Chapter 750: You Don't Understand

Heimu lifted his head, took a deep breath, decided not to deal with the two people on that side who had already entered some metaphysical debate state, and turned his gaze to the XiaDie on his right.

XiaDie is still writing.

XiaDie never raised her head from beginning to end.

Her purple gradient hair fell from the shoulder side, the tips resting on the stone table like two quiet waterfalls.

She held a pen in her right hand, its tip darting across the paper at breakneck speed, leaving line after line of fine, dense script.

Her eyelashes drooped, the pale‑violet pupils following the pen tip attentively, a faint, half‑present smile tugging at her mouth, tinged with a fervent delight.

Paired with the fan‑fiction girl's entry above her head, it felt especially subtle.

Heimu hesitated for a moment, then tilted his body slightly to the right, trying to glance at the parchment without startling the other party.

The writing on the parchment was exceedingly neat, each line aligned as if measured with a ruler, the diction and syntax bearing a unique style between academic paper and narrative literature.

She only managed to catch a few keywords: "Golden Blood," "Contract," "Confession," and a half‑struck sentence beginning "In this world only your existence—".

What followed was a dense paragraph describing someone's shoulder lines, employing about seven or eight modifiers, each precise to an anatomical degree.

Heimu silently withdrew his body.

She saw nothing.

She saw nothing.

She repeated the sentence in her mind twice, then reopened XiaDie's entry panel.

The (? ω?) beside the fan‑fiction girl still hung there, and two red Lock icons continued flashing ellipses.

The parsing progress bar moved forward a small notch, roughly a few percent.

We still have to wait.

At that moment, a muffled table‑slap sounded from ahead.

Heimu looked up.

He saw Wan Di's palm pressing on the stone table, golden eyes swirling with a heat hotter than the earlier discussion of the dictionary and Earth Beast.

He leaned forward slightly, the golden pauldrons on his shoulders tilting up a bit from his tensed pectorals, red battle markings extending from his clavicle toward his chest, emitting a faint red glow in the light.

"Teacher!"

His voice rose a half‑step, tone laced with tension that had been held in for a long time, "It seems— you don't understand!"

Na Ke Xia slowly turned around.

His movement was so slow that for each inch he turned, the surrounding air tightened a bit.

His right eye, a red‑blue gradient, suddenly contracted the instant Wan Di uttered that line, the pale‑blue light beneath his Eye Mask brightening a few degrees.

The corner of his mouth curved upward, no longer the laugh intoxicated by scholarly zeal, but a smile bearing a scrutinizing tone.

He tossed the branch aside, brushed chalk dust from his hand, then crossed his ten fingers and pushed forward, his knuckles snapping with a crisp "crack‑crack".

"I get it."

His voice suddenly deepened, dropping from the previous high, strained pitch to a low, resonant timbre, "I understand everything. From Ao He Ma's bathhouse to Xuanfeng City's walls, from Earth Beast's feed formula to Nikadoli's sword‑blade notch—there's nothing in this world I don't comprehend. You think posing a question that touches Weng Fa Luo Si's ontological core can shake a professor's confidence?"

"Heh."

Wan Di let out a short, cold laugh from deep in his throat.

He unfastened his belt (?), casually draped it over the stone table.

The belt hit the tabletop with a dull metallic clang, then he stepped forward toward Na Ke Xia.

With each step, his sleek muscular lines were etched more sharply under Yongzhou's daylight, the red battle markings spreading from his back to his arms like blazing Flame.

He looked like a classical statue freshly unearthed from an ancient Greek arena.

"It seems I need to make you understand first."

He halted in front of Na Ke Xia, the gap between them less than three meters.

Wan Di slowly raised both arms, fists clenched, shoulders dropping, his entire musculature suddenly swelling in that instant.

His deltoids and biceps bulged together, veins faintly surfacing beneath the skin, the red battle markings stretching wider, the hue shifting from dark red to scarlet.

He maintained the pose, golden eyes looking down from above at Na Ke Xia.

"—Teacher, do you understand now?"

Na Ke Xia tilted his head slightly, looking at him.

In his right eye's red‑blue pupil reflected Wan Di's swollen chest muscles.

He did not retreat; the smile on his face deepened further.

"Heh."

He raised his right hand and slowly removed the black Eye Mask from his left eye.

Beneath the mask no terrifying scar or hollow socket was visible, only a closed eye, its eyelid etched with a ring of ultra‑fine golden runes.

The eye slowly opened.

A pale‑blue radiance surged from the pupil's depths, brighter than the faint glow that had leaked through the mask's seam, casting a cold blue halo over half his face.

Then he casually tossed the mask toward the blackboard, shrugging his shoulder.

"Oh?"

Na Ke Xia tilted his head, his tone light and nonchalant, as if hearing a not‑too‑interesting but barely worth‑trying proposal, "Then don't disappoint me."

He also raised both arms.

When Heimu saw this opening move, alarm bells rang in his mind.

She had seen this opening move before.

Earlier in Data Space…

She was pondering when Na Ke Xia's shoulder suddenly jerked upward.

The dark coat began to emit a harsh tearing sound from its seams.

The sleeves, originally cut to fit a slender figure, burst apart under the sudden swelling of muscle, the fabric shards scattering, exposing arm muscle lines that were wholly unfit for a scholar's usual standards.

The buttons on the vest flew off one after another, hitting the blackboard and then bouncing to the floor; one of them rolled to Heimu's feet.

The back of the coat tore in one piece, curling outward from the middle to both sides, as if an invisible hand had burst it from within.

A piece of torn cloth drifted gently down to Heimu's feet.

She lowered her head and looked.

The dark coat fragment had frayed edges where the stitching had pulled out threads.

She looked up again at the green‑haired muscular man ahead, who now seemed a world apart from the scholar before, and twitched the corner of her mouth several times.

Ha......

It's back, everything is back.......

Her fair skin was now covered with the muscle lines that had been hidden beneath layers of clothing, making her look completely different from the frail scholar who had just been lecturing about 42‑number concrete mixed with Italian pasta in front of the blackboard.

Heimu shook his head, relieved.

It really went around such a big circle.