Professor Lanqi's First Class

October had arrived. Passing by the Moon Goddess Garden, a gentle breeze swept through, sending ginkgo leaves drifting down to pave the roadway in a pale yellow carpet. Today was also the first Monday of October. As the eight o'clock morning bell rang out across Saint Creti Monastery, morning classes had yet to begin. Students in Saint Creti Monastery Officer Academy uniforms gathered in groups of three to five, casually chatting across the campus about coursework and practical combat training. Elliott Square. "Hey, did you hear?" A youthful, spirited noble girl ran up from the open square behind him and slapped the back of a blond male student. "Hear what?" The straight-backed blond student beneath the building slowly turned around, entirely unfazed by the silver-haired noble lady. "Starting today, our course is getting a new professor." The noble girl leaned in slightly and whispered. Their conversation immediately drew fleeting glances from passing students. They stood just off the square beneath a massive building at the heart of the Saint Creti Monastery campus, directly adjacent to the iconic Vennard Library and the Great Auditorium. Constructed of red brick and gray stone, this five-story edifice was trimmed with holy-white architectural lines. Set into its front triangular gable was the monastery's archaic emblem. Beneath the gable stood three arched entrances, with the words *Saint Creti · Elliott Building* engraved above the central portal. Although the vast majority of students were not taking this particular class, the monastery appointing a new professor at this time of year was an uncommon event. Ordinary professors were rarely recruited by the empire's highest academic institution; any new hire brought in mid-term was bound to take over complex, high-tier courses, which meant their background could hardly be modest. "Wasn't old Professor Bronk doing a great job?" the blond boy asked, sounding puzzled by the school's decision. "Professor Bronk is getting up in years. Even if he's capable of teaching so many subjects, you can't expect one person to handle two 4-level courses and one 5-level course all at once. Scheduling was already stretched thin at the start of the term. Headmistress Violet promised him that as soon as they found someone new, he wouldn't have to carry this 4-level course anymore," the noble girl explained with an open-palmed shrug. After all, a course director was entirely different from an ordinary instructor. The role required overseeing the entire curriculum syllabus, supervising teaching quality, formulating unit development plans, deciding evaluation metrics, managing faculty and teaching assistants, coordinating external contacts, and much more. It demanded administrative acumen, leadership, and high scholarly achievement all at once. Only someone with immense expertise in the field could handle it with ease. "Does the empire even have anyone left who's qualified for this subject, aside from the professors conscripted by the military?" the blond boy questioned skeptically. Saint Creti Monastery had five tiers of courses; a course's level corresponded to the initial digit of its course code. Generally, the first three levels aligned with regular students over their three academic years. A student who completed eight Level 1, eight Level 2, and eight Level 3 courses across three years could apply for graduation. As for the special advanced Level 4 and Level 5 courses, they offered higher credits and steeper challenges, typically chosen only by third-years or graduates remaining at the academy for continued research. "Now that the Creti Empire has a talent shortage, capable people will naturally be sought out," the noble girl said proudly, looking forward to seeing what kind of person the new professor would be. "Either way, let's head to the classroom first." She cheerfully stepped forward. The blond boy nodded and walked with her into this main building of Saint Creti Monastery. The entrance hall of the Elliott Building was paved with black-and-white marble tiles, with bronze chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The building housed a total of one hundred and twenty-one classrooms and seminar rooms, primarily used for undergraduate research in magic theory and courses in magic engineering. The rooms varied in size, accommodating anywhere from twenty to two hundred people. Beyond ordinary lecture halls, there were advanced practical case-study rooms and imperial magic engineering laboratories to satisfy the needs of diverse subjects. The middle floor of the Elliott Building also featured a faculty lounge. It provided not only a place for professors to rest and socialize, but also an ideal venue for faculty and students to discuss academic issues. In addition to plush sofas, tea tables, and a wall lined with books, it was equipped with dedicated printing presses and coffee machines for faculty use. Another prominent feature was its clock tower. Mounted high on the towering spire were four giant clock faces. Whenever the hour struck, their melodious chimes resonated across the central grounds of Saint Creti