Chapter Four: Even a Minute Is Impressive

Lu Mingfei set the record for the fastest interview: one minute.

He had not spent a single moment in thought, nor had he uttered a single word of nonsense, ending his interview with clean, decisive efficiency. This was another probe on his part. He had been so perfunctory, yet if Cassell College still insisted on admitting him, there had to be an ulterior motive.

Ye Sheng and 酒德亚纪 (Jiude Yaji) were clearly choked by Lu Mingfei's dismissive attitude. In the end, they offered a formal farewell: "Thank you for your interest in Cassell College."

Lu Mingfei nodded in response, then turned and left the conference room.

Chen Wenwen was actually waiting for him at the door, clutching her bag. Seeing him, she trotted over a few steps: "Why did you come out so fast?"

Lu Mingfei frowned, speaking with righteous indignation: "What kind of talk is that! One minute is quite impressive!"

Chen Wenwen understood his double entendre. A touch of vexation crossed her face, and she swatted his shoulder: "Stop talking nonsense! So... will you pass this interview?"

"That? Should be no problem."

The attitude of Cassell College, from the official level down to the interviewers themselves, was permeated with a sense of strangeness. The recommendation from the University of Chicago, the expensive mobile phone given for free, the mysterious figures appearing online, and Chen Wenwen, who had been invited despite never applying.

It was as if an invisible hand had used his life and studies to construct a stage, using his feelings to cast Chen Wenwen as the heroine, waiting for him—the protagonist—to take the stage once everything was in place.

Lu Mingfei curled his lips, feeling an involuntary surge of excitement. Since finishing his study of the "Zhengyi Descending Sacred Awesome Register," he had not felt this joy of exploring the unknown for a long time.

He had no objection to performing on stage, but if the script did not satisfy him, he would not only smash the stage to pieces but also teach the people behind the scenes a lesson they would never forget.

People in this world always thought him soft and easy to bully, presuming to script his life at will. But what were those rats in the gutter, anyway? Who did they think they were? Nyar-la...

"Snap!"

Late at night, Ye Sheng sat at the conference table, leafing through the resumes once more.

"How did the interview go?" The door opened, and a man hurried in with a briefcase. "I took a red-eye flight and came straight here after landing."

He was an old man, travel-worn, wearing thick-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose. His hair was a fluffy, graying mess—not permed, but seemingly uncombed for ages. He wore a sloppy suit and baggy trousers.

"Professor Guderian," Ye Sheng stood up. "We interviewed 17 students in total..."

"Don't waste time! I'm only here to ask about Lu Mingfei! I only care about Lu Mingfei!" Professor Guderian looked frantic, as if he were a student's parent rather than an examiner. "Tell me, Lu Mingfei, how did he answer?" The old man of German descent spoke fluent Chinese.

Ye Sheng and Jiude Yaji exchanged a glance, unsure of how to begin.

Finally, Nono, who was sitting at the end of the conference table with her long legs stretched out and her red hair loose, replied while chewing bubblegum: "Not very well. 'Don't believe, don't believe, materialism'—six words to sum it up."

"Simple and capable!" Guderian exclaimed in admiration. "Excessive description is redundant; true power only needs, only needs..."

Lu Mingfei's perfunctory answers left Guderian, who had wanted to debate the finer points of philosophy with him, unable to continue. He scratched his head, at a loss for words.

Ye Sheng sighed and shook his head: "Although the college provides some conveniences for students based on their bloodline, if everyone were as perfunctory as he was, what would be the point of our interviews?"

"No, this time it's different. After repeated confirmation, Lu Mingfei's rating among all candidates is 'S'—the only 'S'! We haven't had an 'S'-grade candidate in decades; this interview was effectively prepared for him alone!" Professor Guderian lowered his voice. "This is the highest level of confidentiality at the college, which is why we didn't tell you before we left."

Ye Sheng and Jiude Yaji looked at each other. "Is he really... an 'S' grade?"

Nono kicked her long legs nonchalantly: "The guy is quite alert. I used 'profiling'—he acted as if he had nothing to fear, likely having sensed long ago that we were targeting him and was testing us. Furthermore, all three of his answers were lies; his true inner thoughts were the exact opposite."

