The silence of the Klementinum was no longer the heavy, scholarly peace Chen Feng had cultivated. It was now tainted with the faint scent of potato starch and the lingering echoes of Su Meiling's rhyming franticness.
Chen Feng stood in the center of the Baroque Hall, holding a silk duster that felt suddenly useless. He looked at the Manuscript of Fate, which was currently being used to level a wobbly table leg. The "Librarian Vibe" had been compromised. The "fetishism" of the quiet life had been punctured by the loud, sweaty reality of a global intervention.
"They ruined the dust, Gary," Chen Feng said, his voice devoid of its usual playful lilt. "You can't just bring a battalion into a library and expect the silence to return. It's like trying to un-stir a cup of tea. The tranquility has been... pulverized."
"Well, Boss, on the bright side, we did get a lot of potatoes out of the deal," Gary said, trying to shove a particularly large tuber into his backpack. "What's the plan? Back to the 'Gentleman Thief' thing? I still have that red jacket in the dryer."
"No," Chen Feng said, his eyes tracing the ornate ceiling frescoes. "The thief takes, and the librarian guards. Both are too stagnant. I need a role that requires constant, dramatic, and utterly unnecessary conflict. I need a place where I can be a God of Chaos without actually breaking the universe."
He snapped his fingers, and his burgundy cardigan morphed into a scarf made of pashmina, draped with such theatrical flair it threatened to choke him. His spectacles gained a golden chain, and he suddenly smelled of peppermint and unearned confidence.
"I'm going to be a High School Drama Teacher," Chen Feng declared.
The preparations for this lifestyle were even more absurd than the "Potato Labyrinth." Chen Feng understood that teenagers were the only beings in the universe whose ego could rival a Sovereign's. To manage them, he needed more than just primordial power; he needed The Method.
The Wardrobe of Woe: He spent four hours selecting a pair of corduroy trousers that made a specific "thwack" sound when he walked, designed to strike fear into the hearts of students hiding their phones.
The Emotional Archive: He used the Star of the Nile to download every "Coming of Age" movie ever made. He didn't just watch them; he absorbed the feeling of teenage angst until he could sigh with the weight of a thousand unrequited crushes.
The "Audition" Script: He wrote a play entitled "The Reset of the Heart," which was actually a thinly veiled retelling of his own life, but with more musical numbers and a tragic subplot about a missing pencil
"Gary, you're the janitor," Chen Feng commanded.
"Why do I always get the blue-collar roles, Boss? I have a master's degree in 'Being Your Accomplice'!
"Because the janitor is the only one who truly knows the secrets of the school. You're the 'Wise Groundskeeper' trope. It's a classic, Gary. Embrace the mop."
Before leaving the Czech Republic, Chen Feng performed one last act of "Sovereign Pettyness." He didn't want the Alliance to think they had won.
As the Gala Five watched from their retreating helicopters, the entire Klementinum Library began to glow with a soft, neon-pink light.
He didn't destroy it. He simply enchanted every book in the building so that, for the next hundred years, the only thing anyone could read was the Internal Dialogue of a Very Bored Hamster. No matter if it was a 14th-century bible or a modern science textbook, the pages only spoke of "Sunflower seeds" and "The wheel of futility."
"That should keep the scholars busy," Chen Feng chuckled as he and Gary boarded a private jet destined for a suburban high school in the American Midwest.
Walking through the hallways of St. Jude's High School, Chen Feng felt a new kind of energy. It was a cacophony of slamming lockers, teenage hormones, and the smell of cheap cafeteria pizza.
"It's hideous," Chen Feng whispered, a tear of joy nearly forming in his eye. "It's chaotic. It's loud. It's... perfect."
He walked into the drama room, where a group of cynical sixteen-year-olds were currently ignoring their substitute teacher. Chen Feng slammed his leather-bound "Manuscript of Fate" onto the podium with a thud that resonated through their very souls.
"My name is Mr. Chen," he announced, throwing his pashmina scarf over his shoulder with enough force to create a small gust of wind. "And most of you are currently breathing in a way that is offensive to the art of theatre. We are going to fix that. Or I am going to turn this entire classroom into a rehearsal for a silent mime show that lasts until you graduate."
One student, a kid with neon-blue hair, scoffed. "And what makes you such an expert, 'Mr. Chen'?"
Chen Feng leaned in, his eyes glowing with a violet light that made the boy's hair stand on end.
"I have played the lead role in a play called 'The Universe,' kid. And let me tell you... the critics were brutal."