Chapter 93 Shooting
Daniga looked at his boss cautiously, only to see him fold the newspaper with a loud bang and push it away, as if he had been slapped in the face by the fragile thin paper.
"This matter ends here." Orel's face was cold, and he took a deep breath. "These are words from the devil, stained with the breath of the abyss. Even a glance at them will pollute and manipulate you. I won't read them anymore. Don't even think about your suggestion."
"Boss!" Daniga was immediately shocked. "What nonsense are you talking about? How come even the devil has come out?"
The Church of Light claims that demons exist in the abyss behind Mount Asaqi.
That group of hypocritical and cunning white-robed people had been spreading the word as early as the war between gods in the last century that it was the great god of light and glory, Zephyr, who suppressed those greedy, sinister and deceptive ugly creatures in the depths of the abyss. They made up all kinds of stories about believers and demons in a fantastic way, and later many temples began to shamelessly copy the setting.
But no one has ever caught a living devil. In history, those cases that claimed to have "seen the devil with their own eyes and were heretics whose minds were bewitched by the devil" were eventually confirmed to be just poor people who suffered from strange diseases, mental disorders, or were born with deformities.
As for the followers of Samuel, the god of night and death? They didn't believe in that. In the teachings of the "Dead Ones," the abyss was simply the abyss, a void devoid of light and the cycle of life and death. Within it, the immortal god of night and death slept quietly, awaiting the day of his reawakening. Who would want to proclaim that their god's mattress was infested with repulsive critters?
Ole was silent for a moment - damn, I used to be too familiar with those two guys and let the cat out of the bag.
"In short, it's impossible. Just remember that everything related to this person is something you cannot look directly at or touch." He turned his head away with a cold face, not wanting to look at the aggrieved eyes of his subordinate Silly Dog.
Daniga was silent for a moment, then he tried to probe, "Boss, are you prejudiced against intellectuals?"
His voice gradually faded away, and he muttered, "Because I didn't go to a proper university or something..."
Ole turned his head suddenly and glared at him with a dark face: "...You want to die?"
Another person quickly came over to give him a shoulder pat in a flattering manner: "Of course, of course, we can't just look at what those great scholars and professors say, we have to look at what they do and what benefits they gain."
"...That's true," the assassin leader gave him a surprised look and coughed reservedly, "Some people say one thing and do another. Don't assume they're good people based on just a few words."
He praised him generously, "You've improved a lot in the past few days. I didn't expect you to be able to speak such wisely."
"That's not my own idea," the other person chuckled shyly, "That's Mr. Nova's original words. I just modified them a little bit."
Ole: “…”
—Damn it! He knew it! As long as he was connected to a tyrant, even a piece of paper would have the power to confuse people's minds!
The professor, far away in White Tower Town, knew nothing of this minor dispute between the outlaw gangs. Even if he did know, his attention was probably focused on the fact that the Oakenselle Society was indeed more powerful than he had imagined, and had quickly extended its tentacles into the royal city.
As for the second male lead in a certain comic, has he already regarded him as an Old One who would drive him crazy at the mere sight of him?
I won't discuss the professor's thoughts here, but Mr. Ryan, who contributed to the White Tower Daily, felt the same way—it was completely ruined. Whenever the other party took the initiative to defend themselves, he would always find some flaw and accuse them of "collaborating with the enemy and treason." However, the other party didn't even notice his deliberate provocation. Instead, a thousand-word commentary easily destroyed his hard-earned offensive. Although there was no personal attack in the whole article, Mr. Ryan felt that every word was a slap in the face.
The most hateful thing was that he couldn't think of how to launch a strong counterattack, and even felt that the other party had some truth in what he said.
His boss, who had always admired him, called him in and gave him a stern scolding. His foolish, short-sighted colleagues also began to look at him with strange eyes. It was said that the number of people protesting the tax had more than doubled recently, and some had even started showing up in groups to protest at officials' homes. The queen was very concerned about the implementation of the new energy tax law, and she couldn't let a weak, ordinary scholar disrupt it.
"Can't we shut down that 'Limin Bao'?!" In a private meeting, the boss slammed the table and flew into a rage: "Who on earth allowed this obscene newspaper that blasphemes the dignity of the royal court to be successfully published?!"
"...Uh, it seems to be the mayor," someone whispered. And everyone present knew that the mayor was most likely forced to do so. It was probably a fight between the gods above, and small fry like them were suffering.
