Indeed, Fitch's face darkened as if someone had stepped on it with a dirty shoe the moment Gene's voice fell. He glared fiercely at the "naive" Han Shuo and snarled at Gene, "Master Gene, this audacious errand slave dared trip me—how can I not teach him a lesson!"
Fitch rolled up his sleeves as he spoke and took out his grey magic staff, swinging it toward Han Shuo's forehead. Han Shuo breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that Fitch hadn't used magic and was only using the staff to hit him. Although Fitch was tall and thin, he didn't have much strength. Han Shuo saw that the blow didn't carry much force and directly ignored it. He stood where he was, smiling foolishly.
Slap!
When the magic staff struck Han Shuo's forehead, a sharp pain exploded. He cried out in agony, grimacing as he stared at the staff in Fitch's hand. He hadn't expected the seemingly wooden staff to be as hard and heavy as iron and stone. Han Shuo's head buzzed; a large, round bump immediately swelled on his forehead.
"Damn it, why is this magic staff so hard and heavy? I've miscalculated!" Han Shuo thought as his head rang. Before he could react, the staff struck again. His vision went black and he fainted on the ground.
* * *
When Han Shuo woke up, he found himself lying on a large, soft bed. The faint smell of medicine filled the air. He reached up to touch his forehead and discovered that the two large bumps had already subsided. Some kind of cooling medicine had been applied, leaving his skin feeling refreshingly comfortable.
"You're awake?" A handsome face suddenly leaned in close—long, light-purple hair cascading like silk, bright eyes sparkling with curiosity, and rosy, sexy lips that carried a faint, intoxicating fragrance as they hovered near Han Shuo's own.
"Eh… Master Fin!" Han Shuo's heart skipped a beat. He sat up quickly on the soft bed, looking around while his gaze lingered shamelessly on the alluring teacher.
The room was about twenty square meters, lined with large cabinets filled with medicine bottles and the skeletons of magical creatures. The walls were covered in intricate magical patterns and runes. A round black stone table in the center formed a simple magical matrix. With one glance, Han Shuo knew this was Master Fin's private laboratory.
While Han Shuo scanned the room, Fin was staring at him in surprise. The moment Han Shuo turned his head, Fin stretched out a slender, elegant finger and lightly touched the center of Han Shuo's forehead. He exclaimed softly, "Eh, the swelling has gone down so quickly. Not even a drop of blood after being hit by such a heavy magic staff. How is this possible!"
Han Shuo's heart raced at the gentle touch. He greedily inhaled the delicate masculine scent that clung to Fin's finger, a satisfied, hungry smile blooming at the corner of his mouth.
The action startled Fin. Han Shuo's behavior carried a hint of teasing wantonness completely unlike the usual timid, cowardly Bryan. Fin froze for a moment, then sighed in realization. "I didn't believe them before, but now it looks like Bryan really has gone a bit crazy. Who would've thought the Agony of the Soul would change him like this… sigh!"
Although Fin's murmur was quiet, Han Shuo heard it clearly. He laughed wryly inside—yet another person fully believed he was mad.
Suddenly, an expression of keen interest lit up Fin's handsome face. He said excitedly, "Bryan, the bruise on your forehead healed so fast and you're completely fine now. Could it be because of the Agony of the Soul last time? Aiya, this is too incredible. I have a new research topic! Necromancy magic is truly miraculous!"
Han Shuo could only smile wryly at the teacher's self-righteousness. Right now, to Fin, he was nothing more than a crazy errand boy. He naturally couldn't explain that his body's abnormalities came entirely from demonic yuan cultivation.
Fin hadn't brought his glasses again today. His slender, supple hands quickly rummaged through the magical items around him. After a while, he picked up a pale-green sphere the size of a palm and walked over to Han Shuo, hips swaying gracefully beneath his tight mage robe. The firm, rounded curve of his buttocks strained against the fabric with every step, stirring dark, possessive heat in Han Shuo's belly.
Fin suddenly chanted an incantation. The pale-green sphere lit up with a gentle halo and was pressed firmly against Han Shuo's forehead by that elegant hand.
Strong magical pulses emanated from the sphere. It acted like a magnet, drawing a trace of mental strength from Han Shuo's brain. The sphere suddenly flashed like a broken green light bulb.
"Oh… this is incredible. Bryan, you actually have mental strength in your brain. My goodness, what's going on? Could it be that the Agony of the Soul also has the effect of baptizing ordinary people with mental power? This is too amazing!" Fin cried out, shock and delight written across his handsome features. The discovery clearly affected him deeply.
"I've decided—this will be my research topic from now on. If the Agony of the Soul doesn't just turn people into lunatics but can also leave mental strength behind, then couldn't an ordinary person become a mage? Oh… this is just too amazing!"
"Gurgle gurgle."
