Academic gathering with Lich colleagues

Losing a little money is no big deal for a lich.

Losing all their money isn't a big deal for a lich, as long as it's not their own guild funds or research money. A lich who can't conduct experiments is better off alive!

Screams and wails filled the entire Andrei.

Besides the literary society, because they are the bookmakers, next will be all the Andrei lich debtors involved in the gambling.

Lyle looked at the three members of the literary society; they were all shaking, even though they were just skulls. They were obviously extremely excited.

Receiving a large sum of money and witnessing the miserable state of other liches—these two pleasures intertwined to create the ultimate joy.

Wait a minute, why does Mr. Delusional's expression look a little off?

Before Lyle could ask, the square box hanging on the bone coat rack suddenly unfolded, projecting a phantom image above Andrei.

The projection of Mr. Delusional held his head in his hands, his face contorted in agony. A mechanical voice, unique to Mr. Delusional, emanated from the mini speaker, but this voice was far from its usual coldness; instead, it was incredibly passionate.

"Nameless! WTF! My billion!!! It's gone!!!"

"I betrayed my family and friends! I bet on you! I sold my soul! I bribed the Black Abyss Demon Clan's tournament organizers! The opponents after that are definitely enough to push you into the top three! I went to great lengths to smooth things over!!! I used up a lot of favors!!! And what!!! You!!! Is this how you treat my hard work and my billion?! My billion!!! My entire fortune!!!"

"I fucking came all the way to the stadium to watch your match, all excited!!!"

"And this is how you treat us?! How could you do this to us?!"

"RNM!!! Give me my money back!!!!"

Instigated by Mr. Delusional, the clamor plunged the entire Andrei Lich Kingdom into riot.

Lyle huddled in his seat, looking at his colleagues with horrified expressions.

A lich calamity is brewing.

The Lich Bane - A Pseudo-Economic Crisis.

Chapter 411 The Seventh Subject

The liches ultimately failed to recover their bets, and Andrei's enforcers were busy helping the literary society members fight off the rampaging liches. Driven mad, the skeletons were simply pushing and shoving each other, howling and swinging their fists. This relieved the enforcers, though they were more inclined to turn and give the smug literary society members, frequent visitors to the Hall of Punishment, a good beating. Even among the enforcers were many liches who had lost money.

However, rules must be followed, and accepting the consequences of a bet is one of Andrei's rules.

Andrei's riots did not last.

The literary society didn't reclaim the bets they won. Instead, they used the spoils to issue IOUs, becoming the liches' creditors. Yes, the literary society wasn't short of money; what it lacked was the liches' "tolerance." Imagine, if the literary society caused trouble again, and the persecuted liches happened to be their debtors, they would watch with gritted teeth, yet never retaliate. That mixture of anger and helplessness was clearly a great source of amusement for the literary society.

The lich breathed a sigh of relief upon receiving the money again, but felt no gratitude. His inner frustration mingled with the smirking faces of the literary society. They knew perfectly well what the literary society wanted, but could only helplessly endure the rather awful period that followed. In the lich's mind, the literary society's standing had fallen even lower.

Although the literary society didn't take the money from the losers, it did take Mr. Delusional's billion. Because the traitors were even more despicable, they even came to Mr. Delusional's skull with those money bags and flaunted them, with the reporter skull and the gentleman skull even singing songs beside him.

The world where only Mr. Delusional was injured is now complete.

The liches' livelihoods were secured, but their inner depression remained unresolved.

The literary society had become its creditor, so the only remaining outlet for its emotional outpourings was the nameless one.

The liches were making a chaotic preparation to begin their operation when they discovered that some had already blocked their path.

"Apocalypse! What are you advanced magic research students doing blocking this way?!"

The heavy metal armor made Mr. Apocalypse appear a head taller than everyone else. The professors of the Advanced Magic Research Institute stood around Mr. Apocalypse, their faces hidden in the shadows of the arena's stone walls. Only their eyes, gleaming with an unusual light, shone in the darkness as they looked at their lich companions.

And Nameless was standing behind Mr. Gravity.

“Nameless is a member of our Advanced Magic Research Society, and a lich under my command, Apocalypse.”

"Didn't you see how much trouble he caused! He should be..."

“You should shut up.” Mr. Apocalypse stepped forward, his eyes gleaming sinisterly through the gaps in his iron helmet. “Don’t blame your idiotic behavior on my men. The literary society is tolerant because they are an artistic organization with their own standards.”

"But we are a high-level magic research institute. Under magic, there is only a strict hierarchy of power."

"You want to be my enemy? You... want to disappear?"

Under Apocalypse's coercion, the lich took a small step back, uttering a boastful but cowardly remark, "You're not even number one, Andrei," before turning and fleeing.

Apocalypse did not take any action, nor was it provoked as the Lich had imagined.

The somber voice was largely muted by the heavy armor, leaving only a faint whisper.

"I don't need to be number one, I just need to be stronger than him."

The Literary Society is the troublemaker among liches. The Advanced Magic Research Society, on the other hand, is the freak among liches.

They were even more reclusive than liches, for their knowledge surpassed that of their time; geniuses are always lonely. Even when Apocalypse was still in the Magic Research Society, he had already recognized his own abnormality.

