Chapter 449: The Young Sprouts of

Regardless of what absurd dreams the Zeta people, reincarnated as meat lizards, might have had, players from another world continued to sharply critique those wildly imaginative assignments.

At first, they joined the official event just for amusement, curious to see what new nonsense the AI in "Disaster Online" could come up with.

But when they picked up the NPCs' assignments, they realized—holy shit, there were actually some brilliant minds among these NPCs!

Had the game secretly updated again?

One-Punch Server Breaker: "Holy shit! Look at Assignment #1753! This guy used wind magic to create a pressure differential at the front of Stone Bullet, reducing energy loss during flight! Did the Demon King teach aerodynamics to the Scholars' mages?!"

Bone-Dry Non-Chinese: "Awesome! That's some slick thinking! Feels like the game secretly updated—how did these NPCs suddenly get so smart?"

Orthopedic Expert: "And check out #2578—this guy actually thought to improve 'Detection Shu ' using 'echolocation' principles, claiming it's better than the mage's Hawk Eye spell in dark environments like mazes!"

Hu Wan: "6666!"

Brick-Lifting Knight: "This assignment is also insane! Using leverage to enhance 'Rock Hammer'—apparently, it can generate destruction equal to steel-grade power with only bronze-grade magic! Is this real? Has anyone tested it in-game?"

I'm Going First: "I'm heading to the maze right now! Wait for me, guys!"

King of Debating: "That 'Rock Hammer' idea doesn't hold a candle to the 'Rock-Earth Flying Arrow—Miro Effect Energy-Piercing Round' on the forum—that thing can pierce through steel-grade golems with a single bronze-grade spell. Are these Scholars' mages really that weak?"

Rational Middleman: "Cough, you can't compare NPCs to our player creativity. By the way, I think Apprentice #0005's 'Summon Coal Ball' earth magic is pretty brilliant too—I've never seen an NPC outside the Grand Cemetery use magic like this. It's literally using magic to pioneer advanced productivity."

The comment thread kept growing taller.

Watching these increasingly outrageous assignments, the players on the forum felt like they'd discovered treasure—marveling, astonished, and thrilled.

Due to the game's terrifyingly high spell-casting barrier, most players aren't skilled at casting and often rely on Night Elf NPCs to bring their wild ideas to life.

But Night Elves aren't always reliable.

These pointy-eared types are often more stubborn than humans, and worse—they frequently can't grasp our concepts at all.

These Scholars' mages, however, are different: they're not only proficient in magic, but surprisingly flexible in thinking, even as adept at reckless experimentation as players themselves!

Too bad the Scholars, as a background faction in "Disaster Online," couldn't be selected as a starting faction during the closed beta—not even an option to choose them existed, and no one knew when the teleportation array to the Northern Wastes would open.

Professional Background Character: "Damn, are these NPCs really that good? Did the devs finally spend money on AI?"

Gou Shi: "Logic's flipped—I feel like the devs are using players to train the AI. Haven't half of you guys already tried these ideas? (lol)"

Chugged the Chemical Pool: "Wait—you're right! I actually tried summoning coal balls with Earth Call! (terrified)"

I'll Form the Head: "Stop the nonsense—just open the 'Scholars' new map already!!"

I'll Form the Legs: "Strongly suggest the Demon King open a maze branch in the Northern Wastes! These promising kids—can we really not corrupt them? (lol)"

I'll Form the Crotch: "I want to be a mentor! Give me ten elf magic apprentices—I'll train them myself! (lewd) (lewd)"

"…"

…

Several days after the paper scandal, at noon in the Scholars' dining hall, students seated at the long table chattered excitedly.

"Did you hear? This assignment isn't simple!"

"What's so complicated? Just submit it and you get credits—I bet Prince Corin won't even read them…"

"Who told you that? If you believe that, you're gonna lose big!"

"What do you mean…?"

"The students who got 90 on the last assignment were all recruited into his Magical Science Lab—the one listed as the paper collaboration partner on Corin Tower! Compared to that reward, those credits mean nothing!"

"No way—really?!"

"How could it be fake? The lab assistant himself said so!"

"Damn! I should've taken it seriously!"

The dining hall buzzed with chatter—some students shouted in excitement, others sighed in regret.

Barrett devoured his bread like a whirlwind, leaving not a crumb, eager to finish and rush to class for a good seat.

Kurs, sitting at another table, stared blankly at his empty bowl, pale and hollow-eyed, as if his soul had left his body.

