunned, Cullen quickly moved to the side. "Please, please, come in."

Maxwell chuckled and placed his hat on the table and asked, "What did you prepare this time?"

"Just battle simulation," Cullen replied modestly. "We found inspiration from the war between the Asgardians and the revolutionary colonies. Our project this time mainly used war chariot battles. The musician is responsible for driving the iron chariot forward on the map. We can use aether cannons on the chariots to destroy blockades and enemy chariots. The command group that destroys the enemies wins.

"But you also need to protect your fortress. Look here, this ring of rock blockades represents the fortress. The Griffin emblem within represents the command center of our camp.

"You can use the points earned in the game to upgrade the material of the fortress, transforming it into green gold at the end. The Griffin emblem can't be upgraded though. One aether cannon can destroy it. You must protect your command center. If the Griffin is destroyed, the battle is over."

"Oh, so if the camp is destroyed, it'll be impossible to continue fighting, correct?" The Principal nodded. "I only have one chariot?"

"Yes." Cullen nodded. "But the enemy has many chariots. Please keep note to use the blockades to protect against the enemy's cannons. As the levels increase, the amount of enemy chariots and their difficulty level will increase too…"

"Oh, sounds interesting. Let me try." Maxwell rubbed his hands and activated the illusion before him. A large bird's eye view appeared before him soon. Right beside the stone fortress, a rectangular steel chariot slowly powered on under his control of the music note.

The entire battlefield was like a chessboard. There was a river in the middle that the chariots could only cross with the bridge, but the enemy's cannons could be shot across. The cannons were not very fast in the simulation, and one could dodge it if they reacted in time.

The principal's chariot quickly passed through the levels with a passionate battle melody as background music. He solved each problem as he faced them and charged straight toward the enemy's camp without regard of anything else.

Beside him, Cullen's scalp tingled. Most people would take it slow and steady when they entered the simulation. They would first guard their commanding center and destroy all the enemy chariots before pushing into their nest. He did not expect that the principal would be so fast and cross the river right at the beginning, flattening everything in his path and going for the enemy's stronghold without a care for his own weak commanding center.

Maxwell had chosen to gamble on speed with the much more powerful and supplied enemy. He delved deeply alone and killed the others before they could kill him.

"So decisive," Cullen murmured. Thinking of the principal's usual vigorous and resolute manner, and the dark stories he had heard from his family, awe filled his eyes when he looked at the principal.

But soon, the principal's speed and well-practiced manipulation bewildered him again. Maxwell's familiarity with the work grew speedily. By the time he was at the sixth level, he was practically more familiar with the chariot than Cullen, the creator!

"Not bad. As expected, the School of Royalty's work didn't disappoint me." Just as Cullen was spacing out, the principal had finished the game and won one hundred points. He intimately patted Cullen's shoulder. "The quality is good overall this year. I am anticipating which project will be the most popular."

Cullen froze and quickly asked, "Did you see the other school's works already?"

"Want to get insider information from me?" The principal smiled mysteriously. "I can't say anything, but I recommend you take a look around. Maybe you'll see something unpredictable."

After he left, Cullen sat in his spot for a few minutes, becoming more and more unsettled. Soon, he gave the work's copy and control to a teammate and put on his jacket.

"Huh? You're leaving?"

"I'm going to look at the other exhibits." Cullen rubbed his face and sighed. "It seems that I still need work on my resolution. The principal's few words unsettled me."

"You don't have to go personally, right?" The teammate yawned. "We have eyes on all our competitors' exhibits."

"Actually, I'm not worried about the predictable things." Cullen glanced at him. "I'm scared of the unpredictable."

-

After Cullen had made a circle, he sat down heavily on the chair. Sighing involuntarily, his brows furrowed. It seemed that he really had underestimated the other schools.

Many of the competitors were unexpected. After personally experiencing them, Cullen realized that their quality was comparable to his own.

Rather than creating a sequel to last year's King Kong as expected, the School of Summoning created a new work—Beast Eater. The musician entered a large maze and must use music notes to guide his phantom beast. He must go forward, explore and eat the dots of "beastly nature" on the path.

At the same time, the demons raised by the natural catastrophes paced in the maze. Once it met the phantom beast, it would start chasing and was difficult to lose. Once the beast entered a dead end and was unable to turn around, it would be eaten by the demon.

Meanwhile, the musician's phantom beast could evolve by eating the dots of beastly nature. After becoming complete, it could turn around and eat all the demons. A yellow ball with a mouth represented the phantom beast. It would evolve to perfection by eating the dots, becoming stronger than the demons and swallow them.

This represented that willpower restricted and controlled the beastly nature, and finally succeeded—this was the purpose and meaning of the School of Summoning.

The School of Modifications created a new product called Thunder. Looking down at the sky, the musician controlled a new plane model, and faced various fleets and demons in the air. He must dodge the enemy's attacks in the bullet-filled screen and fight back using the continuous energy.

The plane contained three large annihilation bombs to respond to various attacks. They could clear the screen instantly and kill all enemies. This also provided a period of no enemies so the player could hide in the sealed screen.

Winning against the stronger and bigger enemy, winning with formulas and energy, the game was also filled with an indescribably urgency and stimulation. The feeling of unleashing power was intoxicating. This was the School of Modification's classic style!

It could be predicted that this product would definitely be well received by Modifications students after its release. After all, they liked to do things forcefully.

The Joker game by the School of Revelations could not be underestimated either…

Cullen calculated in his mind, but his unsettledness grew. The question mark in his mind grew, grew and grew…Finally, he sighed and glanced toward the music history department…As expected, he could not be assured, no matter what!

What had the history department done this time? He hesitated a bit and decided that he would personally take a look. But when he got near, he saw some people stalk out of the crowd angrily.

"F*cking no one can pass!"

"Those psychos…"

"I was so close!"

"No, still too slow."

Hearing their voices, Cullen's suspicion grew. He was about to go up and ask but heard messy footsteps behind him. Turning around in confusion, he was met with a dark mass of people rushing over.

It was amazing how many people there were. They brushed past him and charged straight toward the history department's exhibit. Everyone's expressions were of excitement and anticipation, as if they could not wait.

"Hurry up! You'll be late if you're this slow!"

"Don't let them get there first."

"I'm going to save a seat first. Hurry over."

"What's happening?" Cullen grabbed a familiar-looking student and asked quietly, "Did something happen to the history department?"

"Cullen, haven't you heard yet?" The student glanced at him strangely. "The rumors have spread through the entire school."

"What?" For some reason, the bad premonition grew in Cullen.

The student's expression instantly grew troubled. "A few minutes ago, that Eastern concertmaster bet all his points that no one could successfully complete his work!"

"All his points?" Spots appeared in Cullen's vision. "One-hundred and seventy-thousand?"

"Yeah, one hundred and seventy thousand!"

Cullen felt his vision going black. He forced his head up and saw the white-haired youth, sunbathing casually, at the front of the crowd.

"Has this guy…gone crazy?"

Chapter 217 - Exhibition Begins

After two days of fierce competition, the rankings had changed dramatically. The School of Modifications was chasing fiercely, the School of Revelations was staying in place, and the School of Royalty seemed to have fallen down again.

At the last moment, the School of Summoning began going all out. Their teams filled the entire competition and they practically sacrificed everything, even their girlfriends. Their scores and rankings shot up quickly and leaped past Modifications. During the critical countdown in the end, they reached 271,400 points.

Finally, with the cooperation of the entire school, Summoning beat the history department with a difference of one-hundred points and hoped into first place. It was such great news!

This time, the history department was finally beaten. Otherwise, all other schools would have been defeated by a department that was close to being exterminated.

So many people secretly let out a breath of relief, but sadly, good times were always short-lived.

The end of the second round of trials was soon announced. All teams disbanded and the points were split between the teammates…and so the situation became fierce again.

One could not bear to look as everyone looked at their rankings and wailed. Everyone knew that even if a team had more than ten-thousand points, each person…well, it depended on how many players they had.

On the smaller side, the teams had seven or eight members. The bigger teams had dozens, and some even had cheerleaders! They all took their portion of the points. And the worst thing was, the history department did not have many people!

The entire time, their actual members only consisted of three students and a dog. The dog did not need points so…if one rounded up, the two-hundred seventy-thousand points would be divided by three. That was just too much!

Bai Xi did not care about the academy's prizes and just wanted to have fun in the exhibition round, so she took ten-thousand points and became number seventeen…Charles was simpler—he just wanted to graduate. To be safe, he took more and left with ninety-thousand. This guy instantly shot from the bottom of the rankings into top ten. He became number six!

As for Ye Qingxuan…everyone went crazy because the remaining points were all his. With one-hundred and seventy-thousand points, he shot forward like a rocket, pushing him to the front of the list. Finally, after another the notifications rang out like an earthquake, Ye Qingxuan had returned to the top of the rankings. He was more than twenty thousand points ahead—First place!

Where was the justice in this world?

The students could not help but swear when they saw the flashing gold Eastern name on the rankings and went to mope in the corner with red eyes. They could not keep living like this. While they were still fighting tooth and nail over a few hundred points to become middle class, others were already millionaires and shining with gold from the inside.

Their facial muscles began twitching whenever they saw someone like that. It was like a toothache, but during their painful toothache, the school day was drawing to an end. The final round had finally begun—the graduation work exhibition!

-

"It's finally starting," Cullen sighed in exhaustion from behind his exhibit.

People had surged into the campus square at dawn. After the principal's short speech, the last round of the torturous school day finally began. There was a long line of students before the School of Royalty's exhibit. They were all waiting to test out their product, but the team was still doing their last check nervously.

"How are the results of the last check?"

A student with bloodshot eyes turned around. "Wait a sec. It'll be done after I finish testing this portion."

"Good luck. The final check is necessary." Cullen sighed. "Go sleep after it's done. I'll take care of this, and members of the student council will come over later."

Soon, his teammate cheered, packed up his aether ball and instrument, and collapsed onto the ground. He gave Cullen the thumbs up. "All set!"

"Then, let the testing begin!" Cullen smiled and pushed open the exhibit's door, waving to the crowd. "Please line up in order and don't push. This time, our graduation work will only cost ten points to experience. Hopefully, you'll find it worth it."

"Oh, it looks exciting here." The old man on the side took off his hat and smiled. "Can an old man like me cut in line and try it first?"

"Principal?" Stunned, Cullen quickly moved to the side. "Please, please, come in."

Maxwell chuckled and placed his hat on the table and asked, "What did you prepare this time?"

"Just battle simulation," Cullen replied modestly. "We found inspiration from the war between the Asgardians and the revolutionary colonies. Our project this time mainly used war chariot battles. The musician is responsible for driving the iron chariot forward on the map. We can use aether cannons on the chariots to destroy blockades and enemy chariots. The command group that destroys the enemies wins.

"But you also need to protect your fortress. Look here, this ring of rock blockades represents the fortress. The Griffin emblem within represents the command center of our camp.

"You can use the points earned in the game to upgrade the material of the fortress, transforming it into green gold at the end. The Griffin emblem can't be upgraded though. One aether cannon can destroy it. You must protect your command center. If the Griffin is destroyed, the battle is over."

"Oh, so if the camp is destroyed, it'll be impossible to continue fighting, correct?" The Principal nodded. "I only have one chariot?"

"Yes." Cullen nodded. "But the enemy has many chariots. Please keep note to use the blockades to protect against the enemy's cannons. As the levels increase, the amount of enemy chariots and their difficulty level will increase too…"

"Oh, sounds interesting. Let me try." Maxwell rubbed his hands and activated the illusion before him. A large bird's eye view appeared before him soon. Right beside the stone fortress, a rectangular steel chariot slowly powered on under his control of the music note.

