The next morning, Li Ming stood outside the Headmaster's Hall, staring up at the plaque that read:
"Department of Advanced Betrayal & Empathic Weaponry — Enlightenment Through Emotional Damage."
He rubbed his temples. "I came here to promote peace, not trauma."
Bai Guo fluttered down to his shoulder. "Well, technically, trauma is a form of mutual understanding. You both hurt, you both grow."
"Beautiful," Li Ming said flatly. "Maybe I should nominate you for guest lecturer."
---
Inside, the hall looked nothing like a classroom.
A circular arena of black marble surrounded a raised platform made of pulsating crimson crystal.
Dozens of students and instructors were seated in the shadows, their faces hidden behind decorative masks shaped like smiling demons.
And in the center—stood the Headmaster, Yan Luo himself.
His robes shimmered with golden script, every motion trailing runes of demonic contract law.
