Chapter 925: Do You Know Who You

1028. Do you know who you've offended? 1028. Do you know who you've offended? →:

"What was that noise?"

"Attack?"

"Attack my ass—the sound came from the principal's office. Who'd be stupid enough to attack the Head Sage? That's the Sage!"

"No way—someone actually dared to strike near the principal's door? That's suicide!"

"Why are you all frozen? Go check what's happening!"

Hearing the sudden loud crash, nearby duty teachers turned in shock toward the source—and when they realized it came from the principal's office, they froze, minds blank.

It wasn't that these duty teachers were careless or lazy; they'd worked at the academy for hundreds, even thousands of years, yet such scenes were exceedingly rare.

Their daily struggles were mostly with students—never had they imagined anyone would dare cause trouble at the principal's door. After all, striking near the Sage? That's asking for death.

But when the delayed duty teachers finally rushed to the scene, they were stunned to find things far better than expected.

Earlier, that booming sound made everyone assume an explosion had occurred—maybe structural damage, fire, something catastrophic.

But now, running over, they found the scene strangely calm. No collapsed buildings, no smoke or fire—just an unfamiliar "painting" stuck to the wall.

Honestly, whoever painted it was talented—hyper-realistic, as if a living person had been pasted onto the wall.

A few art teachers stepped forward to study this extraordinary artwork—but after two steps, the "painting" slid off the wall, swelled back into a human shape, then blood gushed violently from every orifice like water from a broken dam.

Duty teachers: "........"

Fuck, this is a real person.

They were startled, but this time their reactions were swift.

"Wait, don't vomit—I'm on cleaning duty this week!"

"Oh my, hold on! That carpet's a gift from another Sage to the principal—extremely valuable!"

"Enough! Is now the time to care about carpets? Go get the school medic—don't let anyone die at the principal's door!"

"Yes, yes! Miss, please swallow that blood—wait until you reach the infirmary before you die!"

They frantically pulled out their wands and began casting spells.

One controlled the flying blood, forcing it back to its source.

Another quickly cast protective charms over the furniture and carpet.

Another hurled healing spells while pulling out a spellbook to summon help from the school hospital.

In short—total chaos.

Only then did the companions who'd come with the "painting" woman react.

"Miss Eina, are you alright?"

The angelic witches rushed to surround their companion, casting healing magic all over her.

Of course, some glared angrily at the attacker.

"Are you insane? You struck so brutally? You're challenging the authority of the Witch Academy, defying the principal's dignity!"

This middle-aged angelic witch had no trouble throwing accusations—she raised her voice, as if afraid no one would hear.

Once she led, the others followed instantly.

"How dare you? Dragon Witch—are you trying to start a war?"

"Do you know who you hit? Miss Eina is the daughter of Bishop Emma! You..."

"So I can interpret this as your bishop declaring war on me?"

Facing the angelic witches' fury, Euphelia remained calm. She carefully wiped the hand that had just slapped the insolent woman, tucked away her handkerchief, then asked slowly, "So I can interpret this as your bishop declaring war on me?"

Instantly, the angelic witches fell silent.

They were used to bullying others—this outburst was just instinctive rage. But now, with that question, they dared not speak further. After all, declaring war wasn't something they could decide.

Especially when the target was this legendary warrior-prince of the Dragon Realm.

The atmosphere froze. The once-boisterous angelic witches were mute, as if something had sealed their mouths.

But Long Ma had no patience for these clowns. She turned toward the principal's office.

Perhaps sensing the commotion, the previously closed door now opened, revealing two figures stepping out.

Leading them was a kind-faced, elegant old woman—Prilirra, the academy's principal.

The other was a young, beautiful nun, radiating holiness, her face always lit with a warm, approachable smile.

Behind Long Ma, Dorothy studied the nun, then silently stepped back behind her mother.

Jesus, young my ass—another Sage.

The angelic witches had only produced one new Sage in recent centuries—the principal. Now another? No doubt a retired elder had returned.

"Euphelia, what are you doing outside my door?"

Principal Prilirra glanced at the scene, then sighed at her favorite student.

"You're a mother now—how can you still be so short-tempered?"

Long Ma shrugged.

"Teacher, you know me—if I hadn't held back, that woman would already be a corpse."

Prilirra: "........"

The principal fell silent—she couldn't refute it.

After all, this student was her most brilliant disciple, with a temperament mirroring her own youth—ruthless, decisive.

Given how loud the disturbance had been, Euphelia had clearly been furious. That no one died meant this disciple had softened considerably—and shown her teacher due respect.

"Dorothy, what happened?"

Prilirra turned to her disciple's disciple, smiling warmly.

Dorothy held deep respect for the principal—after all, this grandmother had gifted her a forbidden spell on their first meeting. Generous. Good person.

She recounted the events truthfully.

In front of a Sage, she didn't embellish.

But after hearing her account, the principal's face darkened—her gentle grandmotherly expression vanished, replaced by the ferocity of a wrathful demon.

"Elena, insulting the Divine King's Holy Son is no trivial matter. I demand an explanation."

The principal turned sharply to the beautiful nun beside her.

The nun, who had been smiling moments before, no longer smiled. She glanced at the still-bloody "painting" woman, then nodded.