Monastery. The terrace beneath the clock tower served as a favorite gathering spot for students looking to relax between lectures. As the two passed by the terrace, they walked behind the silhouette of a black-haired figure resting his hands on the stone balustrade, gazing out over the campus. "Honestly, after studying here for years, I still tend to get lost in this building," the noble girl sighed as they reentered the interior corridor. "Let's just hope the new professor isn't late," the blond boy remarked. When he first arrived at the academy, he had spent half a day searching for classrooms himself. This building was an absolute nightmare for anyone without a sense of direction, which was why it mostly hosted advanced courses. Arriving on time for the very first lecture was a telling test of whether a new instructor was reliable. At a premier university of Saint Creti Monastery's caliber, professors flustered by poor preparation were unacceptable. Notably, the Elliott Building also housed the administrative offices of several major student organizations, such as the Saint Creti Monastery Student Council and the Society for Religious and Debating Studies. With so many offices concentrated here, it was all too easy to walk into the wrong room. Though nearly a century old, the Elliott Building had never fallen behind the times. It had undergone numerous renovations and technical upgrades in recent years to satisfy modern imperial educational demands. Interactive mana whiteboards and full coverage by the imperial coordination network had infused this venerable hall with fresh vigor. Just as an inscribed plaque in the fourth-floor atrium read: *"The essence of education lies in enlightening minds, pursuing truth, and carrying glory forward into the future."* The Elliott Building had borne witness to nearly a century of Saint Creti Monastery's history. Every brick and stone was steeped in the academic atmosphere and humanist spirit of the Southern Continent's greatest institution of higher learning. Those gathered here were the most promising young minds of the contemporary Creti Empire. Before they knew it, the pair reached a spacious tiered lecture hall tucked deep down the fourth-floor corridor. Sunlight angled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, draping the multi-hundred-square-meter hall in a hazy golden glow. The room resonated with student chatter and laughter as classmates greeted friends they had not seen over the weekend, conversing cheerfully. Even so, the divide between social circles was stark. Despite attending the same academy, the students possessed vastly disparate backgrounds and statuses. A single glance from right to left revealed three distinct seating sections: the aristocratic class composed of imperial royalty, high nobility, and prominent ministerial families; the core neutral class made up of wealthy merchants, civil officials, and children of provincial nobles; and the commoner class consisting of scholarship students and ordinary merchant families. Even among these remarkably talented scholars, few could escape the gravity of rank. Unconsciously, they banded together along the lines of birth and familial alignment. Although the blond boy and the noble girl possessed the status to sit among the aristocrats, they had little interest in flaunting such labels during class, choosing two well-positioned seats toward the middle-rear with a clear view instead. There was still some time before class officially began. Sitting inside, one could hear the discussions clearly. "The new professor is jumping straight to leading a Level 4 course? Is he that formidable?" "There wasn't much choice. Professor Bronk is long past retirement age. The only reasons he's still teaching here are Headmistress Violet's personal appeal and his desire to stay out of the military conscription." "Maybe they really couldn't find anyone else and were forced to rush a newcomer into the breach." "I heard a little whisper about the new professor..." a noble student murmured, lowering his voice. "Any gossip?" "He's an impoverished noble transferred from Nixasend, that remote northwestern region. He's probably never set foot in the capital before." The moment the words fell, derisive chuckles rippled among the aristocratic students. In their eyes, frontier paupers who disgraced the aristocracy had effectively forfeited their noble status. As they spoke, some of them could not help casting their eyes toward the far left of the classroom, where a black-haired female student sat quietly. Their class included a classic descendant of fallen nobility. None could deny her innate brilliance in magic engineering. Yet that did nothing to alter the fact that she had chosen to align herself with the commoners, earning the disdain of the aristocratic clique. "So which side will this new professor lean toward?" "Supposedly he's a young magic engineering prodigy who earned his imperial doctorate at twenty-three and became a professor at Nixasend Northwestern University at twenty-five, but he was transferred here before he even began teaching." Another group of students was whispering amongst