The entire battlefield was like a chessboard. There was a river in the middle that the chariots could only cross with the bridge, but the enemy's cannons could be shot across. The cannons were not very fast in the simulation, and one could dodge it if they reacted in time.

The principal's chariot quickly passed through the levels with a passionate battle melody as background music. He solved each problem as he faced them and charged straight toward the enemy's camp without regard of anything else.

Beside him, Cullen's scalp tingled. Most people would take it slow and steady when they entered the simulation. They would first guard their commanding center and destroy all the enemy chariots before pushing into their nest. He did not expect that the principal would be so fast and cross the river right at the beginning, flattening everything in his path and going for the enemy's stronghold without a care for his own weak commanding center.

Maxwell had chosen to gamble on speed with the much more powerful and supplied enemy. He delved deeply alone and killed the others before they could kill him.

"So decisive," Cullen murmured. Thinking of the principal's usual vigorous and resolute manner, and the dark stories he had heard from his family, awe filled his eyes when he looked at the principal.

But soon, the principal's speed and well-practiced manipulation bewildered him again. Maxwell's familiarity with the work grew speedily. By the time he was at the sixth level, he was practically more familiar with the chariot than Cullen, the creator!

"Not bad. As expected, the School of Royalty's work didn't disappoint me." Just as Cullen was spacing out, the principal had finished the game and won one hundred points. He intimately patted Cullen's shoulder. "The quality is good overall this year. I am anticipating which project will be the most popular."

Cullen froze and quickly asked, "Did you see the other school's works already?"

"Want to get insider information from me?" The principal smiled mysteriously. "I can't say anything, but I recommend you take a look around. Maybe you'll see something unpredictable."

After he left, Cullen sat in his spot for a few minutes, becoming more and more unsettled. Soon, he gave the work's copy and control to a teammate and put on his jacket.

"Huh? You're leaving?"

"I'm going to look at the other exhibits." Cullen rubbed his face and sighed. "It seems that I still need work on my resolution. The principal's few words unsettled me."

"You don't have to go personally, right?" The teammate yawned. "We have eyes on all our competitors' exhibits."

"Actually, I'm not worried about the predictable things." Cullen glanced at him. "I'm scared of the unpredictable."

-

After Cullen had made a circle, he sat down heavily on the chair. Sighing involuntarily, his brows furrowed. It seemed that he really had underestimated the other schools.

Many of the competitors were unexpected. After personally experiencing them, Cullen realized that their quality was comparable to his own.

Rather than creating a sequel to last year's King Kong as expected, the School of Summoning created a new work—Beast Eater. The musician entered a large maze and must use music notes to guide his phantom beast. He must go forward, explore and eat the dots of "beastly nature" on the path.

At the same time, the demons raised by the natural catastrophes paced in the maze. Once it met the phantom beast, it would start chasing and was difficult to lose. Once the beast entered a dead end and was unable to turn around, it would be eaten by the demon.

Meanwhile, the musician's phantom beast could evolve by eating the dots of beastly nature. After becoming complete, it could turn around and eat all the demons. A yellow ball with a mouth represented the phantom beast. It would evolve to perfection by eating the dots, becoming stronger than the demons and swallow them.

This represented that willpower restricted and controlled the beastly nature, and finally succeeded—this was the purpose and meaning of the School of Summoning.

The School of Modifications created a new product called Thunder. Looking down at the sky, the musician controlled a new plane model, and faced various fleets and demons in the air. He must dodge the enemy's attacks in the bullet-filled screen and fight back using the continuous energy.

The plane contained three large annihilation bombs to respond to various attacks. They could clear the screen instantly and kill all enemies. This also provided a period of no enemies so the player could hide in the sealed screen.

Winning against the stronger and bigger enemy, winning with formulas and energy, the game was also filled with an indescribably urgency and stimulation. The feeling of unleashing power was intoxicating. This was the School of Modification's classic style!

It could be predicted that this product would definitely be well received by Modifications students after its release. After all, they liked to do things forcefully.

The Joker game by the School of Revelations could not be underestimated either…

Cullen calculated in his mind, but his unsettledness grew. The question mark in his mind grew, grew and grew…Finally, he sighed and glanced toward the music history department…As expected, he could not be assured, no matter what!

What had the history department done this time? He hesitated a bit and decided that he would personally take a look. But when he got near, he saw some people stalk out of the crowd angrily.

"F*cking no one can pass!"

"Those psychos…"

"I was so close!"

"No, still too slow."

Hearing their voices, Cullen's suspicion grew. He was about to go up and ask but heard messy footsteps behind him. Turning around in confusion, he was met with a dark mass of people rushing over.

It was amazing how many people there were. They brushed past him and charged straight toward the history department's exhibit. Everyone's expressions were of excitement and anticipation, as if they could not wait.

"Hurry up! You'll be late if you're this slow!"

"Don't let them get there first."

"I'm going to save a seat first. Hurry over."

"What's happening?" Cullen grabbed a familiar-looking student and asked quietly, "Did something happen to the history department?"

"Cullen, haven't you heard yet?" The student glanced at him strangely. "The rumors have spread through the entire school."

"What?" For some reason, the bad premonition grew in Cullen.

The student's expression instantly grew troubled. "A few minutes ago, that Eastern concertmaster bet all his points that no one could successfully complete his work!"

"All his points?" Spots appeared in Cullen's vision. "One-hundred and seventy-thousand?"

"Yeah, one hundred and seventy thousand!"

Cullen felt his vision going black. He forced his head up and saw the white-haired youth, sunbathing casually, at the front of the crowd.

"Has this guy…gone crazy?"

In the hustle and bustle, people queued excitedly, wondering if that Eastern concertmaster was a fool who wagered his all points on such a rough work. Even if it passed the school's audit, many problems would be found by the students who tested it out, since it only took those guys a few days to make the thing.

How did he have such courage to wager all his points on it and to claim that no one could pass the game? Or did he get too carried away because of the rewards for the top prize?

People who looked depressed constantly came back from the front and were surrounded by people who excitedly inquired about what kind of work it was.

"Is it really difficult?" someone asked.

"It won't be too difficult," someone beside interrupted. "If the creator isn't able to do it himself, then the school will never let him pass the audit."

The experienced student shook his head with a complex expression. "No, actually, it's very simple…" He gesticulated for a long time before finally shaking his head in frustration. "Forget about it, you can see for yourself." Finishing his words, the student went away regardless of other people's tugging.

After having waited for half an hour, Cullen lost his patience. He went directly to the front using his own privilege as a student council member. Fortunately, the music history department prepared dozens of copies this time, so multiple people could experience it at the same time. Otherwise, the people in line would have to wait until the next morning.

"Hey, I know you!" Charles, who stood in front of the door for taking points, looked at Cullen. He reaching out his hand and smiled. "One-hundred points, please."

"It's that expensive?" Cullen was dumbfounded. "Are you mad?!"

"It might be a little expensive, but it's worth it! Think about the reward if you win. It's one-hundred and seventy-thousand points!" Charles explained exultantly. "Pay one-hundred points and you can get a reward of seventeen-hundred times that! Even a bank robber won't get so much so fast, okay?"

Cullen hesitated. Under the man's urging, he paid one-hundred points very reluctantly and entered. "I won't let you go if I find out that you are cheating," he gritted out between clenched teeth in a low voice.

Charles smiled. "Okay, no problem!"

Soon Cullen was taken to a vacant field in the illusion. Nothing could be seen in the white mist.

Cullen frowned. "Is this group of guys too lazy to even make the surrounding background? And they charge one-hundred points for this shoddy stuff? How f*cking crooked are these men?!" he thought.

Boom! Before he could react, a square brick fell from the sky and crashed before him. He froze, "What is this?"

"This is my graduation work." Charles rubbed his hands. "It's starting soon. Aren't you going to prepare?"

Before Charles finished his words, there was another boom. A rectangular brick descended slowly from the sky and landed next to the other brick…Following immediately, another brick in a right angle fell slowly, filling the gap between the square and rectangular brick perfectly

Ding! After a crisp sound, the line that was filled with bricks disappeared. The piled bricks fell down and fell back into the bottom row.

"Do you understand now?" Charles smiled and asked. "This game is called 'Bricks.' The work will produce intervals randomly, which are represented here through the form of bricks. You need to use notes to control where the bricks fall, and then combine those various intervals cleverly—that is, by putting them in a row and filling the empty spaces. The filled intervals will disappear. The longer you last, the faster it'll get and the more scores you'll receive." Before Cullen could react, Charles disappeared in the mist. "There are only nine levels, so enjoy yourself!"

"Wait! That's all?" Cullen muttered blankly, not having processed anything…

He had been ready to face the difficulty of hell before he came, but this was just too simple. It was as simple as a puzzle. If he passed the game, he would have one-hundred and seventy-thousand points? Where did these psychos get their confidence from?

Soon the bricks began falling slowly again. This time, Cullen carefully controlled the whole process for fear that something strange would happen. But after ten minutes, he realized that it was just so simple!

Without surprise, he passed the first level.

At the beginning of the second level, the speed of the falling bricks seemed to have become a bit faster, but it did not matter. Cullen did not care about this speed at all. But why were there so few rectangular bricks?

"Give me a rectangular brick! I don't want strange corners and squares, just a rectangular brick. Rectangular brick, come on, rectangular brick!" he thought.

Soon, a belated rectangle fell from the sky. Cullen breathed a sigh of relief and carefully put it into the corner-most space. Instantly, four dings rang in a row. Four rows had disappeared!

Cullen let out a long sigh, and felt light and happy inside. He had to admit that this game was quite interesting! Soon, he passed the third level, the fourth…

By now, the bricks were falling at around the same speed as they would in real life. Cullen could barely handle it all. In the midst of the chaos, the bricks had piled up into a tall tower…

Give me a square! A square!

"Give me a square!" Cullen shouted. At last, the square came belatedly. Cullen was overjoyed, but then his facial muscles slacked. It was too late to move the square over; there was a rectangle in its way.

There was a loud bang. The pile of bricks finally reached the top and all the bricks collapsed.

Game over.

Cullen shook his fist angrily. "Dammit! I almost made it. Almost!"

In the illusion, a strange folk music sounded. A dog with arrogant eyes came, singing and dancing. After glancing at Cullen judgingly, it went away, singing and dancing…

In such a cruel ending effect, Charles appeared, rubbing his hands. He smiled and asked, "How was the experience? Want…"

"Again!" Cullen interrupted him resolutely, and transferred five-hundred points. "No need for change. Just deduct it automatically and don't bother me!"

"Ok, if you pay up, then you're the boss. Boss, enjoy yourself." Charles waved his hands and floated away like a ghost.

Immediately, a square fell from the sky again. Cullen rubbed his hands and prepared himself. This time, he would succeed!

Twenty minutes later, Cullen swore. The bricks before him had collapsed again because the bricks had piled up too much, before he could get the lifesaving rectangular brick.

He was so close to the eighth level!

"Again!" he gritted his teeth and growled.

Boom!

"Again!" he shouted again.

Bang!

…

"Again!" he growled.

"…"

No bricks fell down this time. Cullen froze for a moment and turned back angrily, only to see Charles's unscrupulous smile. "Ah, Mr. Secretary Cullen, your points are used up. You want to recharge?"

"How can it be this…fast?" Cullen became dazed before finishing his sentence and carefully thought about it. It was true that he ran out of the points, without even realizing it…Was he going to give up here? He had gained so much experience and was almost there!

"Again!" Gritting his teeth, he transferred one-thousand points. "I don't believe it!"

"All right!" Charles clapped. "Are you tired of standing? I also sell small benches here, it only costs ten dollars; there's also ramen and iced water!"

"I don't need anything, go away!"

"Okay, okay…" Charles said sadly.

