Chapter 2587: Chapter 808: Progressive Imagination

Zheng Qing doesn’t remember how he returned to the classroom.

He wandered as if in a dream, passed through the expansive academy, went by the tranquil Lin Zhong Lake, and walked along the silent tree-lined path. The fishman emerging from the water waved at him, but Zheng Qing heard nothing; the mischievous squirrels on branches threw acorns at his head, yet they didn’t provoke the warlock’s anger; even the spotted dog passing by brazenly left a pile of dung on the path, but Zheng Qing remained unaware and stepped right over it.

His mind was blank.

He absolutely dared not recall the words Su Shijun whispered in his ear.

Because just thinking about it, his thoughts would uncontrollably scatter, his mind restless, his imagination galloping, countless fiery and romantic images rushing in, easily overwhelming the little rationality he had left.

—Do you want to know what the real, undisclosed reward is?

That small, warm, fragrant voice echoed once again in his ear, making Zheng Qing shake his head vigorously in an attempt to forget those words, while unconsciously mumbling:

"If this is the punishment...I will definitely keep making mistakes afterwards."

A tree elf taking a nap was awakened by the unspeakable odor, poking its head out from the bushes, pinching its nose, and suspiciously watching the guy who stepped in dog dung and muttered to himself walking past, angrily spitting at him twice.

—The real, undisclosed...

Even the calming incantation couldn’t stop some words from endlessly repeating in his ear; for a moment, Zheng Qing felt he could finally understand why cultists were always so manic, like whispers from an evil god, driving anyone mad.

No wonder people have always been so wary of fox spirits.

The ancients truly did not deceive me.

This dazed state lasted until he stood at the classroom door, broken by a chalk head thrown by Old Yao.

"Clean your shoes before entering my classroom."

The Magic Curse Professor was writing a spell formula on the blackboard, and upon seeing the boy at the door, casually threw the chalk head in his hand, hitting the boy on the head, stopping him from entering immediately.

Zheng Qing confusedly looked down, saw the ’black mud’ on his shoes, smelled the faint odor, and the heat on his face dissipated completely, turning a bit pale.

"...In the ancient savage era, many tribal priests tried to harm or eliminate their enemies by destroying or damaging the idols of their opponents. They believed their opponent would suffer similar injuries when their idol was injured and would die when the idol was destroyed... This is the earliest conceptual prototype of the ’Contact Law,’ and is the basic principle behind many modern magic operations. The principle can be summarized in one sentence: ’When objects come into contact, they will continue to interact from a distance even after the physical contact is broken...’"

In the classroom, Old Yao’s voice resonated with ups and downs from the podium, accompanied by the sound of note-taking below.

On usual days, Zheng Qing would have been diligently copying notes to the point of dizziness.

But now, he could only concentrate on dealing with the dog dung stuck to his shoe at the door — magic can’t clean what wizards can’t see, so he must carefully check and ensure every nook of his shoes is thoroughly cleaned.

Dog dung.

Just thinking of that word made Zheng Qing instantly think of luck, recall the night he found Su Shijun, think of Poseidon’s birth, and the ’undisclosed reward,’ then he couldn’t help but start considering when his second child would be born, whose surname to take, and what name to give — since the first is called Poseidon, calling the second Hades should be quite fitting.

The scythe raised by the God of Death seemed like a flash in the warlock’s mind, instantly clearing his thoughts.

He raised his hand and gently slapped himself.

Stood up.

His shoes were clean now, this time Old Yao did not stop him from entering the classroom.

Jiang Yu in the front row glanced at the boy with concern, the clear gaze making Zheng Qing feel deeply ashamed, instinctively touching his cheek that had just been kissed and slapped.

The warm sensation at his fingertips told him he still had some sense of shame.

"Is it hot outside?" Xiao Xiao, looking at the young public-funded student, asked curiously while adjusting his glasses.

"What?"

Zheng Qing hadn’t recovered from the intertwining emotions of fear, shame, and chaos, and turned blankly to his deskmate upon being asked, not knowing why.

"Your face, why is it so red?" Xiao Xiao twirled his brush pen.

Zheng Qing was silent for a few seconds.

"...Radiant?" he answered softly, vaguely remembering he had used such a phrase before.

"Why did it turn white again?" 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

"Wax for cold protection." This time, Zheng Qing answered smoothly.

"Haha," Xiao Xiao sneered twice, frowned: "If you don’t want to answer, just don’t... I feel like I’ve heard this nonsense from you before."

"Meheh." Zheng Qing laughed dryly, somewhat guiltily averting his gaze, but then noticing in the classroom those scattered red robes belonging to the Jiuyou Academy students.

Once again his thoughts spiraled out of control.

Seeing red robes reminded him of red-framed glasses, red lips naturally leading to thoughts of a red bridal dress, red candle-lit warm account, imagining being filled with red waves — the young wizard’s mind was remarkably imaginative regarding this matter.

Tick.

Tick, tick.

"You, who are having a nosebleed, want to step outside and cool off?" A chalk head flew from the podium, accurately striking Zheng Qing’s forehead, waking the absent-minded warlock.

Old Yao bit on a pipe, holding a lecture note in one hand, smiling wryly at him: "If you’re in class, just focus on the lecture. Don’t let your imagination run wild, causing trouble for yourself."

Others in the classroom all turned their heads towards the direction of the flying chalk, their covert glances accompanied by whispers and murmurings, reminiscent of flies drawn to fouling smells.

Zheng Qing sluggishly raised his hand, touched his nose, his fingertips were somewhat hot — only then did he realize he had a nosebleed, quickly pinching his nose and raising his head, while Xin Fat Man, full of gossip interest, turned around in the front row and handed him an ice pack.

Zheng Qing resolutely turned his head to look out the window.

Two thrushes stood on the windowsill, grooming each other’s feathers intimately, with their soft voices seemingly audible, even through the glass.

The sun was bright, the spring light was radiant, what a vibrant season.

Old Yao’s voice lecturing others drifted over: "...and the rest of you, wouldn’t it be better to focus your concern on the class? Aren’t there enough assignments to worry about? Monitor? Tang Dun, jot this down, submit an application to Student Affairs after class saying the earth energy is rising, the weather is dry — suggest a few spring rains to cool those having nosebleeds."