"I told you our way of contacting him wasn't discreet enough! With his talent, how could he not have noticed!" Guderian seemed energized by a shot of adrenaline, cheering, "He is, after all... an 'S' grade, something we haven't seen in decades!"

Nono chewed her gum, reminding them with a blank expression: "You might not realize what I mean. These philosophical questions were intended to investigate the students' inner selves, but he was too certain—certain as if... as if he truly knew the answers to the questions."

On the other side, Lu Mingfei bid farewell to Chen Wenwen, who had grown a bit closer to him, and wandered through the city's antique street, pet market, and traditional Chinese medicine shops.

Since it was now clear that someone was lurking in the shadows, trying to manipulate his life, Lu Mingfei would naturally not turn a blind eye or sit still, waiting for disaster to strike.

He had to prepare his spellcasting materials in advance; a mage with preparation and one without were essentially two different species.

A writing brush, purple paper, yellow paper, cinnabar, green salt, black salt, red salt, white salt, sea salt, ceramics, peach wood, various colored fabrics, the blood of certain creatures, and finally some common, inexpensive Chinese herbs—with these things, it would be almost enough.

Unlike the spells recorded in Western forbidden grimoires, the spells in the "Secret Canon of the Seven Chapters of the Profound Lord" primarily relied on the coordination of talismans, incantations, seals, stars, and pacing to communicate with spirits.

Most of the newly purchased materials were for making talisman paper, while a few were for crafting a few handy magical tools and medicinal wine to save his life in emergencies.

Compared to Western magic, which often required the sacrifice of humans or gemstones, Eastern magic had low material costs, a high success rate, and minimal loss of sanity. Apart from being severely lost and difficult to master, it had no drawbacks.

Purchasing these items cost him about two hundred yuan. The most expensive item was the piece of peach wood, mainly because it required processing into a specific shape, for which the shopkeeper charged an additional fee.

Animal blood was impossible to buy; the pet market didn't have rare animals like monkeys or horses. If he wanted their blood, he would likely have to go to the zoo.

The materials for making magical tools were not yet complete, but just the variety of talisman paper and medicinal wine was enough for him to handle most situations.

Lu Mingfei carried the purchased spellcasting materials, took a bus with the last two yuan he had, and rushed home.

After a simple shower and drawing a large bucket of clean water, Lu Mingfei climbed to the top floor, bypassed the dust-covered old items piled there, and squeezed through the gap in the iron gate to reach the rooftop.

The environment here was quiet and breezy; it had always been Lu Mingfei's "refuge."

The concrete jungle dispelled humanity's most primal fear of nature, and the city's myriad lights obscured the stars.

Lu Mingfei didn't even have a table. He laid a piece of yellow paper of appropriate size on the ground and sat cross-legged. The suitable environment allowed him to easily empty his mind and begin blending the special cinnabar ink needed for the first talisman.

He was a veteran at this. With fluid movements, he mixed the cinnabar, black salt, and rock salt with water in the proper proportions. Dipping his brush, his lips moved as he chanted:

"Three souls and seven spirits, return to the spirit and return to the infant. Ascend to the Supreme, arrive at the thousand spirits. Three souls dwell on the left, seven spirits guard the right. Quietly listen to the divine command, observe the ominous. Walk and no one sees, sit and no one knows. Obey the command as fast as lightning!"

The chanting stopped. As the tip of Lu Mingfei's brush touched the yellow paper, an inexplicable darkness appeared at the very edge of his vision, then rapidly eroded his field of sight. He suddenly fell into a disgusting, murky darkness.

Outside the rooftop, the sinister shadows clung to the outer edge, whispering. What were they saying?

The sensitive, pathological chatter of the shadows uncontrollably squeezed into Lu Mingfei's ears. As his brain accelerated to differentiate this information, Lu Mingfei had already drawn the talisman by muscle memory. He lifted his brush, finished, and exhaled a long breath.

The ink had penetrated the paper; it was done in one breath.

On the yellow paper, like a child's scribble, were eight connected, unrecognizable ancient characters, devoid of aesthetics or pattern:

*Edict of the Sun and Moon Piercing the Spirit Cinnabar.*

The Immortal Cinnabar Soul-Returning Register, complete.