85: Chapter 85 The Moment of Victory: This Fabric is Amazing for Bed Sheets
Academy Central Square.
Tens of thousands of people stood in absolute silence.
Everyone stared up at the giant screen, their necks stiff, yet no one dared to move.
In the footage, the Newcomer King, who should have been basking in the cheers of ten thousand people, was instead sticking his butt out and using a tape measure to mark the Academy Sacred Relic.
"Two point three meters long, one point eight meters wide."
With a marker in his mouth, Gu Fan indistinctly directed Xiao Fan, "Hold it down on this side. Yes, that corner. Hey, don't let your hand shake! This is our sleep quality for the next four years. If you cut it crooked, I'll hold you responsible."
Xiao Fan's forehead was drenched in sweat; he was even more nervous now than during the fight.
He pinched the corner of the flag with his fingertips, terrified that the callouses on his hands might snag the precious silk.
"Pre... President, are we really cutting it? It even has the First Principal's inscription embroidered on it..."
"What about the inscription?"
Gu Fan took the marker out of his mouth and drew a dashed line on the flag. "Those few words can be cut out to make pillowcases. Sleeping every day while pillowed on the Principal's teachings—how motivated is that? This is the greatest tribute to our predecessors!"
In the monitoring room.
Pfft—!
Dean of Discipline Dean of Students, who had just taken a sip of tea to calm his nerves, sprayed a mouthful of aged Pu'er all over the console.
Red lights flashed erratically on the console as alarms shrieked.
"Absurd! This is simply absurd!!"
Dean of Students slammed the table, his voice cracking from shouting, his face turning the color of pig liver. "That is an honor! That is a belief! He... he actually wants to use it for pillowcases?! And even underwear?!"
The young instructor beside him shrunk back and whispered, "Dean, the rules don't seem to... say you can't cut the flag after capturing it..."
Dean of Students gasped, nearly choking on his own breath.
There truly was no such rule.
Because in the five hundred years since the school's founding, no one had ever possessed a mind strange enough to take a flag they had risked their lives for and cut it up to make bed sheets!
Just then, the System's delayed broadcast finally rang out.
[Announcement! Announcement!]
[The War God Platform flag has been captured!]
[Occupation Duration: Ten minutes.]
[Champion: Lying Flat Mutual Aid Society!]
[Points Tally: 99,999+ (Data Overflow).]
Amidst the broadcast, the entire Thunder Roar Canyon was swallowed by a golden pillar of light descending from the sky.
A teleportation beam.
"Don't move! I haven't put the tape measure away yet!!"
Gu Fan grew anxious, trying to pull back the tape measure, but spatial forces were never reasonable.
Swoosh—
The world spun.
In the next second, a roar of voices like a tsunami crashed into his ears.
Gu Fan opened his eyes.
He was already back at the Academy Square.
It was packed with people.
The club members who had been knocked out, eliminated, or scared witless earlier were all standing there whole and healthy—the academy's protection mechanism had activated. In Thunder Roar Canyon, everything except mental trauma could be physically healed.
But mental trauma was another matter entirely.
Right now, thousands of eyes and countless camera lenses were locked onto the center of the square.
Other teams emerged looking miserable.
Some supported each other, some wept with their heads in their hands, and others had hollow gazes, questioning their very existence.
Only the small group in the center of the square had a completely different vibe.
Gu Fan was still slumped in that golden beanbag chair, refusing to get up. He tightly clutched the championship flag, which now had several black lines drawn on it.
Xiao Fan carried the large black pot on his back, while Lin Xue held half a basket of unwashed lettuce.
The most ridiculous one was Wangcai.
A gold chain belonging to Zhao Tiezhu hung conspicuously around the lion's neck. It held a leftover beef bone in its mouth, looking at its surroundings with a face full of confusion.
At Gu Fan's feet, a palm-sized phantom of a Thunder Flood Dragon was rubbing against his leg like a pillar, acting like a newly weaned kitten.
The contrast in this scene was far too jarring.
To an outsider, it looked like a rural tourism group had accidentally wandered into a Hell survival squad.
"Gu... Gu Fan..."
A roar escaped, every word sounding as if it were squeezed through gritted teeth.
Zhao Tiezhu.
This guy had woken up.
Someone had found a jacket for him to wear, but with his bald head and resentful expression, he looked exactly like a young wife who had just been bullied by a tyrant.
"You... you give me back my innocence!!"
Zhao Tiezhu pointed at Gu Fan, his hands trembling. "It's one thing that you knocked me out, but you actually drew a turtle on my face?! Do you have any idea that this was a nationwide broadcast?!"
Gu Fan was stunned and leaned forward to look.
Sure enough, on Zhao Tiezhu's shiny bald head, a lifelike turtle had been drawn with a marker, with the words "Slow Delivery" written next to it.
"A misunderstanding, purely a misunderstanding."
Gu Fan spread his hands with an innocent face. "I was just afraid you'd get bitten by bugs while sleeping, so I drew a Talismanic Incantation to protect you. It's just old-fashioned superstition; don't believe in it. It'll come off if you go back and wash it."
"Bullshit! That's an oil-based marker! It won't wash off!!" Zhao Tiezhu cried out in a breakdown.
Just then, the crowd parted.
The black-robed Dean Dean, his face dark with anger, walked over.
With every step he took, the surrounding air temperature dropped several degrees.
By the time he stood before Gu Fan, the square was as cold as the dead of winter.
Dean looked down at Gu Fan, who was still slumped on the sofa, and then at the championship flag being used as a seat cushion under his butt. His eyelid twitched uncontrollably.
"Gu Fan."
Dean's voice was squeezed through his teeth. "Can you explain... what exactly you were doing on the War God Platform?"
The entire venue fell into a dead silence.
Everyone wanted to see how Gu Fan would meet his end.
Gu Fan blinked and sat up slightly straighter on the sofa.
He didn't even stand up; instead, he casually picked up a piece of cooked Tripe from the hotpot basin beside him (Lin Xue had actually brought the whole pot back).
He held the Tripe out to Dean, a sincere and hospitable smile on his face.
"Dean, it's a long story."
"Look at you, coming all this way. You haven't eaten yet, have you?"
"It's just been blanched—Seven up, eight down—the timing is perfect. Want a bite? It's on me; I won't charge it to the public funds."
Dean looked at the piece of Tripe still dripping with red chili oil, the numbing and spicy aroma hitting him right in the face.
At that moment.
The string called reason in the mind of this Martial God, who had protected Tianqiong City for sixty years, snapped with a "boing."
He really wanted to... flip the table.