Mente Mestra nas Sombras: Meus Verbetes São Extremamente Insanos
Ninguém precisa pagar pelos pecados cometidos em um jogo, certo? Por isso, na vida real sou tímido e obediente, mas no jogo sou impiedoso e agressivo. Na realidade, sigo as regras e amo a paz; no jogo
New Era Calendar, Year 233, March 14.
Lower City.
District Nine, No. 47 Middle School.
The school had been dismissed for quite some time. The classrooms were all empty, save for the old ceiling fans that still whirred faintly, struggling to stay alive.
Dong Kai, the homeroom teacher of Senior Three, Class One, finished tidying up his lesson plans and, as usual before leaving, went to check if the classroom doors and windows were properly closed.
The door was ajar; the lights still on.
In the last row of desks, next to the trash bin, a figure lay over his desk, quietly working on a test paper.
He was slender, with a closely cropped haircut and black-rimmed glasses. The headphones in his ears looked worn and faded.
“Feng Mu.”
Dong Kai’s mind conjured the name of a rather invisible student in his class.
His impression of Feng Mu was vague: decent grades in the liberal arts, mediocre martial arts scores, and an overall unremarkable academic record.
His personality was equally unremarkable—silent, introverted, aloof.
His only virtues were that he had never caused trouble in his three years of high school and that he would occasionally volunteer to help classmates with duties like taking out the trash.
Feng Mu removed his headphones and stood up, his demeanor taciturn as usual, barely uttering, “Teacher Dong.”
Dong Kai nodded and glanced over the test paper Feng Mu was working on, offering a gentle admonition: “Your liberal arts scores are alright. If you can improve your martial arts scores in