Chapter 324: Conclusion

He reaches into a trash can, his fingertips carefully feeling and distinguishing the textures of various waste, his hollow eyes fixed on the interior, as if probing some profound philosophy.

"Teacher,"

He suddenly speaks, his voice still that flat, uninflected tone, but if you listen closely you can taste a hint of confused seeking, "I've recently... experienced some things. I pushed others into misfortune, witnessed unexpected disgrace, even... witnessed large‑scale failures."

He withdraws his hand, a crushed soda can clutched between his fingers, glances at it, and casually tosses it onto a nearby trash pile.

"According to my previous Cognition, observing the collapse of an ideal, tasting others' utmost pain, should generate pleasure. I pushed, and I observed."

He extends his hand toward another trash can, "Teacher Tohsaka's final posture... truly exemplifies a paradigm of disgrace and failure. Yet..."

He pauses briefly, as if organizing his words, or rather savoring that unfamiliar feeling.

"I did not feel the strong, sweet pleasure I expected. Instead... it's emptiness. As if I merely executed a command, observed a result, and that was all."

A Xing stands beside him, holding the small device that tracks the Mother Insect Signal, watching the signal while listening to Yan Feng's words.

Her golden eyes show little movement, only occasionally glancing at Yan Feng's trash‑digging motions, seemingly evaluating his "technique."

"But,"

Yan Feng continues, this time his flat tone seems to carry a faint icy ripple, "just now, walking down the street, watching strangers—people I don't know—suddenly, for inexplicable reasons, fall into a collective, primitive, utterly undignified embarrassment..."

He pulls out a tattered plush toy, holds it up and looks at it.

"... I felt a kind of... unfamiliar throb. Very weak, very cold, unlike previous expectations. It wasn't caused directly by me, nor aimed at any particular one. More like... the loss of control of the whole scene itself sparked a hint of... interest?"

He turns his head, looks at A Xing, and in his hollow eyes a rare clear question appears: "Teacher, is this... also a kind of pleasure? This... satisfaction that arises from observing large‑scale failure?"

A Xing, after listening, remains silent for a few seconds.

Her golden eyes scan Yan Feng's expressionless yet clearly earnest face, then contemplate his words—"pushing others into misfortune," "witnessing large‑scale failure," "generating interest"...

(Hmm...)

(This student... seems to have a flawed line of thought.)

(Likes watching others explode?)

(This interest... is a bit perverse.)

(Black Tower Lady's Task hasn't been completed... Mother Insect Signal is still active...)

(Tsk, all because of this incompetent student asking weird questions, delaying my... no, delaying my execution of the Task.)

Thoughts race in her mind, yet her face remains expressionless.

But out of some "teacherly" sense of responsibility (or simply to end the conversation quickly and resume "exploration"), she decides to give a simple, direct "guidance."

"Pleasure," A Xing says, her voice as flat as hers, "comes in many forms."

She points at the dirty plush toy Yan Feng just produced: "Rummaging a trash can and finding something unexpected is pleasure."

This is a theory she has personally practiced.

She also points toward a faint sound coming from outside the alley: "Watching a spectacle, seeing an unexpected development, can also be pleasure."

This is a conclusion based on general social observation.

"Your kind of,"

She summarizes, her golden eyes fixed on Yan Feng, "probably... is pleasure derived from watching large‑scale spectacles. It's rather niche."

Yan Feng Qili: "..."

He is stunned.

Not because A Xing's content is profound, but because this... reduction of all tangled emotions, twisted inquiry, moral dilemmas into the almost crude categorization of "finding the unexpected in trash" and "watching a large spectacle."

(Watching... large‑scale spectacle pleasure.)

(Absurd... massive...)

(... seems... somewhat reasonable.)

His hollow eyes flicker slightly, as if a faint flame has truly been "ignited" by this laughably simple definition, and he finds a label that can be placed, less distorted (?), perhaps.

"So that's it... watching the spectacle..."

He repeats it softly, seeming to find the phrasing oddly apt.

Even his previously empty interior feels a little more filled.

"Continue."

Seeing Yan Feng seem to grasp it, A Xing says no more, signaling him to keep rummaging the trash can, while she refocuses on the tracking device and, with her toe, nudges another bulging trash can nearby, contemplating the next target.

Under A Xing's guidance, Yan Feng's rummaging appears more... emotionally charged; though his face remains expressionless, the focused sense of exploration seems to gain a hint of... anticipation?

At that moment, Yan Feng's hand reaches deep into another trash can and feels a soft, warm (?), slightly sticky lump.

He puzzlingly extracts it and holds it up.

It is an object loosely wrapped in old newspaper, the wrapping incomplete, edges oozing a dubious yellow‑brown semi‑solid that emits an indescribable fermented sour odor... an unidentified item.

"Teacher,"

Yan Feng lifts it before A Xing, his face still expressionless, but his hollow eyes bearing pure curiosity, "What is this...? Its texture is unique, its smell... quite layered."

A Xing, hearing this, looks away from the device screen, glances at the thing in Yan Feng's hand.

Her golden eyes linger on the suspect hue and wrapping for half a second, her nostrils twitch slightly (though she maintains perfect composure, such subtle physiological response is hard to fully suppress), then, in her flat, unruffled tone, she gives a precise and plain appraisal:

"Oh."

"That is Defense."

Yan Feng Qili: "..."

He holds the "Defense" aloft, hovering in the air for two seconds.

Then, very naturally and calmly, with a flick of the wrist, he tosses it in a standard parabolic arc far into the deepest shadow of the alley, as if discarding an inconsequential leaf.

After the motion, he claps his hands, turns to A Xing, and his hollow eyes seem... even "clearer" now?

"I've been taught, Teacher."

He nods slightly, sincerely, "Another unexpected item eliminated. The process of exploration truly is full of surprises."

A Xing nodded, pleased with the student's insight, then pointed at the trash can he was staring at: "This one might have something."

The teacher and student again threw themselves into focused …

In "Philosophical Practice".

The chaos and moans outside the alley seemed like a story from another world.