The bricks fell from the sky again. There were endless sighs in the environment. It was not until noon that Cullen came out of the illusion. The last time, he had reached the ninth level but failed in the last few seconds…

He was so close and had brushed shoulders with one-hundred and seventy-thousand points! D*mn, he was so close! Just a bit more…and he had spent more than half of this thirty-thousand points on this thing.

He gritted his teeth to keep himself from trying again. He finally understood that this thing was a bottomless pit. With that difficulty, no amount of points was enough!

But he did not see Charles's original work. That was a real bottomless pit…Countless points were put in, the wheel turned two rounds and the points were gone. One could only hear a ring.

"Oh, you're leaving?" Charles came up with a regretful expression. "A pity, you were so close."

"Shut up! I don't want to talk to you!" Thinking of the twenty-thousand points he had lost, Cullen shivered inwardly.

"Ah, what a pity!" Charles sighed. "I was going to tell you that the version had been updated."

"Updated?"

"Yes, a lot of people responded that the final levels are too difficult, so we made a small adjustment." Charles took out a flyer. "You see, with this, the difficulty is lowered a lot!"

Cullen paused. "What's this?"

"This is…" Charles smiled meaningfully. "I call it the khorium system.

"There are three new items that can be purchased with points. There's a small shovel that can help you clear some of the wrong bricks. One is an explosive barrel that can help you clear a row of bricks. The last one called the siege hammer, which can directly clear the entire screen of bricks…Well, you see, since these things are so powerful, it's understandable that the charges are expensive, right?

"But," Cullen looked at the price list on the flyer and gulped, "but isn't it too expensive?"

"It's worth it." Charles put his arm around Cullen's shoulder, and whispered in his ear like a devil, "Consider it carefully. Will you become stronger if you don't recharge?"

"Consider it carefully. Will you become stronger if you don't recharge?"

Where was the logic? Cullen fell into deep thought.

After a few minutes, the student council's moderator felt his school badge vibrate. He realized it was Cullen after answering it.

"Ingres, do you still have points?" Cullen asked quickly on the other end of the call.

"Yeah, and some saved up." Ingres counted in his head. "Probably around ten-thousand."

"Is anyone around you? Ask them."

"I asked and we probably have thirty-thousand together. Cullen, what's wrong?"

"Don't ask, just transfer them. I'm in a hurry and I need them now…"

"You…wait a bit. I'll do it now."

Ingres felt slightly unsettled, but he trusted Cullen and transferred the points. After a few minutes, Cullen entered the illusion once again, armed with a bag of small shovels, gunpowder, and siege hammers, and the grave determination of dying if he could not succeed.

Outside the door, Charles watched as the number on his badge grew rapidly and was overjoyed. "I hit the goldmine, the goldmine." He laughed quietly. "Ten-thousand points in a few hours. This is faster than robbing a bank! The khorium system is so amazing. I'm a genius!"

Done with counting his money, he cackled weirdly and looked at the long line of students. In his eyes, these students had all become man-shaped ATMs for school points. They looked lovable.

"Please be patient and don't shove. Take your time. We've added ten more locations…"

The surging crowd came in waves and left in waves after using up all their points. In the end, everyone finally gave up and lost confidence in this thing.

"There's no way to pass this!" someone yanked Charles's collar and yelled. "You're just scamming us!"

"Ah, don't get so worked up." Charles patted his shoulder. "There's always hope in life, don't give up so easily. Want to try again?"

"In your dreams!" the student roared. "You still want my money? This thing is just for scamming people! It's impossible to pass! Give me back my points!"

The other depressed students crowded over. Passerby were angered by the injustice and pulled at Charles too, yelling, "Give us back our points!"

"Otherwise we'll report you to the school board!"

"Can't believe you're like this…"

But just then, a hoarse cheer rang out. Like a firework, the burst made everyone's head spin. They turned toward the exhibit in shock. "No way?"

A dazed man with bloodshot eyes ran out of the illusion. He danced and yelled, "I passed! I passed! I finally passed!"

A group appeared around him in the illusion. They crowded around him and clapped energetically in celebration. These people clad in extremely weird clothing had smiling and satisfied expressions, as if humanity had been saved.

"Congratulations Cullen!"

"Congratulations!"

"Congratulations on your victory!"

"Congratulations on finding the meaning of life…"

"Humanity has been saved…"

On the side, Bai Xi felt chills at this and quietly asked Charles, "Where did you think of all this?"

"I dreamed about it." Charles glanced at her in confusion. "Don't you think it fits?"

"…Not at all!" Bai Xi did not want to talk anymore.

"Congrats, Cullen. You've finally received the final victory!" Charles went up and shook his hand strongly. "You've become stronger with the khorium!"

"I—I—I…" Cullen was speechless and felt tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. "I finally passed."

"Yes, I saw it!" Charles nodded. Before Cullen could speak, Charles pressed his badge onto him. "Here are your points. Take them!"

With a ding, Cullen had one-hundred and seventy-thousand more points. It was incredible. The happiness made him feel as if he was on cloud nine!

"Did you really pass?" someone asked.

Cullen nodded; he was so happy he could cry. He had spent more than one-hundred thousand points on khorium, and had practically used up all of the student council's points. If he still had not passed, he would have had to kill himself as an apology.

But for some reason, he felt empty after the short period of joy. But he plastered a smile onto his face to make it seem as if his efforts were worth it.

"Is there a trick to passing?" someone asked enviously.

Cullen's smile stiffened and said, clenching his jaw, "It's actually really easy. You just have to focus."

The crowd rustled as they mused, but before they could speak, they saw Charles hang up two-hundred thousand points.

"Whoever passes this time will get two-hundred thousand points!" Charles raised his voice as his smile grew stranger. "Two-hundred thousand, first come first serve…anyone want to try?"

The crowd rustled again. This time, there was an example of success. The ones who had failed felt determined once again; they borrowed points from friends, used khorium to buy tools, and charged into the illusion.

"Are you stupid?" Bai Xi muttered. "We lost one-hundred seventy-thousand and now you're giving two hundred thousand?"

"Everything's going as planned." Charles smiled mysteriously. "They'll forget their own failures once someone succeeds and want to try again. The people who were just looking will want to try too. Just watch, more and more will come give us points…And we're not losing either."

With that, Charles showed her the income from the short period secretively. Bai Xi gaped for a long while and gasped. "Did you rob the Church's bank?!"

"Are you kidding? This is better than robbing a bank!" Charles whistled and smiled at the students in line. He suddenly sighed. "Ah, I don't know why, but I keep thinking they look like chives…Am I seeing wrong?"

-

At the entrance, Cullen, who was getting ready to leave, suddenly felt a chill go down his spine. It felt as if an eerie wind blew at the back of his head. He glanced around in suspicion, but could only conclude that it was his mind playing tricks.

"Oh right, where's Ye Qingxuan?" He glanced at Charles, who was not far away. "I remember he was still sleeping here when I first came."

"Don't know." Charles ate baked seeds and spoke casually, but his smile was mysterious. "Maybe he went out to play."

For some reason, Cullen had a bad feeling again. He shook his head, trying to shake it away, but his badge that he had blocked began shaking wildly after he left. Dozens of student council members were trying to contact him. He froze and then connected with a bitter smile.

"Cullen, you…"

"I know, I know" He sighed, "I'll return the points right now. I'm sorry."

"It's not the points!" Ingres interrupted. "There's a problem! Hurry back, that Eastern concertmaster is coming! He's almost here!"

The call cut off. Cullen sprinted back without even thinking.

Something has still gone wrong!

-

When he got back, it was already too late. Everyone at the School of Royalty's exhibit sat in their seats in the settling dust without a word.

"What happened?" Cullen rushed in, panting for breath. "What did the Eastern concertmaster do? Did he fight?"

"No, it's already over." Ingres chuckled dryly. "An hour ago, he went to the Modifications' exhibit. Forty minutes ago, he went to Summoning. Ten minutes ago, he was still here…"

The bad feeling in Cullen's gut enlarged quickly. "And then?"

"He just tried twice. Twice." Ingres's face was ashen. "He passed in two tries and he even found some loopholes and cleared all the stages on the spot. He took the sixty-thousand points…"

"How is that possible?!" Cullen yelped and quickly said, "Where's the video? Show me!"

The recording was quickly brought to him. In the video, he saw the steel chariot slowly pass through the complex map. It waited patiently on the path the enemy must use and destroyed them all, one at a time.

There was no hurrying or panic at all. The entire process was calm and steady, even when he reached the sixth level and all enemy chariots had upgraded to the newest military strategy and surrounded him. Instead of caring about his commanding center under fire, he hid behind two small blockades and actually destroyed all the enemy chariots.

When he destroyed the last chariot, his fortress had been blown apart completely. The Griffin emblem was out in the open without any protection. He would be defeated with just one aether cannon.

Just one.

It was a miniscule difference, but the results were completely different.

"How did he pass the last level?" After pondering, Cullen skipped directly to the last level. Ye Qingxuan's second fail had been here, because here, all enemy chariots were upgraded with music scores. They could become temporarily invincible.

There were always nineteen chariots; if one was destroyed, another would take its place. They were arranged in a previously-planned formation and forged on until it pushed into Ye Qingxuan's camp and destroyed the Griffin emblem.

The recording soon jumped to the last part, but the familiar style came once again. It was as if the principal had returned. Ye Qingxuan used all the saved up points to upgrade the fortress in the beginning until the camp became green gold.

Then, he welcomed the incoming enemy. His actions were crazy and desperate, yet calm and steady at the same time. Each round was flawless, whether it was dodging the attacks or dragging the pursuers through a maze of blockades. No action was a waste of time. In the end, when the enemy had entered his camp, he had pushed into the enemy's nest as well.

But the moment the enemy flattened his camp, he successfully shot a cannon at the broken fortress before him. He instantly turned the tides.

He used space to exchange for time, entered enemy grounds alone and used flawless speed and control to win. The line between victory and defeat was still miniscule. He had gambled everything on his speed. If he was a second late or took one wrong step, everything would be flipped and he would be the one dead.

After finishing, Cullen felt his scalp go numb. This strategy was even scarier than the principal's wildness—he had that every action and reaction of the enemy was in Ye Qingxuan's control the entire time.

After a long silence, Cullen looked up. He sucked in a cold breath and rubbed his numb face, asking, "Is he…a robot?"

Ingres shook his head wordlessly, either disagreeing or just saying that he did not know.

Despite the strict difficulty level, Cullen had been prepared to have people succeed, but this method was still dumbfounding. Thankfully he had won some "advertisement fee" from the history department. After paying his debts, the remaining amount was enough to make up for the loss.

Cullen could not help but chuckle bitterly. What had he been doing this entire day? Working for the history department for free? Or had that white-haired dude thought of this from the beginning?

He shook his head, gathering his senses. "Where's Ye Qingxuan now?"

"Now?" Ingres thought for a moment and a gleeful expression appeared. "Probably at Revelations."

The four major schools were connected. If they must die, they would die together.

-

At the same time, Ye Qingxuan was in the Joker illusion of the School of Revelations.

On the card table, the default illusion had gone from energetic to extremely stiff—one could faintly feel the heat rolling off of it. It was calculating every possibility, guessing the youth's cards from the cards already put down.

Across from it, Ye Qingxuan was still leaning back in his chair lazily. His cards were face down on the table; he could not be bothered to even look at them. The more casual he acted, the worse the student behind the illusion felt. He had no clue how to calculate what cards the *sshole had.

As if he was bored, the white-haired youth tapped the table and said composedly, "Are you going to follow? Hurry up and stop wasting time…Don't think I can't tell that the person playing changed a few minutes ago."

The features of the student behind the illusion twisted. He said through the illusion, "I'm following!" He pushed the coins forward. The mountain of coins clacked against each other.

"Then flip the cards." Ye Qingxuan did not even glance at the coins; he just stared at the illusion's eyes.