Ilana had completely ignored him—science had lost all meaning for him; even the entire snowfield had turned gray.

Finn sat nervously beside him, unsure whether to comfort him, and even more unsure how.

He simply couldn't understand this senior—his magical skill was solid, yet whenever emotion came into play, he became a fool.

"Senior Kurs, are you going to the science class later?" Finn asked softly, glancing secretly at the wall clock—he needed to rush to class.

Kurs lifted his head and sighed sadly.

"No, Finn, you go. It means nothing to me anymore."

Finn: "..."

Nearby, two bronze-grade senior students sat slumped, sighing heavily, anxious about the assignment they'd submitted days ago.

Their assignment on "Using secondary-explosion fireballs to induce suffocation" had been submitted, and they immediately regretted it.

Especially now—every time they thought about it, the idea seemed absurd, surely already mocked by teaching assistants behind closed doors.

Thinking this, even the sugared bread tasted bitter.

"Looking back, our assignment was too careless," Bein said weakly, poking at his bread, head drooping. "We even assumed a 'poor-jumping monster'… How did I come up with such a stupid premise?"

"Hah, yeah," Had sighed, dejected. "Now it does sound stupid. My fault—I didn't stop you. After knowing you this long, I should've known you were an idiot."

"What the hell does that mean?!" Bein snapped his head up.

"Come on, Bein, don't sweat it," Had waved him off in a lifeless tone. "I care less about your meaning—I just hope Prince Corin never sees our assignment."

"No, you have to explain what you meant just now!"

Just as they were about to argue, a measured voice suddenly sounded beside their table.

"Ahem! Are you gentlemen Bein and Had?"

Both snapped their heads up—first noticing the teaching assistant badge on the collar, then leaping to their feet with a sharp "click!"

"Yes… we are."

Bein stammered his reply; Had, clearly higher in emotional intelligence, responded warmly.

"Assistant! What can we do for you?"

"Call me Kogi—relax, it's good news!" Kogi beamed, clapping their shoulders, then solemnly handed them an envelope stamped with the "Magical Science Lab" seal. "This is a letter from Master Corin—details inside! Enjoy your day—I've got other errands!"

Kogi offered a casual congratulations, then vanished like a breeze, hurrying off to find the next "lucky" student.

Corin's task for him wasn't light.

Over eighty letters to deliver—he had to finish before class started.

Watching the assistant disappear, Bein and Had stared dumbfounded at the envelope on the table, stunned into silence.

"For… for us?" Had pointed at the envelope, disbelieving.

"Looks… like it?"

They exchanged glances—both saw the same shock and disbelief in the other's eyes, as if trapped in a dream.

Had reached out first, trembling, and opened the envelope.

When he saw the clear lines inviting them to join the "Magical Science Lab," his heart stopped.

Then pounded violently!

"Saint Xis…"

"We… were hired by Prince Corin?! The lab?!"

"Had, punch me—damn, you actually hit me?!" Bein, after being punched, didn't get angry—he hugged his best friend in pure excitement.

The surrounding students noticed the commotion and turned curious eyes their way.

Once they learned what had happened, those eyes instantly turned to envy.

The same scene replayed across the dining hall, pushing the students' passion for "science" to new heights.

Though many magic apprentices and assistants understood "science" differently, at least the term had been widely disseminated.

And at an unbelievable speed…

…

All day, Bein and Had were on edge.

On one hand, they were thrilled that Prince Corin recognized their mediocre talent; on the other, they worried their bronze-grade power would disappoint him.

They weren't powerful mages—just unremarkable apprentices. Until this morning, no one had ever given them a second glance…

At dusk, the bell from the tower rang, shattering their tangled thoughts.

After dinner, Bein and Had didn't join the crowd heading to the crowded dorm tower. Instead, clutching their precious invitation, they walked with sacred reverence to the legendary "Magical Science Lab."

Compared to other labs in the Tower of the Sage, this one seemed modest in both personnel and equipment.

Yet, somehow, this unassuming lab had become an academic holy land in the eyes of countless apprentices and assistants.

To be honest, it was even busier than they'd imagined.

The spacious hall was filled with young apprentices just like them.

Some recorded data before precise bronze instruments; others debated passionately around a giant blueprint—everyone hurried, yet each face glowed with a rare, unmistakable light called "hope."

This was slightly exaggerated.

After all, new recruits to the Scholars still brimmed with hope—only to have their edges worn down after the preparatory phase ended.

