High School of Demon Hunting

Chapter 1298: Chapter 45: The Triple World and the Brain in a Vat

The night breeze was gentle, rustling the corners of the robe.

The teacher’s robe seemed to become especially broad, shielding the eyes of the young, cost student Zheng Qing. Following behind his teacher, he stumbled a few steps, feeling that he had just left the great hall of Gini Cottage; suddenly, the sound of wind by his ears abruptly ceased.

The floating corners of the robe that had been blocking his view also gracefully fell back into place.

Zheng Qing’s view brightened, as the words of complaint he planned to utter involuntarily retreated back down his throat—he could wager that his teacher had already taken him away from Buji Island.

Because the boy remembered clearly, it was the middle of the night on Buji Island.

Yet before him was a dawn-bathed, invigorating New World. Tender green grasses a few inches high occupied every corner of Zheng Qing’s view, interspersed with several crystal-clear springs and a few low shrubs. Light yellow flowers shyly bloomed under the sun, resembling a little wife hiding behind the door threshold.

”Where is this?” the boy asked subconsciously.

”A certain New World,” the teacher replied nonchalantly, as if talking about something as mundane as ’having soy milk for breakfast.’

Zheng Qing’s mouth opened and closed, silent, then opened and closed again, several times, like a fish out of water, struggling for a long while before hoarsely asking,

”Can I come here again?”

His voice was full of doubt and strong uncertainty.

”Magic is about making the impossible possible,” the teacher always had patience for his student’s questions. ”As far as I’m concerned, yes, coming here is not difficult... For you, it’s the privilege of being an ’exception.’”

”Exception?” Zheng Qing immediately realized the ’Forbidden Spell’ within him—according to what his teacher had said before, the existence of a Forbidden Curse was an existence that broke the rules, the greatest exception in the world.

With this confidence, he finally managed to adjust his mood and seriously observe his surroundings.

The grass spread under their feet towards the distance; at the end of the grassland stood a black ancient castle. White windmills, red water buffaloes, and tall, green-skinned natives made up a harmonious pastoral scene.

Although those natives had a slightly different skin color, their faces were no different from that of an Ordinary Wizard, wearing tattered clothes and wielding hoes contentedly. Observing their tools, Zheng Qing deduced that this was a place in a farming society.

”How beautiful,” the Young Wizard took a deep breath, as if to inhale all of the carefree air into his belly, ”When I grow old, I want to find a place like this, to rise early and deal with neglected fields, to return home with my hoe under the moonlight.”

The teacher glanced at him.

”Farmland work is never as poetic as Tao Yuanliang made it sound; it is a very arduous job,” he commented while pulling back the boy who was attempting to go towards the ancient castle, placing a hand on his shoulder.

”At any time,” he emphasized and repeated, ”a qualified pioneer, in the New World, at any time, must follow the strictest safety principles... You must learn to see through appearances to grasp the essence of things.”

Essence?

Zheng Qing blinked in confusion, straining to scrutinize the scenery around him—the mountains were still mountains, the water was still water, the ancient castle remained quiet as before, and the farmers were as leisurely as ever.

”What you see with your eyes might not be reality,” the teacher reminded. ”Close your eyes and perceive this world with your soul.”

Zheng Qing obediently closed his eyes.

Darkness enveloped his sight.

Then he heard the teacher sigh, followed by a cool damp sensation on his eyelids, as if the teacher had applied a layer of water or something like menthol.

Moments later, the darkness in my vision faded, turning to purplish-red, peach, pale yellow, and finally a pale expanse.

The verdant pastoral world before me had become a pale, deathly silent one.

The tender grass underfoot was a pile of hairs, the bubbling clear spring was flowing with bloody water, and the shrubbery was a haphazard landscape of white bones. The black castle, though, remained unchanged, just as gloomy as before.

The demon wind howled in gusts, and the ghostly breeze whispered incessantly.

The farmers laboring in the fields, each one deformed and grotesque, missing eyes, lacking ears, with extra noses, their bodies covered in frightful tumors.

The boy gasped in shock, instinctively stepping back, and opened his eyes.

Before him was again a vibrant, thriving world, a pale yellow flower a few steps away nodding gently in the breeze, its delicate beauty tinged with a playful charm.

Zheng Qing gritted his teeth and closed his eyes once more.

That little yellow flower transformed into the hideous head of a vengeful spirit, its greedy mouth wide open as it stretched toward the boy, droplets of murky saliva dripping from the corners.

Zheng Qing tiptoed, trying to minimize his contact with this world.

The teacher stood by his side, his voice seeming ethereal, as if coming from a far-off place, ”...Unlike the amiable Outerworld, the very fabric of this world is highly unfriendly to outsiders. The fruits that natives can consume are deadly poison to wizards; the grass they trample thoughtlessly is lethal rope to wizards; the sweet springs from which they drink are no less than aqua regia to wizards... At its core is a city.”

”A city that exists deeper within this world, hidden in some corner of it—the ’City of Rebellion.’”

”You’re not seeing deeply enough... Calm your mind and imagine your brain is a radio, a large pot lid capable of receiving endless information... Do not attempt to analyze the incoming data, just focus on receiving it.”

”As long as you see enough, deeply enough, you will perceive the true nature of the world.”

With eyes closed, Zheng Qing tried to block out the pale, horrific images outside, muttering to himself phrases like ”I am an emotionless antenna,” ”I am a pot lid.”

Soon, endless streams of information rushed toward his head from all directions, as if a thousand birds were squabbling madly in his ears, and countless broken, twisted images squeezed into his eyes, swelling them.

Zheng Qing feared that if this state continued for a few more seconds, his eyeballs would burst from the onslaught of images.

Just then, a crisp sound echoed in the depths of his heart, like the shattering of glass or the explosion of ice. In the shifting light and shadow, the world constructed by white bones and disfigured monsters vanished from Zheng Qing’s sight.

A massive ’Aquarium’ materialized before him.

The teacher stood with his back to Zheng Qing, gazing up at the transparent tank in front of him, observing intently.

The boy looked closer and saw that the tank didn’t house fish or seaweed but instead a grey-white brain floated there, like a tombstone freed from weight, gently undulating with the water, with dozens of slender cables extending from the brain into the deeper recesses of the tank.

”Is this the city?”

Zheng Qing’s voice sounded weak and powerless, as if echoing across an empty plaza, ”A single aquarium?”

”Not just one,” the teacher corrected, gesturing for the boy to look farther.

Zheng Qing took a step back and looked up.

Up, down, left, right.

Everywhere he looked, countless ’aquariums’ were neatly arranged in this space, numerous brains bobbing in the murky liquid, like tombstones hovering between life and death.