“Compared to the bright future of the Oracles, ordinary people can also achieve success with enough effort.”
“Everyone, please turn your books to page 76…” The elderly history teacher walked along the classroom aisle with his hands behind his back, a gentle smile on his face.
“General Du Manzhi was born in the New Calendar year 598 and died in 641 at the age of 43.”
“He proposed the ‘Deep Integration Combat Plan for the Technology Oracle,’ which greatly halted the invasion of the aberrants.”
The teacher continued, “In today’s era, as long as you study hard and get into a good university to systematically learn to operate the Sentinel Joint System, you have a chance to become an indispensable ‘eyes,’ ‘nose,’ and ‘mouth’ in Oracle combat.”
“Other majors also have promising prospects, such as the design and manufacture of cold and hot weapons, AI development… Compared to when the Oracles first appeared, everyone now has ample opportunities to advance.”
Despite the teacher’s earnest tone, yawns echoed throughout the classroom.
Most students were indifferent—after all, the Oracles had always been a privileged class beyond reach.
However, Chu You listened attentively.
She knew very well that among the standard combat procedures for the Swordsmen, the support unit known as the [Falcon], responsible for providing remote intelligence, information, and battle path analysis, held a status comparable to that of the Oracles.
It was worth noting that after developing the first-generation Sentinel Joint System, General Du Manzhi had served as a [Swordsman Falcon], active on the front lines for a decade.
Beside her, Xia Ji was also listening carefully.
Though not entirely convinced by the teacher’s views, her personality was such that she was used to being alone, with few friends.
At school, attending classes and studying had become the most interesting things to her.
“Ding ling ling ling ling—”
The dismissal bell rang, instantly enlivening the classroom.
Chu You, however, seemed drained of energy, collapsing limply onto her desk.
There was an indescribable strange smell in the air—not strong, but enough to make her feel uneasy all over.
At first, she paid little attention, but over time, the scent seemed to seep into her veins, stirring a nauseating sensation she couldn’t explain.
Squinting, Chu You lazily guessed: Could it be an aberrant experiment leak?
But she soon dismissed her own suspicion.
The stench of aberrants was a sharp, forehead-smashing smell, while this pervasive odor in the classroom felt more like a genetic-level repulsion.
“Ah… Case solved,” Chu You glanced at the hard paper notebook on the desk in front of her, murmuring in her mind, “It’s ammonium aluminum sulfate.”
This substance was commonly used in papermaking to enhance water resistance.
But to a fox like her, ammonium aluminum sulfate’s distinct smell was like setting off firecrackers in a manure pit—harmless, yet revolting.
“Chu, are you alright…?”
At that moment, a gentle voice came from beside her.
Xia Ji quietly poked her arm, voice filled with tentative concern: “Are you feeling unwell? Do you want to go to the infirmary?”
Chu You slowly lifted her head, blinking when she met Xia Ji’s gaze, her eyelashes fluttering slightly as if pondering something.
The next second, she suddenly stretched out her arms and gently wrapped them around her.
“Eh…?”
Xia Ji froze completely, lips slightly parted, pupils trembling uncontrollably, her breath held.
Chu You seemed to have found her savior, burying her face between Xia Ji’s shoulder and neck like a small animal, softly nuzzling and mumbling, “This is much better…”
Xia Ji’s body carried a faint herbal floral scent, like the spring breeze drifting through mountain fields.
That fragrance quietly spread, silently dissipating the unpleasant ammonium aluminum sulfate odor in the air.
“Is, is that so…”
Xia Ji’s cheeks flushed red as she hesitated, then slowly lifted her hand to tentatively wrap around Chu You’s slender waist, gently pulling her close.
She remembered how she used to do similar things to her mother when feeling unwell as a child.
Suddenly recalling something, Xia Ji’s pupils darkened, a mingled wave of longing and sadness flooding her eyes.
…
At the Binhai Swordsmen Branch.
Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the director’s office, casting a warm hue over the solemn space.
