Chapter Sixty: Professor Jonster

The news this time came rather suddenly. Although Irwin had his suspicions before, nothing was certain, but now a date had been set. When Mulan left the Sanctuary, he felt a twinge of sadness; Irwin was his only confidant, and now he wouldn’t see him for a long time.

The Holy Mountain lay far to the north in the Duchy of West Ridge, an enclave independent of the Duchy itself. It was famed as the brightest place in the world, and distant from Digo, so far that even modern transportation could not easily bridge the gap. With Irwin’s departure, neither of them knew when they would meet again. Irwin wasn’t merely going to receive a single baptism; he would undergo extensive study and instruction. By the time he emerged, he would be a qualified bishop, tasked with overseeing a diocese. Even if Irwin was exceptionally gifted, the process would not be quick.

Mulan knew well that Irwin’s greatest strength was his pure and unwavering devotion, but stepping into and perfecting a real, fully-formed world was still a daunting task. The Sanctuary would undoubtedly spare no resources or elixirs, perhaps even sending powerful mentors with Irwin into the inner world to seek out elements and totemic evolutions.

But resonance had to be forged by one’s own strength, harmonizing the three worlds around oneself—a feat far from simple. To cross the boundary from mortal to extraordinary was a difficult path.

That evening, Mulan returned home and recorded “February 28th, morning” in his small memo book, adding a few keywords—this was the day Irwin left. With his memory, Mulan would never forget, but the memo served as a record; perhaps, years later, a glance would rekindle the details of important events.

The house’s glass windows had already been replaced, the kitchen floor swiftly repaired; the staff from Black Castle were remarkably efficient. When Mulan left that morning, staff asked what he needed; he simply said, “As soon as possible,” never imagining they’d be so thorough by the time he returned.

The gas lamp was still not fixed, but compared to last night’s reliance on candles, tonight Mulan had several oil lamps—a steadier source of light.

Most of his magical books had been returned, but Mulan still had a few duplicates, and feeling energized, he decided to read late into the night, reliving the fervor of his exam days.

His best friend was about to soar, and even knowing how difficult the path was, Mulan couldn’t escape the mounting pressure. Irwin possessed sacred power, not just a novice.

If, in the future, Irwin became strong and Mulan remained weak, what then?

Mulan’s vivid imagination conjured a scene—Irwin, muscular and towering, grabbing his frail friend’s head and saying, “What’s going on, little brother?”

That would not feel good.

“Alright, as soon as the library reopens, I’ll search for more books!”

It wasn’t that Mulan read quickly; rather, each magical book contained a wealth of useless information, or passages that only made sense when cross-referenced with other texts. The richer the knowledge, the more comprehensible the magic books became; otherwise, even obscure terminology could be baffling.

……

Mulan’s persistent attitude and exceptional ability had paid off, or rather, it was a tremendous affirmation.

Yet, this recognition left Mulan both amused and anxious.

He, Mulan Jonster, had been hired as a theoretical professor by Black Castle. Yes, Mulan, who should have been a student, was forcibly made a professor. He’d worried about whether Black Castle had enough faculty—now he knew: he was there to make up the numbers.

Even if it was only to teach theory, the situation was simply bizarre. Moreover, both the old wizard and Walton had agreed, believing Mulan’s research in certain theoretical fields qualified him for professorship, and that his grasp was more complete than some extraordinary individuals’ fragmented understanding. His youth would bring vigor and approachability.

They handed Mulan a slew of dubious reasons, but what truly convinced him was that, as a professor, his original student record would be hidden. He couldn’t attend classes as a student anymore, but he could audit any course, privately consult any professor or extraordinary being, and access most restricted book rooms.

The conditions were irresistible. So, today, just over ten days later, with the main building newly designated as the teaching hub, Mulan had to bite the bullet and step up. If worst came to worst, he’d bluff his way through; plenty of magical books were unreliable anyway.

Thankfully, he only needed to teach two or three classes a week—no interference with his police work.

The building was distinctly Gothic, with gargoyles perched on every corner. Mulan knew these creatures could come alive, their existence in the surface world a testament to Walton’s ingenuity.