He was clearly looking at that nonexistent image, but for some reason, the student felt as if Ye Qingxuan was looking at himself. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead and his pupils dilated. This guy…was still pretending!

Gritting his teeth, the student flipped the cards. There was one nine of hearts and aces of all suites—four of a kind!

"Ha, pretty good." Ye Qingxuan smiled and showed his hand—jack of spades and ace of spades. With the three visible cards, he had…a royal flush.

The student behind the illusion instantly felt as if his eyes had been stabbed. He shook involuntarily and finally reacted, but realized that his shaking had caused the illusion to flash. He pale and sweating self had been revealed.

"How about this? I won't take the extra money." Ye Qingxuan swept all the illusionary coins into his school badge and turned to leave. He halted at the entrance though and half-smiled at the dazed illusion. "Good game."

The youth walked away. The only sound in the still illusion was a tired roar.

-

This was destined to be an unfortunate day. After the tricks and lowly actions of the second round, the white-haired youth had taken a good nap. Then he climbed out of the chair and started harvesting points from each exhibit.

The entire academy began thinking of the fear brought on by the Eastern concertmaster's harvesting in the first round, and the scarring memories of when that guy robbed them of their points. That Eastern devil…

Ever since midday, that guy had been continuously testing everyone's heart. Practically every graduation work had its flaws and errors revealed after his testing…And after he finished, he would also rate them, writing down different solutions and ways of improving…This could be seen payment for taking their points.

He came and left lightly with fluttering sleeves, leaving behind ruins.

The only one left unharmed was Modifications' graduation work, Thunder, because Ye Qingxuan was truly unskilled at controlling energy scores and those packed battle techniques.

There were no other survivors.

-

"You should stop before it's too much." Gavin shook his head and sighed. "Everyone's about to unite together and report you to the student council. You should give them some hope."

"Really?" Ye Qingxuan snickered. "But I heard that some people were going to play each other for the last round and make sure I don't win, even if it means they'll lose."

Gavin could only chuckle dryly at that. He had heard the rumors too, but he could not do anything—he did not care, but how could the others let this Easterner win so much in their school?

He cleared his throat and asked quietly, "Is first place really that important to you?"

"Ah, what are you saying? I don't care about that shallow stuff. Bench Guy, you still don't understand me well enough."

Hearing this, Gavin really wanted to spit at him, but Ye Qingxuan suddenly said, "But why should I give what belongs to me to other people for weird reasons? If they really have an eighty or ninety-year-old mother at home who wants their kid to get first place before they die, then I wouldn't care. But if I can't get what I deserve because of some racists, isn't that unfair?"

"…" Gavin's expression grew troubled. "Fairness is a rule created by the majority. If you want to maintain the fairness, you'll have to make sacrifices sometimes."

"That's why it's unfair, isn't it?" Ye Qingxuan asked back. Gavin could not reply, but heard Ye Qingxuan's chuckle. "Don't worry, I've already stopped. I won't go and clear all the machines anymore."

Gavin blanched. "Really?"

"Because I have enough points. If someone wants to spam and push me down, then they should get ready to sacrifice everyone else in order to win alone."

Gavin was speechless. Indeed, Ye Qingxuan did not need to do anything else now. If one estimated a bit loosely, this guy would probably have one-third of all points by the end of the day. The other two-thirds would be scattered in everyone's hands. The scattered forces could not fight with him at all. He had won the moment he decided to stop.

"Go back and tell them," Ye Qingxuan imitated how passionately Charles spoke when he was talking in his sleep and smiled. "First place is mine."

It was afternoon in a cramped room.

"If he wants to be first, then let him be." As Gavin spoke, the expressions of the others changed dramatically. The other student council members were stunned. They whispered to each other, expressions powerless and displeased.

"I understand that you don't want an Easterner to become so successful in the Royal Academy of Music—this is Anglo's glory, after all," Gavin stated. "But if people want to win, shouldn't they do it fair and just? We're all musicians and not some lowly thieves. If you can't even think about winning fairly, then how are you qualified for searching for the Originator and the ultimate truth?"

Someone hesitated and said quietly, "Actually, if we unite all the schools…"

"Must I remind everyone of something?" Gavin interrupted expressionlessly. "The world is large and there are many types of people. All types have been investigated by early saints. I won't say much about this, but you must understand that no matter how many types of people there are, Ye Qingxuan is definitely the most difficult to manage. The more pressure you give him, the stronger he'll bounce back, and the more terrifying he'll be. I'm sure you've all experienced this personally, yes?"

Gavin's words caused everyone to sink into silence and let out wry chuckles involuntarily. Indeed, had they not experienced enough? Not only had that Easterner been forced out due to the pressure in recent months, he had even risen higher and higher. He was definitely not the kind who tolerated injustice well. Whenever he felt that he was being insulted, he would slap them right back. It was fast, harsh, and painful. Now…they were powerless against him.

Cullen shook his head and sighed. "So should we just sit here and ignore it?"

"Why not?" Gavin asked in reply. "If we follow the rules of the game, isn't it logical that he's first place?"

"But…"

"There are no buts. He deserves this, doesn't he? What right do we have to deny this result?" Gavin shook his head slightly. His expression grew serious and he gazed at the others. Raising his voice, he said, "I will officially graduate and leave after one more month. The student council will be handed over to Cullen. We've all seen his working ability and contributions to the school, so there aren't any objections, correct?"

Gavin's words stunned everyone. Cullen could not process them. After one minute, he pointed at himself in shock. "Me?"

They did not expect that Gavin had chosen his right-hand man Cullen. He had become used to being the right-hand man and had never thought that he could one day become the president.

"I…can't?" Cullen was a bit hesitant.

"Wasn't I far worse than you now when I first entered the position?" Gavin chuckled and patted Cullen's shoulder. "Everyone here are the elites of the academy and the core of the student council. Nothing will go wrong with all these people. Don't worry. I'm going to report to the Royal Musician Division tonight, so let's part now."

He rose, put on his jacket and hat, and nodded toward everyone in the room. "I hope that everyone will be as united as when I was here and continue to maintain this excellent order. Do not let dust gather on our glory."

"Do not let dust gather on our glory!" The youths rose and chanted the motto of their school, seeing Gavin off respectfully. Gavin smiled and turned to leave, walking into the afternoon sun outside the door. He faded into the distance.

-

As the afternoon sun descended gradually, dusk's glow illuminated the world. The school day had finally ended as well. After the series of weird events and psychological attacks that caught them by surprise, the hellish trials that tested everyone's willpower and hearts finally ended.

It was such great news. Everyone thought of the beauty of a peaceful life, and content smiles filled their faces; they were practically celebrating. If this was in the East, the students would definitely use firecrackers to send the bad luck away.

In the auditorium, everyone sat gravely in their seats, waiting for the arrival of the last moment, but there was a light and cheery atmosphere between them all. The authority figure at the podium was saying things that sounded impressive but were actually useless bullsh*t. Behind the podium, Ye Qingxuan was nervously tidying himself up. He had put on formalwear just for the occasion.

Charles yanked and the collar tightened. Ye Qingxuan abruptly felt like he was putting on a noose. "Senior, be gentle! You want to strangle me?"

"Be more serious. You have to go up for the award later." Charles dumped a thick wad of hair wax onto Ye Qingxuan's head, slicking his hair up. His bare forehead glistened. Seeing the youth's discomfort, Charles said seriously, "Later, the principal will award you personally. Yezi, don't be nervous."

"Why do you want to make me look so weird?!" Ye Qingxuan sighed. "And anyway, it's just the principal. It's not like I've never seen him before."

Charles raised an eyebrow. "My friend, you pretending to be cool reminds me of my younger self."

"Ha, you've taught me well."

"The feeling is mutual."

The two snarky friends started praising each other, not caring that the people around them had quietly moved away and pretended not to know them.

"Senior, did you notice that no one wants to deal with us anymore?"

"Really?" Charles glanced around and chuckled. "They're probably jealous of our beauty."

Ye Qingxuan's lip curled; he did not want to deal with Charles anymore either.

Just as they were talking, cheers traveled from the stage. The students backstage waved hurriedly, reminding him that he was supposed to go on soon. Onstage, the principal could wait no longer.

"Where's our first place? Where's Concertmaster Ye?" He whistled happily and continued on, making things worse. "It was really unexpected for an international student from the East to win first place at the school day trials of Anglo's Royal Academy of Music. All of you must work harder not to be passed by too much!"

The audience was deathly silent; clearly, it was a blow to their dignity. The coaches behind the principal did not have pretty expressions either, but they could not do anything—this was reality.

Ye Qingxuan just felt his scalp go numb. He had not even accepted the award yet, but already felt the strong resentment.

"Come, youth. Come to my side." The principal made a show of dragging Ye Qingxuan over. He took a once-over of the youth as if studying some rare treasure. After a long while, he suddenly sighed in regret. "I can't believe you wore a Western suit. What a pity. Your hairstyle is horrible too. Your hairstylist must be lucky that he isn't killed yet."

Ye Qingxuan shook his head and sighed again. Embarrassed, he glared at Charles, who was hiding behind the curtains.

Maxwell patted the youth's shoulders and lamented, "To be honest, I was anticipating your Eastern clothing—the wide robe and big sleeves, the aura of a junzi, the intoxicating exoticness! An Eastern silkworm caretaker gave me a black lan robe. Would you like to try it?"

Here, he fluttered his lashes and gazed at Ye Qingxuan expectantly, wishing the youth would nod right away.

"Uh…" Ye Qingxuan did not know what to say. "It's okay. I came to Anglo when I was young and probably won't look like it even if I put it on."

"Really? What a pity." Maxwell shook his head in regret and said seriously, "The East is a great place. You should go visit."

Behind them, Ingmar coughed, reminding the principal to stop dragging things on and get it over with. Either because it worked or that the principal was done bullsh*tting, he cleared his throat and finally stopped. He clapped and stately music began playing.

Beside the podium, two girls in long white dresses walked over with a silver plate. The youth's award and certificate were on the plate.

One must admit that the old pervert had good taste. As the two girls walked over elegantly, their curves could vaguely be seen under the white dress, attracting many eyes.

After putting on makeup carefully, their cheeks had a fine texture, flawless like Eastern porcelain. Their red lips were like fire and moved hearts. As Charles would say, one could not help but get a little excited.

As the music played, the principal smiled and took the lead in clapping. Soon, the audience began clapping as well. Of the coaches in the background behind the principal, Ludwig clapped happily as if nothing was wrong. Egor was a bit unwilling, but he also managed some claps, giving Ye Qingxuan recognition.

Seeing that everyone was clapping, Ingmar glanced at Ye Qingxuan. He could not help but sneer, smiling without moving his facial muscles, and clapped as well.

But just as the youth was about to accept the award, the principal suddenly stopped. He whacked his forehead, as if suddenly remembering something. "Ah, my memory is so bad! There's more big news I need to announce!"

The mood suddenly dropped. The music stopped as well. Everyone gaped at the principal, who was fluttering his eyes animatedly, as if he had found gold on the road and was overjoyed. Seeing how happy he was, everyone instantly had a bad feeling. What was going to happen now?

God bless…

Perhaps God did bless them, because this time, his words did not seem like bad news. In fact, everyone was caught by surprise by this amazing news. He said, "This morning, I received news that one of our highly renowned professors found inspiration in his teaching and decoded the hardest question of our profession—the last part of the Voynich Manuscript!"

Everyone fell into a long silence. The students who did not know about the Voynich Manuscript, which had troubled Revelations musicians for decades, looked around in confusion. The students who did know were speechless from shock.

The last part of the Voynich Manuscript had been decoded?

There had been no progression made for centuries, other than bits and pieces. Even Miss Lola Caput, known as the new grandmaster, had stated that the last part was impossible to decode within a few decades if there was no development in music theory. But it had been decoded now?