Lin Mo, dressed in a crisp black uniform embroidered with gold patterns, calmly scanned the figures before him—thirteen apprentice Swordsmen and six Bronze Sparrow-level Swordsmen, representing all the Oracle forces at the Binhai branch.
“Your duties remain unchanged. Please continue to cooperate with the work in the upcoming period…” His tone was even, devoid of emotion. “No need to waste time. You all know the rules. Get to work.”
At his words, the group saluted crisply and quickly exited the office.
The handover went surprisingly smoothly—in a small place like Binhai, the presence of a Golden Crow-level Swordsman was itself an untouchable legend, no one would dare act recklessly under his watch.
Once the last person left, Lin Mo slowly sat down and lightly tapped the keyboard, opening a nondescript, unnamed icon on the desktop.
A simple surveillance feed popped up.
The next moment, Lin Mo’s pupils contracted subtly, a flash of displeasure crossing his eyes.
On the screen, Chu You was snuggling closely in Xia Ji’s arms, her expression relaxed and content—a sight he hadn’t seen from her in a long time.
“Tap, tap…”
His long fingers drummed rhythmically on the desk, an unconscious habit when displeased.
An indescribable irritation spread in his heart—after all these years, Chu You always maintained a subtle guard around him.
Yet now, in front of someone she’d only known for less than a day, she was completely unguarded?
His fingers abruptly stopped tapping.
Lin Mo leaned back slightly, but his gaze never left the screen.
“Not bad, my diligent senior sister…” he sneered coldly inside.
The screen shifted.
Corridors on various floors, the playground, the small woods, even the abandoned old teaching building slated for demolition—all were fitted with numerous high-definition hidden cameras.
Lin Mo’s original intention was to ensure Chu You could signal for help if in danger, but now…
The surveillance yielded much more than that.
Suppressing the emotions behind his eyes, a faint smile slowly curled on Lin Mo’s lips.
A clear thought formed in his mind: Tonight, I should ‘teach’ my senior sister a proper lesson on how to maintain vigilance during missions.
“Ding—”
A crisp system notification broke the office’s silence, followed by a secure communication window popping up at the bottom right of the computer.
This was the Swordsmen’s internal contact channel, and the sender’s note prominently displayed [Old Scoundrel].
The message was brief but enough to make Lin Mo’s pupils snap wide open:
【Granite Prison riot, Jinghu escaped, current whereabouts unknown.】
“Jinghu…”
Lin Mo nearly jumped out of his seat, a fierce killing intent flashing through his eyes.
That name belonged to the senior from Beifu University, a former Golden Crow-level Swordsman, and a deeply embedded high-level demon agent— a man he could never fully read even when Jinghu was locked behind bars.
He actually escaped prison?
Lin Mo frowned deeply as memories surged like a tide.
The image flashed back clearly to that cell secured by FSY-81 high-energy metal fences, where Jinghu sat leisurely inside, flashing his usual smile at Lin Mo through the bars.
“Xiao Lin, maybe I should say… my condolences?”
When Lin Mo remained silent, Jinghu laughed softly and stood up, slowly walking to the bars, his teasing tone laced with inscrutable meaning: “Don’t look at me like that. It’s scary~”
He shifted his words: “Take some time to visit the school. Go to the library’s Zone C, shelf 024, topmost row. Look for an ancient book called The Secret History of the Oracles.”
Lin Mo stayed silent, coldly watching him.
Jinghu’s hand slowly caressed the cold metal bars, voice dropping: “Perhaps, death… is only the beginning?”
As soon as he finished, Lin Mo’s pupils suddenly tightened and trembled.
“You will find her,” Jinghu’s tone turned strangely certain, almost pleading, “Find her for me…”
Before the words could finish, his emotions exploded, his expression turning mad as he wildly struck the unbreakable bars, producing a dull roar.
From between clenched teeth, he spat out in broken syllables:
“Then I will personally execute that—”
“Damn, traitor!”
Premium Chapter
Login to buy access to this Chapter.