After a simple meal, Lin Yu followed the instructions and arrived at the Principal’s office, located on the top floor of the main tower.
The space was a stark contrast to the cold, rigid style of the Operations Department’s briefing room, which emphasized functionality and discipline.
This room felt more like the study of an ancient aristocrat, steeped in an atmosphere of power and wealth that had settled over centuries.
A thick, heavy wool carpet lay beneath his feet, completely swallowing the sound of his footsteps.
The four walls were occupied by floor-to-ceiling dark wood bookshelves.
These were not filled with uniform new books, but rather displayed leather-bound volumes with mottled covers and faded gold lettering on the spines, alongside various artifacts and art pieces from different civilizations.
It felt like a miniature private museum.
Outside the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, the River Cam and the classical buildings of Cambridge formed a tranquil oil painting under the afternoon sun, creating a subtle contrast with the deep shadows of the interior.
The woman sitting behind the expansive desk, which seemed large enough to dominate the entire room, was the Principal of Thanatos University.
Before coming here, Lin Yu had learned some information from Christina.
She was a member of the Elizabeth family, which had deep ties to the British Royal Family, and she was the school’s largest board member and investor.
In Christina’s description, she was nearly fifty years old, but seeing her now, Lin Yu had to admit that time seemed exceptionally forgiving toward her.
She looked far younger than her actual age, her well-maintained face etched with the composure of one who had long held a high position and a faint, imperceptible sense of detachment.
Her golden hair was meticulously gathered into a bun at the back of her head, and her azure-blue eyes, as deep as lake water, held a gentle yet piercingly scrutinizing smile.
Her gaze landed precisely on Lin Yu as he entered, as if she had been waiting for him for a long time.
“Student Lin Yu, please sit,” she said.
Her voice was gentle, carrying an impeccable Oxford accent, as she made an elegant inviting gesture with her hand.
Lin Yu took a seat in the high-backed armchair opposite her.
It looked equally expensive, yet sitting in it brought a faint, inexplicable sense of unease.
Once he was settled, she elegantly crossed her hands on the polished desktop and smiled.
“I have heard the mission report from the Mediterranean Sea. It is said that during this accident, you played a… very critical and positive role.”
Her phrasing was cautious and precise, downplaying a bloody God-slaying war as a mere “accident.”
Lin Yu could clearly feel the immense weight beneath that gentle gaze.
Following his prepared script, he briefly repeated the explanation he had given in the briefing room — about how he had suddenly “awakened” his healing ability during the moment of crisis.
The Principal listened patiently, her fingertips, coated in light-colored polish, unconsciously and rhythmically tapping the smooth surface of the desk.
She did not interrupt.
It was only when he finished speaking that she gave a nearly imperceptible nod.
“Regeneration. A very precious and rare ability. Especially in a place like this.”
She leaned forward slightly, her gaze becoming more focused.
“The School has a great need for such talent.”
“Thank you for the recognition, Principal.”
Lin Yu lowered his head instinctively, avoiding that overly penetrating gaze.
After struggling internally for a moment, he finally chose to speak, his voice a bit lower than before.
“I… may I ask you a few questions?”
He knew this meeting was a rare opportunity.
Everything was progressing exactly as he had anticipated.
Rather than the Principal seeking him out, it was more accurate to say he had wanted to meet the so-called Principal and the Board of Directors for a long time.
From that bizarre interview to the way they had forced him into a Class A Mission, the school’s upper management had shown a “trust” in him that bordered on blind faith.
“Ever since the recruitment process began, you and the Board of Directors seemed to possess an extraordinary level of confidence in my potential, even though I knew nothing back then. Why?”
He tried his best to keep his voice steady, but deep down, the secret regarding No. 2 made him feel as if he were walking on the edge of a cliff, terrified.
The perfect smile on the Principal’s face seemed to freeze for a split second before dissolving into a sigh tinged with apology.
“I am sorry for involving you in such a dangerous mission right from the start. However, this was not merely my personal decision. Every member of the Board of Directors holds extremely high expectations for you. This expectation stems largely from your parents — Mr. Lin Wantian and Ms. Chen Wei…”
“Is there such a thing as inheritance for so-called Divine Sense?”
