Chapter 30 Breakfast
"Coffee?" Azuka raised an eyebrow at his nemesis, who had simply tidied himself up, and nodded to the porcelain pot on the table: "Would you like some more milk?"
“…No, thank you.”
The other person sat down in front of him and drank half a cup of black coffee in one breath. The gloomy state finally dissipated a lot.
"I agreed to go back together," Nova said slowly. "It's a good opportunity to test the Glorious Church—and it can save us some shipping money."
He lowered his eyes and took a sip of coffee. "Do you want to go back to Baita University with me, or stay here and deal with the Saman family first?"
The driving force behind the genocide was killed by the gods, regardless of whether they did it intentionally or not. Although those people were not good people, it is not difficult to see that the hero himself is a vengeful character.
There is no reason to leave the Saman family, one of the main culprits, alone.
"No hurry." The criticized God-favored One smiled at him. He was basking in the morning sun, his hand resting elegantly on his chin. A few strands of golden hair entwined around his slender, white fingers like flowing golden threads, and his entire being exuded a strange sense of holiness.
"It's not time to take action against the entire Saman family yet." His tone was very gentle, and it was impossible to tell that he was talking about something cold and bloody. "A bloodline that has been stained with sin will not survive for long. It's just not now."
The black-haired young man suddenly raised his head and looked him up and down carefully.
"…You've already taken action against Butterfield Samman. What have you done?"
There was only one bed in the room at the Pearl Sea Mansion, but thankfully there was also an exceptionally large and soft reclining chair. Last night, the man considerately suggested that he could just sleep on the reclining chair, so this guy must have visited the Saman family residence while he was asleep.
I almost forgot that the professor's eyes are particularly sharp. He is also a warrior and his physical fitness is extremely good. Even if he doesn't sleep for a night, you won't be able to see anything the next day.
"He wasn't killed, just a small mark." The God-favored One spread butter and cheese on a piece of toast and handed it to the professor. Then he looked at the professor with satisfaction as he took it without any preparation and chewed it with a crunching sound.
"...Black blood mark?" Nova asked vaguely, biting his face.
The Black Blood Mark, also known as the Slave Mark, is aptly named, often used on slaves, mostly by illegal mine owners and slave traders. Its advantages are simple casting, strong one-way binding, and even specialized magical tools for direct use. Its disadvantage is that it can be easily broken by higher-level sorcerers.
But those favored by God are saints, which means they have almost no shortcomings.
"It's getting close," the savior continued to feed his nemesis with a smile, "but it's not acting on the body, but on the soul—but Butterfield Samman probably doesn't know that, he fainted before he even woke up."
"...So when will the Wall of Sighs collapse?" Nova frowned, took the berry from the God's Chosen One and stuffed it into his mouth - it was delicious, so sour.
The other party clapped his hands and pondered for a moment: "Well, I reinforced it before I left. It should take about two years for it to completely collapse."
“…”
The professor's face was expressionless.
What the hell is this "The Storm is About to Die"? And doesn't this person look like he's painstakingly trying to find a glimmer of hope for his people?!
The Savior looked innocent: "I never said the Wall of Sighs was about to collapse."
It is one thing to make the tribe feel a sense of crisis, but it is not appropriate to let the Natalin people, who have been isolated from the world for more than three hundred years, be completely involved in what is going to happen next.
"...Okay, next question." Nova glanced at him dimly: "What identity do you want to use to enter Baita University?"
You can't always rely on the confusion spell.
He looked at the God's Favored Person critically: "It's too late to recruit students. You can be my teaching assistant."
Teaching assistants are primarily responsible for assisting professors with research, preparing lessons, and reviewing papers. Sometimes they even fill in for classes. They're usually selected from among senior students, but you can also hire your own assistants, though the university doesn't pay them. This person is a clergyman after all, so his expertise should be fine.
The other party still had that smiling look on his face: "No problem, you have considered it very carefully, I will take care of the rest."
Nova hummed, lowered his eyes, and slowly stirred the remaining coffee, his mind free for a rare moment. A rustling sound of paper came from the other side; the person was probably reading a newspaper.
He couldn't help feeling a little dazed.
It seemed like it had been ages since he'd had such a leisurely, aimless breakfast with someone face to face. The table manners of the nobility were incredibly elaborate, but to Nova, eating was simply a necessary activity for maintaining life. That inefficient routine disgusted him immensely, and as a child, he'd even been spanked by his tutor for it—though he'd soon discovered that the tutor was having an affair with the maid and selling Mrs. Brody's jewelry, leading to his arrest by the sheriff.
Later, the newly hired tutor was afraid to control him, fearing that he would casually reveal some shameful "little secrets". And Nova, in his several arguments with Mrs. Brody, traded impeccable etiquette for the freedom to move freely in the house.
