Chapter 90: The Literary War Gods

Chapter 90: Chapter 90: The Literary War Gods

Leon’s mouth had never known how to show face to anyone. Making him endure was fine, but telling him to obediently swallow his anger and smile sweetly in the face of oppression was truly a delusion.

The four teammates standing behind heard every single word clearly, but no one spoke up to intervene. Their silence was the most resounding statement of agreement.

Facing this blatant attitude of resistance, Griffin wasn’t angry in the slightest, seemingly all too familiar with his students’ dissatisfaction. He maintained his calm demeanor, smirking: "Alright then, you just go ahead and submit the request."

The corners of Griffin’s eyes narrowed, dropping a malicious smirk: "As long as you are still alive to carry that request through the door of the academic affairs office, that is."

Leon: ...Why in the world does such a shameless, bottom-feeding piece of trash exist?

Was the person standing haughtily with his hands behind his back in front of them truly the genius who had conquered the continent’s most grueling recruitment exam to obtain an official mentor certification?

Leon’s facial expression at this moment was twisted beyond words.

Having interacted for a long time, Jeremy had also somewhat grasped Griffin’s bizarre train of thought. Even if criticized, mocked, or cursed straight to his face by his students, Griffin would absolutely never use his teacher’s authority to play petty, backstabbing tricks. Instead, he would... directly and openly torture them on the training ground.

Since Leon had fired the opening shot of the war, Griffin would definitely bear a grudge. Which meant their upcoming days of training would turn into a living hell.

Understanding the inevitable outcome clearly, Jeremy decisively seized this opportunity to clarify the lingering doubt in his heart: "Actually, I’ve always wondered, why do you insist on imposing this insane training intensity on us? According to my research, the curriculum for freshmen absolutely does not contain such body-breaking content."

"Asking why?" Griffin paused for a beat, seemingly never having truly asked himself this question before.

A slender finger propped lightly under his chin; Griffin pretended to think for a moment before giving a wicked smile: "The reason is simple. I cannot tolerate wasting six solid years of my life only to train a bunch of trash to leave their corpses on the battlefield."

"Even though your starting line is labeled at the lowest sequence, once the academy threw you into my hands, I naturally have the obligation to smash that shackle of being trash and force you to shed your skin."

"Of course, just looking at your current pathetic, crawling state, that path is likely still very long."

Griffin’s tone was lazy, as arrogant as a god looking down on an ant colony: "The right to determine the curriculum is not in your hands, and the weak have no right to resist. If you want to overthrow me, or execute that delusional intention of revenge, then drain your lives and get stronger. Before your fists have enough strength to touch the hem of my coat, just obediently swallow your blood down your stomachs."

This blatant, unhidden villainous demeanor of his made the five of them laugh in anger. They truly began to doubt whether his mentor certification was bought on the black market.

Leon frowned and grumbled: "Exactly how old are you? This antisocial mindset is excessively childish."

Griffin narrowed his eyes, smiling faintly: "Even if childish, I still have more than enough strength to trample you under my heel."

Jeremy chimed in: "A hundred-year-old geezer using force to bully a bunch of first-year students, does your conscience truly not feel guilty?"

Griffin leisurely brushed off his sleeve: "My conscience just told me that it is feeling very comfortable."

Looking at the other party’s absurdly youthful appearance, Jeremy carried a bit of probing intent, throwing out a fatal question: "Then exactly how old are you?"

Everyone knew that when mages broke through to Tier Five, their body’s aging process would slow down significantly. Those who reached Tier Six could even permanently freeze their appearance at the moment of their level up. But Griffin’s facial features... were truly too tender compared to a veteran powerhouse.

Seeing his students’ curious, relentlessly probing demeanor, Griffin couldn’t be bothered to waste saliva dawdling, dropping a razor-sharp number: "21."

As the number fell, even Phoenix’s usually murky, dull eyes flashed with extreme shock. Leon’s expression went straight from annoyed to astounded, his jaw dropping.