By the time they became magicians, they were essentially qualified apprentices.

As they looked around, a young assistant on duty noticed them and walked over.

Seeing the assistant approaching, they panicked, fearing they'd been mistaken for intruders, and hastily pulled out their morning's invitation.

"Sir, Prince Corin summoned us."

"Here's our recommendation letter!"

"Bein and Had? Welcome," the assistant said warmly and professionally, smiling. "I've already heard about you from Assistant Kogi."

"Y-yes!" Bein replied nervously; Had nodded beside him. Though not brothers, they sometimes moved with the Moqi of twins.

The teaching assistant couldn't help smiling as he repeated Colonel Prince Prince Kelin's exact words to them.

"Respected Colonel Prince Prince Kelin is deeply intrigued by your idea of using fire to deplete oxygen and suffocate targets. He considers it a brilliant concept. You know, the Empire's primary enemy is Hell, and Hell's demons dwell underground… While it's uncertain whether this weapon would work against demons, it would certainly be effective against goblins."

Merely this single phrase of approval sent the two young men into a frenzy, their faces flushed with excitement, their words tumbling out incoherently.

"We'll work hard!"

"That's right! We absolutely won't let our mentor down!"

Watching the nervous youths, the assistant smiled and gave them an encouraging glance.

"I'm glad to see you're so spirited. Of course, I'm sure Respected Colonel Prince Prince Kelin will be even happier!"

After a brief pause, he spoke the words that left the two youths' minds utterly blank with joy.

"Also, Respected Colonel Prince Prince Kelin didn't just approve your concept—he personally named it: 'Thermo-Pressure Explosive Bomb.'"

"Furthermore, he has approved independent research funding for your project: five Imperial Osian gold coins per month. Of course, this isn't the full budget—it's your 'no-application' allowance."

"As long as you don't exceed this amount, you may allocate the funds as you see fit without additional reporting. If it's insufficient, simply submit a request to your group leader… As long as the use is reasonable, no one will give you trouble. The prince's laboratory still has ample funds."

Five gold coins was no small sum.

A typical magic scroll cost only ten silver coins, and common magical materials could usually be purchased from adventurers for silver.

Hearing their "wild ideas" not only received recognition from their idol mentor but also earned them independent funding, both were speechless with excitement!

In the Academic Union, for two unknown Bronze-level apprentices, this was a honor beyond even their wildest dreams!

Bain and Hard were overwhelmed with emotion; they exchanged glances and saw blazing fire in each other's eyes.

They both knew what that fire meant—

That they must, at all costs, never disappoint Colonel Prince Prince Kelin!

"Sir! Please convey to the prince that we will use every coin wisely—we won't waste a single copper!" Hard took a deep breath and said solemnly to the assistant.

Bain nodded quickly and added after him.

"Exactly! We swear it by Saint Saint Xisheng!"

Watching the two youths brimming with determination, the assistant smiled.

"Very well, I'll pass on your message. But I suspect that gentleman doesn't care much about this sum—he'd rather see your results."

He paused, then added one more thing.

"Also, he prefers you call him 'mentor' or 'Sir,' not 'Prince.'"

With those final words, the assistant led them to an empty oak table, then hurried toward the door.

Many new apprentices reported today; Bain and Hard were neither the first nor the last. They noticed several unfamiliar young faces peering in at the entrance—some even seemed like newly enrolled probationers.

It seemed the prince truly didn't care about their rank—as long as he recognized talent, he gladly invited them into his laboratory.

After watching the assistant leave, the two apprentices threw themselves into the 'Thermo-Pressure Explosive Bomb' project with full enthusiasm.

In fact, they'd been discussing it since last night, talking until dorm lights went out and their roommates had all fallen asleep.

"Hard, I have a new idea—I'd like your thoughts," Bain picked up a blank parchment and wrote their project's name with a quill, "Instead of designing spells, we must first clarify one thing… How much mana is needed to burn the air in a standard-sized room? And how long will the suffocation effect last?"

"Indeed," Hard calmed down and joined the thought process, "And 'standard-sized room' is too vague. We should quantify it—consider the exact room dimensions and the mana-to-volume ratio, then extend this ratio to dungeons, castles, open fields, and factor in weather, wind speed, and so on."

These words instantly sparked Bain's insight—he suddenly recalled a phrase Colonel Prince Prince Kelin had mentioned in class—

【Not all important things can be calculated, but measurable data follow patterns within certain scales.】

Though he hadn't fully understood it back then, now he felt a sudden clarity!

