Chapter 12: Children, please remain in awe of profound knowledge

The three-day “holiday” was very short for the students of Mirdis Intermediate Academy. After all, they usually had one day off every week, and two long holidays each year, each lasting a month, not to mention weekly holidays like National Victory Day.

Three days was truly nothing for teenagers. Everyone skillfully returned to their seats, finding their companions to chat happily.

The classroom bell rang, and heavy footsteps sounded from outside the door. Everyone gradually quieted down. The chubby boy, Fettman, quietly covered his mouth and whispered to Weir, “I’m sure the first one to come in will be the dean of students, the fat greasy man Greenson. His footsteps are the loudest in the whole school.”

Weir nodded, but then immediately reacted, quietly correcting Fettman, “Shut up! Do you want to read a self-criticism in front of the whole school? His ears are as incredible as his footsteps.” After speaking, he immediately shut up, forbidding discussions about teachers’ shortcomings. It was impolite, and if caught, they would be punished with writing a self-criticism. If the situation was serious, they might even have their parents called in and be required to read their self-criticism aloud in front of the whole school.

For a proud teenager, nothing was worse than this. As one of the few good students at Mirdis Intermediate Academy, Weir knew this would be an indelible stain on his life.

Dean Greenson was originally an official in the city hall. Ten years ago, he was assigned to Mirdis Intermediate Academy as the dean of students and has shown no signs of being transferred since. He transformed from a sharp and capable young talent into the middle-aged greasy man he is today. From a dean feared by everyone, he became the dean “pig-man” disliked by everyone.

The first person to enter was indeed Greenson, and the two people behind him were both familiar to Weir: the white-haired pastor and the young and lively temple knight, Vol.

The classroom was silent. Greenson liked this atmosphere; he liked to be revered, even though he knew the atmosphere was somewhat fake. Still, he couldn’t help but enjoy the feeling, perhaps to compensate for his regret of not being able to return to the city hall.

“Quiet, children. Our esteemed Professor Weizel has left Mirdis Intermediate Academy, where he dedicated three years, due to personal reasons. I express my deep regret for this. The sun and moon do not stop for one person; tomorrow’s sun will still rise. Our students still need to continue their studies. A bright future cannot be interrupted by the departure of a respected professor. Therefore, we welcome new teachers: Pastor Pasteur, who will temporarily teach history and geography, and Temple Knight Vol, who will teach you swordsmanship. I am very sorry to inform everyone that ancient language, a profound subject, is not essential knowledge for entering higher education, and we have not yet found a scholar to teach this course. This semester, this course will no longer be offered and will be replaced by swordsmanship.

Swordsmanship is not mandatory; ladies are free to choose. Gentlemen, I have made the decision for you. I don’t think anyone wants to learn flower arranging with the ladies, do they? Of course, if anyone wishes to learn flower arranging and give up swordsmanship, you may raise your hand.”

The boys below burst into an uproar. This Greenson was truly disgusting. Swordsmanship or flower arranging—which one were they supposed to choose? Under everyone’s gaze, how could anyone stand up and ask to learn flower arranging with the girls?

Greenson showed a triumphant smile. “Since no one has any objections, so be it. Next, please welcome the learned Pastor Pasteur. He will bring you an exciting history lesson, taking you back to the era of war drums and the magnificent spectacle of the Hundred Clans’ Hegemony. Welcome, Pastor Pasteur!”

The white-haired Pastor Pasteur slowly walked to the podium, carrying a thick book, “The Radiance of the Goddess.” He drew a circle across his chest and, with utmost piety, began his first lesson: “Praise the Goddess, you are the embodiment of light, you are the chief of all things, the ruler of the world. You dispelled darkness and brought light to the world, you drove away illness and left health for your believers. You are the first ray of light in the world, the long sword that pierces the darkness.”

A long passage of praise continuously echoed from Pastor Pasteur’s mouth. His devout attitude was indeed moving, but it seemed to have absolutely no relation to history.

Dean Greenson seemed very satisfied with the students’ strange expressions in the classroom. That’s right! Children, maintain reverence in the face of profound knowledge.

Weir had already opened his textbook and started self-studying history. As one of the few genius students at Mirdis Intermediate Academy, he could handle history and geography courses entirely on his own without a teacher. If there was anything he didn’t understand, he would simply go to the bookstore to look up information.

Only the learned Professor Weizel could bring him a different experience, offering knowledge not found in books. Even bookstores couldn’t provide some of the content he explained, yet by cross-referencing many books, it seemed everything Professor Weizel taught was correct.

A history lesson passed with Pastor Pasteur’s praises and recitations from “The Radiance of the Goddess.” Weir could already imagine countless parents coming to complain tomorrow. His own father probably wouldn’t be one of them; he trusted Weir implicitly, always believing that Weir inherited his intelligence and could learn without a teacher. However, Weir preferred to believe his wisdom came from his mother.

“Alright, children, the dry and boring recitation class ends here. Next is the long-awaited swordsmanship class! Those who love swordsmanship and dream of becoming heroes, please follow me.” Vol didn’t wait for Pastor Pasteur to step down before rushing onto the stage.

“Uh, Knight Vol, perhaps you’ve been away from the academy for a while. I have to remind you that it’s currently break time. We have a fifteen-minute break, and your swordsmanship class begins after that.” Weir saw the students in the classroom exchanging bewildered glances and could only step forward to help Vol out.

“No, no, no, my dear little Weir, for swordsmanship, we must always maintain a passionate heart to achieve anything, just as our love for Playboy magazine should never be forgotten.” Vol gave Weir a big smile. Weir covered his face, feeling that stepping forward to help him was his biggest mistake. Everyone in the classroom cast strange glances at him.

“What is Playboy?” This was a girl’s whisper.

“It’s a magazine, the best-selling adult magazine on the continent, adult reading material that only adults can buy and read. My father told me so. I didn’t expect Weir could already read such adult material. As expected of a top student at Mirdis Intermediate Academy.” You, who said this, are you sure your IQ is online? You believe whatever your father tells you?

“So Weir likes those kinds of magazines, huh? Hehe, let me tell you, I’ve been reading Playboy magazine since I was ten, hardly missing an issue.” This was someone who liked to show off, but you come from a family of musicians. Are you sure your violinist father would let you read those kinds of magazines?

“You don’t even know Playboy? How outdated! Let me tell you, it’s a magazine about the art of flower arranging, knowledge that girls learn to please noble young masters.” Miss, are you sure you’re talking about “Playboy” and not “The Art of Flower Arranging”?

Fettman looked at Weir in surprise, his trembling finger pointing at half a colorful page peeking out of Weir’s backpack: “Playboy 50th Anniversary Collector’s Edition?! How could you possibly have such a divine book?! Weir, are we not best friends anymore? You have such a divine book and didn’t tell me. Friendship over!”

Are you sure you want to break up our friendship now? After knowing I possess the “Playboy 50th Anniversary Collector’s Edition”?