The news that Chen Feng had accepted the position of Honorary Dean at Imperial High School hit the student body like a lightning strike from a clear sky. For Lin Xia, it was a catastrophe. For the rest of the school, it was the arrival of the "God of Purple Thunder."
Chen Feng didn't arrive in a suit. He arrived at 10:00 AM wearing a silk Hawaiian shirt featuring golden dragons eating pineapples, tailored linen shorts, and his signature aviators. He was carrying a box of gourmet donuts and a lukewarm latte.
"Meiling said I have to 'educate' the youth," Chen Feng mused as he strolled through the gates, ignoring the hundreds of smartphones recording his every move. "But the Dao of Education is simple: look at beautiful things until your soul feels less like a crumpled receipt."
He was summoned immediately to the Principal's office for a "formal briefing." When he kicked the door open—literally, because his hands were full of donuts—he froze.
Sitting behind a desk of polished obsidian was the Unattainable Beauty from the café. The woman in the white sundress had traded her poetry book for a stack of disciplinary reports. She wore a charcoal blazer that managed to look both strictly professional and incredibly intimidating.
Her nameplate read: Principal Ye Qingxuan.
"You," she said, her voice like a cool breeze over a graveyard. She didn't look surprised. She didn't look impressed. She looked like she was viewing a particularly stubborn stain on a rug.
"Me," Chen Feng replied, sliding a chocolate-glazed donut onto her desk. "I see you've traded the 'Sundress Dao' for the 'Bureaucracy Sect.' A bold move, Principal Ye."
Ye Qingxuan stared at the donut as if it were a biological weapon. "Mr. Chen, I did not approve your appointment. The Su and Lin families used their 'donations' to bypass my vetting process. Let me be clear: this is a school of excellence. If you so much as breathe incorrectly near my students, I will have you removed by the municipal guard."
Chen Feng leaned back in the plush guest chair, completely unbothered. "Principal, your aura is stiff. You're holding your breath in your solar plexus. It's making your temper flare. Why not enjoy the view? The 'blooming buds' of this generation are quite remarkable. It's like watching a garden grow after a ten-thousand-year winter."
Qingxuan's eyes narrowed. She recognized that tone. It wasn't the lust of a predator; it was the detached appreciation of an artist—or a god. "Get out, Dean Chen. Your first lecture is in the auditorium. Try not to embarrass the institution."
The auditorium was packed. Every "blooming bud" in the school was there, from the cheerleading squad to the elite debate team. Lin Xia sat in the third row, her face buried in her hands, praying for a localized earthquake to swallow her whole.
Chen Feng walked onto the stage, tossed his half-eaten donut into a nearby bin, and sat on the edge of the podium.
"I've been told to teach you 'Applied Sciences,'" Chen Feng began, his voice echoing without a microphone. "But science is just the study of how things work. I'm more interested in why they work. For example..."
He pointed to a group of popular girls in the front row. "You spend four hours a day on your skincare and makeup. That is 'Alchemy.' You are trying to refine your external appearance to attract spiritual favor—or, in your case, 'likes' on Instagram."
The girls giggled, leaning in.
"But your 'Foundations' are weak," Chen Feng continued, his eyes twinkling. "You're stressed about exams, you eat processed sugar, and you don't sleep. Your 'blooming' is being forced. True beauty comes from a stabilized Dao. Lesson one: If you want to glow, stop caring about the opinion of people who don't own a Lamborghini."
The students erupted in laughter. Behind the curtain, Principal Ye Qingxuan watched, her brow furrowed. He was a vagrant, a lunatic, and a menace—but the students were listening to him more intently than they had ever listened to her.
While the auditorium was filled with laughter, the school's basement—built over the ancient burial mound Zhao had mentioned—was silent.
Underneath the stage where Chen Feng sat, the black, oily sigils carved by Director Zhao began to pulse. The laughter above acted as a frequency, a "human energy" that the curse began to feed on.
Zhao's plan was simple: the more Chen Feng connected with the students, the more "threads" the curse would have to latch onto. He wasn't just targeting the Sovereign; he was turning the entire student body into a sacrificial array.
As Chen Feng finished his lecture, he felt a slight itch on the back of his neck. He looked down at the floor, his eyes momentarily flashing gold.
"A burial mound? How cliché," he thought, his smile never wavering as he waved to a group of admiring students. "Zhao really has no imagination. But if he thinks he can use my 'blooming buds' as fuel, he's going to find out that this Dean has a very strict policy against bullying."