I'm a proper student; I only take nine kinds of potions every day.

A loud, unfiltered fart echoed through the classroom.

"Look."

He grinned, revealing a sunny and cheerful smile.

"That's the kind of fart I'm talking about!"

ps: Please vote for me!

Chapter 91: All Doubts Are Paid for by the Ancestors

The last sound of that fart was like an invisible slap in everyone's face.

The vast majority of students didn't dare to utter a sound, and all lowered their heads to open their textbooks on the table, using the "rustling" sound of turning the pages to cover up their embarrassment.

Most ordinary students have this kind of temperament.

There is no obvious good, nor is there any obvious evil.

They admire the strong and conform to the crowd, and are most concerned about not appearing to be different from others.

In a favorable situation, join in the fun. In an unfavorable situation, keep your head down and get back to your own business.

The two young men who had tried to mediate the fight turned red and then pale.

In their view, Ivan's fart was not just untimely, but a blatant and public humiliation of them, respectable people.

But at this moment, they didn't dare to say a word back.

The Phoenix Brotherhood is far more powerful than them.

This poor kid from Guding Street managed to escape unscathed from that group of people, and even managed to send the entire fraternity to the front page of the newspaper and into a coffin.

These kinds of characters are not people that rich young masters who rely on their family's money to get ahead would dare to mess with.

In the end, the two young men could only swallow their anger and sit back in their seats, not daring to utter another word, and could only obediently listen to Evan's nonsense.

The classroom was quiet for a while.

The door was pushed open.

Professor Mons was still wearing a clean white cotton shirt, with a dark gray wool vest over it.

He stepped across the threshold, looked around, his gaze sweeping over the pairs of downcast eyes, and slowly nodded.

"At least it feels a bit like a classroom now."

He slammed the leather lecture note folder onto the podium with a "thud": "Class begins!"

……

Throughout the rest of the lesson, Evan's performance was as impeccable as ever.

He can recite everything from structural formulas to reaction equations almost effortlessly.

Professor Mons is now increasingly willing to call on him to answer questions, and occasionally he will nod at him as a sign of approval for his prized student.

The morning classes ended quickly.

To put it another way, what are the obvious differences compared to last week?

That means the biology teacher has changed.

According to the mimeographed notice posted on the school bulletin board, Professor Pulis had returned to his hometown to recuperate due to a recurrence of an old injury.

Very few students really cared about this.

Everyone's attention was focused on the big news about the Phoenix Brotherhood.

During the day, several groups of plainclothes detectives appeared on campus. With grim faces, they called several students who had connections to the Phoenix Brotherhood into their offices one by one for individual questioning.

The Phoenix Brotherhood activity room, which was originally on the third floor of the main building, was now sealed with several wax-sealed paper strips.

Several police officers in gray coats carried out one nailed wooden crate after another from the house, with numbers written in ink on the lids of the crates.

Unfortunately, each box was sealed tightly, and even with the students craning their necks, they couldn't see what was inside the boxes as they stood on both sides of the aisle.

At 2 p.m., the school held an impromptu school-wide assembly in the domed auditorium.

The principal stood behind the podium, his gold-rimmed glasses gleaming coldly under the desk lamp, suppressing his anger.

In a calm and measured tone, he delivered a rather harsh public criticism of Alcott and his group, announcing their permanent expulsion from the university and inclusion in the "Collection of Shame of the Wise University."

According to the original plan, Ivan was also to be awarded a medal at this gathering.

But Evan politely declined on the spot.

He simply smiled and accepted the accompanying $100 bonus, telling the new head of students that all the credit should go to Hearst.

The new head of student affairs immediately smiled and praised him for being sensible.

He has no intention of becoming famous.

At gatherings of this size, there is never a shortage of reporters in the audience.

Once I get on stage, those guys with notebooks will definitely stop me and interrogate me afterward. In a day or two, my face will be on the front page of every tabloid in Bolton.

If even the newspaper vendor at the corner of Guding Street recognized me back then, how would I ever be able to go out and scam medicine?

Thus, the medal and the spotlight ultimately fell on Erdin's shoulders.

Before the awards ceremony was even over, Ivan had already slipped out of the back door of the auditorium.

In any case, to make way for this conference, all afternoon recitation classes and subsequent courses will be suspended.

He seized the opportunity, slung his backpack over his shoulder, walked out of the school gate, jumped onto a tram parked at the street corner, and headed to the Sage University Medical School.

The medical school is located north of the Chal River, about five kilometers from the main campus. You need to change trams in between.

3:30 p.m.

After a half-hour drive, Evan got off at the final stop.

He looked up.

The main building of the Sage Medical School is a red brick and granite building, modeled after the solid style of New England, with Romanesque arched porticoes.

The three-story main building stands in a row, with several auxiliary buildings extending symmetrically from the two wings, and a wisp of white mist drifting from the top of the chimney.

The Latin motto, engraved above the porch, was somewhat blurred by the winter smog.

The people coming and going were quite diverse.

A young medical student in a white coat, carrying thick textbooks, hurried up and down the steps.

Several elderly professors, wearing round glasses and sporting goatees, slowly walked across the porch, leaning on their canes.

A nurse in a light gray uniform and a white nurse's cap moved nimbly through the crowd, carrying a medical record folder under her arm.

Everyone wore a similar expression: cold and serious. A solemn, almost religious, atmosphere unique to this top medical school in the United States.

Ivan stepped through the door.

A bronze medical school badge hangs high in the main hall, below which is a white marble reception desk.

Behind the counter stood a female nurse in a white coat, her head down, writing something in a thick register.

"Hello, how can I help you?"

She looked up, revealing a young face, but one that had been honed by work to a high degree of competence.

With a smile, Ivan handed Armitage the letter of recommendation, sealed with a bright red wax seal, over with both hands.

"Hello. I am a student at the University of Wise Men."

"I came here to be Dr. Forem's assistant on the recommendation of a senior colleague."

The nurse took the letter and frowned slightly.

"Sir, are you not familiar with the standard procedure for writing a letter of recommendation?"

Her tone was fairly polite.

"According to the rules, such letters should be sent through your school first to make an appointment."

Evan grinned, revealing half of his clean, even teeth.

"This beautiful lady."

He lowered his voice slightly.

"This is a rather personal letter. It was sent by an old acquaintance of Dr. Forem."

"Just send it over. If the doctor doesn't want to see me after you send it over, then you can kick me out."

The nurse held the thick envelope between her fingertips, her gaze lingering on his face for half a second before falling on the wax seal on the back of the envelope.

The emblem on the wax seal was the same one she had seen on the Miskatonic.

The slight polite distance in her eyes faded away.

"Please wait."

She turned and walked lightly down the corridor of the main building, which was paved with dark gray granite tiles.

Dr. Forem had instructed more than once that all letters sent from the University of Michigan should be delivered directly to him.

Ivan stood by the arched pillar in the hall, put his hands in his coat pockets, and slowly looked around.

A row of oil paintings hangs on the wall, each depicting a portrait of one of the past deans of the medical school.

The medical students coming and going all seemed serious and in a hurry.

About five minutes later.

The nurse walked back quickly, her smile even brighter than before.

"Sir, please follow me."

Evan followed her through the corridor and up the staircase with oak handrails at the corner to the second floor.

The second-floor corridor was quieter than the first floor. The doors on both sides were closed, and the names on the doorplates were written in black ink on small brass plaques.

The nurse led Evan to a closed wooden door, nodded politely in greeting, and then turned and left.

Ivan reached out and knocked on the door.