Fan Zhuo endured the soreness all over his body. As soon as he sat up, someone knocked on the door.
Dong, dong.
“Lord Fan Zhuo, breakfast is ready.”
It was Baitu’s voice—calm as always, yet somehow tinged with an imperceptible gentleness.
“Got it.” Fan Zhuo responded and got out of bed.
Milina, like a startled yet clingy kitten, trailed closely behind him. Beneath her loose pajamas, her long, slender legs were faintly visible. Her little tail swayed with every step, brushing against him and sending a subtle tickling sensation.
On the dining table in the living room, a steaming, sumptuous breakfast was already laid out. On the sofa, a brand-new thin blanket was folded neatly, as if it had just been changed.
Fan Zhuo’s gaze lingered on Baitu. Looking at her flawless profile, he found himself unsettled.
“You really… slept here last night?” He looked at Baitu, his eyes revealing a trace of guilt and complexity.
“Yes, my lord.” Baitu bowed slightly and pulled out a chair for him. “The sofa is quite comfortable. Please don’t worry.”
Comfortable? How could that hard sofa possibly be comfortable…
Fan Zhuo glanced at the rounded dent on the sofa.
What he was thinking was, Baitu really shouldn’t be sleeping on the sofa. If she really wanted to… sleep in the bed, his own bed was pretty big. It wouldn’t be impossible.
But last night, he and Milina… that noise…
This, this, this…
As Fan Zhuo’s cheeks turned a suspicious shade of red, the ever-expressionless beauty of Baitu’s face revealed a barely noticeable upward curve at the corner of her lips.
Her tone carried a hint of elusive mischief: “Is my lord thinking, maybe you should have snuck out last night to ‘work’ with Baitu… in the middle of the night?”
Hearing those words, filled with all kinds of suggestive implications, Fan Zhuo blushed instantly.
Sneak out in the middle of the night… would that really be just ‘work’…
A faint trace of amusement flashed in the sapphire glow of Baitu’s electronic eyes, as if saying: I understand everything.
Fan Zhuo’s face grew even redder.
Beside him, Milina watched the odd atmosphere between the two with curiosity, nibbling her bread, pure confusion in her purple eyes.
Just then, another round of urgent knocking sounded, this time much rougher than Baitu’s.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Fan Zhuo! Open up! I need to see you, it’s urgent!”
It was Old John.
Fan Zhuo frowned and gestured at Milina to quickly hide in the bedroom.
The succubus girl nodded obediently, crouching low and slipping into the bedroom like a wisp of smoke.
Only then did Fan Zhuo walk over and open the door.
Outside, Old John looked anxious, still reeking of alcohol. Dark circles ringed his eyes—clearly, he’d been dragged from a hangover.
“You, hurry and get ready!” He lowered his voice, his expression grave. “Those troublemakers from the Royal Academy of Magic got here early!”
“Early?” Fan Zhuo’s heart sank as well.
Weren’t they supposed to arrive a few days later? Why were they so early?
“That’s right. Their ship docked half an hour ago, and now they’re already in Zone B, insisting on some ‘surprise academic inspection’!”
Old John sniffed his own boozy clothes, looking irritated. “Damn it, those bastards from the Ivory Tower, always up to new tricks.”
Fan Zhuo calculated rapidly in his mind.
Their early arrival completely wrecked his plans.
He had originally planned to submit the application for the “High-Energy Nutritional Meal” today, then go probe Ye Ying for information, and recharge himself a bit before the academy group arrived.
Now… everything would have to be postponed.
And he himself might be facing quite a bit of trouble.
He glanced at the tightly shut bedroom door—Milina had just settled down, and now there was this sudden mess.
“I understand. I’ll change and head over right away.” Fan Zhuo closed the door, his face growing serious.
Inside the bedroom, Milina was nervously hiding behind the door. Hearing the conversation outside, her small face was filled with worry.
“Fan Zhuo… did I, did I cause you trouble?” A shimmer of moisture flickered in her purple eyes—she was clearly startled by Old John’s rough voice.
“It’s fine, just a small problem.” As Fan Zhuo quickly changed into the priestly uniform symbolizing asceticism and purity, he said to Baitu, “Stay here today, don’t go anywhere. Take care of her.”
He paused, then added, “Leave the rest to me.”
“Yes, Lord Fan Zhuo.” Baitu’s voice was as steady as ever.
Milina nodded vigorously, just like a primary school student who’d been reassured.
Her eyes were filled with reliance and trust in Fan Zhuo, as if so long as he was there, any trouble could be solved.
After tidying his collar one last time, Fan Zhuo looked in the mirror at the solemn, pure figure reflected back. A cold smile curved at his lips.
Surprise inspection? Nice words, but weren’t they just here to find fault.
He walked out of the suite. Outside, Old John was pacing back and forth, restless and anxious.
“Let’s go.” Fan Zhuo’s voice was calm as he took the lead.
The two strode quickly through the circular corridor of Zone C, heading toward the entrance to Zone B.
As long as Old John showed his face, the rest of the reception would be left to Fan Zhuo—that was reasonable, and just as they had agreed.
As soon as they set foot in Zone B, a scent completely at odds with the forest’s natural fragrance rushed toward them, thick with all sorts of elemental magic.
In an open area, a dozen people dressed in ornate mage robes had gathered, pointing at the plants around them and occasionally letting out exaggerated exclamations.
Their bearing was lofty and condescending, as if everything here was merely an object of their research—not a living being.
At the center of this group stood a woman who looked to be in her thirties, her long, fiery red curls impeccably styled, her face adorned with exquisite makeup, her gaze sharp and proud.
She wore a perfectly tailored red mage robe, its neckline cut just right—elegant yet alluring, but not enough to trigger “holy light.” On her prominent chest, she wore the flame insignia of the Royal Academy of Magic.
She was beautiful, no question.
Clearly, this female mage was the leader of this inspection.
Beside her stood a young male mage, handsome enough, but the faint, mocking smile at the corner of his mouth spoiled his overall appearance.
He stood close to the female mage, almost leaning into her, but she kept just enough of a subtle distance.
Fan Zhuo saw through him at a glance—another self-important lapdog.
As Old John and Fan Zhuo approached, the red-haired mage woman raised her chin slightly, sizing Fan Zhuo up and down with a scrutinizing gaze.
“So you’re the new assistant Warden John hired—Fan Zhuo?”
Her voice was crisp but carried an air of superiority, as though she were inquiring about some lower life form’s name.
To her, any priest exiled to this place was nothing but a discarded pawn of the Church—utterly insignificant.
“Yes, Professor Elsa.” Old John quickly stepped in, forcing a stiff smile. “This is Fan Zhuo, our prison’s most devout and promising young cleric.”
“Oh? Is that so?” The woman addressed as Professor Elsa chuckled lightly, her gaze circling Fan Zhuo’s inhumanly handsome face. “He does… look very ‘pure.’”
She put extra emphasis on the word “pure,” her sarcasm obvious.
As a professor of the Academy, she could sense the holy power emanating from this young man… Something was odd about it.
The strength of that power far exceeded what a common exiled cleric should possess, but the quality was strangely chaotic.
The young mage beside her noticed Professor Elsa’s gaze lingering on Fan Zhuo’s face for over three seconds, and a flicker of jealousy and vigilance flashed in his eyes…
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