His knowledge and insights cannot be recognized because no one has taken that step like him.

Jing chose to distort herself to conform to the world's perception.

Apocalypse chose to distort the world's perception to satisfy itself.

The Advanced Magic Research Society was born.

The incomprehensible wisdom and the unexpected anomalies are all embraced by the Apocalypse.

Gravity, stasis, fear, electromagnetism, the Death Star.

The emergence of one highly qualified professor after another proved him right.

Apocalypse, who became the leader of the outcasts, also maintained absolute tolerance towards them.

“But, Nameless. If you don’t give me a good explanation, I’ll be very upset.”

In Mr. Apocalypse's view, the professors of the Advanced Magic Research Institute parted to the sides, allowing Nameless to look directly at his club president.

"Stop repeating that irresponsible nonsense. If you ever say 'I am irresponsible' to the honor of our club, I'll beat you up in front of your mentor, Gravity."

Everyone controlled their movements and made no sound.

A new roar erupted in the arena, and a new gladiatorial match began with the voice of the nameless one.

"Gravity Mentor, you prepared the [Celestial Phenomena] for me, didn't you? I can guess your intentions. By randomly creating some strange phenomena with a chaotic gravitational field, you were sure to satisfy Wuming's curiosity. That must have been your original thought."

"Fate is unpredictable. We can only helplessly feel its arbitrary manipulation of us. This feeling is even more profound for me because I can see the 'threads' of fate."

"As President Tianqi once said, 'All existence arises from chance, and every chance is a miracle.'"

"Gravity mentor, you've made this a reality."

"In the chaotic and disordered gravitational field, I saw the mystery of fate. The threads changed their color and their direction. With the help of simulated galaxies, I am no longer an observer of fate, but a guide of fate."

"I have found the rules that are unique to me and suit me."

"A new discipline."

"The seventh department of the Advanced Magic Research Society, and I will become its founder."

The nameless man's speech gradually quickened, his explanation sounding like a triumphant roar in a gladiatorial arena.

"That is my own discipline. It will interfere with destiny. I will surpass all the diviners of the past and present, for they are slaves to destiny, while I am the master of destiny! All good fortune will be my companion, and all misfortune will befall my enemies!"

"I will become destiny, I will become God's spokesperson!"

Wuming looked around, his indifferent expression vanishing. His gaze swept over the group of professors, finally settling on Mr. Tianqi.

"My discipline will be the strongest discipline; it will surpass the knowledge of all of you, even you, Mr. Apocalypse."

Wuming adopted an arrogant attitude, pointing directly at the imposing president.

After the silence came bursts of laughter from all the members of the Advanced Magic Research Society, laughing so hard they were doubled over and laughing heartily.

Wuming frowned, looking at everyone, including his mentor.

"You think it's funny? You think I'm joking?"

The laughter from the Advanced Magic Research Society did not stop. Mr. Apocalypse patted his leg armor and stood up again.

"The reason we're laughing is that you're the sixth person to point at my face and say that you'll surpass me in your field, Mr. Anonymous."

The sixth one?

"Gravity, stasis, electromagnetism, the Death Star, fear—they've all made similar pronouncements to yours, though Mr. Fear almost cried back then. Unbridled confidence in one's own discipline is the very foundation of the Advanced Magic Research Society's arrogance."

“Nameless, I don’t know how much skill you have, but you do have the air of a professor.”

"I am satisfied with your explanation."

"Honor is ultimately just an added value to our knowledge. If you have found a new path, there is really no need to continue competing and waste time."

"Then keep up the good work, future professor of the seventh discipline."

The members of the Advanced Magic Research Club left with smiles on their faces.

Before his departure, Mr. Gravity offered his congratulations.

"My student, have you thought of a name for your subject? The subject that interferes with fate..."

The nameless man nodded. "Of course, I've already thought it through. Because my field of study is manipulating fate, the most obscure and mysterious power in the entire world. Therefore, I named it..."

"metaphysics."

Chapter 412 A Clash of Titans

Upon hearing the new name mentioned by Wuming, Gravity breathed a sigh of relief; at least it wasn't some irresponsible ghost.

"So, your gladiator tournament is over, and you have a new research topic. Are you going to come back to Andrei with us to continue your research? You can use my testing ground, and while you're at it, you can clean up the sandstorm you caused."

The nameless man did not answer immediately, but instead...

"The heavens move and all things are in motion."

Two parallel earthen walls rise between Nameless and Gravity, leaving a gap in the middle that is about the height of a person.

Nameless began a new divination, but this was part of his self-study, so Gravity had to be much more patient this time. Mr. Gravity stroked his chin, using his scattered, occasional knowledge of divination to interpret the text.

"The parallel earthen walls, complete and solid, signify stagnation, with no new breakthrough. Between you and me, however, is only a narrow passage, about one person high, a gap that allows you to come to me. I understand, Nameless, fate is guiding you; you have only one option: to return with me!"

Facing his mentor's expectant gaze, Mr. Wuming made no attempt to hide his disdain, expressing his disdain for his lack of professionalism.

"Gravity mentor, don't embarrass yourself with your amateurish divination skills. You've misunderstood it, and you're wildly wrong."