It was just like when he'd glimpsed the flickering magic flame on the training ground yesterday—something had opened a window in his mind!

He extended Colonel Prince Prince Kelin's insight further—

"There must be a formula here, just like the function formulas Colonel Prince Prince Kelin taught us!"

Bain stared intently at Hard, at those same brightening eyes, and continued with absolute certainty.

"We just need to run many experiments, record every data point, and we'll find this formula!"

"Then, we'll figure out how to fill it with magic!"

…

While Bain and Hard were eagerly preparing for their new project, the "elders" of Colonel Prince Prince Kelin's laboratory—who had joined two months earlier—were also observing the newcomers curiously.

"Rham, look over there," Jamie murmured as he carefully assembled parts in his hands, nodding toward the door, "More new faces… I feel we barely recognize half the people in the lab now."

Rham lifted her head from a pile of precise brass components, following his gaze, her rosy face lit with a warm smile.

"Yes, our lab is becoming increasingly lively."

Her voice brimmed with genuine joy for this growing family.

Though some apprentices might think new arrivals would steal their opportunities, Rham didn't see it that way.

First, Colonel Prince Prince Kelin never specified what they must research or assigned tasks like other professors—he encouraged them to pursue what interested or suited them, so there was no such thing as stolen opportunities.

The more people, the more ideas. As the "Magical Science Laboratory" grows, their opportunities only multiply.

Rather than competing for scraps at the same trough or vying for the mentor's favor, Colonel Prince Prince Kelin clearly preferred collaboration—and often actively paired them up.

Second, the Magical Science Laboratory's funding is ample. Colonel Prince Prince Kelin has repeatedly assured them not to worry about money—even if the Academic Union stops funding, he'd pay from his own pocket to satisfy their thirst for knowledge and exploration.

Rham had no doubt: that prince was a truly noble person, far above professors and sages who treated apprentices as servants.

He was the true sage!

By the way, since Colonel Prince Prince Kelin's paper was published, his reputation had risen exactly as she'd hoped.

As a result, the "Magical Science Laboratory"'s status within the Tower of the Grand Sage had soared, attracting numerous mages from distant mage towers.

Over the past month, Colonel Prince Prince Kelin had recruited many promising apprentices and talented assistants.

To manage this rapidly expanding team, the gentleman recently announced a new organizational structure for the lab.

He divided the entire lab into two major departments: the "Fundamentals Department," focused on theoretical research, and the "Applied Department," focused on technological development.

Under these two departments, he further subdivided into eight core research groups based on the four foundational disciplines: mathematics, physics, chemistry, and biology.

All apprentices were assigned to groups matching their strengths, with each group managing its own projects and independent budget approvals.

Though Rham didn't fully grasp the uniqueness of this management style, according to Kegi, it was considered novel in the Academic Union.

Few professors used such a model, since most labs specialized in single projects—not like the Magical Science Laboratory, which "blossomed everywhere."

Assistant Kegi had even hinted that this didn't seem like building a lab—it resembled founding an entirely new school.

But Rham didn't overthink it.

Rather than viewing the prince through worldly eyes, she preferred to see him as a true sage.

Watching the apprentices nearby, orderly amid the bustle, Jamie sighed. "Now I finally understand why the mentor designed this new management system—he planned to recruit so many people all along."

He paused, then added admiringly:

"But honestly, thanks to this system, we're so many yet perfectly organized—everyone has their own tasks."

He truly believed it.

After all, Colonel Prince Prince Kelin wasn't even here—he gained nothing by praising him.

Seeing Jamie's face glowing with admiration, Rham smiled gently.

"Don't you think this is just like the prince's style? Perhaps… this is what he means by 'science.'"

Jamie nodded deeply in agreement.

"I couldn't agree more, Rham."

Still, a quiet sense of urgency stirred within him.

It wasn't jealousy toward colleagues, nor arrogance to trample others underfoot.

It was the sudden realization that being chosen to join this lab was only a beginning—it didn't mean his life had peaked, that he could now rest easy.

The future Magical Science Laboratory would grow even larger—perhaps, as Assistant Kegi imagined, one day becoming a new school on this snowy plain.

If that day came, far more talented youths would follow in their footsteps, stepping on the paths they paved.

Even to avoid being left behind by future juniors, he needed to show real ability—

He had to work harder than ever before!