“There is not, and they were not God-thought Users either…”
The Principal shook her head gently, her eyes turning distant.
“Perhaps, this is just the wishful thinking of those of us living in despair… because a great disaster is approaching.”
“A disaster?”
“A large-scale awakening of the Gods.”
Her tone turned solemn.
“According to our observations and historical data comparisons, the cycle of the Gods accumulating power and reviving from their slumber is shortening rapidly. In the past, it might have taken a millennium or longer, but now, this interval may have been compressed to within a century, or even less. The cause might be the increase in God-thought Users, or perhaps other reasons we do not yet understand.”
The Principal paused before continuing.
“Therefore, we long for people like your parents, people who can bring us hope.”
“But what kind of people my parents were has nothing to do with me, does it? Besides, they weren’t with me for very long. I know nothing about these so-called Gods…”
“True, but that is simply how humans are.”
The Principal nodded in understanding.
“Much like Zhuge Zhan during the Three Kingdoms period in your country — during the waning years of the Shu Han, everyone from the court to the commoners placed their hopes for the restoration of the Han Dynasty on him, simply because he was the son of the ‘Sleeping Dragon,’ Zhuge Liang. Even then, he was still young, and his father’s star had long since fallen at the Wuzhang Plains.”
Lin Yu found it surprising enough that this British woman spoke fluent Chinese, let alone that she would use the Romance of the Three Kingdoms as an analogy.
Lin Yu nodded thoughtfully.
“So, what exactly did my parents do for the school back then? And… where are they now?”
The expression on the Principal’s face hardly changed, maintaining its proper elegance.
However, Lin Yu keenly captured a momentary, elusive flash deep in her eyes, as if a hidden switch had been flipped.
She slowly leaned back against the cushions of her high-backed chair and clasped her hands again, her tone taking on an indisputable official air.
“The School’s last formal cooperation with your parents dates back nearly twenty years ago. At that time, Thanatos had just been established, everything was in the exploratory stage, and the rules and regulations were not as refined as they are now… The specific details and the aftermath of the core mission they participated in back then are classified as one of the school’s highest secrets.”
She paused slightly, seemingly observing Lin Yu’s reaction.
“Regarding the specifics of their mission, please forgive me, as I cannot reveal more to you. In fact, since that mission, we have lost stable contact with them.”
This answer effectively blocked all paths for further questioning.
Lin Yu sat there in silence, like a statue slowly cooling.
He knew that more words would be useless.
After a moment, he stood up, bowed slightly, and turned to leave the office.
The heavy oak door closed silently behind him, completely isolating the slightly lonely silhouette of the black-haired youth.
Silence returned to the office.
As the last trace of Lin Yu’s presence vanished, the shadows on one side of the bookshelf seemed to come alive.
After a slight ripple, a blurred figure separated from the darkness.
“Regeneration…”
A neutral, slightly raspy voice came from beneath the hood, sounding as if it hadn’t spoken in a long time.
The figure repeated the word.
“Powerful healing abilities are indeed rare and precious. But… is that all?”
The Principal’s gaze remained fixed on the River Cam flowing outside the window, appearing entirely unsurprised by the mysterious person’s appearance.
She picked up an exquisite bone china teacup and took a light sip of the black tea, which had already turned lukewarm.
“Lin Wantian, Chen Wei…”
She murmured the two names softly, her tone complex.
“For the sake of their ideals, they gave up almost everything, even losing their lives in the end. And yet… they chose to carefully hide this child away, hiding him for a full eighteen years.”
Her fingertips tapped lightly on the desk.
She had just lied to Lin Yu about the news of his parents and about the process of his admission.
All of this had been pushed forward by her and the figure standing before her.
“If he truly were just an ordinary child, would they have gone to such great lengths?” the figure asked.
She placed the teacup back on the saucer with a crisp clinking sound.
“Who knows? After all, they were ultimately ‘human.’ And as humans, they would have their own selfishness, wanting to protect their own flesh and blood.”
She turned around and looked at the figure.
“Judging by the mission report… perhaps we were overthinking it. Maybe they just wanted to secure a relatively safe path for their child.”