Nova took another bite of the toast. It was a lean time, so the bread was probably made from old wheat, lacking in aroma and a distinctly sour, yeasty quality. Fortunately, the crisp texture after toasting was delicious, and paired with the rich aroma of the cheese, it was a pretty good meal.
The other person's peaceful breathing suddenly paused, as if he had seen something shocking.
The professor immediately raised his head sharply: "What's going on? Has there been any news from the Temple of Poseidon?"
The newspaper industry in this world has entered a period of wild growth. Famous newspapers even cooperate with the nobility and the Church. Messy tabloids are emerging in an endless stream. Among them, wandering bards who are knowledgeable, well-informed and eloquent have made great contributions to this.
The other party turned the newspaper in a different direction and silently pushed it to him, and then Nova was confused by "the things that had to be said between Madam Rose and the down-and-out nobleman".
"…yellow journalism?"
In order to cater to the public taste, tabloids are quite fond of publishing such eye-catching and vulgar reports. Even in his world, it is inevitable, but it is slightly restrained - it depends on whether the victim himself is willing to spend time, money and energy to defend his rights.
"...Don't you want to express your opinion?" Azuka stared at the indifferent black-haired young man with an unclear expression.
"It's a despicable act, slandering the deceased's desperate struggle as a secret love affair." The professor tapped the signature with his knuckles. "The author uses the pseudonym Apatra. This word is derived from Sanskrit and means 'fraud, lie'—it was intentional on their part, but it doesn't seem like the work of the Saman family. Butterfield Saman isn't that clever."
Deliberately reducing the seriousness of this demonstration, pushing dead people and powerless scholars to the forefront, and directing public attention to explosive scandals is despicable and effective.
“…That’s not what I meant.”
——This person really doesn't care about his reputation.
Azuka sighed slightly, but didn't say anything else, just took the newspaper from Nova's hand.
"I understand. I'll keep an eye on this name." He said calmly, but there was a hint of coldness in his tone.
"...Wait a moment," the professor said suddenly, his voice thoughtful. He leaned over and took out the newly bought paper and pen, pushed the coffee cup aside, and sat down at the table to write something, leaving the God's Favored One staring at his hair.
"Please help me submit it to the same newspaper. There's no need to reveal your identity." Nova folded up the manuscript and handed it to Azuka. "If the other party doesn't dare to publish it, you can... 'help' him."
The black-haired young man lowered his eyes and drank the last bit of coffee in the cup: "Consider it as compensation for taking advantage of the Benny family."
…
At the same time, the sales of Graybridge Harbor Breaking News soared because of "Mrs. Rose". The editor-in-chief was grinning so hard that his gums were invisible. Even the former Director of Public Security, Nit Saman, read the masterpiece in prison.
"He's totally crazy!" He threw the newspaper to the ground and cursed, "That Nova Brody is willing to bite me just to flirt with a stupid, coquettish, fishy bitch?!"
He was said to be detained in a cell awaiting trial in court, but apart from an extra iron bar, the conditions inside the cell were almost the same as those in a hotel. However, Nite Samman still felt that this environment was particularly aggrieved.
He thought he was finished, but the head of the Saman family just scolded him - or even beat him up a bit - and finally held his nose and asked him to stay in jail honestly, and make some arrangements after the Glorious Church left, and try to just go through the motions in court.
"For the sake of your previous dedication." The other party said grimly, but Nite Saman knew that this was only because he knew too many shameful secrets of the Saman family. The head of the Saman family would never allow him to go to court unprepared and be exposed to the sight of the hostile family.
Thinking of this, Nite Samman's fat face suddenly twisted: "You guys, come here."
Several sheriffs standing outside the cell ran back timidly and bowed respectfully.
"Kill that Nova Brody. Do it quickly and don't give him a chance to speak. And make a suicide note saying he committed suicide for love." Nit Saman said viciously, "Isn't he heartbroken because of love? I'll grant his wish."
The subordinates' faces turned pale. Killing a noble was a serious crime punishable by the guillotine. One of them hesitated and asked, "Director, will Count Saman..."
"What do you know?" Nit Saman glared at him. "Once the so-called witness is dead, can't we say whatever we want in court? I'm just trying to relieve the family head's worries."
This is a good opportunity to redeem himself for his crimes - but the theologians from Baita University will not stay in Huiqiao Port for too long, so he must seize the opportunity.
As for Nova Brody himself, he was just an ordinary, weak man. Killing him would probably be easier than killing a chicken.
The author has something to say:
Yellow journalism: Yellow journalism refers to a type of news that is inflammatory and low-brow, typically lacking in social value and catering solely to popular tastes. The term "yellow journalism" doesn't usually refer to pornographic news; it's more of a term in journalism history.
Chapter 12: The God's Favored One said to his people: "The sighs of the sons of the hurricane cannot withstand the passage of time. The storm will subside. Only the angry chariot of fate and the descendants of Lamodora will still protect the people of the wind."
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