As Jamie steeled himself for new work, Ilana suddenly walked over from the other end of the lab, clutching a thick notebook.

She seemed troubled, her delicate brows slightly furrowed, still lost in thought.

Glancing around, she didn't find who she sought—but noticed Jamie and Rham, and asked:

"Jamie, Rham, have you seen Colonel Prince Prince Kelin? I have a… math question I'd like to ask him."

Jamie shook his head blankly.

"I… haven't seen him."

Rham tilted her head, scanning the room, her expression puzzled.

"I don't know. The mentor was here just now… Oh, Assistant Kegi came by earlier—could the mentor have gone to find Professor Hector?"

Everyone in the lab knew Assistant Kegi was Professor Hector's assistant.

Though over the past three months, the gentleman had likely spent more time serving Colonel Prince Prince Kelin than Hector.

"What's the question, Ilana?" Hearing she had a problem, Jamie perked up eagerly. "Tell us—we'll help you figure it out."

Rham nodded enthusiastically: "Yes! Three minds are better than one!"

Not just the two, but apprentices at nearby tables also strained to listen.

A math problem that stumped Ilana was rare—she was said to have received the mentor's direct teachings.

Seeing her peers' eager eyes, Ilana shyly shared her dilemma. She pointed to a complex equation in her notebook and whispered:

"I've been wondering—the mentor taught us 'calculus' to find the extremum of a function at a point. But… what if I want to find the extremum of a 'function of a function'? Is there a simpler method?"

The air fell silent.

The ears that had been pricked up in eavesdropping slowly retreated.

Jamie and Ram's enthusiastic smiles gradually froze, finally melting into blank confusion, like the snowfields beyond the high tower.

A function… of a function?

What is that thing?

The two stared at each other, feeling that what they and Elana had studied might not be the same "calculus" at all, but something from another dimension.

But in fact, this wasn't really "calculus" to begin with—it was another branch of mathematics that Prince Prince Prince Kelin hadn't yet explained to them.

Finally, Jamie sighed heavily, waved his hand, and completely abandoned the idea of showing off before the goddess.

"... You'd better ask Prince Prince Prince Kelin."

Ram asked quietly.

"What use is studying a function of a function?"

Elana nodded lightly.

"There's some… potential, though it might just be my intuition."

After a pause, she continued with firm conviction.

"Problems that Mr. James Watt cannot solve may find answers within functions."

…

As Elana struggled to unravel the mystery of functions, Luo Yan, far away in Professor Hector's office, grappled with an unexpected trouble of his own.

The fireplace blazed fiercely, illuminating a delicate and beautiful face, golden hair cascading over a fair neck like a noble, refined tulip.

Yet Luo Yan had no time to admire the beauty; instead, he rubbed his temples, staring at the graceful girl seated calmly on the sofa.

At this moment, she gently, repeatedly blew steam from her teacup with her small lips, then sipped cautiously—her movements elegant and refined, yet still retaining the youthful charm befitting her age.

Perhaps she had caught a chill on the journey, or perhaps it was the intensity of his gaze—her cheeks flushed faintly. After moistening her throat, she did not set the cup down, instead hiding her lowered, long lashes behind the rising steam.

Ophelia Castillion, the most beloved youngest daughter of the Castillion Duke of the Empire.

Luo Yan certainly recognized her, but frankly, he had no strong impression. They had briefly met at a ball, danced once, and exchanged a polite farewell gift: a seahorse amulet she had given him.

Luo Yan remembered clearly that, outside the Sacred City, he had already gently declined her affection in front of her father.

Yet he never imagined this duchess's initiative was so strong—she had chased all the way from the bustling Sacred City to this frozen northern wasteland.

Worse still, he couldn't believe that not only had the duchess gone mad, but the Castillion Duke had gone mad too?

If she wanted to learn magic, why not hire a private tutor? Which powerful imperial noble would send their child to this hellhole?

On the tea table before Luo Yan lay a sealed letter bearing a wax stamp.

That wax seal could not have been stolen.

Professor Hector, seated behind his desk, wore a mischievous grin, watching the scene with keen interest, clearly prepared to enjoy a good show.

The old man clearly misunderstood something.

But since he didn't ask outright, Luo Yan's unsolicited explanation would seem abrupt and suspicious—he could only stay silent.

Then, suddenly, the composed young lady set down her teacup and looked up at him.

"Good day, Prince Prince Prince Kelin," her voice clear and melodious, "we meet again."