If this news was spread, all Revelations musicians in the world would be ecstatic. The Voynich Manuscript not only contained ancient history; the decoding method was a big step forward for their music theory! This would undoubtedly create a new storm in the world—they could practically see a theoretic revolution!

But in the dark corner behind the principal, Ingmar's heart sank. He was completely confused—he did not understand how Maxwell had known this news that would be published in the Sacred City Conference in two months, whereas he had just found out before coming here. He looked into the crowd subconsciously. Seeing that the d*mned fellow did not appear, he let out a breath in relief.

"Please rest assured that I am not joking this time." Under everyone eyes, Maxwell took a thin booklet from his pockets and waved. "This accomplishment has been recognized by the Sacred City. The scholars of the evaluation committee commented that it's a brave and revolutionary decoding method that has opened a whole new path. A shining star has risen! The last section of the Voynich Manuscript has undoubtedly been decoded!

"In a few days, the Philosopher's Bell of the Sacred City will be rung and announce this giant breakthrough of music theory to the world. Ah, he's really so low-key. If not for my friends in the Church, even I wouldn't know that he'd made such fruitful findings! Let's bring our hands together to congratulate this professor." He paused and abruptly dragged an unprepared coach from the back. "Let us congratulate Mr. Ingmar!"

Caught by surprise, Ingmar was dragged under the spotlight. His face was slightly pale. In the silence, he only had time to force a hurried smile onto his face, before thunderous applause sounded. The clapping and cheers that sounded like a tsunami practically overturned the auditorium.

It must be more than ten times louder than before!

In the warm applause, Ingmar's heart slowly stabilized. Calming down, he smiled and waved reservedly, nodding his head. He did not notice the quiet white-haired youth behind him. Deep in thought, the youth looked at Ingmar's trembling calves and furrowed his brows. Dark clouds slowly appeared in his eyes.

-

"My apologies," the youth opened his mouth and murmured soundlessly. Without anyone realizing, he slightly lifted his foot and stepped onto the dress of the girl beside him. He pulled back forcefully.

The shoulder of the girl smiling gracefully on the stage suddenly trembled. She stumbled back and involuntarily retreated. Following that, her heels scraped against the floorboard and she lost balance. The silver plate flew out of her hands and she fell backward.

The audience stared and cried out in shock. She had lost balance instantly, and she shrieked when she realized she was falling. She squeezed her eyes shut, but then she felt someone step forward and grasp her waist.

Her falling stopped abruptly.

The falling motion transformed into a spin under the gentle push, like a dance move. Her white dress flew as she spun. The silver thread reflected the light with a dazzling shine. It was pure white as a peony flower. She was stunned.

She felt a hand supporting her so that she did not fall onto the floor. As if she was flying, her cheeks pressed against the suit, against that foreign chest. A steady heartbeat and heat traveled from the chest so that she was no longer terrified. Her shriek died off.

In the awkward silence, she forced her eyes and was met with the white-haired youth. The youth held her tiny waist with one hand, the other holding the silver plate and award that had fallen from the sky.

The young but defined face looked down on her; her panicked expression reflected in his eyes. His slightly scratchy voice was gentle. "Are you alright?"

Blush tinted the girl's face as she shook her head. Putting her weight on him, she stood up and regained her elegant posture. However, her eyes could not recover its indifference and grace.

As they spun, Ingmar had been pushed forward. He stumbled and looked back, glaring at Ye Qingxuan. He was angry that the clapping had been interrupted. Ye Qingxuan did not care about this. He just looked down and picked up the booklet that he had "accidentally" swept from the principal's hands. He brushed off the dust on it. "Ah, I'm sorry, your notes were knocked down too."

Ingmar's expression stiffened. He reached over to take the notes away, but Ye Qingxuan casually flipped it open, scanning the pages. Ingmar tried to take the notes, but realized that he could not. It was as if the pages had been embedded in stone.

The youth's movements stopped too. He looked at the papers in his hand and froze. As his hands loosened, the bent pages opened. The pages flashed past his eyes, the quickly disappearing words barely leaving any shadows. One page, one page, another page were so familiar, as if he had seen it before.

In the end, the youth looked up, but his eyes had changed. There was only blackness in those orbs. There were neither reflections nor any fury. It was as if everything had been swallowed by something hiding in the darkness, and so only pure blackness remained.

Stared at by those eyes, Ingmar blanched. He stepped back involuntarily, but his eyes soon darkened as he forced himself to remain calm.

"Hey, Ingmar." The youth suddenly asked quietly, "Don't you get scared walking at night when you do something guilty?"

"What do you mean?" Ingmar furrowed his brows.

"I mean…" The youth clenched his fists in his sleeves, the muscles pulling taught like a bow, producing furious cracks. Then he raised his fist and slammed it down on that d*mned face. "You b*stard who lost all dignity as a musician!"

Boom!

The whole auditorium sank into silence in an instant. Below the stage, before anyone could respond, the youth propped up the girl on the ground, but the next second, suddenly punched Ingmar.

Amidst the yells, Ingmar's eyes shifted, mingled with both panic and wrath; his mouth subconsciously recited a spell, but his face became pale and had almost lost control of the aether.

Luckily, his protective shield was stimulated and the repulsion field blocked the young man's fist, but the power to reverse the quake also staggered him. With a crisp sound, a gash cracked open across Ye Qingxuan's fingers. He completely ignored it and stepped forward, hysterically pounding Ingmar's shield without stop.

Under the shield, Ingmar sat on the ground. Frightened by Ye Qingxuan's madness, he forgot to fight back.

Boom!

Boom!

Boom!

In silence, only the broken sound of a hammer pounding on the shield could be heard. He was not pulled away by the people beside him until the fourth time that Ye Qingxuan tried to break the shield.

"Enough!" Egor frowned, and grunted angrily.

The young man flinched; a pair of huge shackles and stone rings suddenly appeared on his limbs, immobilizing him. But he glared at Ingmar who was climbing up from the ground, and roared hoarsely, "Say something, Ingmar! You're a b*stard!"

Looking at his helpless situation, Ingmar's panicking heart settled down. He could not help but scoff and patted the dust off his body. "Please be a gentleman, Mr. Ye! Don't act like a mad dog. How can you not have basic manners?"

"Yezi, calm down." The stunned Charles rushed up from backstage and pulled Ye Qingxuan away. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" Ye Qingxuan was angry enough to laugh. He threw a piece of paper bloodied by his hands to Charles. "Look for yourself."

Charles took the manuscript and scanned it faster than Ye Qingxuan had. But before he finished half, Charles suddenly raised his head. "No, Is this…the interpretation method?" He finally realized something and the smile on his face disappeared. He just glared at Ingmar, "Mr. Ingmar, where did you get the theory?!"

"Enough!" Ingmar cried. "Is it your place to question me? I haven't charged you with assaulting a professor yet! Someone come and drag these two scums away…"

"Why, are you afraid?" Ye Qingxuan sneered and raised his voice, "You're afraid that I'll expose the truth about you? Or…"

"Enough! Shut up!" Ingmar was nearly roaring.

He interrupted Ye Qingxuan's words, but Ye Qngxuan's voice was louder than his. It was like iron scraping against each other, with almost tangible fury. "Or are you afraid of everyone knowing that your so-called academic achievements, your great breakthrough, was plagiarized?!"

Dead silence.

In a twinkling, everyone looked at Ingmar, and then the two furious youths. They thought of their professor and seemed to understand something, but also sank in a greater confusion.

Plagiarism? Did Ingmar really copy the results from others? If this was true, then it was definitely one of the biggest scandals ever made in the Royal Academy of Music!

Feeling the subtle changes in their eyes, Ingmar's face instantly turned livid. The maliciousness in his eyes was spewed out.

"Ye Qingxuan, this is the auditorium, not somewhere for your nonsense!" He gritted his teeth and said in a low voice, "I've never heard of anything called the interpretation method!"

"Is that so?" Ye Qingxuan chuckled gently, but it was inexplicably chilling.

He raised his hand, and Charles unfolded the manuscript in his hands. He towed the shackles and stone rings which were heavy enough to bend over his back and moved forward, his eyes staring at that face full of wrath.

"Then please explain to me, how did you organize the connections in the last chapter of Voynich Manuscript, when the written language of the Dark Ages hadn't been sorted out yet?"

He stepped further and asked, "In the language, how did you distinguish whether the nouns are feminine, masculine or neutral? How did you find the rules of conjugations? What music theory do you use to explain the man-made language of Dark Age? And what is the important logic of this text known as the coded language?

"What are your references? Where did you get the inspiration? When was the breakthrough made?"

While Ye Qingxuan was approaching step by step, Ingmar gritted his teeth and kept silent. However, Ye Qingxuan's voice was getting louder and louder, until finally, he was practically roaring and hurting everyone's eardrums. "Why did you declare it to the Sacred City secretly? Were you afraid that others would know about your achievements before the convention? Were you afraid that others discover your so-called results were actually stolen from others' efforts!

"Ingmar, why are you retreating? Why are you silent? Why don't you even dare to fight back against me, a student? Why don't you dare say a d*mn word?!"

Ingmar's face twitched. He glared at Ye Qingxuan with his eyes widen enough to crack apart. What he feared most had finally happened.

If it was two months later at the Sacred City Convention, his achievements would have been published. Everyone would be informed and he would naturally take the position of a grandmaster. Then, both Abraham and Ye Qingxuan would just be some clowns to people. What they said would mean nothing.

But, but…Why was there such a neurotic principal who got insider information in advance? And why must it be announced at such an occasion? Why did he have to get caught by this f*cking white-haired b*stard? Why was he being questioned by this f*cking guy?

It was really…really…D*mmit!

At the moment, he was too nervous to deal with such a situation. He was being forced by Ye Qingxuan too tightly to win his face back. "What's your status?" he squeezed out from between his teeth. "You are just a kid who knows nothing. You aren't even a formal musician. How dare you question me like this?"

"Well, how about a qualified one?" Ye Qingxuan smiled. "For instance, let the Musicians Union judge this?"

Ingmar's face instantly lost color. A hint of murder flashed in the eyes full of malice. "You have offended enough rules today, Ye Qingxuan…"

"Gee, why are you arguing all of a sudden?" Suddenly, a figure stood out from the side in the perfect place to block him. His face seemed to have genuine loss and confusion.

It was the principal who had 'disappeared' for a long time.

"Alas, it is my fault, I lacked consideration. I didn't expect that it would cause such a fierce quarrel. It seems that there are some controversies about the achievements of Professor Ingmar, but we need friendly discussions and friendly exchanges. Yes, be friendly."

As he said these unapologetic words, he suppressed all aetheric fluctuations quietly, and took control of everyone.

"This matter will be discussed later. We will carefully, seriously and thoroughly find a solution at the teacher's meeting tonight."

The principal did not say a word about Ingmar's plagiarism or Ye Qingxuan's offensive attack. He pretended to be blind, smiling affably without mentioning Ingmar's gloomy face or the blood on Ye Qingxuan's fingertips. He was like a kind parent who tried to reduce the tension between the two.

"Well, Ye Qingxuan, time to stop making a fuss." Maxwell patted his shoulder, which seemed to be meaningful. "You can't always bother the Musicians Union with school affairs, can you? That is too much. If it's like this, what will the school board do?"

As he spoke, he put the badge on Ye Qingxuan and forcibly put the certificate into his hand, as if the award ceremony was completed.

"Tomorrow morning, remember to come register at the library. There's a big reward waiting for you." He patted Ye Qingxuan on the shoulder and whispered in his ear, "I promise, it will be great enough to surprise you.

"As to Mr. Ingmar…" He paused for a moment, and gloatingly looked at Ingmar's expression. "I think he must have a lot of things to explain to the board."

