Apocalypse Forecast-Chapter 600 - 500 The Great Fan Appears Similar to the Black_1
Right at the entrance of the first-floor lobby, where people were coming and going, the students suddenly parted ways, circumventing the man standing in the middle of the doorway, or standing far away, observing with curiosity.
The gray-green hakama he wore was without a single wrinkle, draped with a black haori jacket, his feet in wooden clogs.
And in his hand, he held a slender Sword Bag.
He stood solemnly, waiting.
The middle-aged man’s temples were tinged with white, casting his face in a particularly weathered look. What was originally a dignified appearance took on an indescribable authority after being coated with a layer of chill.
It was frightening.
At this moment, faced with this sudden questioning, Huai Shi’s eyebrows lifted slightly as he scrutinized the man. "Honestly, I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I might have guessed a bit. I don’t know if you’re willing to listen to my explanation. But before that, at the very least, you should introduce yourself, shouldn’t you, Teacher?"
The newcomer immediately sneered, "A mere nobody is not worth the concern of a lofty Astronomical Society Inspector—after doing that sort of thing, and only now asking for my name, don’t you find it hypocritical?"
"I don’t mind if you want to mock or jeer, if that’s what you’re here for."
Huai Shi calmly raised his hand, passing the bag with the lesson plans to Lin Nineteen, and walked towards him. "Although I’m a bit angry to be ridiculed without having done anything, I still hope this matter can be resolved in a rather respectable manner. So, let me restate this one more time—I don’t know who you are, nor why you harbor such great resentment against me. But if you’ve come to demand an explanation, then at the very least, before I give one, you should introduce yourself, right?"
"Do you wish to insult me again?"
The middle-aged man flew into a rage. "More words are pointless! Let me experience the might of an Astronomical Society Judge!"
He reached out and drew aside the Sword Bag, revealing a Longsword from Yingzhou.
Here, he issued a challenge.
"From the very beginning until now, hasn’t it been you who’s been insulting me one-sidedly?" In front of the crowd of onlookers, Huai Shi asked expressionlessly, "After all, showing up at the door with a sword, pressing me aggressively, isn’t really an attitude for dialogue, is it? Or is it that you’re simply looking for a place to vent your anger?"
In that instant, as Huai Shi stepped forward, everyone’s vision blurred.
After a moment of disorientation, it was as if a gap had suddenly appeared in time, erasing the entire process, leaving only the final result.
And Huai Shi, like a Ghost, had already flown across several meters in the blink of an eye, without so much as a whisper of wind, and was already in front of the middle-aged man.
Close at hand.
"Now, I will ask one last time—" he looked into those dilating pupils and asked softly, "—Your name?"
Instinctively, the middle-aged man stepped back.
A sharp sound erupted as his wooden clogs carved two tragic marks on the smooth floor. Facing the sudden change, his reaction could be considered perfect.
Moving like Thunder, he leaped back two meters in an instant, nearly smashing the glass of the door behind him.
He had finally opened up a safe distance.
But as he lifted his gaze, he saw Huai Shi’s face still close at hand, the warm smile unchanged, causing his hair to stand on end.
The right hand resting on the sword hilt suddenly gripped tight, and with the push of the left thumb, the steel within the sheath howled out—he drew his sword!
Then, it suddenly stopped.
"You shouldn’t."
Huai Shi’s palm raised, already positioned right in front of the sword hilt. It was as if he had grasped the vital seven inches of a Python in its hole, forbidding it from unsheathing further.
Thus, he pushed the Sword Blade back into the scabbard inch by inch.
No matter how much the middle-aged man resisted, his face turning ashen with effort, Huai Shi’s pushing hand did not waver or shake, until the scabbard and blade met with a clear ringing sound.
Huai Shi stepped back, the smile still harmless.
As if provoking him, he gestured.
Come on, try again.
A red flush of anger appeared on the newcomer’s livid face. Before Huai Shi, he took a step forward, slowly bending down, and assumed a stance ready to counterattack.
Like the string of a longbow gradually tightening, the terrifying tension ready to release gathered in his fingers clutching the sword hilt.
He was coiled, ready to strike.
Only the bone-chilling coldness spread from the steel’s hungry howl within the scabbard, the murderous intent biting to the bone—leaving no room for retreat, this was a bona fide duel with real swords.
Yet Huai Shi continued to smile, standing still, not moving. He was just watching him.
In the growing, deathly silence, only beads of sweat as large as beans fell slowly from the Samurai’s forehead, drenching his collar and the shattered floor beneath his feet.
He did not move a muscle.
Only the Longsword’s cry in the scabbard grew more piercing, sharp enough to hurt everyone’s eardrums, climbing crazily upward. Until at last, as Huai Shi waited, it burst forth with a wail of despair.
A sound of breaking came from within the scabbard.
The blade, not yet drawn, had shattered inside the scabbard.
As the Longsword broke, the middle-aged man seemed to lose all his vigor at once. Turning pale and unable to support his body, he staggered and fell to the ground.
How could he not understand the gap between them?
He had lost without even drawing his sword.
No, or more accurately, up until his complete defeat, he never had the courage to draw his sword in front of those silent eyes.
A baseless fear rose from within his instincts, seizing his consciousness, freezing him in place, unable to move.
"It is I who have lost..." The middle-aged man, his expression defeated, struggled to prop himself up with his scabbard, gasping for breath. "Today, it is I, Kiyoshi Kusaki, who has come to bring shame upon myself. From this day forward, whenever I encounter Mr. Huai Shi, I will naturally retreat and dare not entangle myself further with you—"
At this point, his voice trembled ever so slightly, and he seemed on the verge of tears from extreme sorrow, unable to contain his emotions. He could only bow his head, staggering to his feet from the ground, attempting to flee in disgrace.
