Chapter 412 Arrangement
Ivan Adrian, president of the Trial Association, a student of Ghost, and one of the backbone and leaders of the younger generation of the Kuomintang.
This is not an easy task. As the People's Party continues to grow and develop, countless talented people have joined it. It is not easy to stand out among them just by relying on the so-called "seniority" and the identity of Mr. Ghost's direct line.
Baita University was the cradle and birthplace of the People's Party, and a source of talent—or rather, strong labor—for Adrian. He needed to assist his teachers in guiding ideology, cultivating and selecting talent, conducting external publicity, coordinating the balance between various factions, and occasionally completing tasks assigned by the People's Party. Even if there was no need for external warfare for the time being, every task was no easy task, not to mention the need to guard against the overt and covert attacks from the Vatican and the Royal City.
Sometimes, when Adrian was so busy he was exhausted and wished he had eight more hands, he would vaguely recall that particularly clear and foolish time of his own, and once again began to miss the cookies the professor had made himself. It seemed like just yesterday, when the naive young student was full of the thought that he could change the world with just his passion. No wonder Professor Nova often looked at him like he was a fool back then...
However, he never regretted joining that man's team. The small-town youth never thought that he could achieve what he is today: being able to stand on his own and even proudly announce that he is personally participating in the process of overthrowing the old world and building a new world.
So when Adrian suddenly saw the "assistant teacher" at White Tower University, who should have been fighting the Fellos people on the front line, he was completely stunned.
He already knew that the mysterious gentleman was definitely not just the professor's assistant, but that was not important - what was important was that the other party could symbolize the ghost's will to some extent.
Adrian couldn't help but start to suspect that there might be trouble inside White Tower University, and it seemed to be quite serious - otherwise why would this gentleman come in person?
…Anyway, this is my own mistake.
So, with great trepidation, he nervously cooperated with the "secret searches" of some students and faculty members. Some were called away from their work or studies, bewildered, to the dean's office alone, only to be quietly taken away with terrified faces by men in black who suddenly appeared.
The atmosphere was tense, almost stagnant. All the while, the gentleman sat calmly in a chair, legs elegantly crossed, slender fingers resting on his knees, tapping intermittently. His expression was even considered calm and gentle, yet his whole person was chilling. Adrian, standing behind him, felt as if he were suffocating.
"...Sir, what exactly happened?" After no one else came in, Adrian finally mustered up the courage to ask in a low voice.
"Don't worry, it's just to confirm a guess."
Those astonishing eyes looked at him, without scrutiny or reproach, but with a perfectly peaceful expression. But Adrian felt as if he were staring directly into a sun melted by golden water... Wait, Adrian wondered blankly, he vaguely remembered that this gentleman's eyes seemed blue?
But Adrian soon understood what was wrong: the dean of the seminary, Delos Rabelais, had contracted the "rot disease".
This news, which spread within a small circle, shocked Adrian. Most students who graduated from White Tower University sincerely respected this seminary dean, who was knowledgeable, eccentric, but rigorous in his studies and extremely protective of his students.
A deep sadness gripped Adrian's heart, but the old man clearly didn't take the matter seriously. He remained active in class, berating students with such force that it was hard to believe he was actually a patient. So, following Mr. Ghost's orders, Adrian didn't publicize the incident, but privately instructed trusted students and faculty to keep an eye on the old man's condition.
Soon, White Tower University welcomed another distinguished guest who looked very travel-weary - the legendary Countess, the inventor of the famous Dark Green Potion, Miss Emilia Carleton.
Upon its release, Dark Green Potion was initially met with disdain due to its inventor's gender—but it quickly became in short supply and was enthusiastically embraced by civilians, especially soldiers on the battlefield. Compared to expensive and scarce traditional potions, the inexpensive and equally effective Dark Green Potion became a soldier's "second life," saving countless wounded from the abyss of death caused by wound infection, sepsis, and gangrene.
Miss Emilia Carleton clearly hadn't stopped at the "Dark Green Potion." Within the secure rear base created for her by the Limin Party, she had established her own research and development team, embarking on a path destined to go down in history, one radically different from traditional potions. Her appearance at White Tower University also indicated that Ghost wasn't willing to let go of any potential hope.