Thus, this bloody verbal battle continued until the weather turned cooler, which also meant that the compilation of the "History of Gods", which was published every ten years, was gradually coming to an end.
Professors began frequenting the White Tower University president's office, and sometimes the owl would reappear at a specific location. Each appearance signaled the beginning of a new dispute, ranging from strategic, academic, and ideological. It often began with a disrespectful raptor provoking a conflict, and often ended with the other party storming out in frustration.
At first, Wyatt tried to persuade Owl not to argue with the younger one, but later he got used to it. When the two of them argued, the fat old man simply sat aside, skillfully lowering his head to drink coffee and eat snacks, and resolutely refused to get involved in the war between geniuses.
—Anyway, Rabelais would never tolerate anyone being verbally abused; and if they got angry and tried to fight, the other knight would not be easy to deal with. Wyatt didn't know why his old friend was always teasing people, but he just enjoyed it, as if he got some kind of special pleasure from it.
Incidentally, Owl was also quite interested in the mysterious and powerful figure hiding in White Tower University. He investigated him through his own channels, but could only find specious things that only became more terrifying the more he thought about them—in any case, that figure was a dragon trying to disguise itself as a dragon egg.
He had tried many times to "compete" with humans, but he could never catch them. Perhaps the only way was to touch the dragon's "reverse scales", but the owl did not want to die yet. After all, there were countless such precedents.
Yes, ever since Mr. Nova published his views in the "People's Daily" in a high-profile manner, all kinds of ulterior motives and attacks have never stopped.
Mailing sharp weapons and obscene objects to the Baita University mailroom, slipping death threats through the crack of his office door, or being slapped with a baton by thugs while walking down the street were all minor incidents worth mentioning. The most egregious incident occurred when the professor had just left a bookstore when a man who had been reading next to him suddenly pulled out a gun, pointed it at his head, and pulled the trigger without hesitation.
Compared to the professor's hometown, the guns in the other world that have not been improved by magic can be said to be crude, but it is still easy to kill a person at such a close distance.
The protective spell of the God-favored One was triggered. This was the first time that the other party openly showed his anger in front of several insiders. The gunman had gone completely crazy before he really died, and the mastermind behind him disappeared from the world completely. After that, there was a period of silence.
It was still late at night when the man returned, still reeking of blood. Nova was suddenly embraced in his sleep, his hands cold and tightly clasped around his neck, as if to check if he was still breathing. He almost thought it was an assassin, and immediately stabbed him with the dagger hidden under his pillow.
In the end, the fragile ordinary man was disarmed by the magician who pinched his wrist. The other party was sniffing the smell on the upper side of his shoulder blade in an extremely neurotic way. It was not until the black-haired young man could no longer bear it and was about to curse that the guy loosened his hand at the right time.
"A newspaper company, because of a sharp decline in sales and readers throwing obscenities at the door, business was bleak and almost bankrupt, so they carried out the assassination." The savior said in a cold tone.
Nova blinked.
You should be familiar with this, he wanted to say, those malicious intentions, those targeting - but the other party seemed to have no intention of listening to his answer.
"Have you been using any detergent with a strange smell lately?" Someone, getting even more aggressive, leaned in to sniff him again and asked vaguely, "I can't describe it, but it smells really good. What brand is it?"
It was completely unlike the smell of laundry detergent and soap nuts that he was familiar with. It was cold and bland, which made him subconsciously calm down.
The professor was silent for a moment, then suddenly took off a glove and put his bare finger under his nose.
"Benzene is a product obtained by distilling a mixture of benzoic acid and lime. It has a distinctive aromatic odor, is carcinogenic, and is highly toxic." The black-haired young man stared at him expressionlessly, his eyes bright. "I only touched the outer wall of the vessel. Benzene is highly volatile. How could you still smell it?"
Azuka was silent for a moment: "...I don't think that's it."
The other party thought for a while and said, "Oh, it's because the weather has been dry recently, so I put some glycerin on my hands. It's supposed to be colorless, odorless, and sweet, but due to the limitations of the production process, it may still have a unique smell."
“…”
The God-favored One sighed deeply.
"I'm going to take a shower." He stood up, took off his coat, folded it and put it on the chair beside the bed.
"Sorry for waking you up." While the other person was still a little dazed, Azuka smoothed the messy hair on his forehead that was curled up from sleeping, hesitated for a moment, but finally leaned over and gently touched his enemy's warm forehead with his lips.
"Good night." The Savior whispered, "May your soul be free from misfortune and pain in your dreams.
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