But then he heard a gentle voice behind him, "—Did I say you could leave?"
In the midst of the faint commotion, a deathly silence abruptly fell.
The deep words, heavy and cold beyond imagination, made the hall freeze over once more.
Kiyoshi Kusaki froze in place.
In the Reflection of the glass door in front of him, he could just make out the Reflection of the young man. It was flickering like a soap bubble, hard to discern the substance within, but in a moment of trance, it seemed as though endless darkness surged skyward, engulfing everything.
It formed a terrifying vortex that made the heart palpitate.
Under the shroud of darkness, he finally realized the source of the fear in his heart.
By his side, two shadowy, malignant figures had appeared without his notice. One held a heavy red Axe in both hands, imposing and solemn as a Priest.
And the other’s Short Knife was already pressed against his neck.
He felt the bone-chilling coldness.
Now, Kiyoshi Kusaki fully understood that since standing before Huai Shi, his life had long since ceased to be in his own hands.
In the silence, Huai Shi walked to his side. "Teacher Kusaki, correct?" he asked, glancing back.
"Indeed."
Under the assault of the cold, Kiyoshi Kusaki lifted his head with difficulty and responded proudly, waiting for Huai Shi’s decision.
But after a heart-stopping moment of silence, Huai Shi raised his head from his contemplation and unexpectedly curled his lips into a warm, genial smile.
The darkness, ghostly shadows, frost, and death vanished in that instant.
All that was left was a warm, enthusiastic face.
"Teacher Kusaki—" As if they were old friends upon first meeting, Huai Shi grabbed Kiyoshi Kusaki’s hand, eagerly asking, "Have you had your meal?"
「...」
「Two hours later, in an izakaya within the Ivory Tower featuring Yingzhou specialties.」
"Excuse me, another bowl, please!" Kiyoshi Kusaki raised his empty bowl.
Beside him, Lin Nineteen’s eyelid twitched at the sight of the table crammed with empty bowls and plates, wondering where this glutton had come from.
"I’ll also have another bowl," Huai Shi raised his hand to beckon. "And another serving of sake, with a portion of fried chicken—Nineteen, do you want anything? Consider it my treat, don’t be shy."
"I’m already full." Lin Nineteen looked helpless, observing the remarkable scene on the table.
No matter how much they ate, he couldn’t keep up with these two gluttons.
So, while waiting for the tea rice to arrive, they started chewing on edamame and drinking again, looking as if they hadn’t just been brawling.
And Huai Shi had finally learned the full story.
Kiyoshi Kusaki was a ronin, a Samurai without a lord.
And if you were to look at their relationship, somehow, after many twists and turns, they had a slight connection—before he had lost his lordship, he had served the Li Jian Family as a retainer.
Alas, due to the struggle between the Tianjin System and other rival systems, the Wu Family switched allegiances entirely to the General’s side, and the former head of the Li Jian Family, who had stood on the wrong side, was subsequently compelled to commit ritual suicide in the aftermath.
Kiyoshi Kusaki went from being an eight-hundred-stone instructor of the Hua Clan to a lordless ronin, with no footing in Yingzhou. If he had been a little more clever, perhaps he could have started anew elsewhere, but given that Kusaki was an honest, simple-minded, and somewhat clueless fellow, he found no prospects at all.
After several bouts of drifting, he finally found refuge in the Ivory Tower, becoming a common adjunct teacher. To put it simply, he was a temp worker.
There were many like him in the Ivory Tower, those who couldn’t secure permanent contracts or any chance of obtaining their own classrooms. The reason he was able to stay was that he was appreciated by the Professor of the Flower Road Classroom, who recruited him as an assistant. The Professor was very old and, having rarely encountered a junior he got along with, was willing to help out as much as he could, hoping his fellow countryman wouldn’t be driven to desperate measures like thievery.
But the good times didn’t last; before half a year had passed, the Professor took sick leave before the semester even began.
Without its head, the Flower Road Classroom, a group without a leader, declined day by day. Kusaki had received great kindness but was unable to prevent the classroom’s decay. Watching as the Professor’s lifetime of effort dissipated like smoke, unable even to preserve this single classroom, Kusaki contemplated ritual suicide.
But even suicide would have been futile.
Seeing his own student pool drying up, while the original students considered transferring to a classical music appreciation class, not to mention a couple of members from student clubs fanning the flames...
After finishing their meal, Kusaki sat up straight again and, in Yingzhou’s most solemn manner, bowed deeply toward Huai Shi until he almost touched the ground. "Had it not been for Huai-kun’s generosity today, I nearly caused a catastrophe," he said. "I am terribly sorry for what transpired!"
"What are you talking about, Teacher Kusaki? Are we not friends now after a little misunderstanding?" Huai Shi stood with a radiant face, helping him up and comforting him warmly. "You might not know, but Little Amber and I have sworn a blood oath to each other at the social security bureau; side by side in battle at Paradise, we nearly became sworn siblings. In my heart, she is forever a younger sister. So how could I ever feud with someone from my sister’s family?"
Taking advantage of Kusaki’s limited understanding of Dongxia’s profound language, Huai Shi continuously took advantage of him. "Please, don’t worry about such a trivial misunderstanding; our two classrooms should get along harmoniously from now on."
For some reason, a series of unscrupulous thoughts began to surface in his heart:
Why be angry? This kind of excellent, useful ’tool-person’ who isn’t all there upstairs should be kept firmly in one’s own hands!