I sincerely hope the professor doesn't grieve too much, Ivan Adrian thought anxiously. Upon hearing the tragic news, the letter he immediately sent received only a few polite, brief, and cold responses, offering no glimpse into the recipient's true feelings. But from Adrian's limited understanding of people, this old man's importance to him was probably comparable to that of a blood relative.
On the other side, Emilia Carleton was also worried, sad... and nervous.
Lord Azuka suddenly appeared in front of her, startling her so much that she almost drew her gun and pointed it at him. Then, she was frightened by those golden eyes and stood there in a daze, completely unable to move, and could only tremble like a quail.
In reality, the man didn't do anything to her. He even stared at her calmly for a moment before politely telling her to contact him immediately using the contact information he'd provided if the long-dormant divine seal on her body showed any signs of activity. After doing all this, he vanished silently once more, as if he had never appeared, leaving Emilia in a daze.
If all this was really the result of the gods' deliberate guidance... or even if the gods simply wanted to take this opportunity to seduce, the professor speculated that the person who was best at doing this and most likely to be forced out by the other two powerful gods would be none other than Analene, the goddess of love who had been extremely unlucky from beginning to end.
After all, the opponent only had a soul left, unable to resist the other two gods, and could easily be thrown out for "waste utilization."
If the God of Love intends to descend into the world, he must descend upon a body that possesses the divine seal.
Queen Esmerel had once destroyed a piece of her soul, so she definitely wouldn't choose him. Emilia Caledon and Priestess Apatella were both possible candidates, but the former was closer to them, and the God of Eros would probably be wary of traps set for the otherworldly being and the God of Resistance and Change.
Thus, Apatella became the most likely target of divine intervention, which to some extent fulfilled the fanatic's long-cherished wish. However, this woman was always elusive and had no fixed abode, so the professor had no time to bother looking for her. He simply sent her a subtle message through Magnus, waiting for her to come to him.
Countless plots were being carried out in secret and in a very tight manner. Even the person involved, Dels Rabelais, knew nothing about it. The old man could only feel that the people protecting him seemed to have been replaced by a new group, and some people disappeared inexplicably.
Percy, who was far away in Ironthorn Territory, had no idea what was going on. All he could see was that his brother's teacher inexplicably stayed overnight at his home, looking at him with disgust and criticism, and snorting from time to time, as if he disliked him even more than that golden-haired bastard.
Percy recognized the other party as the "prophet" Delos Rabelais: "..."
He had no choice but to swallow his anger and shut up. For his brother's sake, he thought to himself that he would not bother with the old man.
After the old man left, his brother seemed to be in a rather bad state, his face visibly grim. Taking advantage of the fact that the pesky golden-haired bastard had also left, Percy wanted to go over and offer some comfort, but he just gave him a few cold words about work and then locked himself in his room, not even coming out for dinner.
Percy hesitated for a long time whether to knock on the door. He was worried about his brother's condition, but he was also a little afraid that his clumsy words would upset his brother. But before he could take action, the golden-haired bastard returned.
When Percy finally managed to enter his brother's study under the pretext of reporting work, he saw his brother curled up in his arms and sleeping tiredly.
"Put it on the table and get out."
The indifferent voice of the golden-haired bastard rang clearly beside his ears. It was obvious that he had used some tricks to avoid waking up the sleeping person.
Percy glared at him fiercely, his fists clenched so tightly that his nails almost dug into his flesh, but he didn't dare make any loud noise.
Perhaps it was because that person looked... so tired. The dark-haired young man was curled up on the sofa, most of his body tucked into the other person's arms, covered in a soft, thin blanket. The small portion of his face that was exposed was shockingly pale. Even in his sleep, his brows were still furrowed, and the dark circles under his eyes were clearly visible.
Percy had never seen his brother look so... vulnerable. A complex emotion of deep worry and heartache, as well as a kind of despicable smugness and guilty conscience at being able to see his brother in this state, suddenly surged into his nose, but quickly turned into a gloomy jealousy.
…The person his brother chose to rely on was not him…The person who could make him sleep peacefully was not him who deserved to die.
In the end, he retreated silently, even though he was gritting his teeth in hatred.
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