Chapter 27: Caesar Crushed

The sonorous, rhythmic march echoed across the campus; the school broadcasting system, long silent, seemed to have just woken from a nap.

Lu Mingfei sat on the steps, eating fried chicken he had bought from the cafeteria. The heavy doors of an anonymous building swung open, and doctors and nurses swarmed out, carrying suitcases marked with the school emblem.

Damn it, how could this godforsaken infirmary not even have a sign? He’d been looking for it for half the day.

He stopped a doctor who looked professional and pointed to his swollen face. The doctor obliged, checking his mouth and pupils, then applied ointment and iodine, shoving a bottle of medicine—whose intended use, oral or topical, remained a mystery—into his hand.

A short, bald old man with thin, gold-rimmed glasses stood nearby, covering his nose and mouth with a handkerchief, frowning and sighing as he watched the medical staff administer injections to the young students sleeping soundly on the ground. He walked up to Lu Mingfei and looked him up and down.

"Judging by your attire, you're a freshman?"

Lu Mingfei nodded.

"I am Professor Manstein of the Disciplinary Committee!" The old man looked at him with utter disdain. "Go rest somewhere else! Students these days! Instead of prioritizing their studies, they participate in these mindless games! Is it fun? Is it fun?" As he spoke, he grew angry again, pointing at the bullet-pocked granite surface of the building. "This is all money! It’s all money!"

Lu Mingfei offered some counsel: "Professor, the money spent eventually flows back into the hands of those big capitalists who deserve to be hung from streetlights. No need to feel sorry for them."

The old man seemed unfamiliar with this theory and stood there, stunned. Seeing that he was a member of the Disciplinary Committee, Lu Mingfei thought it might save him trouble later if he built a rapport, so he shifted his seat, intending to engage in a profound discussion.

Just then, someone patted Lu Mingfei on the shoulder from behind. "Don't mind him; Manstein is a good friend of mine. He’s just a bit stingy. I’ll ask him to look after your studies later."

Lu Mingfei looked back and jumped in surprise. "Good grief, Professor, did you take a bath in anesthetic?"

Professor Guderian’s hair, beard, and clothes were stained a deep red. His face, however, was clean, likely wiped off with a tissue or something similar. The power of a Frigga bullet was truly no joke.

"I should have gone with you," Guderian muttered, looking at Lu Mingfei, who wasn't stained by a single speck of red. He then moved on to business. "Oh, right, about your course selection. I suggest you take 'Introduction to Dragon Genealogy,' 'Foundation of Magitech Design,' and 'Foundation of Alchemy' as your major courses. For foreign languages, take 'Old Norse,' and for PE, you can take 'Tai Chi.' That way, your credits..."

Except for having heard of Tai Chi, Lu Mingfei had never encountered these subjects before. "Professor, let me learn a bit more about what these involve before I decide." Like his Spirit Word, the knowledge from his homeland seemed quite friendly; learning more couldn't hurt.

The battlefield, once strewn with the "dead," now resembled a bustling sports meet. Doctors and nurses went from person to person, injecting those who had been hit, massaging the shoulders and backs of those who had sprained joints while fainting, and recording their student IDs. Once the "dead" removed their masks, they were all young people of eighteen or nineteen. Upon waking, their first instinct was to whisper to one another, eager to know the victor, though they all seemed somewhat dazed.

Caesar, dressed in a red combat suit, lay peacefully with his five core team members. Resting on his muscular, well-defined chest were two exquisite, ornate, and massive silver pistols. After being revived by the medical staff, he sat on the ground, hands supporting his forehead, head bowed in silence.

Caesar was a proud man. Before meeting Chu Zihang, he believed this world belonged to him alone. From his bloodline to his abilities, he felt that if he wanted something, no one could do it better, and everyone else was merely meant to be ruled by him. Meeting Chu Zihang had brought him the thrill of a lonely master finding a worthy rival; Chu Zihang was truly qualified to be his opponent and his whetstone—intelligent, tough, possessing an excellent bloodline, and even capable of thwarting him repeatedly. Caesar didn't fear failure; brief setbacks only made him stronger.

Of course, that mindset only lasted until he met Lu Mingfei.

For the first time in his life, he experienced the despair of those he had previously crushed. There was no willpower, no combat technique—only the purest, most violent natural talent. This "S"-class freshman had ignored the "Domination" Spirit Word that Kassel College viewed as a law of nature, snatched the pistols from his waist while surrounded by five elite members of the Student Union, and then shot him point-blank. Because the first gun didn't have enough ammunition left, the freshman had even demonstrated exactly how he had taken the guns right in front of Caesar's eyes.

Even if Caesar had ground his teeth to dust or widened his eyes until they felt like copper bells, he had only managed to catch a fleeting shadow of the freshman. As for blocking, counter-attacking, or capturing him? Ha, he could only dream of it.

His talent and the intensity of his Spirit Word had reached a level that no amount of effort from Caesar could ever touch. Caesar kept his right hand on his forehead, his dark expression masking his usual radiance, saying nothing.

In truth, one couldn't blame Caesar for being depressed; it was just that Lu Mingfei was a cheater who played dirty. Spirit Words usually grow stronger through tempering and weaken as the body ages, but Lu Mingfei was different. He had leveraged the immense power from his transaction to set up a nearly unprecedented, perfect ritual, binding spirits capable of exerting their full lifetime strength. That middle-aged man in his spirit-summoning altar had to be at least forty, right? Assuming he awakened his bloodline at eighteen, he had over twenty years of tempering behind him and was at his absolute peak—how could a green kid like Caesar compare? If not for the fact that Lu Mingfei’s own physical limit wasn't up to par, Caesar wouldn't even have seen a shadow.

"This isn't fair!" someone shouted at the top of their lungs.

"A Spirit Word! That guy definitely used a Spirit Word!" someone else pointed at Lu Mingfei on the steps, their tone filled with resentment.

"Why is someone able to use a Spirit Word under the Vice Principal's 'Domination'?" another asked in confusion.

Guderian was so excited his face turned bright red—his hair and clothes were already red, so he looked like a little red man. "That's right! I actually forgot! Mingfei, you actually used 'Time Zero' within the Watcher's 'Domination'! Even the Principal can't do that! Your bloodline is even more outstanding than the Principal's!"

Eyes from all directions converged on the corner where Lu Mingfei sat, and the entire venue fell silent. Lu Mingfei felt he couldn't let such a good promotional opportunity go to waste. He immediately stood up, cupped his hands in a traditional salute, and shouted:

"For those with money, give some support... wait, no, for all you handsome guys and beautiful ladies, I am Lu Mingfei, eighteen, single. My bloodline rank is 'S', and my Spirit Word is 'Time Zero.' After the semester officially starts, I will be organizing a club focused on myths, history, and practical knowledge—er, I mean, a society. The atmosphere is relaxed (you're responsible for your own survival), and we'll hold regular publicly-funded activities (rituals to summon dark gods). No membership fee required (I'll just trick you into it later). If you're interested, come take a look!"

In the corner, Finn patted the head of his underling, who was busy filming the scene. "Cut that! You must cut that! If they want the News Club to run an ad, they have to pay the advertising fee!"