21 years old... According to the standard cultivation route, at this age, one would perhaps have just attended their graduation ceremony. Yet the madman in front of them was already sitting grandly in the mentor’s seat at the empire’s top 1 academy?

Jeremy frowned, even harboring doubts that Griffin was bluffing. But Griffin obviously didn’t give them a chance to question further.

"I’m giving you one week of time to crawl back to your beds and nurse your wounds. Seven days later, classes resume. From now until the final comprehensive exam, all vacations are canceled."

Tossing down a cold command like fatal news, Griffin’s figure instantly turned into tens of thousands of specks of light and vanished into the void, thoroughly leaving the classroom.

Waiting for the magic afterimage to completely dissipate, the five stood rooted to the spot for a long while. Jeremy raised a hand to rub his forehead, breaking the silence: "...Let’s disperse, go back to the dorm and get some sleep first. Tomorrow we still have to drag our bodies to take the make-up exams."

Having gone through a string of days of nerve-racking torture, the bodies of all four were protesting. They simultaneously gave an exhausted "yeah", turning around and dragging their feet toward the dormitory area.

Although they had failed the practical combat exam due to absence, their academic results absolutely could not be at the bottom of the barrel. Even though their eyes were still blind, the theoretical exams could be passed through magic spirits or an examiner reading aloud; their task was merely to use their brains to read the answers.

As for the other specialized magic assessments... The loss of sight would somewhat cause hindrances, but with their current strength, it was impossible to receive a big fat zero. Anyway, the freshman midterm exams only served as a sparring experience, not deciding life or death. The true focal point lay in the final exam. They still had over a month of time, enough for them to hone their form back.

---

The next morning, the make-up exams officially began. Due to the massive and complex volume of assessment content, the exams dragged on for five long days.

However, after tasting the world’s most brutal training curriculum from Griffin, these bland tests were nothing more than child’s play for the five youths.

The final results were posted on the honor board: All members of Class 659 achieved perfect scores.

An insanely polarized picture of results appeared: Practical combat assessment: Score 0 (Absent). Academic assessment: Reached the absolute maximum peak.

As soon as the scoreboards were published, not only was the internal Anima department shocked, but the news also spread like wildfire, causing all four other major departments to buzz with gossip.

It must be understood, the academic exam wasn’t simply answering a bunch of empty theories on paper. It encompassed nearly thirty extremely rigorous categories of magical trials:

High-speed magic matrix inscribing, manipulating the ten great elemental magics, practical potion brewing, maintaining mental fortitude against illusions, testing the precision of magic power flow, debating magic philosophy, military tactical theory, all the way down to forging and repairing magic tools...

Since the academy’s establishment until now, the number of freshmen achieving perfect scores annually had never exceeded ten people. Yet this year, out of the nine rare perfect score slots, Class 659 of the Anima department alone brazenly monopolized a solid five slots.

Overnight, Class 659 became renowned everywhere with the title "The Literary War Gods".

The ridiculous contrast with the big fat 0 in the practical combat subject made it an even more heated topic of discussion, causing even the most arrogant upperclassmen to keep an eye on these names.

However, regarding the eye of the public opinion storm outside, the five "war gods" involved were completely blind and couldn’t be bothered to care.

Once the make-up exams ended, the group spent a short three days nursing their wounds, then gritted their teeth, threw everything aside, and dove headfirst back into Griffin’s bloody training routine.

Using the excuse that they were blind, Griffin decisively tossed aside all theoretical textbooks. Instead... he forced them to execute agility and life-or-death evasion reflex exercises in a state of lost vision.

Later on, Griffin even felt it wasn’t enough, ruthlessly using magic to alternately seal all of their remaining senses, forcing the five of them to rely solely on the microscopic fluctuations of magic power in the air to cope with a barrage of fatal attacks.

Until one day over a month later, when their sight was restored to normal, did this agonizing course finally come to a complete end.