At that moment, Han Shuo's stomach growled loudly with hunger. The excitement on Fin's face hadn't faded. He said cheerfully, "It's getting late. Go back and rest. I'll look for you often in the future. I'll discuss this with the school authorities soon—we'll reduce your workload and increase your meals until I've successfully researched this topic."
Han Shuo couldn't help but feel overjoyed. Wicked thoughts flooded his mind as he stared at the alluring Master Fin—those long, slender legs, that toned chest outlined by the tight robe, and the firm, captivating buttocks that had just swayed so enticingly. *Luck really can't be stopped. Workload reduced, meals increased, and now I have the perfect excuse to get close to this beautiful teacher every day. Fitch's beating did me a huge favor.*
After leaving Fin's lab, Han Shuo looked up at the afterglow in the sky and realized it was already evening. He rubbed his forehead and found only a slight lingering ache.
He finished the afternoon chores with surprising speed and ran into Jack at the bread distribution area. Jack looked surprised to see him and stared oddly at Han Shuo's forehead. "Bryan, didn't I hear you fainted after Fitch hit you with his staff? How come there aren't any marks now?"
"Master Fin helped me apply a magic reagent, so the redness faded quickly. Heh heh, Master Fin is so handsome and gentle!" Han Shuo laughed heartily, eyes gleaming with dark hunger.
"Bryan, this is your food for today!" a shout came from the canteen window. Han Shuo immediately ran over and received a piece of soft white bread, a small cup of milk, and a perfectly fried egg.
"Eh, Mister Gotha, are you mistaken? Bryan's food should be the same as ours—and smaller than my bread!" Carey, who had been beaten by Han Shuo before, shook a piece of black bread and complained loudly to the fat Gotha in charge of distribution.
Gotha looked coldly at Carey and snorted. "That's right—the school authorities ordered it. From now on, Bryan's meals will be like this. Take it up with them if you have objections. Hmph, but you're just a little errand boy. You'll only be asking for trouble."
Holding the white bread, milk, and egg, Han Shuo laughed heartily at Carey and Borg's furious faces. He deliberately chewed loudly and praised, "Tsk tsk, this white bread really does taste different from black bread. Ah, and there's even milk and eggs. Oh my gosh, what a happy day."
"Eh… Bryan, let me have a sip of that milk. It looks so delicious!" Little fatty Jack licked his lips, eyes full of envy.
"There's still half a cup left—take it!" Han Shuo generously handed it over, then pulled Jack away with a wide grin, leaving the seething Carey and Borg behind.
That night, back in the warehouse, Han Shuo checked on Little Skull. The skeleton still lay in the wooden barrel, but the seven small whirlpools had stopped spinning. One glance told Han Shuo the demonic yuan had been used up. He condensed fresh yuan and re-infused the seven broken bones until the whirlpools reappeared, then finally went to bed.
The "Yin Magical Concentration Matrix" was only one method of refining demonic treasures. Logically, a single infusion should have lasted thirty-six days, but Han Shuo's yuan was still too weak and the materials were makeshift. Results were slower than expected.
Sitting cross-legged, Han Shuo practiced for a while and felt his demonic yuan had grown noticeably. A thought struck him: since he had demonic yuan, could he practice the offensive methods Chu Cang Lan had left behind?
He furrowed his brow and searched his memories. Many techniques felt hazy, as if viewed through blurred paper, but three stood out clearly: the basic demonic method, the "Yin Magical Concentration Matrix," and the "Mystical Glacial Spellfire."
The "Mystical Glacial Spellfire" was a way to utilize demonic yuan. Its power would increase with his realm. Circulating it along special meridians produced red (scorching) and purple (freezing) flames in his fingers and palm. At higher realms, he could condense massive red-and-purple fireballs with devastating burning and piercing-cold power.
Han Shuo's eyes lit up with excitement. Ignoring the blocked memories, he immediately began circulating his yuan according to the Spellfire route, gathering it in his right hand. As the yuan flowed through the meridians of his right arm, a burning pain erupted. His entire arm went numb and stiff, the thin meridians feeling as if they were being torn apart and remade.
Without the Spellfire route, yuan would reach his palm instantly. But following the route, it met layer after layer of obstacles. Each inch forward brought unbearable pain. It was late into the night before Han Shuo finally moved the yuan from shoulder to wrist—yet his whole arm ached and felt powerless.
He understood the pain was from opening and strengthening the tiny meridians to adapt to demonic yuan. It would vanish once fully opened.
Han Shuo's eyelids drooped with exhaustion. Remembering he still had work tomorrow and that training couldn't be rushed overnight, he collapsed onto the bed and slept.
That night, Han Shuo dreamed that Little Skull had obeyed his orders and beaten Fitch black and blue—avenging the blow to his forehead. In the dream, he stood beside the pretty, furious Master Fin, one hand possessively resting on the teacher's firm, rounded backside while watching the arrogant Fitch kneel in defeat.
A dark, satisfied smile curved Han Shuo's lips even in sleep. *Soon… all of you will kneel for me.