"Prilirra, I apologize. I've been out of affairs for so long—this return, I only brought a few descendants to represent the family. I never expected such a disgrace. A shame to the house—I'll give you a proper resolution."

The Sage-nun Elena was unexpectedly humble. She sincerely apologized to the principal, then turned to Dorothy's group.

"Elena bows before the Holy Son."

The Sage-nun bowed deeply to Sophiliah.

Sophiliah, the Pure White Witch, instinctively wanted to dodge—but she suppressed the urge, accepting the Sage's bow with calm dignity.

"Sage Elena, no need for such formalities."

She stepped forward, gently lifting the bowed Sage, then spoke.

Elena's eyes flickered with surprise, then settled into calm, her warm, approachable smile returning.

"With the Holy Son leading the Divine King's Church, it shall surely rise again."

She said this.

But Sophiliah shook her head.

"Sage Elena, you overstate it. Since the moment I drew my sword, the Divine King told me: the Divine King's Church is already history. The new age needs no devotion to old religions."

She said this.

For a moment, Elena's smile froze—then quickly returned to normal.

"If it is the Divine King's divine decree, we shall obey."

She said this with deep reverence.

But as the "painting" woman neared death, Elena raised her hand—a holy light shot from her palm and merged into the woman's body.

Instantly, the dying angelic witch improved—her pallor faded, replaced by healthy color.

Just as she seemed fully restored, her face twisted again—and she spat a fresh gout of blood.

This time, the blood came without warning—who expected a Sage's healing to backfire? The blood stained the carpet, and the duty teacher on cleaning duty turned pale, heart sinking.

This surprised Elena. She frowned, stepped closer, examined the woman's condition, then looked at Euphelia with astonishment.

She hadn't taken much notice of this Dragon Witch before—even after Prilirra revealed her as her student.

But now, the Sage-nun had to admit: this young Dragon Witch was a force worthy of serious regard.

This disciple was even stronger than her own master, Prilirra.

As Elena sent another holy light into the "painting" woman, the angelic witch finally stabilized, regaining consciousness.

"Ancestor, they..."

She instinctively tried to complain—but no sound came out. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't speak.

"Eina, you insulted the Holy Son—a grave sin against the Church. I sentence you to silence for a thousand years. Do you accept your punishment?"

The Sage-nun smiled as she asked the unworthy descendant.

Eina panicked—but seeing her ancestor's smiling face and cold eyes, she could only weep and bow her head.

Elena then turned back to Long Ma and the principal.

"Are you satisfied with this?"

She asked.

Prilirra and Euphelia exchanged a glance—and were about to nod.

After all, that portrait girl was also a Peak Witch; silencing a Peak Witch for a thousand years for a single cruel word was already an extremely harsh punishment.

"I'm not satisfied."

A voice spoke up.

It was Dorothy.

Instantly, everyone's gaze turned toward her.

"You haven't even apologized to Sophilia. None of you are willing to say a single 'sorry.' I think you lack sincerity."

The Zhaimonv ultimately couldn't hold back—she stepped out from behind her mother's back and said so.

She hadn't wanted to draw attention, but after these big shots had been bickering for ages without offering even a single apology to the victim, it was simply unacceptable.

Although Lady Elinna had already punished the portrait girl—and the punishment was indeed severe, since for a Witch, silence meant not just being unable to speak, but also unable to chant spells, which greatly hindered spellcasting.

Especially for Angel Witches, who excel in Word-Spell arts, being unable to cast Word-Spells would severely weaken their power.

But one thing is one thing: punishment is punishment, but an apology must still be given.

Although her mother's slap a moment ago had been incredibly impressive—making the Zhaimonv 's heart race—sometimes parents simply don't understand what their children truly need.

Dorothy knew her housekeeper wasn't the type to show off in public or bully others; she didn't enjoy tormenting the portrait girl. What she wanted was a sincere apology.

In truth, the Pure White Witch herself had always felt her birth was her original sin—but the Zhaimonv rejected such nonsense about being born guilty. So if no one apologized today, no one would leave this room.

Previously, since the big shots had been speaking, others had dared not protest—but now, with this little Witch suddenly stepping forward, some of the Angel Witches grew resentful.

Especially the portrait girl, who abruptly lifted her head, staring at Dorothy in disbelief, then filling her eyes with fury.

"How dare you demand I apologize? Do you even have the right to speak here, little thing?"

Even though she was silenced, her gaze clearly conveyed this meaning.

But no matter how furious she was, Dorothy merely looked at her calmly and seriously. Seeing she remained unrepentant, Dorothy turned her gaze toward the Nun Sage.

But Elinna also looked at her calmly, her smile still on her face.

Then Dorothy smiled too.

"I see. So Lady Elinna, you think the same way."

The Zhaimonv nodded, then tugged at the necklace around her neck.

"Sister, wake up—it's time to work. Someone wants to play parent-off with me."

She called out.

Hmph, weren't those Angel Witches just asking me if I knew who I'd hit? Now it's my turn to ask you: do you know who you've underestimated?

It's just about backings, right? Who doesn't have one?

The next moment, the slumbering Dragon-Snake opened its eyes.

Across from her, the beautiful Nun Sage's smile froze solid.

... Grand Ancestor is waking up...