At dusk, the school board's conference room was silent. Other than some representatives, the only faculty members who had arrived on time were Sydney and Ingmar. Everyone else was absent, for some reason.

The empty seats added to the suffocating atmosphere of the room. After the representatives of the school board of directors finished reading the report, they sank into silence.

After a long time, the old housekeeper took off his monocle. He had thought for a long while, but still could not help but sigh. "The principal had restrained himself for so long. Is he finally going to act against the school board?"

"Do you still need to ask? He'd been determined to do so ever since he acted on his own accord and expelled the concertmaster we've chosen. But the question is, must we keep enduring it?"

"We must treat it carefully and not fall into his trap."

"No, we must show him our power!" someone said. "The Royal Academy of Music was established by our ancestors. There's no place for an outsider like him."

"We can't retreat this time, otherwise we'll always act passively."

Many nodded in agreement, but someone was still worried. "But the power behind Maxwell shouldn't be underestimated either. It's been so many years and the royal family still supports him. If we…"

"Actually, I don't think we need to worry about that aspect," the middle-aged advisor who acted as a representative said after pondering. "If we really have a conflict, the royal family can't be too biased toward him. If we express our attitude, I'm sure Her Highness will remain neutral."

The old man shook his head. "But no matter what, Maxwell is still the principal."

"If we recognize that fact," someone else said coldly. "We can start a proposal of distrust and request impeachment. If more than seventy percent vote yes, he won't be able to ride over us anymore."

With that, everyone stopped talking.

In the Royal Academy of Music's centuries of history, the school board had never truly used this power before, although there was this rule and they would restrict things from the surface.

Through history, the principals had all been one-of-a-kind talents and important figures of the congress, especially Maxwell. This mysterious old man had always been trusted by the royal family and no one knew how many dirty secrets he held. He was a madman too. Who knew what he could do?

If they really wanted to declare war on the principal, it would not be something these representatives could decide. They instantly looked into the corner of the room involuntarily.

On the coat rack in the corner was a gray sparrow. It stared outside without a care for anyone else. It had not made a single sound this entire time. When it turned around, its eyes were humanlike. It studied everyone present, cold and confident. This was the only one who could make the decision.

When it spoke, its voice was steady and calm, as if stating a fact. "Centuries ago, our ancestors established the Royal Academy of Music and it still stands. It has been managing the cradle of future musicians for the royal family to this day. For these centuries, our families have put in so many resources and effort. The school board exists to help the school improve. All these years, the school is the school board; the school board represents the school," the sparrow stated. "If Maxwell truly wishes to cross the line, then he should be prepared to face the entire school."

Hearing its voice, all representatives seemed to let out a sigh of relief. But its next words made everyone tense up again. It looked toward Ingmar, at the far end of the long table, and said pointedly, "But there's another problem, isn't there?"

Someone caught his meaning and his eyes grew suspicious. "Ingmar." The old representative looked at the dazed man with a grave expression. "Is Maxwell's accusation of plagiarism true?"

The sharp gazes instantly shot over like arrows. Ingmar's hands trembled under the table. He sank into hesitation, but he made his decision almost instantly. If he confessed here, everything would be over! Not only would he lose the school board's support, his reputation would also be destroyed and lose everything! This was the path of no return!

"Of course not!" Ingmar looked at everyone in mocking fury and yelled, "Do you believe those unfounded rumors too, and doubt my hard work?!"

"Then why didn't you report to the school board when you made such accomplishments?"

Ingmar forced down the panic in his mind. His brain whirred and he 'explained' with all his might, "I've always been reporting my research to the school board. Gentlemen, please check the related documents. As for the result…I—I was just trying it and I wasn't even sure if it was right. I found out this afternoon that it passed the Sacred City and didn't have time to report."

His explanation was logical and the representatives exchanged glances with each other. Someone could not help but sigh.

"Maxwell really seized a good time. He'd declared war before we even processed everything…Clearly, he prepared for a long time. Now, does anyone still want to give in?" the old man said.

No one replied.

And so, the old man at the front nodded. "Then it's Maxwell's turn to pay for his brash actions."

"Also that brazen Eastern kid he pushed to the front." Ingmar's eyes were vicious. "This is where the glory of Anglo's musicians is. It's not the place for him to play in!"

The meeting was about the end now. There were still a few details left, but the sparrow was clearly not interested. It flew from the coatrack to the window and gave them one last glance.

"If something else happens, I'll come again. Mr. White Raven pays much attention to this. Do not disappoint the parliament."

With that, it flapped its wings and left. Even the sparrow's gray wings had a gold tint under the sun, and seemed high and untouchable.

-

Late at night, the music history department was silent. Everyone sat in the living room and waited without speaking. Bai Xi rested on Old Phil, close to falling asleep. Old Phil and Charles stared at each other. Ye Qingxuan just hung his head and ran his fingers across Jiu Xiao Huang Pei.

Charles's eyes finally felt sore from the staring contest. He rubbed his eyes and sighed. "It's already ten and Professor still isn't back. Do you think the meeting was successful?"

"No," Ye Qingxuan stated. "You know Professor's personality. He doesn't know how to talk. Other than music theory, he probably can't even go grocery shopping."

"I know…" Charles's expression grew dejected. "But this just sucks."

"Not entirely." Ye Qingxuan's expression was composed. "People who aren't good at talking will have two main reactions to this stuff. The first is pretending he understands, the other is not understanding no matter what you say. Which one do you think Professor is?"

Charles chuckled dryly. "Of course the latter."

"So, no matter what the school board says or brings out to pressure him, the result is still the same. The biggest possibility is that they can't persuade Professor and he can't persuade them. They'll just have an awkward stalemate where both just express their stances.

"But the situation doesn't allow Ingmar to keep things this way. This had already started brewing in the school this afternoon. Ingmar has many supporters, but as time passes, more and more will start to suspect him. He must take care of this before this event grows too large and influential." Ye Qingxuan narrowed his eyes and murmured, "Senior, get ready. The conflict will grow in the next few days."

"Will he use despicable ways to pressure us?"

"Why not? He has this ability and he knows that he can't lose. If he does, he'll lose everything. His old secrets would be revealed too, so he'll definitely grow desperate…" Ye Qingxuan grabbed an apple and bit down. He chewed, producing crisp sounds, until Charles got goosebumps. Then he said, "But we might not be powerless."

Charles's eyes lit up. "Tell me, do you have a plan A, B, and C?"

"…A, B and C? How can I have that many? Why don't you ask me to compile one-hundred and eight strategies?!" Ye Qingxuan suddenly had the urge to chuck the apple core at Charles's throat, but decided against it. It was not suitable to kill right now. "Actually, there are two results when somethings stays the same and both are in a stalemate. The first is that it stays like this. The second is that the problem upgrades…Now, whether it upgrades or not is up to us."

"Are you talking about…the Musician's Union?" Charles was a bit hesitant. "Isn't that making too big of a splash?"

"Why not?" Ye Qingxuan chuckled, but there was no warmth in the laugh. "Doesn't Ingmar want to get famous? Then let's satisfy his wishes. I love helping people."

-

The seconds ticked by in the stillness. Soon, heavy footsteps sounded outside. Someone was knocking on the door.

Charles jumped up and ran over. "Professor, you're back…" His voice cut off and his eyes grew confused. "Who are you?"

"Is Ye Qingxuan here?" A large shadow stood in the dark night outside. "Tell him to come with me."

"Yo! Boy, you look great." Under the desk lamp, the blonde youth laid lazily on the sofa. On the back of his hand, the entangled double-snake heraldry reflected a silver gleam.

The faint light illuminated his fully enthusiastic smile, but the youth sitting opposite him was expressionless. He put his face closer to the lamp, showing his pair of dead eyes. "Boss, look at my face, how do I look great?"

"Aha, I just wanted to compliment you. Don't mind me." Hermes waved and pointed to the table. "I made a good cup of tea. Have a taste. In the East, this thing is priceless!"

"Here's a suggestion," Ye Qingxuan said bitterly. "When you want to find someone, can you not wake up the drunken Seton? I felt like he was always looking for a chance to kill me on the way here…"

"Haha, it's my mistake, my fault." Hermes whistled gloatingly. Looking like a pretty boy, he was curled up on the big, pompous couch and looked at Ye Qingxuan with a subtle smile. "Don't get mad, I was just worried about you, wasn't I?"

"Worried about me?" Ye Qingxuan smiled bitterly. "Boss, your worry is really special."

"You're fearless because you know nothing, aren't you? I've heard about what happened today." Hermes exclaimed, "Fighting with a teacher in public…How dangerous! If the principal came out a little later or you kept staring at him like that, maybe there would be nothing tonight."

"What do you mean by nothing?" Ye Qingxuan frowned.

"Oh, in layman terms, it means dead, or some people say go to hell, or…"

"Okay, I got it," Ye Qingxuan interrupted him with some uncertainty. "You mean, I'd die if he glared at me?"

"Well, kid, have you been getting too cocky?" Hermes was amused by Ye Qingxuan. He squinted at this guy, his eyes full of ridicule. "Ye Qingxuan, don't forget that he has broken through the barrier of knowledge and has been a Resonance level musician for many years.

"If one is below the Resonance level, the musician could still be regarded as a person. But one at the Resonance level is regarded as 'inhuman' and has the ability to intervene with things.

"And you, you're just a little shrimp at the Rhythm level. If he wanted to mess with you, he doesn't even need a music score!

"Modifications can turn the iron in your body into a blade to travel in your heart and brain; Summoning can use your beastly nature to erode you; if it is the School of Choir, their interference will basically get you all kinds of strange diseases, which may also be contagious. The School of Mind and Illusion are even more vicious…

"The interventions from Revelations are the most difficult. It'll bury the 'cause' of your death in you. When it's time, you'll naturally get your 'result.' You may suddenly fall into cardiac arrest, fall down and get a stroke, or be hit by something that falls from the sky…Anyway, you're going to die in a very 'normal' way. In short, all seven schools of music are difficult to deal with! If Ingmar wants to kill you," Hermes rubbed his two fingers and said casually, "you'll be dead in just few minutes."

Hearing this, Ye Qingxuan sank into silence for a long time. Suddenly, he could not help but want to laugh. "Then he must regret not killing me before things got worse."

"Yes, if he's going to kill you, he can only do that quietly when things are over. Now, he's riding on the tiger. He needs to ensure your safety by all means. If you die, he won't be able to explain it," Hermes said lightly. "But in some sense, shouldn't you be more careful?"

"Be careful of what?"

Hermes glanced at him with a cold smile. "Beware of the principal."

Even though it was only a few words, the words from Hermes's mouth was like an axe slicing through the air. Even though there was no murderous intent, even though he said it casually, the lingering meaning quietly opened a door in Ye Qingxuan's brain.

Indeed, if he died, then the most obvious suspect would be Ingmar and the school board behind him. They would fall into absolute public disfavor in this fight.

Ye Qingxuan could easily think of dozens of headlines for those newspapers. And behind the news, principal would definitely be there, looking calm but actually laughing and gloating in his mind.

"The principal…he won't do something like that, right?"

"Do you really think so?" Hermes leaned closer and studied him as if looking at Ye Qingxuan's tombstone. His voice was like a breeze in the tomb. "Child, there is an Eastern proverb that says there's skin around the heart. Even dead Arthur can't guess what he was thinking. You don't think you know him the best, do you?"

Ye Qingxuan subconsciously leaned back a little. "But the biggest trouble I'm facing now is still Ingmar, yes?"

"Yes." Hermes nodded. "Now the situation is very bad for you and your professor. You're besieged on all sides. Ingmar is going to do everything he can do to get rid of all the ideas you 'shouldn't have'…"

"No one is blind. People can discern what's wrong and what's right," Ye Qingxuan said coldly. "I believe my professor will get his due honor."