themselves, some looking apprehensive. A course director's stance often dictated student enrollment patterns. Certain courses were filled almost entirely with aristocrats, while others were populated primarily by commoners. If a professor belonged to the noble faction, commoner students would find it exceedingly difficult to pass, let alone earn high marks. The reason Professor Bronk had been beloved by so many was precisely because he showed no favoritism to either the aristocrats or the commoners. He never granted privileges or leveled suppressions based on lineage, treating everyone with fair benevolence. Switching professors mid-stride was exceedingly rare, and when it did occur, a student's fortunes hinged heavily on luck. Just as the chatter grew animated, the front door swung open, allowing light to spill into the lecture hall. Every pair of eyes snapped to the black-haired man walking inside, and the room gradually fell silent. His entrance resembled the morning mist rising above a tranquil lake at dawn, subtly rimmed with light. Mysterious, hazy, yet crystalline. His every gesture carried a poised, worldly magnanimity. His gentle gaze remained fixed only on his deliberate actions—shutting the door, walking up to the podium, placing his books down—entirely undisturbed by his surroundings. Only then did he glance sideways toward the students on the other side of the lectern. Though he had not yet uttered a single word, the moment many students met his eyes, an instinctive impression formed: this man could never be wicked. Within those lake-blue eyes rested a natural sorrow and contemplation, entirely devoid of selfish intent. They cared only for the living beings and suffering before him. It was the gaze of a saint. The professor removed his fedora with its rounded crown and modest brim. The clean lines of the hat, paired with a loose coat over a gray suit vest, only accentuated his quiet, scholarly restraint. *Gulp.* Several students swallowed subconsciously, held in thrall by his singular presence. "I am Landry Washington, a new professor in the School of Magic Engineering here at Saint Creti Monastery," he introduced himself. "There is no need for formality. Rather than a formal lecture, today will serve more as a seminar, or an overview of the syllabus." His pleasant voice instantly broke the spell, and the hall's atmosphere warmed once more. Reassured by his mild demeanor, many students relaxed, and quiet murmurs resumed among the rows. The black-haired, blue-eyed professor paid no mind to the rising chatter. Allowing the students to talk freely, he unhurriedly took off his long gray coat, hung it on the coat rack, and turned back to face them. "Professor, what is your view on the current state of the empire?" a student in the front row asked proactively. After exchanging brief opinions with their peers, many had concluded that this professor seemed to be a gentle, conservative neutral who favored neither nobility nor commoners. Though sensitive, the question addressed what every student cared about most: probing the professor's faction and political stance. "..." Lanqi looked at the questioning student with faint perplexity, offering no immediate answer. The silence soon brought quiet back to the room. "The monastery exists to provide a sanctuary for independent thinkers; political discourse ought not to enter these halls," he finally said in a measured tone, as though reflecting deeply on the matter himself. "We all know this world has changed. Some are laughing, some are weeping, and most remain silent." A single advanced course could draw students from different cohorts. Thanks to the flexible curriculum at Saint Creti Monastery, students could arrange their required and elective courses freely. However, because many subjects carried prerequisites, most finished fundamental coursework in their earlier years to unlock higher-tier studies. Naturally, if an ambitious student wished to tackle demanding subjects early, they could simply contact the professor for permission and register through the Student Service Center. The course Lanqi was now leading was a Level 4 advanced specialized subject: *Study of Demon Realm Magic Engineering*. It was suited for exceptional third-years finishing their degrees or pursuing honors, as well as post-graduates remaining on campus for research. Regardless of which path they walked, such a classroom gathered the finest young magic engineering talents in the empire. "And what of it?" a student could not help pressing. They failed to grasp why the professor offered nothing about domestic imperial affairs, looking outward instead. Admittedly, the Creti Empire's internal troubles and external conflicts were inextricably linked, forming a cycle of cause and effect. Yet his perspective—the sheer scope of what he saw—appeared entirely alien to their own. "The messenger who stole fire for mankind was an embodiment of light, yet could just as well become the harbinger of death," he murmured, turning open the *Tome of Demons: Ancient Volume* beside his hand. "Perhaps the hour when the Southern Continent truly requires a balance of terror has already come."