Chapter 135: Remember to Attend Class

Upon returning to the Stony Brook campus, Ou Xiaolu was immediately intercepted by a group of faculty members. Leading them was an elderly artist who appeared to be in his sixties, sporting a thick mustache and a head of hair that was nearly gone, leaving only wisps of gray. He wore a canvas jacket stained with various pigments, giving him a rather disheveled appearance. He was fond of stroking his mustache and declaring, "As an artist, one must have either long hair or a mustache. My hair is beyond saving, so I must keep the mustache. Therefore, anyone who mocks my mustache is my enemy."

This time, the old artist approached Ou Xiaolu with the attitude of a combatant. After having his students and juniors block the doorway, he pointed at Ou Xiaolu and said, "Come, paint something for me. If you can't paint well, you can transfer to another department next semester."

Ou Xiaolu blinked. "Abstract or Fauvism?"

"It doesn't matter. You could even draw a comic strip for all I care. I just want to see your foundation in painting. If you truly lack talent, it would be better not to waste time in the Fine Arts Department. I think the Poetry and Arts Department next door would be more suited for someone like you."

"The Poetry and Arts Department? What on earth is that?"

"A new department. It’s just a group of people there studying how to read poetry aloud so it sounds more rhythmic."

Ou Xiaolu blinked again. "I think I’ll stick to painting. What do you want me to paint?"

"Whatever you like," the old artist replied. "I said it before: you may paint whatever you wish."

Ou Xiaolu thought seriously for a moment, then nodded. He led the teachers to his room. Looking at his art supplies, which were as clean as if they were brand new, Ou Xiaolu smiled awkwardly. "I just got here, I've been a bit busy, haven't started working yet."

"I know. You've been so busy you haven't even had time to attend class," the old artist retorted with a roll of his eyes.

Ou Xiaolu didn't say much. He had actually studied painting in the past, though he had stopped to focus on the college entrance exams. If asked to paint an oil portrait, he might not be able to produce much, but if asked for a traditional Chinese ink painting, he could at least manage a pair of shrimp.

Looking at the shrimp Ou Xiaolu had painted, the old artist rolled his eyes again. "You have some foundation, at least. But if you keep skipping class, that little bit of skill won't be enough to survive in Xinxiang. I'll let it slide this time, but if you don't show up to class again, it won't matter if you paint a shrimp or a whale."

With that, the old artist turned on his heel and headed out of the dormitory. Ou Xiaolu was not the type to be ungrateful, so he quickly stood up to see him off. Just as he reached the door, he noticed strange, shimmering specks of light hovering around the old artist.

Ou Xiaolu reached out to grab them. He caught the light, but instead of a physical object, a new interface popped up in his "Cross-World Game" system. The interface recorded the old artist’s life and achievements, with each one glowing in colors ranging from white to purple. Ou Xiaolu had a feeling that if the old artist had possessed the "Cross-World Game" system, his own paintings alone would have been enough to support his starting career. Though he didn't know the purpose of this interface, he committed it to memory, sensing that anything popping up so suddenly would surely prove useful in the future.

After dealing with this, Ou Xiaolu sighed. "From today on, I must attend class seriously. No more slacking off."

As he began to organize his textbooks, he grew increasingly uneasy. Every time he made such a pledge—like when he said he would spend a day in the city center without leaving the outskirts of Xinxiang—he would end up getting dragged into some situation that forced him to leave the city to fight. He wondered what the outcome of this new "flag" would be.

Sure enough, as he picked up his books and backpack that afternoon to head to class, someone appeared before him. It was Lawrence, a subordinate of the former Archbishop, whom Ou Xiaolu had met before. It was Lawrence who had introduced him to the "nameless duo."

Lawrence stood before him, smiling awkwardly. He had previously claimed to be the president of another school and refused to set foot on the Stony Brook campus, insisting that Ou Xiaolu meet him outside. Now, to find Ou Xiaolu, he was standing right outside his dorm, which clearly embarrassed him.

Fortunately, Ou Xiaolu wasn't the type to let the conversation die. He greeted him directly, "Lawrence, long time no see. The weather is nice today."

"Yes, Ou, the weather is indeed lovely. But do you have a moment? Our boss is looking for you."

"Your boss? Oh, the Archbishop. What’s wrong with him? Don't I have his spirit light? Why send you to notify me?"

"The boss ran into some trouble. He damaged that spatial rift; it’s one-way now—you can go in, but you can't come out. The spirit light can't transmit any more messages, so we had to use a more taxing method of communication. He originally wanted me to notify Mr. Wayne, but since I knew you were here, I felt it was necessary to tell you first."

"He damaged the leylines space? What did he do? When did this happen?"

"I don't know. I only have a little bit of information. But I still hope you can help find the other lords."

"Fine, I understand. But before that, I really have to go to class. If I don't, I won't be able to stay at Stony Brook anymore."

"Then come study at my school. I can help you transfer immediately if you're willing."

Ou Xiaolu slapped his forehead, remembering that this man was indeed the president of a university. However, it wasn't appropriate for him to just transfer. His eyes darted around. "How about this: I won't take advantage of you. Consider it payment for running errands for you—how about you invite me to be a guest professor at your school? That way, I'll have a legitimate reason to ask for leave from the administration here."

"If you're a guest professor, why would you need to ask for leave?"

"You don't understand Chinese parents. My folks have the contact info for Stony Brook. If they find out I dropped out to join another university, they'll think I got into trouble in Xinxiang. Asking for leave is the only logical excuse. Anyway, I need to go show my face in the classroom first. We'll discuss everything else when I get back."

Without waiting for Lawrence to react, Ou Xiaolu clutched his books and pens and rushed off toward the classroom.