"So naïve!" Hermes snickered. "One is heretical, one is orthodox; one is nameless, one is the descendant of nobles; one is an old man from the music history department that's at the verge of being abolished, one is a professor from the School of Revelations…Who do you think people are going to trust? Moreover, why do you think they'll give the interpretation method recognition?"

"But the result was clearly made from the interpretation method."

"Haha, so naïve, so naïve…one and one is two, which is right, but as long as you know in advance that the result is two, no matter what reason you use to explain it, the process seems to work. This is one of the ridiculous things about human beings: the limitations of vision."

Ye Qingxuan was speechless, but Hermes' expression became soft, full of kindness and gentleness, and his smile was full of sincerity. "Ye Qingxuan, I came to you tonight to tell you, if you really want to right things for the interpretation method, win back honor for your teacher, you need bring out new achievements and related corroborations only through interpretation."

After a long pause, Ye Qingxuan shook his head slightly. "I…don't have time."

To interpret ancient literature was a long-term project for anyone. Not only must one combine the music theory at the time with long term study of the ancient language family, one also needed fleeting inspiration.

In addition, it would often take a few years for one to discover that their direction was wrong. Then all they could do was restart. Ye Qingxuan's understanding of interpretation was based on pure theories and had never had any experience in interpreting ancient writings.

Even a genius such as Charles dared not to say that he was confident in this aspect. Moreover, Ye Qingxuan had only been an aide to Abraham for a few months. He was powerless.

"Don't worry. You don't need to get great results." Hermes smiled with his voice ringing in the youth's ear. "Even if you use the interpretation method to interpret only one phrase, you can still prove the validity of the method. And coincidentally, I have just the perfect model here."

He slipped a piece of broken stone from his sleeve; it fell into Ye Qingxuan's palm with the turn of his hand. The remains of mysterious wedge-shaped words remained on the palm-sized stone. A faint coldness emitted from the sharp and unfamiliar words as if it was a truth hidden deep in the sea.

Ye Qingxuan understood from a glance that it was by no means possible to be forged. It contained some kind of theory that resonated with aether and was definitely a note written by ancient musicians.

Fragments such as these were very common in the field of Revelations. They were usually unearthed from ancient ruins, but could not be solved. They were like gold for the scholars concerned, but were worthless for ordinary people.

"What is this?" Ye Qingxuan asked subconsciously, rubbing the cold stone in his hands.

"It seems like a piece of trash I picked up before, but it's just right for you to practice, isn't it?" Hermes patted him on the shoulder, his voice full of enchantment. "It's said that when one undergoes Deva sensing, his induction of music theory is particularly clear. The waves of the aetheric sea will push your mind to the heavens, like ghosts wandering between the ethereal sky and the tossing sea.

"If you can find peace in that turmoil and chaos, you can sense the existence of the Originator. If you're willing to use the interpretation method in that realm, even only for a moment, you may be able to interpret it." In the shadow of the light, Hermes smiled like a devil. "This is a gamble, Ye Qingxuan. If you're really willing to use this chance, which you may not have again for your rest of life, bet on Deva sensing…then give it a try."

The next dawn, Ye Qingxuan woke up from an obscure dream. His body was covered in cold sweat. Rather than being clear-headed as he usually was, his thoughts were muddled now. He could not remember what he had dreamed, just that there was obscurity, shaking, scratchy whispering, and low utterances in the darkness.

His memories of the nightmare diluted, scattered, and vanished. Soon, he could not say anything about what he had dreamed.

He sighed and picked up a strange stone from his bed. He had tried to communicate with this ruin last night with the interpretation method; he had wanted to decipher the strange words on it but to no avail. Then he had fallen asleep without realizing and tossed in his sleep, struggling nonstop.

Now, it seemed that this rock truly was filled with strangeness. In the weak morning light, the wedge-shaped words on the stone shone dimly with a dark green light. It looked like toxic poison left over from ancient times and made the hair on one's neck rise.

"What weird thing is this?" Ye Qingxuan really did not know why he suddenly wanted to bring that thing back and try deciphering it. Maybe it was a random urge, or that thing truly had an attractive pull on him, luring him into it.

He sighed and stuffed the stone into his pocket. He rose to wash up, crept past the silent living room, and walked out. Not many were awake at five in the morning and the academy was quiet.

Faint white mist shrouded his surroundings. There was only a stray cat crossing the grass in the stillness. Sensing his presence, it looked up with emerald eyes. For some reason, stray cats really liked him that day. They continuously ran over and rubbed against him, purring.

Ye Qingxuan felt a lot better with this furry guy clinging onto him; however, like a misconception, he always felt that the stone vibrated slightly whenever the cats meowed, but nothing seemed different when he pulled it out.

He sighed. He had not been sleeping well these past few days and would often have these misconceptions.

Ye Qingxuan did not get up this early voluntarily either. In reality, he was so tired he could sleep for a whole day after recent events. He just could not stay in bed any longer.

The sublimation ritual had already been prepared. Once all materials were put in, he would not be able to wait much longer. Unless he really wanted to give up on his award, he must run to the library early in the morning and go through the ritual.

This should be something great, but he could not be happy with what Ingmar had done and the following solution.

"We shouldn't live in a world where we can't sleep in…" Ye Qingxuan muttered to himself.

He could not help but sigh. It looked like he was destined to be laborious and could not even catch a break. Just as he walked toward the library gloomily, he heard a familiar voice.

"Oh, good morning." On the road-side bench was the former leader of the School of Modifications who had been defeated by Ye Qingxuan, James.

As if he had stayed up the whole night, there were dark circles under his eyes and he waved weakly. When he saw Ye Qingxuan, his expression became upset.

"Uh, good morning." Ye Qingxuan was a bit confused, not knowing why James would be here. James shoved the heavy leather case beside his feet over.

"My professor wanted me to give this to you."

"Mr. Egor?" Ye Qingxuan was stunned. Looking at the stuffed leather case, he did not know what he would receive from the professor who had never liked him.

"There are some treasured resources from the School of Modifications." James sneezed and sniffed. This guy had gotten a cold from being in the wind for too long. Even his voice had changed. "The School of Revelations is huge. Their archives are bigger than your entire department. How can you fight them with just your sad amount of books?"

Ye Qingxuan opened the case. It was filled with old books of Voynich Manuscript interpretations. There were also rarely seen resources and research, as well as brand new notes. They were simply stapled together; it was clear they were copies made overnight.

He could not believe the School of Modifications supported him so much. It was only a box of books, but he still felt touched. "Thanks."

"Don't misunderstand. No one likes you." James scoffed, turned, and left.

After a few steps, he had already sneezed continuously multiple times. Even his snot had come out. It was clear that he had been keeping it in so he would not lose his dignity before Ye Qingxuan.

The corners of Ye Qingxuan's lips twitched. Just how much did this guy care about his dignity?

Ye Qingxuan sighed. He lifted the case with some effort and continued toward the library, but after a few steps, he was blocked by a black shadow that had jumped out from the side.

It was a black shadow leopard. Agile yet huge, it was half of his height even while sitting. Stared at by those eyes, Ye Qingxuan felt goosebumps all over.

"Hey, Junior!" Beside the leopard was Elsa, the leader of the School of Summoning. She studied him, her eyes filled with anticipation. "Where's your dog? It sounds really impressive and Bi'er was unhappy when she heard. You've been getting the limelight recently, so why don't we find some time to have fun together?" She rubbed her hands together excitedly as she spoke. Her eyes flashed too, like a beast that had found something interesting and wanted to try it out!

Sensing this girl's serious challenge and pricking pain, Ye Qingxuan stepped back and shook his head. "Sorry, I can't fight now."

"Ah, so not fun!" Elsa's face fell instantly. She tossed a giant satchel into Ye Qingxuan's arms. "This is for you."

Ye Qingxuan almost stumbled back from the impact of the satchel. He felt his hands being weighed down and almost missed. Before he could ask, Elsa and the black leopard shadow were already far away.

Her voice traveled back, "These are some old books that the school wants to get rid of. Professor wanted me to throw them away but I didn't feel like walking. Please take them to a suitable landfill."

Ye Qingxuan chuckled wryly and called, "Thanks!"

In the distance, Elsa waved to him without looking back and disappeared in the mist. Looking at the satchel and case, Ye Qingxuan sighed. He pulled them up with difficulty and continued on. After a few steps, a familiar figure appeared.

"Cullen?"

Seeing Ye Qingxuan's state, Cullen was shocked. He looked down at his small suitcase and could not help but chuckle dryly. "Seems like someone got here before me?" With that, he handed the suitcase over to Ye Qingxuan. "The School of Royalty's resources have aged badly these days and need to be copied. Since you're coincidentally a copyist…"

Ye Qingxuan opened his mouth to speak, but Cullen stopped him with a hand. "Don't thank me. To be honest, I really want to expel you. Your white hair is too blinding. Can't you dye it?"

Ye Qingxuan shrugged. "Can't help you with that."

Cullen shook his head and waved, motioning for him to leave, but Ye Qingxuan did not move. He just looked at Cullen and asked, "Why are you helping me?"

"To be honest, I really won't if I have the choice." Cullen sighed. "But if I think about it, compared to you annoying Easterner, someone who stole research results and disgraced all musicians is worse." He patted Ye Qingxuan's shoulder. Without saying more, he turned and left.

Ye Qingxuan stood in his spot for a long while before hoisting up the satchel, suitcase, and case. These things were heavy and annoying but for some reason, he was in a much better mood now. He smiled involuntarily.

He continued on in the still academy. When he walked past students, they would stand in place and see him off until he disappeared in the mist.

Unclear humming traveled from the thin mist; it was hoarse yet drawn out.

-

When Ye Qingxuan finally set down all the stuff before the library's entrance in the Jianlan Underground Palace, it felt as if his entire body was going to fall apart. He could not help it; physical labor was always his worse subject. He would be out of breath from just running a few thousand meters, let alone transporting things. Bai Xi had judged him for this too many times to count.

A slight earthly breeze blew through the deserted library. There was an upset huff in the wind.

"Help me look over this stuff. I'll take it back when I come out at night." The youth smiled apologetically at the air. "Sorry for not coming for so long. I'll play marbles with you all when I have time."

The huffing in wind seemed to be a bit more pleased. An invisible power pulled the suitcases and satchels, moving them into the shadows until they disappeared.

"You're a bit later than I had expected." Dominic, the guard Ye Qingxuan had not seen in a while, pointed to the stairs behind him. "The alchemist the principal hired is getting impatient. Hopefully you have a good excuse."

"Uh, sorry. I ran into some problems." Ye Qingxuan chuckled apologetically and hurried away.

There seemed to be a path waiting for him in the darkness. The stairs came alive slightly. After being in the darkness for who knew how long, Ye Qingxuan's steps halted before an ancient door.

He felt his skin pulling taught. In his perception, he seemed to see a burning sea of light behind the door. The blinding brightness practically crushed one's perception. It was like a giant vortex. The sea of aether revolved, sleeping peacefully. A gentle melody caressed it, creating faint ripples.

This was the source of the entire Requiem enchantment, the location where the music score of benevolence was performed—the Cave of Sleep.

A blonde youth sitting cross-legged in the dazzling silver light behind the door smiled at the shocked Ye Qingxuan, "Hey, kid, I've been waiting for a long time."

"Hey, kid, I've been waiting for a long time."

Ye Qingxuan stood at the entrance, unable to process what he had seen. Hermes looked at his shocked expression and laughed joyously.

Behind him, the silver vortex spun silently with faint ripples. Under the vortex, a large track made of mercury, gems, and other material Ye Qingxuan could not recognize transformed slowly. It absorbed the endless strength from the aether and opened an invisible cavern that seemed to lead into another world.

This was the sublimation ritual.