Black Castle had already begun recruiting and selecting students in earnest. This batch wasn’t a last-minute addition, but had been planned, drawing candidates from across the nation and even neighboring countries. The numbers were sizable, only delayed by the recent attack.

The shift to centralized teaching had been considered before, so while it seemed rushed, the execution was solid. The staff were skilled, regulations copied from outside schools, supplemented by Black Castle’s own strict rules and hazardous zones—almost everything was set. Theoretical education came first, with other plans gradually adjusted according to a broad framework.

Mulan’s faculty office was at the top floor, lined with bookshelves. Only two professors were present: Mulan and the old wizard.

“You want to borrow that bottle?”

“Yes. Though it’s only a theory class, I want the students to feel what malice from the mysterious world is—help them develop an acute sense for danger, at least leave an impression.”

The old wizard, cradling a book, smiled and produced the bottle from his robe.

“I know you’re interested in this demon; you’ve looked up many books about it. If you wish to pursue my path, you can apply—I'm sure you'll pass.”

“Thank you.”

Mulan took the bottle, smiled, and left with two books: the Book of Abundance and his notebook.

In a hall converted to a classroom on the second floor, sixty or seventy people were already seated. Hendel, the transfer student, was among them. Having come from all corners to the mysterious Black Castle, everyone was excited, eager to make friends.

They’d only been assigned housing, given some rules, and told today’s class time and location; everything else was unknown, leaving everyone full of anticipation.

Mulan heard the murmur from afar—even with voices lowered, the collective noise was considerable. He deliberately made his steps louder, walking from the corridor toward the classroom. The sound of leather shoes striking the floor quickly silenced the room.

Mulan carried a cane in one hand, two books in the other, dressed in his usual gentleman’s attire, striving to remain composed. He didn’t look at the students until he reached the center of the podium, then turned to face them.

Dozens of eyes stared straight at him.

“Good morning, everyone. First, welcome to Black Castle. Being here means endless possibilities. I imagine you’ve come seeking the mysterious world, but you should know—at least in part—the dangers it contains.”

“In the past, many unfortunate souls perished on the path due to a lack of systematic education. Now, we’ve reformed, unified education to help you adapt to the mysterious world, and to select the truly qualified.”

“I, Professor Jonster, will be teaching you theory!”

Mulan placed his books and cane aside. The crowd, dozens strong, hardly dared breathe, tension written on every face.

Since they were more nervous than he was, Mulan found himself rather calm.

“Before we begin, I want you to experience what malice in the mysterious world feels like. If you sense anything similar in the future, you must leave immediately—at least until you have sufficient strength.”

He set the glass bottle from his right side atop the two books. All attention shifted to the bottle.

At first, it seemed transparent, but as focus intensified, a shadow grew more distinct, and a terrifying aura grew stronger. The greater the fear, the deeper the sensation—inescapable, indelible.

It was a hunger for flesh and soul, a malice born of extreme obsession, pure and intense. The chill made every student’s scalp tingle; those more sensitive even experienced hallucinations.

“Knock knock~”

Mulan tapped the table twice with his cane, snapping many out of their trance.

“I know your name…”

The demon’s raspy voice echoed from the bottle. Thanks to the focused attention and the collective atmosphere, every student heard it.

“You are Mulan Jonster. Let’s make a deal: pull out the stopper, let me out, and I can do anything for you!”

Mulan paused, then smiled.

“No interest.”

“The last time we fought, I was not at full strength. I sense your madness—you relish battle. Release me, and I promise to face you again, this time with all my power!”

The demon’s voice lingered in the classroom, but Mulan ignored it, instead placing his hat firmly atop the bottle.

Instantly, the chill diminished, the voice vanished.

Mulan smiled at the students.

“Besides sensing malice, this is the first lesson: to avoid certain horrors, the best method is not to observe. As now, a brief immersion requires severing the main channel—vision—which effectively eases the situation.”

“Why is it so? We must start with the surface and inner worlds, the interplay between body and mind, the variables of soul, leading to the fundamental laws of the extraordinary world—the theory of three worlds, and the five foundational elements for constructing worlds. That’s today’s lesson; you’d best open your notebooks and take notes!”

Everyone immediately prepared their notebooks and pens, their attitudes earnest and attentive.