Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Ground Really Is Slippery

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Lu Mingfei looked around, but astonishingly, no one seemed inclined to respond to him.

Could it be that the talent and strength he had displayed were not impressive enough? Or were the academy club’s benefits insufficient?

In that gloomy, damp otherworld, he had only needed to show off a few spells to trick a whole crowd of highly educated believers into following him. A few pieces of bread had been enough to buy a large band of peasants willing to risk their lives for him.

What a pity. America was simply too urbanized. Managing a team was difficult here.

Still, Lu Mingfei’s words had not been entirely ineffective. At the very least, he had managed to hold the entire audience captive for more than ten seconds.

Once he recovered, Manstein shot Lu Mingfei a stern look, then announced in the tone every student had hated throughout their school years:

“Unfortunately, ladies and gentlemen, you have violated the special rules governing Free Day. I shall report this to the principal and terminate the event!”

Someone nearby asked:

“The three special rules are: no use of the alchemical equipment in the Ice Cellar, no fatalities, and no bringing unidentified outsiders onto campus. Is that correct?”

The elderly Professor Manstein pointed at the people sitting and standing all around them, raising his voice.

“Chu Zihang! Do they look as though they haven’t been injured?”

Someone in the crowd shouted:

“We fell on our own!”

One voice immediately became many:

“That’s right! We fell on our own!”

“Who saw us fighting? None of us were fighting!”

“The ground really was slippery!”

“…”

Quite a few people secretly turned their eyes toward Caesar, the other student leader present, hoping he would step forward and say something.

But this time, Caesar showed none of the bearing expected of a leader. He remained seated where he was, both hands resting on his knees, his gaze somewhat vacant.

Discovering that he was not the most outstanding hybrid in the world was something Caesar, who had been proud for so many years, needed time to digest.

“Fine! Fine! You’re all very brave, aren’t you? Just wait until I report this to the principal!”

Professor Manstein’s hands trembled with anger at his rebellious students. He pulled out his phone and dialed.

Everyone fell silent. The principal of this academy clearly held an extraordinary position in the students’ hearts, and every eye turned toward the phone in Professor Manstein’s hand.

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Professor Manstein wore the expression of a man firmly in command as he pressed the speakerphone button with great force.

“Hello, Manstein.” The deep, gentle voice belonged to a true European gentleman, yet he spoke flawless Mandarin.

Professor Manstein declared righteously:

“Principal Angers, I apologize for disturbing you. But there are some special circumstances. This year, the students at Free Day appear to have violated the special rules. Members of the Lionheart Society and the Student Union used Frigga bullets, turning the entire campus into a battlefield. Many people have been injured… and quite a few buildings have been damaged as well. The situation is extremely serious!

“Furthermore, our proud students have shown absolutely no regard for the Disciplinary Committee!”

The principal gave a hearty chuckle.

“Have students not always been like this? Surely you should be used to it by now, Manstein.

“Free Day, held during the anniversary celebrations each year, was won by the students through their own efforts. We old fellows will not go back on our word. Once you have enjoyed the festival, you must return to your studies and work hard. My dear students, I very much hope to spend this happy Free Day together with you.”

The students exchanged glances, then applauded as one. Cheering, they tore the armbands from their sleeves and tossed them into the air, draped their arms over one another’s shoulders, swayed about, and pulled mocking faces at Professor Manstein.

At other schools, the members of the Disciplinary Committee were aloof, tsundere beauties with long black ponytails. At Cassell College, however, the position was held by a stuffy little bald-headed old man. Lu Mingfei could not summon the slightest interest.

While Manstein complained to the principal over the phone, Lu Mingfei studied Chu Zihang, the president of the Lionheart Society, who stood expressionless amid the surrounding crowd.

There was the scent of rain about him.

Not the pleasant mingling of damp earth and moisture after a shower, but the scent of that secret realm—the freezing, storm-lashed night when the rain had fallen so heavily it seemed determined to drown the world.

The hateful, unbroken chill once again seemed to fill Lu Mingfei’s nostrils, mingling with the revolting stench of decay and the odor of rusted bronze. Almost unconsciously, he pinched his nose, as though he could force his senses to behave.

And why did Chu Zihang’s face look a little like that figure in the Terracotta Shrine…?

A multitude of strange sensations suddenly stirred his vigilance. Had the shock of entering the academy impaired his judgment so badly that he was suffering from cognitive dissonance? Or were these events truly connected?

There was too little information, and his thoughts were tangled beyond hope. Lu Mingfei simply abandoned the attempt to make sense of them.

He had never been the sort of person with rigorous logic or a talent for deduction. If he had been, he probably would not have survived this long.

Lu Mingfei stole a glance at Nono, his capable companion from the rainy-night secret realm. Her instincts were even sharper than his, and she seemed intelligent as well. Perhaps she could detect more than he could. All he needed was to ask her for an answer.

Unfortunately, Lu Mingfei was plainly casting a flirtatious glance at a blind man. He glanced at Nono several times, but the little witch did not return even one look.

She was sitting beside Caesar with her legs crossed, a bandage plastered across her pert nose. Her delicate calves, wrapped in a deep-red combat uniform, swung back and forth as she whispered something to her official boyfriend. Every now and then, she revealed a smile both adorable and infuriating, putting anyone who witnessed it in a good mood.

The boy was not fit to make plans with.

Lu Mingfei sighed and set the thought aside. But as he turned his head and his field of vision shifted, he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, a smear of absolute darkness beneath the gentle sunlight.

Where there was light, there were shadows. That was perfectly normal.

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But where had that shadow come from?

That long, thin, dark, murky, twisted shadow.

Then, as though it had sensed Lu Mingfei’s gaze, the area that could roughly be called its head began to writhe almost imperceptibly, separating and reshaping itself.

Lu Mingfei knew that it was making its own sound—a sound offered without concealment.

Yet his dull senses could not distinguish what it was saying. He could only hear something rustling, indistinct and impossible to make out.

The world began to twist and fade beyond his control. The vivid colors God had painted onto the world became dull and tedious. The bright sunlight grew thin and pale, clinging unstably to the surfaces of all things. Only that figure remained sharply defined.

It seemed to realize that Lu Mingfei was still dazed and unaware. After revealing a helpless smile, it slid sideways toward him.

Fear tightened around Lu Mingfei’s heart.

Yes. He understood now. He was finally hearing it clearly. The long, thin shadow was saying—

“W, S, LU…”

His logical mind began dismantling and analyzing the sound without waiting for his conscious permission. The hoarse, garbled roar gradually transformed into information Lu Mingfei could understand.

Suddenly, someone seized him and shook him violently. Lu Mingfei jolted, clutched his head, and let out a piercing scream before collapsing hard onto the ground.

The little old man, Manstein, stood there with his phone in hand, staring at him in utter bewilderment. Every teacher and student present was staring at him with the same expression.

The principal’s deep, cultured voice came through the phone’s speaker:

“Hello? Is the signal poor? Is the S-rank freshman, Lu Mingfei, there?”

The principal’s voice echoed through the surroundings.

The May sunlight was golden. The colors were still vivid and clear. The long, thin black shadow was nowhere to be seen.

The strongest newcomer, who had just been in spectacular form—dodging seven sniper rounds in succession and crushing the Student Union and the Lionheart Society single-handedly—finally relaxed his taut body and collapsed limply onto the ground.

“Haa… That guy was right. The ground really is slippery.”

Perhaps I should just die sooner.

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