Under Hermes's manipulation, the mercury in the gully flowed soundlessly. The thick and heavy silver-white liquid radiated with burning brightness. Ye Qingxuan could never have guessed that Hermes would be the one performing the ritual for him.

"Are you shocked?" Hermes asked with a subtle smile.

"A little." Ye Qingxuan nodded honestly.

"Your principal spent money and I had time, so I came over for a look." Hermes shook his head and lamented, "I haven't been to this stupid place in so long but I'm surprised you've all been maintaining it well. It's just that the newer buildings are too ugly. There's no style at all. If would be fine if you just followed the original design. Why did you have to add stuff? Tsk…"

Ye Qingxuan listened obediently as Hermes judged and destroyed every inch of the Royal Academy of Music. In the end, Hermes finally looked down at the flowing mercury. Without caring about being poisoned, he reached a hand into it.

Pulling out, the mercury in his hand shone and quickly dissipated from his fingertip. Hermes nodded in satisfaction.

"The coherence of the track will be complete soon. Other than the sublimation ritual, the heart mark's inheritance will be done at the same time. Musicians have really regressed these days. They can't even do these compound alchemy processes, how can they call themselves musicians?

"Hey, white-haired kid, have you thought about which heart mark you want? This is a treasure chest. There's Bach's Chaconne, Mahler's Symphony No. 2—Resurrection, Nocturne, The Four Seasons…There are even dozens of Concerto No. 1s. Since your principal said that you can choose whatever you want from the Resonance level, just go all out. You're not the one paying, after all."

Hearing Hermes's words, Ye Qingxuan finally snapped out of his daze. After hesitating, he said, "Night on Bald Mountain. I choose the Night on Bald Mountain from the School of Abstinence."

Hermes's smile stiffened and instantly grew odd. "That really…suits you…" He really wanted to say something along the lines of, "the apple doesn't fall far from the tree" or "like father, like son." He had not thought that Ye Qingxuan would happen to choose this out of such a large archive.

It was not that this music score was very weak, but that it was just really weird. Not only was it from the School of Abstinence, it was also created for targeting fallen dark musicians and demons.

These days, other than judgement musicians who hunted dark musicians and strange beasts, no one else would choose this extremely difficult and unpopular piece. Its composer had concealed his identity and joined the satanic believers and witches that worshipped natural catastrophes.

The so-called Night on Bald Mountain was a fiesta for the fallen ones. Every year, bonfires would be lit in the middle of a certain night. Witches, satanic believers, and dark musicians would praise Satan, perform blood sacrifices, receive blessings from Satan and dance crazily around the fire until daybreak.

At dawn, the composer, hidden among them, would join with the judgement musicians hiding in the surroundings and kill all the celebrating satanic believers. They would use a majestic melody that announced the coming of dawn to kill the cantos to Satan, and thus created this music score.

Only judgement musicians would study this piece because it was infallible at defeating demonic followers. No matter what type of demon or dark musician, anything with the aura of natural catastrophe would be sealed by this music score, nailed onto the stake and burned to ashes in the fire. No matter how dark it was, the night on the bald mountain would be illuminated by a forest of stakes. But if the enemy was a human, it was powerless, save for the shackle and sealing effect.

"It really…suits you," Hermes finally said after his mind went blank.

Ye Qingxuan had considered his choice for the heart mark carefully beforehand. He was not qualified to look through many of the library's important music scores, but he could at least look at the catalogue, so he copied it and asked Abraham and Lola for advice.

After Abraham looked at the catalogue, he marked some scores from the School of Revelations and Modifications. After hesitating, he also marked Night on Bald Mountain as Ye Qingxuan's backup.

Lola's suggestion was to improve on his shortcomings rather than further strengthening his strong points. For pure destruction, he already had Indra's Eye and the Deva's blood to help him fight with furious fire at a level far above his own. Even if he learned other music scores, it would be useless in the meantime, due to his own restrictions.

In comparison, Night on Bald Mountain was more specialized, but offset his weakness at lasting face-to-face fighting. He would also be able to kill the enemy without worrying that he would go too far.

Understanding Ye Qingxuan's intentions, Hermes could only lament, "Children these days are so creative…Okay, the preparation is almost complete. You can go in." He moved aside, motioning for Ye Qingxuan to hurry inside and stop wasting time.

Ye Qingxuan entered and instantly felt that he was about to suffocate. The almost tangible aether flow shone in the air, thick and heavy. It felt as if he was in a pool of water and he could barely breathe. After looking around, Ye Qingxuan had a new discovery and almost jumped out of his skin.

"Wait, where's the most important medium for the ritual? Boss, are you cheating?"

"Medium?" Hermes side-eyed him. "Isn't it on you?"

With a hum, the palm-sized stone flew out of the youth's pocket. It hovered in the air, absorbing the aether almost endlessly, and transformed into a small sun. Within the blazing sun-like glow, the words on the surface transformed. They seemed to have new changes and dazzled before his eyes. His mind was shaken and he could not control himself.

"Hey, kid!" Hermes suddenly hit him on the shoulder, shocking him out of his thoughts. "Let me warn you though, the alchemy I'm good at is pure classicism. There aren't many safety precautions and it's definitely not comfortable. You can say that the longer it lasts, the more torturous it gets. During the ritual, you'll see unexplainable hallucinations, hear weird sounds, or feel something frightening. I'm not taking responsibility if you go crazy from all that. So, are you ready?"

Ye Qingxuan was speechless and could not help but sigh. "To be honest, I can't wait. Can we start soon?"

"Good kid, I can see that you're a true man."

Hermes pressed a hand on the top of Ye Qingxuan's head. His fingers were icy without any warmth. Ye Qingxuan shivered at the cold, steel-like hand.

"One last question." Hermes suddenly asked, "You know that it's highly possible to die during the sublimation ritual, right?"

"Huh? Wait…" Ye Qingxuan yelped but then his vision went black and he lost consciousness.

-

Just as he sank into unconsciousness, a solemn song and melody rose above the ritual. The aether seemed to ignite in that hoarse singing and majestic song. It echoed like a tidal wave. The immense strength fell onto the youth's body like a flame, burning his clothes. It dug into his limbs and bones, forcing him to struggle involuntarily and scream in pain.

However, his eyes were soulless as if his spirit was gone. It had already risen to the sky or had fallen into the abyss.

"We grow under aether and die as aether—we must be in awe of aether!" Hermes announced gravely.

He held down the youth's forehead. He did not seem happy or sad, but there seemed to still be emotions in his expression; he was like a saint's figure carved by the Church and was awe-inspiring.

Behind him, twelve wings of light burst through his robe and unfurled, covering the sky. The wings of light flapped soundlessly, creating huge ripples in the invisible sea of aether.

"Ye Qingxuan, the so-called sublimation ritual is to purify your soul." He gazed at the youth's dull eyes and murmured in his ears, "You shall see your true self in the muddled chaos."

-

Ye Qingxuan felt as if he had fallen into a nightmare again. In that endless nightmare, the ineffably immense chaos swallowed him. He felt himself being thrown into the sky, leaving the world of men, and entered a cold world that was icy yet difficult to describe.

There was nothing.

In the blink of an eye, something extremely solemn and large brushed past him. It seemed to be a strategic response by the gods. But when he inadvertently turned around, he seemed to see the bottom of the abyss underfoot. There was a burning hell and it was wailing.

He understood instantly: perhaps this was the "aether world" that had been described in countless books. It was the true appearance of all organisms, as observed by the aether.

Under the illumination of the blue moon, the city was shrouded in fog. Its fierce, sharp, large, and dark silhouette was revealed. The church and palace stuck through like piles of bones. Blood flowed into paths and rivers; countless vague shadows wandered through the city of the dead, unable to be freed.

This was Avalon's Shadow…

Instantly, Ye Qingxuan felt his body going slack. It was flying toward him…No, he was falling into it—it was pulling him!

He struggled fiercely but to no avail. As he fell rapidly, he felt the strength of Avalon's Shadow pulling at his mind, almost ripping him into pieces. For a moment, he could feel two of himself, three, four…This was the precursor to schizophrenia.

Urgent danger filled his brain, but for some reason, a line of strange words flashed past his mind in that instant. They were the wedge-shaped words on the stone.

Those strange words overlapped and formed an unfamiliar interval in his mind. It lengthened and swelled endlessly, turning from a few words to a novel with tens of thousands of words.

The immense amount of information practically filled his consciousness to the brim. Then, the terrifying music score with a compact yet large structure quickly began closing up and collapsing.

Ye Qingxuan could not comprehend any of the music theory within it—he had never heard of it before and could not even distinguish a general direction. It expanded to its extreme in an instant; it collapsed to something miniscule in an instant.

Ye Qingxuan could no longer observe that tiny dot. Even his consciousness was pulled and dragged into the dot that was so small it did not exist anymore. Just before he passed out, he heard the earth-shaking majestic chanting in his ear, "As if you are above, as if you are below, as if all is beginning!"

-

"Ah!" Ye Qingxuan shrieked and jumped up from his table. The entire classroom was silent.

All the students who were reading their books in the morning class looked over. Even the drowsy teacher at the podium had a scare. Ye Qingxuan looked around in confusion, not sure where he was. His memories in his mind were disappearing as if it was a dream.

He gaped at those eyes without knowing what to do.

"Ye Qingxuan, how many do I have to tell you to not sleep during morning class!" The balding teacher at the podium furrowed his brows. "Go read at the back of the room!"

Ye Qingxuan finally realized that he had fallen asleep during class and had had a weird dream. He awkwardly looked down, picked up his English textbook and obediently went to stand at the back of the classroom. Maybe it was because he had a good attitude and was usually a good student, so the teacher did not give him a hard time; he was able to sit down when the bell rang.

His desk mate Wang Qiang came over with a gleeful smile. "Yezi, I've seen a lot of people who sleep during class, but never someone who talks in his sleep and makes such a big commotion."

"You didn't even wake me up!" Ye Qingxuan rubbed his eyes and yawned. "I stayed up the whole night playing GTB5 and accidentally fell asleep."

"It's the second mock exam today and you're still playing? Wow." His desk mate glanced at the "eighty-eight more days until the college entrance exam" on the blackboard and asked, "Do you still have lead? Give me some, I ran out."

"It's in my pencil bag. Go get it yourself." Ye Qingxuan was spacing out.

"Hey, what's wrong? Fever?"

"I don't know." He shook his head. "I just feel like I forgot something."

"No!" Wang Qiang panicked. "I need you for English during the exam! If you do badly, what am I gonna do?"

"It's not a big deal." Ye Qingxuan rolled his eyes. "When has my grade ever been bad? Just turn your phone on and it's okay."

Wang Qiang shook his head. "I heard that you can't do it this year. Apparently the school blocked all signal for this mock exam. Your phone won't have any signal."

"So, you can't use your phone without signal?" Ye Qingxuan side-eyed him. "Turn on your bluetooth and then just change the phone name into the answer. Don't tell me your phone doesn't even have bluetooth."

"…" Wang Qiang's expression suddenly changed dramatically. He gaped for a long time before finally uttering, "Why didn't I f*cking think of that?!"

"Because you're stupid."

…

"This mock exam will be given by Professor Xia of our school. It will be strict to realistically simulate the college entrance exam. I hope all students will answer seriously and not cheat," the teacher said gravely. "Understood?"

"Understood," came the scattered responses under the podium.

Soon, the test was handed out to everyone. Ye Qingxuan accepted it and put it down. He yawned involuntarily and looked outside restlessly. He looked as if he was deep in thought but he knew that his mind was blank. He was not thinking of anything.

He was just spacing out.

Something felt wrong.

"Focus on the test," the supervising teacher minded, knocking on his table.

Ye Qingxuan flinched. He nodded dazedly as if he had just woken up. When he looked down at the test paper, he went slack.

This was not language, not mathematics, not English, not geography…What the h*ll was this?